When Roses Collide

Chapter Sixty-One

Harley led a restless and energetic Odin down the ramp of her horse trailer. Once out, he pawed the gravel and tossed his head, throwing his heavy mane as he gave a little buck of excitement to be out of the confines of the trailer. His thick, corded muscles bunched and twitched with nervous energy as he whinnied loudly, adding his voice to the cadence of the other livestock. Giving his lead rope a sharp tug to bring Odin's attention back to her, she swiftly led him to the side of the trailer and tied him next to his feedbag. With one more anxious snort at his surroundings, he plunged his nose into the sweet-smelling alfa and started munching away as if he didn't have a care in the world.

"You always were more obsessed with your stomach than anything else," Harley said, giving the big brute a sound pat on his gleaming neck. Turning away to continue fetching her gear, she took in the flat parking lot and the rodeo grounds around her. A feeling as if she had just dropped headfirst into her past snuck up and slapped Harley silly.

Only this one was a little different than the last rodeo she'd attended. A small shudder of memory ran down her spine, and she brushed it aside. The Wolf Springs rodeo arena seemed to be plopped in the middle of a field near the vicinity of nowhere and the boondocks. The only thing discerning it as an actual arena was the haphazard wooden bleachers looking as if they were built from scrap pieces of lumber leftover from other projects. But, though the stadium looked worn down and slapdashed, the rest of the grounds were somewhat respectable. There was plenty of fenced and piped corrals for livestock, a well-built announcer's booth sitting on high stilts with a good view of the showgrounds, and, of course, an abundant amount of carnival attractions encompassing the whole rodeo grounds.

Already the air was filled with the smell of popcorn, cotton candy, hot dogs and funnel cakes coming from food trailers parked sporadically through the grounds vying for customers amongst the rickety rides. Carnies were plying their trade trying to coax unsuspecting people to cough up their money to win a prize by tossing a ring or throwing a ball. The beer tent on the far side of the grounds seemed to have a good flow of customers, and several enterprising folks had set up booths and tables in the parking lot to sell jewelry, t-shirts, baked goods and other kitschy paraphernalia.

Harley took a steadying inhale of air and breathed it all in. The moment of trepidation had passed, and a smile spread across her lips. She always did like the atmosphere of small town rodeos as opposed to the fancier sponsored spectacles. Big time rodeos lacked the personal feeling the smaller ones offered. Here, the spectators could be a part of the action. The fans could almost put themselves in the saddle or strap themselves to that bull and experience the thrill first hand.

They were a part of every ride just watching from the stands, and as a participant, their excitement adds to the exhilaration a rider feels at the end of a good run. Whereas in the big city, it's such a culture shock for people seeing the sights, sounds, and animals, they have a tendency to miss the special nuance that makes a rodeo.

A group of noisy giggling girls dressed in sparkling rhinestone rodeo attire and tiaras pulled Harley from her thoughts. They rode dudded up horses, groomed to perfection towards the arena. Harley watched as they passed through the gate and started warming up their mounts in a slow lope a few times around the ring before they lined up to run through their synchronized drill team patterns. After watching the twittering riders run through a classic interlocking circles pattern, Harley turned her attention to the other participants gathering around the grounds. Cowboys lounged carelessly on their truck tailgates talking and discussing their game plans while others hoisted chapped covered legs up on pipe corals, pretending not to watch the cowgirls from under the brim of their hats as they walked by.

"Some things never change," Bo said, stepping up next to her. "Whether it be a small town or a big city, some girl is going to put glitter on her horse's ass."