Lem - 3. Buck Moon

I hang my arm out the window and let the warm breeze tickle over the back of my hand. Today was the last day of school for the year--my last day as a sophomore. Damn, it feels good to be free.

Ronnie, Mattie and me, we're all crammed in Ronnie's truck, taking a quick joy-ride through Burlee on our way to the 4H arena for practice.

Burlee sits just inside Hill County. Highway 2 runs right through the town and crosses Main Street, the other big street in town. There's a grocery store on one corner, and a Conoco station across the road. Train tracks run along the north side of the highway, with a grain silo spread over the rails. There are a few back-roads here and there, but nothing else inside the town other than a few bars and restaurants. There might even be a bowling alley and a small theater -- if they're open at all.

If you blink, you'll miss it.

Everyone who lives here's spread out miles from town. There are lots of farms and ranches, with a few groups of houses or trailers sprinkled here or there. We went to elementary school in Burlee, but the high school is in the next town over, 'bout twenty miles off. The hospital's there too. Mattie's mom works there. Every morning after chores, we have to start down the highway just as the sun comes up to make it to school in time. We pass a dairy farm on the way; it stinks like shit.

A few miles to the north is a reservoir. A lot of us like to hang out around Clearwater crick, put our feet in the water and fish with some line and a stick. Sometimes someone brings beer. There are places you can't fish in the river, where people like to swim -- sometimes naked. The water gets warm enough to swim in the late spring.

Ronnie bursts my little thought bubble: "So, a little bird told me someone's asking you to the Buck Moon dance."

Mattie and me stare at him; he's grinning ear to ear.

I lean forward and brace myself on the dashboard. "Who?"

"Well, since you're the one who's supposed to be askin', I'm not saying a damn thing."

Mattie blinks at me and blushes for some reason.

"Then why say anything at all if you're not gonna tell me?"

"Cuz I like to see you squirm." Ronnie has some serious hat hair right now, and I don't know if I care to mention it. "I hear Jason's not graduating."

I look down the road. "Yep. Being held back again."

"Fuck. I'd want to get the hell outta this shit hole. He needs to quick fartin' around so much."

Mattie looks at him. "Hey, this shit hole's our home."

"Don't get a 'tude or you're walkin' to practice."

Mattie crosses his arms and sits back.

I catch eyes with Ronnie. "Dad was chewing on his ass when I got home last night. Says if he messes up again, he's throwing his ass out."

"Ouch."

He's got me all sorts of curious, now. "Who the hell's asking me out?"

"I'm not tellin'. And it's more like who you're asking out."

* * *

About the time I started riding bareback, Backdraft was listed as PBR's bull of the year. Up to that point, there were a hundred and forty two attempts. People started comparing him to J31A Bodacious.

'Bo' was known as the world's most dangerous bull up to his retirement in 1995. He's the one that was known for knocking his head back and smashing into a rider's face. Bodacious died in 2000 from something along the lines of heart complications due to medications from a foot infection. Beautiful irony.

Up until I saw Backdraft the first time at NFR, I'd heard lots of riders talkin' 'bout him. There were two attempts by a PRC champion named Scott Mennard. His first ride, he fell off after three seconds.

I still get chills when I listen to that TV interview.

When he fell off, he was just standing there -- across the arena from Backdraft. He said he could feel the animal watching him, and that you could just feel him, feel his heart beating beneath you through the ground.

"He musta' come from the loins of the devil himself. The last place you'd want to be is in his eye-shot." The second ride Scott broke his leg in three places. He retired after that, calling Backdraft a death wish.

* * *

We unload Ronnie's truck and head over to the arena to see what's going on. The girls and some of the younger boys are running through the pole-bending course.

"You should get in there!" Ronnie slaps Mattie on the back, knocking him forward a bit.

"I'm too old for it." Mattie frowns.

"Might as well get Oreo some exercise. Wouldn't hurt to run you through a time or two." Ronnie walks to where his friends are sitting. Ronnie still does a little team roping, but he's been getting into bareback a bit. He's better at saddle bronc, but he's not doing too bad either way.

Brooke gallops by on an appaloosa; looks like she's next up.

"Hey, it's Brooke." I nudge Mattie and point at her.

He mumbles something just quiet enough I can't hear him.

Brooke gives her horse a good kick in the side, and starts weaving it through the poles. She gets to the end of the slalom and pulls back on the reigns a bit. The horse rears back and turns the end post on its two back legs. It springs forward and almost knocks the pole over. She threads the horse pretty quick-like, getting around the last post, and rides down the side of the arena to the starting side.

"I'd say she's pretty good. Think that's who Ronnie's talkin' about?" I glance at Mattie.

He shakes his head. "I don't fuckin' know." He looks mad.

"What's wrong with you? You never swear like that."

He thumbs his nose at me. "I'm gonna get Oreo."

I don't get why he's been so short with me lately. I chuckle, lean up against the fence and watch around the field.

I catch myself spying on Jeff and Ronnie. They've become pretty good friends over the last two months. I could probably walk up to Jeff with a big white flag and he still wouldn't notice me.

"Hey, stranger!" Brooke leans up against me, pretending like she's running into me.

"Hey yourself. Good run, there."

"Ah, I could do better." She eyeballs me, like she's giving me the once-over. "What are you up to?"

"Waiting to get in some practice. We're early, anyway."

"Where's your shadow?"

"I think he's fixin' to chase some cans. Warm up Oreo before the team roping."

"Oreo? That's cute." She giggles. We stand there for a few, just watching what's going on out on the field. Long strands of auburn hair dangle in her face, and dance around when the wind picks them up.

I push my sleeves up. "Can I ask you something?"

She perks up. "Sure!"

"What do you know about Jeff?"

"I don't know, why do you ask?"

I shake my head. Make sure I don't say something really stupid. "He seems familiar. I bet he would be a cool friend, but I don't think he likes me."

"How so?"

"Well, you remember that Junior Rodeo a while back? In Cut Bank? He gave me some advice that really helped. I want to talk more, but he doesn't seem to like small talk."

"Well, how do you get through to Mattie?"

"Mattie's different somehow. I'm the only one he trusts." I sigh. "You got a date for the dance?"

She snaps her head toward me. "That was a one-eighty."

Maybe I was wrong thinking Brooke was the girl. She's a year and some change older than I am, and now I've just made a complete dip-shit outta myself.

"I'd love to go with you." She smiles and cuddles with my arm.

I'm struck dumb. "You would?"

"You would?" Mattie is standing behind us, holding his horse by the lead. He kicks the gravel. "Sorry."

"Who're you going with, Matthew?" She blows a bubble with her gum, and smiles sweetly.

"I'll probably just stay home."

"Nonsense!" She looks at me. "Ooh. You know what we should do? We should set him up with my sister."

"Who, Mattie?" I look at him; he's scowling again. "Mattie's a wallflower."

He shrugs and leans up against the fence on my other side, like to hide away from Brooke.

She leans around me. "What d'ya say, Mattie? I bet you and my sister would have a lot of fun."

"I'ono. Maybe." He hugs his elbows together and flushes red.

"Let me go find her. I'll be right back." She winks at him, and smiles at me.

I turn around and watch the arena. "What is it?"

"What if I don't want to go? I don't know how to talk to a girl. Hell, Lem, I don't even know how to dance with one."

"Don't be like that, man. I don't know why, but you've been pissed at the world a lot lately. You should go with her. Maybe you'd get a girlfriend outta the deal. Get yourself laid and maybe you wouldn't be so uptight all the time."

"Who says I want a girlfriend?"

"Mattie, settle down. You need to open up a bit." I twirl my hat in the middle of the brim, and dust it off. I talk softly. "What's wrong, Matthew? You haven't been yourself in months."

He has that sad puppy look in his eye. Looks down at the button on his sleeve, and breaks a dangling string. "I mean, good for you. You're going out with the best lookin' girl in the county." He swallows hard.

I try to sound sympathetic. "Mattie… what's this really about? Jealousy?"

"What if it is?" He looks up at the sky and squints. "Shit, Lem…"

"Look at her, Mattie. She's trying to help you out. Hook you up. Her sister's not bad lookin' by any stretch of the imagination."

He's fixed on his boots. "I don't deserve you Lem. A friend like you, I mean."

"Just try it, would ya?" I slap his arm with the back of my hand. "Would you feel better if we swapped girls?"

"It's not about that."

"What is it, then?"

He sighs loudly.

I cant stand to see him like this. "You know what? It's the last day of school."

A glint of gold flashes in the orange of his eye. He blinks at me.

"You know what we should do? You should come over, we'll make some s'mores. I got a small propane torch in the garage. We could set up the tent in the yard. Break out the telescope and look for UFO's like we did when we were kids."

He giggles as he says, "what?"

"Why the hell not? I miss those days when nothing else in the world mattered."

He gets that grin when something's on his mind, something funny. "You remember when we spotted that satellite? We ran inside screaming."

"God, my dad was so pissed. So, what d'ya say?"

* * *

Ronnie's driving us home when I spot Momma's truck in the Safeway parking lot. "Hey, Ronnie, could you drop me and Mattie off here? We'll catch a ride with my mom."

"Whatever floats yer' boat." He pulls up to the stop sign at Main and Highway 2. "Bail."

I pull the latch and hop out. "I'll come and get my crap when I get home."

"Cool."

Mattie jumps out behind me, and slams the door. Ronnie hits the gas and speeds off. Mattie looks around. "Where are we going?"

I point at Momma's truck. "Over yonder."

"Yonder? Who says that anymore?"

I giggle and start for the store.

We walk through the automatic doors, the ones that open like a space ship, and come in around the shopping carts. I try to stand on my tip toes, but it's hard to do in boots. I spot Momma by the fruit.

"You wanna get the marshmallows while I talk to Momma?"

He shrugs and walks toward the baking aisle.

When I get to Momma, she's squeezing apricots and bagging the ones she likes. "Hey, how'd you get here?"

"Saw the truck out front. Ronnie dropped Mattie and I off."

"So you came over just to help me unload the groceries? How sweet of you!" She smiles.

"I was wonderin' if Mattie could stay over, since today was the last day of school and all. We were thinkin' we could set up the tent out back and get out the telescope."

"If it's okay with his mom."

"Could we do s'mores?"

"What, on the barbeque?"

"Well, I was gonna use Dad's little propane torch."

"Lem, your father would kill you." She sighs. "We're having steak tonight. If you'll run and get me a bag of coals and enough s'more stuff for everyone to have a few, we'll just do it over the barbecue."

"Guess that works."

"You want a sweet potato or a regular one?"

"Regular."

"What does Mattie want?"

"I'ono."

"Okay, hurry up."

I run to the baking isle, and find Mattie's scratching around like he's lost. "What's wrong?"

"There're a ton of 'em. D'ya know they have chocolate marshmallows?"

"Score! Mom said to get enough for everyone and we'll use the barbecue."

"Should we get a bag of each?"

"Why not? They're just marshmallows."

He reaches out and grabs a bag of regular ones, and a bag of chocolate ones. We walk up the isle toward the graham crackers. Our eyes are drawn to the middle shelf at the same time.

"You kiddin' me?" I look at Mattie.

He looks as confused as I am. "Chocolate graham crackers?"

* * *

Mattie pushes a little slice of carrot around with his fork. He stabs it and puts it in his mouth.

I'm not sure where Jason is, but the rest of us, Mattie and my family, we're sitting out on the porch, eating at the patio table.

Dad goes back into the kitchen and comes back outside with a heaping pile of potato salad. He takes a bite and looks my plate over. "There's plenty more in the kitchen. You two're too skinny."

Momma's always been the hospitable one. Dad has what Momma likes to call smart charm. If you saw him in the city, and he was dressed like everyone else, you wouldn't think he was a farmer's son, or that he worked for the agriculture department. He knows lots about farming and ranching, but he also knows how to fit in where he's not familiar.

I guess you could tell the same with us kids. If you dressed us like kids in the city, we could probably fit in. Momma's too much of a country bumpkin. She has that appeal that someone could tell know she was from a small town.

Jason looks more like Dad. Chase keeps Momma's looks. I guess I fall somewhere in between, being the middle one. I'm the only one of us that got Momma's eye color, everyone else has Dad's blues. I must get my build from somewhere in Momma's side, too. Jason filled out by the time he was my age, I haven't. I did get Dad's chin, though.

Dad's got sharp eyes, and big strong hands. You can tell when Dad's being serious, or when he's mad. Compared to a lot of fathers around, he's one of the most gentle people you'd meet. He's tough, but loving. He always used to show us things when we were growing up. Explain how things work, what certain bugs were. He's always been a little bit quiet, but he knows how to listen, and only talks when he knows that what he's about to say it the right thing to say. I admire that about him. Always have.

I didn't get this ability. Most of the time my foot ends up in my mouth.

Momma comes outside with the stuff to make s'mores.

I look at Mattie. "Guess we'd better get the tent set up before it gets too dark."

"It's packed away under the stairs in the basement." Dad finishes his last bite of his dinner. "Make sure to shake out the sleeping bags. Don't want you two getting into a spider nest or something." He stands up, takes my paper plate, then Mattie's. "Here, I'm doing the dishes tonight." He smiles and kisses Momma on the mouth on his way inside.

I get up and lead Mattie to the basement. All of Dad's hunting crap is piled up in front of us. We're gonna have to pull it all out to get at the tent. I start handing stuff back to Mattie, eventually coming across a long, plastic case. "Cool. Here's the telescope."

Mattie takes the case and sets it to the side. Finally I get back to the tent and sleeping bags, and toss them back to Mattie.

He starts handing me stuff, like a bucket brigade. There's more space in the closet when we're done, even enough to actually get back to the space under the stairs. Last time Dad and Jason went hunting, Jason just threw everything under the steps.

Mattie grabs the telescope case by the handle with both hands because it's pretty heavy. I pack the tent and bags under my arms, and start heading upstairs. We have to pass between Dad and the TV set.

Dad switches the channel to 60 Minutes; they're talking about gay rights or something. Dad mutters, "God, what's with all this fag shit lately?"

It's the first time I've heard him say anything like that, and I suddenly get the feeling Mattie's uncomfortable.

* * *

Mattie and I take turns lookin' through the telescope. We're trying to fix on Mercury.

"You sure we're looking in the right spot?" I look over my shoulder at Mattie. "That might be Venus."

Mattie squints at the book in front of him. "Farmer's Almanac said it would be in the south-east, left of the moon. It's in retrograde, so it will look like it's moving backwards."

"How the hell does a planet move backwards?"

Mattie smiles. "Hits the breaks, puts it in reverse."

"Really?" I look back through the scope. "How well you think we could see your house?" I turn it and face it toward Mattie's. I focus, but can only see their barn. "I can see right in your window."

"You can not! The shades are closed."

"I meant if it was open. Oh, what's this?" I joke with him a bit, pretend I'm lookin' around. "I think I see your parents in their room. Oh my God. You're mom is taking off her clothes!"

"You're so full of shit." Mattie crosses his arms and looks off.

"They're having sex! Rough, kinky, dirty sex!"

He laughs, and sighs. "Pervert." Pretty soon, we're both laughing hard. "Can you really see my house?"

I stand up and let him take a look. "Just your barn."

He peeks through and adjusts it. "Look, it's Ronnie. Who's he sittin' with?"

I look into the scope; sure enough, Ronnie's sittin' on the pasture gate. It's hard to tell who it is.

Ronnie leans back, and takes a swig of beer.

"Huh, I believe that would be Jeff."

"Him and Ronnie've been hanging out a lot lately."

"Where'd he get the beer? Won't your dad be pissed?"

"I think Jeff got it. Dad's out of town."

"Hmm." I eyeball Jeff.

"Mom don't trust him much."

I look over my shoulder at him. "Huh? Why?"

"I'ono. Just don't."

Mom sticks her head out the back door. "Don't stay up late, you two."

"Yes, ma'am."

Mattie looks up from the telescope. "I gotta go home and do my chores in the mornin'. Maybe we should get to bed."

"Maybe after we get done and have breakfast we can get Ronnie or someone to take us to the lake."

"I think it's still kinda cold."

"Well, just to check it out."

Mattie shrugs.

We walk shoulder to shoulder, to the back corner of the yard where we set up the tent. All I can hear is our footsteps, and the crickets fiddling their legs together. Somewhere in the distance, I can hear the lonesome whistle of the nine o'clock train as it passes through town.

The air's cooled off a bit, and I can smell traces of a wood fire on the wind.

We get inside the tent and I realize something: "Shit. I left my PJ's inside."

"Don't worry about it." Mattie gives me that devious toothy grin of his, but he's got a point; I'm too worn out to go back to the house.

Mattie strips down to nothing but his whitie-tighties. He has a scent about him lately--something light and sweet. It's like an apple blossom, but it's not girly. It's nice. It fits him.

I take off my pants, but keep my tee-shirt on. When I slip into the bag, I know it's going to be too warm. I guess that's what you get with these winter sleeping bags that're rated for a bazillion-degrees-below-zero. Hell, even without my shirt, I'm going to be sweaty.

I unzip the bag about half way to let some cool air in. I think Mattie has the same idea, because he unzips his all the way down. He kinda ruffles around a bit to get comfortable, folds his pillow in half and rests his head on it.

He's facing me. "Lem?"

"Yah?"

"Thanks."

I turn my head his direction. "For what?"

"Well, for tonight."

"We really didn't do anything."

"Just hangin' out like we used to." He sighs, followed by nothing but a long, long silence of him breathing. "Why you think people don't like me?"

"What the hell gives you that idea?"

"Everyone likes you, Lem."

"Mattie, plenty of people like you. You're just too shy to know it, sometimes."

"Whatever."

I grunt, because I know I'm not going to win this argument. "We should get onto bed."

"Suppose so." He sounds sad again.

"Don't worry about it, Mattie. It's not worth gettin' hung up on."

Before too awful long my head starts getting heavy. That part of sleep where your toes tingle,and the world starts spinning head over heels. The sleeping bag starts getting warm, so I move my leg over where the nylon is cold.

I hear chuffing. It sounds like Mattie's foot could be going. He has this habit of wiggling his foot back and forth when he's trying to get to sleep. He's done it far back as I can remember.

The sounds of night.

I feel dizzy... numb... waves… waves of pleasure coming over me until… going to fall… asleep…

…Jeff…

…lake…

…stiffie…

…something…

I open my eyes, a little disoriented. If I didn't know better, I would swear Mattie's got me by the dick.

I lay there in the dark and try to figure out what the hell's happening.

His arm is across my belly. He's got my underwear around my nuts and he's going to town. It's real gentle, like he's trying not to wake me up.

I know I should say something. It's not like it's the first time he's had his hands down my pants, but I…

God…

He's doing thing's he's never done before--touching me just right: lightly; driving me fucking wild. I'm trying not to move, but I should be bucking like a wild horse.

God, keep going.

I can't make a noise; he can't know I'm awake.

Fuck sake, Mattie!

I'm seeing Jeff in my head--his strong hands, his stare. I picture him… I see him on a kicking bull. He's wearing a cowboy hat and his boots, nothing more. I want to let my eyes wander every square inch of his body, every last patch of his skin: his freckled shoulders; his chest; his strong back and sculpted ass. I want him to show me he's a man.

I want him to show me how to be a man.

I lock my jaw, and grunt. My left leg jerks, but it's not my doing--I push it out to the side a little to give him more access to my everything.

Come on, Jeff. Finish this. Finish it!

I feel a finger pressing behind my nuts, just ahead of the crack. It makes me harder, and I can feel his grip crossing my every outward vein. The pressure--FUCK! I can't take this!

My hips buckle, and fly up. I'm groaning like a dog, but trying not to move. I'm almost… ungggggg… "Uhhhhh…. Ahhhhhhhh…"

It feels like a seizure. My body just crumples with no energy to move. I fling my load across my chest, and all over Mattie's hand. I'm breathing hard, still trying not to move.

I see Mattie out of the corner of my eye: he pulls his hand back. His body is a silhouette, lit by the yellow light on the barn. He's on top of his sleeping bag, and has been all this time; sticking straight up. He uses my load to grease his own pole. The bottoms of his feet are together, his knees out, and I could swear he's rubbing his ring-piece.

It doesn't take him long to let go. Once he's done, he lies there, breathing hard and smearing it over his belly.

* * *

I woke up with the rooster this morning, while it was still dark; Mattie was gone. I'm just getting done with the chickens, and I can smell fresh bacon on the breeze. My stomach growls right on cue, so I start for the house.

The closer I get, the more I smell coffee. I've always loved the smell of morning, when Momma cooks.

Lost in my own little world, I stub my toe on a rock and almost drop the egg basket. Glad nobody was around to see that.

I'm beginning to think I'm not going to see Mattie the rest of the day. Maybe he was ashamed of last night. I'm not really sure when he left, either.

I'm about to walk up the steps to the front stoop when I see Mattie coming up the lane. He's got an old backpack on his shoulders, wearing his trunks and an old, ratted NASCAR shirt. He's got his old Corona flip-flops on.

It's a long shot, but I'm guessing he's up for a trip to the lake.

He stops in front of me and smiles.

I stare back because I don't know what to say. "What?"

He grins. "Nothin'."

"When did you leave?" I pull at the front of my shirt, so it doesn't look funny when I go inside. Sweat and dried cum make it stick to my stomach in a few spots.

"An hour before the rooster, I guess. Didn't sleep well."

"I could tell. You were tossing and turning all night."

He blushes. "Uh, yeah."

"Let me take a shower really quick so we can eat."

* * *

The Buck Moon is the first full moon in July. Every year, there's a big festival and farmer's market at the fairgrounds, where we practice. It's kind of like the fair in Shelby, without the rides and stuff. People come over from all over the place.

There are all sorts of 4H competitions. People have cookin' contests and livestock Auctions. They have a rodeo throughout the first day, and hold a finals round two days later. The last day is the barn dance.

Mattie did pretty good in his event, but his partner defaulted. They didn't place.

I placed for finals in Saddle Bronc. I'm haulin' my saddle to my chute because I'm up first after the calf roping. I step up on the fence. Ol' Dawson is waiting for me to saddle up so he can tie off the flank strap. He takes a swig off his flask.

I'm fixin' to hop the gate and mount the horse when I feel a tapping on my shoulder.

It's Mattie. After his ride, I guess he had time to run home and get cleaned up for the dance. I don't think I'll have time. Just have to go as I am.

"Good luck, Lem." He grins and blushes.

"Thanks, Mattie." I grab his arm and pull him into a quick hug.

He pats my shoulders a few times. "Give 'em hell," he whispers into my ear.

Dawson slaps the small of my back. "L'ess get you on th' sonn'a bitch." He tucks the flask away in his pocket.

I hop the gate and get in the saddle, shoving my boots into the stirrups. I get the rope around my hand, tight. Dawson yanks up on the flank strap.

The fuckin' horse tries to climb the stall; I squeeze my legs against the horse and put a hand on the side of the chute to steady myself.

'Movin' onto the Saddle Bronc event in your program. First up in the Senior Boys Division is Lem Taylor behind gate one. -- Looks like his mount's tryin' to get out from under him!'

The horse rears his head back and snorts, stomping his front hoof. I adjust myself a bit, make sure I'm sittin' right in the saddle. I don't want to fall right out of the chute.

'Lem's riding on JRC's Maytag this afternoon. He's known for a good bit 'a spinnin'. Mister Taylor's in for one heck of a ride."

"Shit," I mumble. Figures I'd get the rowdy one. I breathe in.

Exhale.

I have a funny feeling in my muscles, almost like they're turning to Jell-o. I pull my hand up against the reign and try to find my strength. Breathe in again. 3… 2… 1… I glance at the gate man. "Pull!"

'Gate's open. More wild horses comin' your way. Yeah, got him goin'! Keep with him, there!'

Maytag turns toward the ring and leaps out of the chute with enough thrust to knock an Apollo rocket out of the sky. I've got my spurs right at his shoulder, keeping back till he comes back off the jump. I hit my marks right on the money.

My shoulder is getting jerked around plenty good; it's sore right now, but I gotta keep it up.

Maytag takes two good leaps and starts spinning. I try to keep my eyes on the back of the horse--try to feel him and what he's doing.

'Looks like Maytag's going into the spin cycle!'

Up, down. Jolt forward, keep back. This is the hardest horse I've ever ridden. I keep my reign tight, keep track of my arm. Down in the saddle good. Come down.

He's spinning in toward the right. He straightens out, starts hoppin', kicking his back legs out. Then he starts spinning again.

'Lem's givin' it a fighting chance. Come on! Let's hear it!'

My hat flies off; first time that's ever happened. The audience starts cheering loud, and I barely hear the buzzer. We're still going in circles; I'm starting to get dizzy. I grab the saddle with my free hand and hang on until I can bail over the side. Lucky for me, Maytag starts forward. The pickup man comes up next to me and drops the flank strap. The other pickup guy rides up on the other side. I lean over, latch on, and come off the horse slick as shit. I hit the ground running.

I walk across the arena, pick up my hat and dust it off, spinning it at the brim before I put it back on my head. It's my favorite floppy cowboy hat--the black felt one that sits down on my head real low.

Mattie's jumpin' up and down on the other side of the gate when I hop over. "That was awesome!"

I look up at the scoreboard. 69. "Settle down. There are other guys coming up that're plenty better than me."

I walk up the bleachers toward where Momma and Dad are sitting. The rider right after me takes a fall over the horse's front end. I hear the buzzer and look up at the board. No score.

I sit down next to Momma. "Good job!" She smiles at me, gives me a hug. "Maybe next year your dad'll let you ride bareback."

Dad laughs. "Yeah. Maybe I have a supermodel hiding under the stairs at home, too."

Momma smacks his arm.

I feel my heart sink a bit.

The buzzer rings again, the last rider scoring a 67.

"Dude, you won the pot!" Mattie smiles at me. The purse for the winner is going to be around two hundred and fifty dollars.

Momma hugs me, almost tackles me over. "Duuuuuuude. You won."

I grin a little. "Momma, you're gonna knock me over."