fun
, she wrote, then looked up from her paper.
“I wonder what Phil’s writing in his journal,” she said aloud. She frowned, remembering her dream about Secretariat and Phil and the girl with golden-red hair. “He’s probably writing about rafting down some river with this beautiful girl. She’s whispering in his ear in Italian, and he’s probably asked her to be his date for the big Halloween dance at school next fall.” Tears began to fill Stevie’s eyes. She looked at the lariat curled in one corner of the wagon. “Oh, stop it, you nitwit!” she chided herself. “Pull yourself together! You don’t know that any of that’s true, and besides, you’ve got a rodeo to win today!” With that, she put her journal away and jumped out of the wagon, determined to practice her roping even harder than before.
The rodeo started at midmorning. The day was perfect—white clouds floated high in a deep blue sky and the sunshine sparkled with a gentle warmth. A portable fencedivided the arena in two, with the adult events taking place in one half and the junior events in the other. Stevie and Carole and Lisa stood by the fence watching as a four-person color guard rode out on gorgeous paint horses and paraded the American flag around the adult side of the arena. Everyone stood at attention as the Clinchport High School Band played the national anthem.
“Pretty neat, huh?” Carole’s eyes glowed with pride as she held her derby over her heart.
“Always is.” Stevie smiled, replacing her cowboy hat on her head after the band had finished. “Here,” she said, handing Carole and Lisa two safety pins and a sheet of paper with the number 33 in big black letters. “Would you pin this on my back?”
“Sure.” Carole held the paper while Lisa pinned it straight across Stevie’s shoulders. “I’m glad you got thirty-three, Stevie. It feels like a real lucky number.”
“Do you think so?” Stevie twisted around and tried to read her back. “Gabriel’s got number seven.”
“Oh, thirty-three’s a whole lot luckier than seven,” Lisa assured her.
“It better be,” Stevie said grimly with a flinty, determined look in her eyes.
“Hey, Stevie. Relax!” Carole grinned and wiggled her red rubber nose. “This may be a competition, but don’t forget it’s still supposed to be fun!”
“I know.” Stevie walked in a little circle and began to twirl her lariat nervously. “I just wish they would go ahead and start.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the ring announcer called a moment later. “Welcome to Clinchport’s Pioneer Days Rodeo! The first events of the day will be barrel racing for the juniors and bronc riding for the adults. All riders, take your places now!”
“Good luck, Stevie!” Lisa and Carole each gave Stevie a quick hug. “We’ll see you in the ring.”
“Thanks!” Stevie said as she hurried off to join the other contestants. “I’ll need it!”
San Antonio Sal walked out into the center of the ring and waved for Lisa and Carole to join her. As they had discussed the day before, they would clown the first event on foot, since no bucking calves or slippery goats would need to be caught.
“Are y’all feeling funny?” Sal asked as they trotted out to meet her.
“We sure are,” Carole said, looking at the three barrels placed in a big triangle in the middle of the ring. It was around these barrels that Stevie would soon be racing.
“And how’s our cowgirl Stevie doing?” Sal’s red painted-on eyebrows wrinkled in concern.
“She’s nervous,” said Lisa. “But she’s determined to win, and she’s a pretty good barrel racer.”
“Good for her.” Sal grinned. “All right, Texarkana Lisaand Texarkana Carole, if y’all are ready, then let’s rock and roll!”
The girls followed Sal over to the sidelines, where they began their first routine—one where Sal and Carole fought over who got to push Lisa around in a baby carriage. Carole had just started the fight by
, she wrote, then looked up from her paper.
“I wonder what Phil’s writing in his journal,” she said aloud. She frowned, remembering her dream about Secretariat and Phil and the girl with golden-red hair. “He’s probably writing about rafting down some river with this beautiful girl. She’s whispering in his ear in Italian, and he’s probably asked her to be his date for the big Halloween dance at school next fall.” Tears began to fill Stevie’s eyes. She looked at the lariat curled in one corner of the wagon. “Oh, stop it, you nitwit!” she chided herself. “Pull yourself together! You don’t know that any of that’s true, and besides, you’ve got a rodeo to win today!” With that, she put her journal away and jumped out of the wagon, determined to practice her roping even harder than before.
The rodeo started at midmorning. The day was perfect—white clouds floated high in a deep blue sky and the sunshine sparkled with a gentle warmth. A portable fencedivided the arena in two, with the adult events taking place in one half and the junior events in the other. Stevie and Carole and Lisa stood by the fence watching as a four-person color guard rode out on gorgeous paint horses and paraded the American flag around the adult side of the arena. Everyone stood at attention as the Clinchport High School Band played the national anthem.
“Pretty neat, huh?” Carole’s eyes glowed with pride as she held her derby over her heart.
“Always is.” Stevie smiled, replacing her cowboy hat on her head after the band had finished. “Here,” she said, handing Carole and Lisa two safety pins and a sheet of paper with the number 33 in big black letters. “Would you pin this on my back?”
“Sure.” Carole held the paper while Lisa pinned it straight across Stevie’s shoulders. “I’m glad you got thirty-three, Stevie. It feels like a real lucky number.”
“Do you think so?” Stevie twisted around and tried to read her back. “Gabriel’s got number seven.”
“Oh, thirty-three’s a whole lot luckier than seven,” Lisa assured her.
“It better be,” Stevie said grimly with a flinty, determined look in her eyes.
“Hey, Stevie. Relax!” Carole grinned and wiggled her red rubber nose. “This may be a competition, but don’t forget it’s still supposed to be fun!”
“I know.” Stevie walked in a little circle and began to twirl her lariat nervously. “I just wish they would go ahead and start.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the ring announcer called a moment later. “Welcome to Clinchport’s Pioneer Days Rodeo! The first events of the day will be barrel racing for the juniors and bronc riding for the adults. All riders, take your places now!”
“Good luck, Stevie!” Lisa and Carole each gave Stevie a quick hug. “We’ll see you in the ring.”
“Thanks!” Stevie said as she hurried off to join the other contestants. “I’ll need it!”
San Antonio Sal walked out into the center of the ring and waved for Lisa and Carole to join her. As they had discussed the day before, they would clown the first event on foot, since no bucking calves or slippery goats would need to be caught.
“Are y’all feeling funny?” Sal asked as they trotted out to meet her.
“We sure are,” Carole said, looking at the three barrels placed in a big triangle in the middle of the ring. It was around these barrels that Stevie would soon be racing.
“And how’s our cowgirl Stevie doing?” Sal’s red painted-on eyebrows wrinkled in concern.
“She’s nervous,” said Lisa. “But she’s determined to win, and she’s a pretty good barrel racer.”
“Good for her.” Sal grinned. “All right, Texarkana Lisaand Texarkana Carole, if y’all are ready, then let’s rock and roll!”
The girls followed Sal over to the sidelines, where they began their first routine—one where Sal and Carole fought over who got to push Lisa around in a baby carriage. Carole had just started the fight by
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