The Nightcrawler by Mick Ridgewell Page A

commentator announcing a new record for calf roping at this venue when he heard it again.
    “Why the long face?”  
    Roger looked up to see the girl in the white T-shirt. The sun still high in the sky gave her a luminescent glow. He shrugged without speaking. The girl returned his shrug and walked away.
    “I got robbed,” he said.
    She stopped and turned to face him. “Well that sucks.”
    When Roger didn’t offer a response she walked back and prodded him for details. He told her how he got to the rodeo, and what he found when he got back to Bill’s trailer. She reached out to the dejected boy. Roger took the offered hand and she tugged to help him to his feet.  
    “What are you going to do now?”
    “I guess I’m going to have to start heading home,” he said, picking up his pack.
    “And where is home?”
    “Vermont.”
    “Vermont, I knew you were no cowboy.”
    “And why would you say that?” He asked the question like it wasn’t obvious to every rancher and competitor at the rodeo.  
    “Well, for one thing I’ve never seen a cowboy wearing shorts and hiking boots.” She stepped toe to toe with him. Placed her hands on his shoulders, put her cheek against his and inhaled deeply. Gently pushing him away she added, “Besides, you don’t smell like a cowboy.”
    Roger could feel his ears burning and he knew his cheeks had just gone a deep shade of crimson.  
    Undaunted he held out his hand, “Roger Morris. You may have saved my life.”
    “Is that a fact?”
    “Yes, it is a fact. Had you not come along when you did I wouldn’t have fallen off the fence.”
    She paused for a moment, pondering his assertion.
    “How did falling off a fence save your life?”
    He explained the bull crashing the fence story to her, then he added, “Well, you got me. What is the punishment for a non-cowboy attending a rodeo?”
    “For starters you’re going to have to take me to dinner.”
    “An hour ago that would have been my pleasure, but I have about thirty dollars to my name and I’m about fifteen-hundred miles from home.”
    “Well then, Vermont, I guess I’m going to have to buy you dinner.”
    Roger looked toward the line at the concessions, then back to her. She was shaking her head as if to say “You have got to be kidding”. They both laughed and Roger asked her name.
    “My name is Bethany. My friends call me Beth.”  
    She then grabbed him by the arm and led him away from the crowd.  
    “There’s a barbecue and corn roast at Buffalo Bill’s house. Would you like to go?”  
    “That sounds great, Beth, but I need to get to a town and see if I can get my mom to wire me some money to get home.”
    The way she was pulling him through the crowd, it didn’t appear that she heard him or that he had a choice but to follow.  
    Finally she said, “That’s no problem,” looking back over her shoulder in his direction. “I’ll give you a lift to town after dinner. But we don’t need a ride to the cookout. There are covered wagons that shuttle people back and forth during the rodeo.”  
    “Covered wagons? Like circle the wagons?”
    “Yes, just like that, Vermont. So what do you say?” She had stopped and turned to wait for his reply.
    “I don’t feel right, letting you spend your money on me,” he said looking down at his feet.  
    “We won’t need any money. The meal and drinks are included with the entry ticket; my sister gave me her ticket. She hooked up with a cowboy. He’s taking her to some hoe-down.”  
    “What’s your hurry?” Roger asked. He didn’t really care but she did seem to be itching to get away from there as if she were in some kind of trouble.  
    “What’s wrong, Vermont, can’t you keep up with a little girl?” She stopped and stood hands on her hips and smiled innocently.
    “I had a sausage about an hour ago and I’m not all that hungry.”
    “Well shit, Vermont, why didn’t you say so? What do you say about going for a swim? The dinner can wait;