Angel

Finally, it actually felt like summer. Yes, school had been out for about a week, but my mom had me cleaning. Thankfully my brother Ben was home for the summer early, so she had him clean too.

I know, ‘cleaning’. It doesn’t sound that hard, but my mom had us clean everything.

Seriously. Even places like the tops of cabinets and the top of the refrigerator. I know. Who’s going to look on top of our fridge?

I was only granted a break from cleaning so it wouldn’t be called child labor, and to go out with Dan. He’s ok.

I got out of cleaning one way or another.

We were driving to my brother’s bull-riding competition, and I was happy to get out of the house. Ben - and Dan for that matter - were both away at college, now home for the summer. Ben says he came back for the bull-riding, but I know he missed us.

It’s just me, Ben, Mom, and Dad in our family. We own a cattle ranch and also board horses. My dad usually spends his time taking care of the cattle because they’re a big source or income for us. Anyway, I’m getting sidetracked.

Ben’s always been into bull-riding, so almost as soon as he got home he signed up for the next competition. As we arrive, I tell Mom and Dad that I’ll be with Ben near the chutes.

“Bye Mom, bye Dad,” I say.

“We’ll look for you when we’re in the stands Angel. Good luck Ben,” she tells us, but Ben’s already concentrating on the rodeo, and it hasn’t even started yet!

They walk off to the stands, so Ben and I walk behind the scenes. I’m saying hello to some of the people I know that are already here - rodeo clowns, competitors - while Ben goes to see what bull he’s riding.

He comes back and tells me, “I’m riding Pirate’s Curse fourth,” then walks off gathering his stuff.

“Ben, you still have half an hour until the rodeo even starts!” I call after him.

He - of course - ignores me. So I shake my head and go climb on the bars of the fence to look out at the arena. Soon Ben will be out there, hanging on the back of a bull. I don’t see the appeal of brushing death or dismemberment in bull-riding, but, to each his own. I’ve never tried it. Besides, my mom would probably hurt me.

Thinking of my mom, I scan the stands and wave to my parents. They wave back, almost the only ones sitting in the stands. Only them and a few early birds. I just look out at the arena, then realize someone is talking to me.

Well, kind of scolding me.

“Excuse me? You. On the gate. Fans aren’t allowed back here. You’re going to have to leave.”

I take a deep breath before turning around. Sometimes I don’t do confrontations well. So I turn around an hop off the fence.

The speaker is a guy older than me, but not by much. He’s wearing bull-rider garb that looks like it’s been through a lot. On his head is a time beaten white cowboy hat, and on his feet are black cowboy boots. He has brown hair and blue eyes, and all-in-all looks like a seasoned bull-rider - even though he’s only about eighteen. Something about him, however, is familiar.

But I don’t know what.

“I’m not a fan. Well, I am, it’s just, I work here. And my brother’s a bull-rider,” I say with a flush on my cheeks, because of the way this guy is staring at me. Like I’m . . . a long lost friend or something.

Or I grew another head.

“Your brother is a bull-rider?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Is he competing tonight?”

“Yes.”

“I bull-ride too. I might know him. But I don’t know you.”

“I don’t know you either,” I point out. And I know everyone behind the scenes here. Even when Ben’s not here I help out. I don’t wait for this guy to respond before I ask, “Um . . . who are you?”

“Sam Harrison’s my name, bull-ridin’s my game,” he says with a grin.

Oh my gosh. Now I remember exactly who he is. Sam. We went out once, but then he moved and we lost touch. This was a year or so ago, but now I remember it. All of it.

I really liked him, and was heartbroken when he moved, but now he’s practically a stranger.

Sam says, “I can tell you somehow know me by that look on your face. Now let me guess who you are. Let’s see . . . you said you have a bull-riding brother?”

“Yes,” I respond, smiling.

“Is he older than you?”

“Yes.”

“How old are you, anyway?”

“Seventeen.”

“I see you’re keeping your answers to a minimum. Very . . . mysterious,” he teases.

Now I remember what I first liked about him. He was very friendly.

“I live here,” I say in reply. “How mysterious can I be?”

That gets a laugh from him.

Sam thinks aloud, “Let’s see. Your brother is older than seventeen and here for a bull-riding competition, because he is, in fact, a bull-rider.” Sam thinks for a moment more. “Ok. I have a few candidates. Just one more question. How tall is he?”

I raise an eyebrow at this, btu answer, “A little taller than you.”

“Does your last name start with ‘S’?”

“You said only one more question,” I point out smiling, “but yes. Our last name begins with ‘S’.”

He smiles and says, “Then I know who you are. You are Ben Snyder’s seventeen year-old sister Angeline Snyder, who prefers to be called ‘Angel’.”

I smile and say, “Correct. However, when you say it like that you sound like a stalker.”

He smiles and says, “I swear I am not a stalker. I say that because there’s someone behind you who would probably beat me up if I was a stalker.”

I whirl around, and there’s Ben.

“How long have you been here?” I demand.

“Just a few minutes.”

“Guess what Angel?” Sam asks.

‘What?”

“Ben and I have been in school together this past year. Right Ben?”

“Yes,” he replies.

“Ben, you never told me you have a sister!” Sam says, seeming shocked.

I turn back around and smack my brother’s shoulder.

“Hey!” he exclaims.

“You never told your friends that you’re not a family-less bum?” I think for a second and say, “Actually, you are a bum.”

I turn back to Sam and Ben hits me in the butt with his glove.

I’m about to turn and hurt my brother when Sam reasons, “Angel, before you disembowel your brother, could you look at me for a second?”

I do so and hear movement behind me and turn to see Ben running away.

“Coward!” I yell.

Sam smiles and says, “Come sit.”

So we got and sit on a bench that’s not in the thick of things.

“I’m sorry I helped Ben escape. I’m a sucker for the underdog. And besides, I didn’t feel . . . safe admitting in front of him that I still remembered you after two years.”

“Are you back for good?” I ask.

“Yes. I don’t like to move. It’s very . . . well, uprooting, obviously. How have you been?”

“Mostly the same, except for a few things. I’ll . . . I’ll tell you some other time,” I say, changing the subject. “Did you really recognize me as soon as you saw my face?”

“No,” he says. “It was about five seconds after I saw your face.”

I smile again. “When are you riding?”

“Tenth. On . . . uh . . . ‘Charlie’s Revenge’ I think his name is. Overly dramatic name for a bull . . . it is only dramatics, right?”

I playfully shrug my shoulders and say, “I don’t know . . . I’ve never been on a bull.”

“Good. Keep it that way.”

We sit and chat for a few more minutes, until someone else behind the scenes tells us to get ready for whatever we do in the rodeo.

“It’s good to see you Sam,” I say as we stand up to get to work.

“Yeah. I’m surprised you remember me,” he says.

I roll my eyes, then smile and say, “Stop over sometime. Do you still know where to find us?”

“Yes. I’ll come over. To see you and Ben.”

“If you must,” I tease, and give him a hug. I really forgot how much I liked Sam. I pull back and wish him good luck.

He smiles and says, “I’d wish you luck, but you’re not doing anything. So, bye.”

He walks one way, and I walk the other. I though, run into Dan.

At first I don’t realize he’s behind me - why is everyone sneaking up on me? - until he squeezes my waist as I go find some work to do.

“Who were you talking to?” he asks with a hint of suspicion in his voice.

“That’s the only thing I really don’t like about Dan. He’s kind of possessive.

“Sam. A long lost friend.”

As he begins to pelt me with questions about Sam, I think why are you so worried Dan? Do you feel threatened by someone I haven’t seen in two years? Dan, we went out once. True, you kissed me, but we’re not together.

Then of course, I wonder why I’m being so nasty.

Dan finally says he’ll see me later, and I wish him luck. Then I go find Ross, the ‘head clown’. He doesn’t have anything for me to do, so we chat and watch the first events.

The order of events changes a lot, and today bull-riding winds up being the final event, right after bareback riding. Or is it called bronc riding? I can never remember.

Anyway, halfway through the bareback riding, Ross goes to assemble his clowns, and I go find Ben. He’s waiting near his chute and I can tell he’s nervous - well, who wouldn’t be - by the way he’s smacking his rope against his leg.

“Benny-boy,” I say. “Calm down. You’ve done this a million times. Remember, a bull is only an obstacle between you and the ground.”

He looks at me like I’m insane.

“That happens to move,” I continue.

He looks at me like I’ve just announced I’m going to grow another head or something.

I remove all fake cheeriness from my voice and say, “Ok, look. You’re going to do fine. Stop worrying.”

To my surprise, he grins and says, “Thank you for returning to planet earth.”

I smack his shoulder. “You’re a bum. Good thing we love or you’d be out on the street. Good luck anyway.”

“Thanks . . . I guess.”

You’d think guys get mature as they grow older, right? Wrong. I leave Ben to his worries and set off to find Sam, suddenly struck with the idea to wish him luck. Well, wish him luck again. I stand out of the way and look for him.

Only, I don’t see him. That’s odd. Every other bull-rider is here.

“Looking for me?”

I spin around, nearly smacking into Sam. Catching my breath, I say, “Will you get a big head if I say yes?”

He thinks for a minute and says, “No. But, you never know. Why were you looking for me anyhow?”

“I was going to wish you luck, but if you’re going to be all suspicious . . .” I trail off, and he comically widens his eyes and pretend to plead.

“Your ladyship, I swear, I was only suspicious because of the likes of you talking to the likes of one such as me is plum unheard of, and we only get reprimanded if we’re sought out, but if your ladyship would still wish me luck I promise not to do any wrong, and, and-“

I cut him off, laughing so hard I can barely speak and say, “Good luck Sam.”

He’s grinning as he says, “Well, than you your ladyship for listening to the likes of me.”

We lean against a fence and wait for the bull-riding to begin.

“I have good news,” Sam finally says.

“What is it? I ask.

“Ben invited me over for dinner tomorrow.”

“Really? That’s nice of him. You know, he never talked about you that much to us either. When he talked to us at all, that is.”

“Well, truth to be told, I didn’t tell my family that much about Ben either. I just said I had a few friends.”

“Oh.”

Sam looks around, then with a grin says, “Aren’t you going to wish your boyfriend good luck too?”

I turn and glare at him. “He’s not my boyfriend. We went out on one date. Who told you he was my boyfriend?”

“Everyone assumes so by the way Danny-boy’s been acting. And you too for that matter. Weren’t you making out with him?”

“Who told you that?” I hiss. “It was one kiss.

“Calm down, I’m only kidding. Yes, people assume you’re going out, but only because of how Dan’s been acting. I made up that part about you making out with him. I wanted to see what would happen. I can’t help it - I’m part troublemaker by blood. Color me ashamed.”

“Now you know what would happen,” I respond, smacking back against the fence.

“Please milady, I meant know offense. I was just having a bit o’ fun, begging your ladyship’s pardon.”

I smile against my will and say, “You are forgiven. But how’d you get into all the middle ages stuff?”

“Well, one of the friends I made when I moved was into the middle ages stuff, so me and the guys would tease him, calling him ‘milord’ and talking middle ages style. I just got into the habit of doing it. If it bothers you I can stop.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Oh my, Ben’s up!”

We race to the fence to watch. He’s in the chute, getting strapped in, and then he nods, ad he’s out. Pirate’s Curse is spinning and jumping as soon as he explodes out of the chute.

It getting closer to the eight seconds and Ben’s still on, waving his hand high, when Pirate gives a mighty buck, and Ben falls off.

He lands on his side, and scrambles up as Ross and the other clowns distract the bull. Everyone cheers as Ben climbs on the side of the fence and the bull is sent out of the arena. Ben stayed on for 7.6 seconds. He’s done better, but obviously not by much. Still, it’s a darn good time for not having ridden in a while. But him, being Ben, will still be disappointed.

Two more riders go, and Sam says, ‘I have to go get ready for my ride.”

“Luck!” I call after him.

I almost miss his run because I’m helping Doc bandage up another rider who sprained his arm. As I reward for being a good patient - hey, it was twisted really bad - I kiss the rider’s cheek, and he grins. I hear them calling Sam’s name, make my excuses, and run to the fence.

‘Charlie’s Revenge is a big speckled bull with a black circle around one eye, which is actually the animal’s true coat pattern. I guess revenge is what Charlie wants after getting a black eye, eh?

Sam’s getting all strapped in. He pushes his hat down on his head, raises his hand high, and gives a sharp nod.

Charlie’s Revenge bursts out of the chute with a mighty leap, but Sam is ready for it. The bull spins and bucks, first one way, then the other. They turn this way and that, the bull’s motions getting more and more violent, when - BEEP!

The buzzer goes off, and Sam is still perched on the beast’s back. But now he has to get off. It seems like one, two, three, and then Sam slides off. But his foot gets caught on the rope and instead of landing neatly, Sam lands on his arm.

The clowns swarm around, serving as distractions once again as Sam gets up and hurries to the fence, holding the arm he landed on. As he climbs out, I head to Doc’s station to see if he needs help. Sam makes it to Doc’s without too much of a fuss, and Doc tells me to look for a sling while he probes Sam’s arm.

“Well Mr. Harrison, you are lucky. You simply sprained your wrist, and not too badly at that. I’ll put it in a sling while I find the proper bandage. That is, if I get the sling before you heal. Angel, have you found it yet?”

“Just found it Doc. Here ya go.”

He carefully places Sam’s arm in the sling and rummages for the right bandage.

“Congrats,” I say to Sam.

“For what the bull or the wrist?”

I tease him and say, “The wrist, obviously. Anyone can ride a bull, but it takes real talent to sprain a wrist.” I smile, and he laughs.

Doc wraps up Sam’s wrist with the bandages he found, so Sam and I leave to hear Ross congratulating his younger cousin Taylor, a friend of mine and Sam’s. Taylor also stayed on for eight seconds, like Sam. We congratulate Taylor too, then go to the fence to watch the other contestants. There are a few more thrills and spills, but nobody else is sent to Doc.

Then, they announce the results. “First place is . . . Taylor Sterling!” We hear Ross cheering his cousin on as he walks into the ring to collect his trophy. “Second place is . . . Sam Harrison!” I squeeze he shoulder as a wide grin breaks over Sam’s face, and he goes to collect his trophy.

Third place is Tim Craig, the bull-rider who sprained his arm and I helped Doc tend to. Ben comes in fifth, but by the look on his face I can tell he’s content. The rodeo is now over, and I help with whatever I can behind the scenes. I see Ben go find our parents to explain why he got the score that he did. We don’t really mind though, it’s just the way Ben is. I make sure Ben has his hat before I tell Ross I’m leaving, because Ben is always leaving his hat somewhere, and then drives us all crazy trying to find it.

Ben is holding his hat, so I go find Ross and say, ‘We’ll we’re leaving.”

“Ok. Have a good night.”

“You too Ross. Tell Taylor congrats from me.”

“Will do,” he says with a grin.

I smile back, then walk away toward my family. Only first I see Sam, so I go say goodbye to him too before I leave.

“Hey Sam.”

“Hey.”

“Well, congrats on second.”

“Thanks. You’re only about the fiftieth person to tell me that. Not that I’m keeping track or anything,” he says with a grin.

“Well, see you at dinner tomorrow. That is, if Ben really did ask our parents if he could have a guest for supper.”

“You’re going to eat me?” Sam asks in mock horror.

“No. But I might if you keep up that attitude,” I tease. “Bye.”

“Bye,” he returns.

As I walk away, I realize how happy I am that Sam moved back here.