Thunder and lightning clashed about as rain poured down on to the ground. The rain was falling so hard that it was pounding the dirt of our arena into mud and then splashing it into the air. I circled in place, searching through the darkness that enveloped me. I tried not to show my fear as I heard the sound of fleeting hoofbeats around me, tolling the bell of the earth beneath them. I shielded my eyes as a grey blur of sheer muscle power surged its way past me, inches from wacking me with a loose stirrup, seconds before a lightning flash. I fell backwards as a black blur flew near my ear, rustling my hair as it went by.

I drew in a sharp breath as I hit the ground and stared into the darkness again. I cursed under my breath as I gathered my courage and climbed back to my feet, every inch drawing in fear. With the occasional lightning strike, he looked liked a ghost haunting our arena. It made him almost silver as he danced around me, his proud eyes almost a red color when I could see them. On occassion I would hear the sound of his rapid breathing as if a steam engine were heading straight towards me, loose from its tracks and gone mad. He would draw near me while it was dark and then drift off again as lightning flashed, his silohuette melting into the clouds of black. The smell of mud, rain, and horse sweat all mixed together to create the enticing perfume that the wild west was famous for.

I eyed the ranch house in the distance. It was only about sixty yards from the arena I was in. All the windows were still dark. I began to curse myself for not moving him in the daylight, when the guys could have helped me. Trying to follow him in the arena was beginning to scare me. It was such a big space; he could go far enough away to where I wouldnt be able to hear him anymore. After a few seconds of silence, I began to lose my patience.

"Alright you son of a bitch, where are you? Show your nasty face!" I yelled into the darkness. I began to grow nervous as I heard pounding hooves heading my direction. The thought of 1300 pounds of muscle running over you was horrific to any cowboy. I stood still, almost too terrified to move. I squinted into the darkness trying to see what was going on from under the brim of my cowboy hat just as I heard a high pitched whinny in the blackness. I heard the sound of his hoofbeats. It was growing louder. In my direction. In fear I dropped to my knees and put my hands on my head. Lightning flashed just in time for me to see him as a flew past me.

I let out a noise of surprise as I saw his hooves hit the ground, inches from my face. In response, I rolled the opposite direction. Then it hit me. Not only did i see his hooves, but I saw a rope dragging the ground some ten feet behind him. If I could just grab the rope, I could wrestle with him. All I would have to do, is snap his head around sharp enough to make him slam on his brakes. Then, maybe I could tie his head around. I stayed where I was on the ground and tried listening for his hoofbeats. I smiled as I heard them begin to near me again.

I sat still, waiting. My anticipation grew as I prepared myself. As his hooves passed my vision in the light of another flash, I reached out for the rope. I grunted as my fingers found it and wrapped around the grime covered line. I slid several feet, trying to hide my face from the mud. I felt a jolt in the line, then everything went black.

---the next morning---

"Hey, Matt, get up would ya," I heard as I felt someone shaking me from side to side. I put a hand over my eyes in attempt to block out the sunlight, but only ended up trying to look around.

"What happened?" I asked as I sat up. The scrawny cowboy that was standing next to me was George, and he was looking down at me. His old, worn-out, black cowboy hat almost hid his eyes from my sight. He stood there with a lariat in his left hand and bridle in his right hand.

"That damn stallion nearly killed you last night didn't he? We told ya to wait til we could help ya, but ya insisted on doin it yer'self we can see. I hope ya learned yer lesson," he said with an angry sneer and walked off. "Now do somethin with that animal before I do," he said as he shut the arena gate behind him and mounted his little bay mare, Ruby. He sat in the saddle with the look of an old calvary general, one that had been there and done that. I sighed and struggled to get up. After getting to my feet, my head began to swim with pain. I reached my hand up to my forehead, but quickly pulled my hand away. The sharp pain that rang through my head nearly knocked me back on my butt.

"Ow," I said to myself as I slowly reached back up to softly feel the wet and slightly swollen area on my forehead. I pulled my hand back to where I could see it. Looking at it I cringed, the sight of blood and not remembering what happened are always a bad sign. I looked around the one acre arena. the palomino tobiano stallion, or Rookie as we called him, was standing at the south end of the arena. He was standing there, his legs caked in mud, my saddle sitting crooked on his back, the reins of my bridle hanging loose.

"Rookie, we've had enough," I said clearly as I slowly started to walk towards the stallion. His head shot up as he flared his nostrils and perked his ears at me. He seemed to puff himself up as I walked toward him, trying to make himself look bigger.

"Oh, stop, Matt. He'll kill ya," said George with an exasperated tone in his voice. I tried to make it appear as if I hadn't heard him and continued on towards the stallion. "We can just halter and lead break him and then sell him off to the rodeo man," he said, in another attempt to stop me. "He's always lookin for good broncs, and this one would make him hundreds," he continued after a long pause.

"Or, I can use him as a performance horse and make us hundreds," I said under my breath. As I neared the stallion, he began to fidget where he stood. "Steady boy. Easy," I cooed, trying to ease him. I stayed a safe distance from him, I realized with good judgement. Just as I nearly got close enough to snatch the reins, he rocked back onto his hocks and reared up in the air, striking at me with one of his front legs. I snatched my lariat from where I dropped it last night as the stallion took off running. I looked up as I heard George growl under his breath and got ready to panic and ask for help when I noticed something. I let out a sigh of relief as I saw my gelding, Zeek, still standing quietly tied to a post just outside the arena. The boys hadn't touched him. "Zeek, I need your help," I said outloud and smiled as the gelding perked his ears at me and nickered. I slipped through the gate of the arena and made my way over to him.

I paused at his shoulder to pat his neck softly. "Come on, boy," I encouraged. after untying his reins and flipping them over his head, I stuck my foot in the stirrup and swung myself into the saddle. I clucked to him and reined him toward the gate. Opening and closing the gate from horseback, I proudly entered the arena and gathered my reins and lariat. "Your winning streak is about to end mustang," I stated confidently, "and mines about to begin."