Chapter 1

The Dark before Dawn

Gareth slowly pushed up the brim of his Stetson hat as he gazed out over the crowd. It was a good turnout. The fair grounds teamed with people. From his vantage point on top of his horse trailer he watched the people. He could never explain why, but at every town he hit he always took time to sit on top of his trailer and watch the masses. It gave him a sense of pride he guessed, to know that in just a few short hours these people would all sit spellbound and watch him as he had watched them earlier.

Then he saw her again. The girl who had caught his eye half an hour before was emerging from behind the funnel cake stand. He was a normal man, it didn’t take much to catch his eye, but it did take something to hold it. He knew this girl from somewhere. Or else he knew her twin… something about her was so familiar. He shook his head. There wasn’t anything he could do about that right now. He had to ride in an hour. Humming softly he jumped down, and opening the trailer door stepped into the heat. "Sorry Loge." He murmured as he untied the horse and led it down the ramp and towards the stables.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer's voice boomed over the loudspeaker "Welcome to the 97th annual Wellsville Fair Rodeo! This year we're offering -- for the cowgirls: barrel racing…” he droned on then announced that it was time to read the Cowboy Prayer.

A hush fell over the grandstands as the prayer was read. Calley closed her eyes and stuffed her hands into her pockets. She loved the arena, here or anywhere for that matter. She loved the smell, the feel, and the trill of the coming excitement. The heat of the afternoon sun, the way it beat into the dirt. Just being around the horses and people. She loved it all, and she wished for the thousandth time that day that she could find her place in it all. She glanced over at Sarah, her sister, and her best friend, Sarah who knew where she was headed. She had her life planned; she was in control, but Calley? She didn't seem to fit in anywhere. Not that she had the slightest desire to become a neurosurgeon like Sarah, but she wished she knew her place. As much as she loved the arena she didn't fit in.

The afternoon passed quickly and Calley was enjoying herself immensely. Then came the bronc riding. "Watch this guy," her father Matt leaned over and said as the first rider burst from the chutes, "see his form? It's all wrong. He won't last 4 seconds." And he didn't.

“How do you know all of this stuff?” She asked.

“Years of experience!” He grinned. “And don’t try to fool me. I know you have a good eye yourself.”

“Yeah, well… I learned from the best.”

“That’s right.” Matt said wrapping his arm around his daughter.

“What!” She gasped! “You have no modesty?”

He shrugged. “Can’t argue with it after 4 championships.”

“True.” She turned her attention back to the arena. It was good to have her father home. He was on the road rodeo-ing a lot and she missed him. Even on his time off he couldn’t leave rodeo alone. It drew him in like a magnet and though he was not riding today he was still hear at the local show to watch and give his commentary to them all. Not that she minded! No. She loved it.

She felt him tap her shoulder. "See that fellow there?" She nodded. He was preparing to ride in chute three; a black Stetson pulled low over his forehead. "His name's Gareth Balleman. He's one of the best."

She glanced at Matt, "You mean here?"

"No Calley, I mean the best.”

“You know him?” Sarah asked.

“Yes. Hoping he’ll be a travel buddy next year. There aren’t many out there like him. He's riding broncs here, but he's a bull rider. It's in his blood. See how much at ease he is? He looks as if he was about asleep, but he's more awake than you ever were. He's watching everything and everyone, might ever know we're talking about him."

"Dad," Sarah commented, "He can't be that good!"

"He is," Matt assured her as Gareth's bronc burst out of the chute, "just watch."

And they did. First the horse kicked up and tried to throw Gareth over its head, it then began twisting in tight circles, first to the left, then to the right. But Gareth kept his seat. Then the rodeo wise bronc headed for the fence trying unsuccessfully to scrape Gareth off against a Wrangler jeans add. He was still gracefully on the back of the horse when the ten-second bell sounded.

Gareth jumped off and made a bow as the crowd cheered and the bronc returned to the chutes. He jogged out of the ring and headed for the water cooler. "Good ride." One of the men standing nearby commented. Gareth nodded, hardly hearing what the man had said. There had been something wrong with his ride and he meant to go over every detail until he figured it out. "Wan'a beer?" The man asked.

"Huh?"

"I said, do you want a beer?" He repeated.

Gareth's head jerked up sharply, "No! I –I don’t drink." Alcohol had killed his father and he wasn’t going to let it do the same to him.

That night Gareth slept in an empty stall beside Logan's. He lay in his sleeping bag, on a layer of straw reviewing the day. He'd done okay in saddle bronc, and bareback had been a cinch due to the fact that his only competition had so back out on account of a badly sprained wrist. Then he closed his eyes and her face appeared in his mind. He had seen her once more that day. She had been in the grandstands during the roping. He had glanced up in the second before the starting whistle blew and caught a glimpse of her face. Afterwards he couldn't find her anywhere. Who was she? He wondered, but he couldn’t think about that right now. If he was supposed to see her again, he would. Right now he needed sleep, so he pushed all of that out of his mind he drifted off.

He dreamed that he was standing in the center of a sawdust arena. It was empty, but he heard a constant roaring. He looked around and saw that everything was red, blood red. He stared at his hands and the blood on them, and then he realized that he was holding someone. A girl. He wanted to see her face, but her hair concealed it. He wanted to hold her and protect her, yet he wanted to leave, to run away and never see the arena again or the girl again. But he felt tied there, as if he couldn't move. He woke in the first light of dawn cold and exhausted.

This is a story I wrote over several years between the ages of 13 and 16. I think the idea is very good, but the story its self is second rate. I guess, for a 13 year old it is good, but someday I intend to rewrite it.