Just a page that I scratched out today. This is the first peice of work I have ever submitted online and I wanted to get something in. Well, here it is...
Kalvin had traveled miles from home just to ride a full eight seconds on a horse. That horse's name was “Corazon De Desperado”. Kalvin had watched as Corazon declare his dominance earlier that day. This was a grullo horse that would never back down from anything. Kalvin was even a bit intimidated by him. However, he was not about to lose to his rodeo rival, Hank, who had competed against him since they were children. Hank was good, but Kalvin wanted to be better. Last year, Kalvin watched in disgust as Hank stood there in the glaring lights of the Wyoming Championships, receiving a hand-tooled saddle amidst the popping photographers' flashbulbs. Kalvin had never felt more jealous. That was supposed to be my saddle, Kalvin thought bitterly, and this was supposed to be my year!
Now his mind was redirected to the announcer's words: “Hank Mashoo coming out of Chute Number Three on Tangle.” Kalvin turned to watch, his nerves making him bite at his leather glove. Hank Mashoo was a comer, those crowd-pleasing, easy riders who made a fetish out of every move, making them a thing of easy grace. The natural competitive desire to beat Hank turned into a complete obsession for Kalvin.
The bronc ran a few strides and then savagely bogged his head. Kalvin watched the way Hank did all his scoring in the air and had his feet set each time the spine-jarring horse struck the arena ground, creating dust to billow up in little clouds. The crowd went absolutely wild when Hank finished eight seconds, landing on the ground when he swung from the bronc to one of the pick-up horses.
Kalvin rose stiffly to his feet. There was an annoying unnatural moisture in the creases of his hands. He wiped them on his thighs of his chaps. One more fall, or even seeing someone get hurt, would be the end of his nerve; his nerve was dieing, and dieing fast. The thought of Mia came to his mind. He had almost forgotten about her. He had written to her, saying that he would be in Cheyenne and that she should come with him to see him beat Hank Mashoo. He started to search the grandstand for her face, but he did not see her.
“Joseph Glenden up next out of Chute Number Four on Bright Light!” The voice of the announcer made Kalvin's eyes pull away from the crowd. His turn was after Joseph. While Joseph and the bronc were still out in the arena, Kalvin crawled up the side of the chute and stared down at the grullo bronc. He rubbed the resin on his hands and started to go down into the chute. Hank was there to steady Kalvin as he straddled the inside of the chute and shimmied down into the saddle.
“Hey, Kalvin,” Hank said as he helped cinch the bronc up. “You sure you're up to this ride? Corazon is one tough critter.” Kalvin just gave him a look.
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, next up is Kalvin Sotter coming out of Chute Number Five on Corazon De Desperado!” the announcer said. Kalvin tugged at his black hat, securing it tight on his head, found the stirrups with his feet, and was ready to go. He nodded to Lonny, who was behind the gate. With that, the gate was swung wide open.
The grullo horse busted out of the chute like Kalvin expected. But from the very first leap Kalvin sensed something was the matter. The horse was not panicky, but it was determined to get his rider off. The ride was rough, but achievable for the first two seconds. Suddenly, it seemed that the horse had completely changed directions and Kalvin's prediction was incorrect. He thought the bronc would land tucking his right shoulder and spin to the right, and it made since, but he did not. He felt his hips slide off of the horse and his hand slipping from its grip. The horse leaped high off of the ground one last time before the cowboy was jerked right off. He saw the ground coming straight at his face, but he could do nothing about it.
Kalvin looked up and could see the bronc named Corazon look back at him. It was as if the horse was mocking the cowboy, daring him to try to ride him again. For Kalvin, it was a major loss to his competition and pride. To Corazon, it was pure victory. To Kalvin's surprise, the crowd roared. When the unsuccessful rider got up on his shaky feet, he noticed that the bronc who had defeated him was galloping furiously around the arena, too fast for the pickup men’s horses.
