Chapter 23
Posted: July 27, 2007 - 05:44:49 pm


The first event of the cowboy competition was calf roping, an event in which I knew I stunk. Thankfully, Melosa wasn't weak in it even a little bit. I swear when the twenty foot rope on the calf pulled the open the latch that held our gate closed, Melosa shot out of stall as if she were a jet being catapulted off an aircraft carrier. The calf didn't get twenty feet further before she was right beside it. I dropped my lasso around the calf's head and Melosa hit the air brakes. The calf took a few more running steps then did a back flip as the rope tightened around his upper body and jerked him to a halt.

I was a little slow coming out of the saddle, because Melosa had stopped so fast it unbalanced me, but Melosa had started walking backwards by then, keeping the rope taut so the calf could not jump up and run. I grabbed a foreleg and dropped the loop of my pigging string over it, then quickly tied it together to two other legs with a half hitch. When I finished hogtying the calf, I threw up my hands. Melosa walked forward to let slack back into the rope, and I held my breath that the calf would stay tied for the ten seconds the judges here insisted on.

My luck held and the calf stayed tied until the judge yelled time. I wasn't very impressed with my effort, but I was gob smacked by Melosa's performance. This wasn't my first rodeo by a long shot, so I knew that getting a two to three hundred pound calf off his feet sometimes stymied even the best ropers. Melosa neatly cured that problem by coming to a dead stop so fast, the calf bounced off the end of the rope as if it were a yo-yo. I ended up a respectable fifth for the event, no thanks to me.

When Melosa and I walked out of the side gate to the fenced enclosure, Pedro Diaz was standing there waiting for me. He gave me a big smile and shook my hand as if he were trying to detach it from my shoulder.

"I didn't know you were a vaquero too, Señor Abogado," he said.

I shrugged and told him the half-assed truth.

"I'm not so much one now, Pedro; it seems as if it has been a hundred years since I did that last."

Pedro laughed and said he could tell.

"But your horse, she helped you out much, I think."

I agreed with him and congratulated him for winning the event. Pedro wasn't just whistling Dixie when he had said he was a good vaquero.

I walked with Pedro over to where Rosalinda was holding his horse. Rosalinda was happy to see me and gave me a vertebrae cracking hug to prove it. Being hugged by Rosalinda was like a visit to the chiropractor. Rosalinda was a very handsome woman, and carried herself with a fetchingly sensuous grace that belied her size. Moreover, that woman loved the hell out of wiry little Pedro. When she looked at him, her eyes were all big and mushy. I wanted that look from a woman one day.

Pedro's horse, an Appaloosa mare, was a good-looking animal in her own right, and his silver concho studded saddle was even fancier than mine. None of that seemed to impress Melosa much, as she showed her teeth and whickered menacingly. I pulled Melosa back some so she couldn't bite anyone, and gave her a look. Pedro noticed what was happening and laughed.

"Your horse, she is like my Rosalinda, jealous around other women even though she knows I have eyes for only her."

Rosalinda squealed when he said that and smothered him in a hug. I laughed and told him it was one of the mysteries of life. We shook hands again and I wandered off to see what else was going on.

The next event was bull tailing, and I wanted to see if I could learn something watching the other cowboys in action. Bull tailing involves just what the name implies; a cowboy mounted on a horse, grabs a running bull's tail and tries to pull the bull off his feet. I'd seen the modern version of the event at charreadas (Mexican rodeos) on both sides of the river, so I knew the mechanics involved. I figured out right away that I didn't have a chance, because neither Uncle Ty nor I had ever even attempted it.

I managed to get myself last in line and kept watching, looking for any tricks that might help me. Scoring for the event, as conducted back in eighteen seventy-seven, was a combination of time and style points. When it was finally my turn, I didn't earn many of either. Hell, if Melosa hadn't hip-checked the steer as I was yanking on his tail, the son-of-a-gun would probably still be standing there laughing at me. I came in twelfth out of fifteen only because three cowboys failed to get the steer down at all. Pedro finished a close second in the event, as he yanked the steer so impressively, it barrel rolled twice. That was a big contrast to the way my steer just kind of laid down on his side as if he was bored with the whole ordeal.

I figured to do better in the next event, the Cala de Caballo (test of the horse). For the event, I received some unexpected help, when four generations of Lopez women walked up. I received four very sweet kisses on my cheek from Anna, Ramona, Juanita and the Baby Anna, and a lingering kiss on the lips from Maria. I smiled and greeted them, then made a petulant face.

"So I see where I stand with everyone but Maria. Now that you have found other men, you all treat me as if I were your smelly old uncle," I carped.

They all giggled at that.

"See girls, he is not so dumb after all. Actually, we came to see Melosa, so you are lucky we are even talking to you," Anna deadpanned to her Greek Chorus of nodding heads.

I guess she was telling the truth, because they all gathered around Melosa and braided wildflowers into her mane as Baby Anna fed her some carrot pieces. When they were finished, Melosa looked as pretty as one of those pampered horses in the Rose Bowl Parade.

I dawdled around talking to the Lopez women as the other cowboys and vaqueros showed off their horses' skills. The test of the horse had some trick moves in it that were unnatural for a horse to perform. It takes a highly trained mount to do a triple spin in each direction, and doing a side step was very unnatural for them. As Melosa and I sat last in line, I watched the other horses closely. All of them were good, but Pedro's Appaloosa and this Palomino gelding were the class of the field so far.

As I watched the other entrants, I noticed how large a crowd the event had drawn. The horse show was one of the most popular of the festival. The growing crowd gave me a crazy idea. Now I had no doubt that Melosa could do the moves as well as the other horses, but we were sure not to be as sharp as the best of the others, because we hadn't practiced a lot. However, Melosa had other talents we had practiced, and she sure seemed to like to show off. Maybe I could find a way to let Melosa do a few tricks the other horses couldn't do.

When it was our turn, things happened about as I imagined. Melosa performed her moves well and was quick about it, with little prodding from me. I figured we were easily in the top five. When she did her last side step, I swept of my hat and bowed in the saddle, which, of course, was Melosa's cue to do her little curtsey. When she stood up, I cantered her over to where a group of the saloon girls was standing.

The girls all fussed over Melosa and how cute she was, so it took me a minute to get them in on my plan. When I told them what I wanted, they all started laughing and clapping; they were all for it. So I turned Melosa around, and suddenly about twenty dancers all started singing.

As soon as Melosa heard them let out that first Alley Oop... oop... oop-oop, her head and ears came up, her tail swished from side to side and she started to strut. I swear that she shook her ass from side to side just like Tina Turner. As we went around the edge of the fence, I put Melosa through her commands again. It was fun watching her keep time to the beat as she spun one way then the other, but the coup de grace was when she did her little funky side step. Even the judges were applauding when we exited the arena.

We didn't win, but we took a very decent third. We were in sixth place after three events with three to go.

While Melosa was strutting her stuff, the first five cowboys and their horses were lining up for the first quarter mile heat race. There would be three heat races, with the top two horses in each heat moving on to the finals. I took off my guns and saddlebags for the racing, to lighten Melosa's load. By now, Melosa and I had an entourage of saloon and Lopez women fussing around us. That didn't hurt my feelings a bit, and Melosa was eating up the attention she was getting.

I was happy that the women from the saloons and the Lopezes were getting along so well. I had been worried about Belle and Maria being jealous of one another, but that didn't seem to be happening. Of course, just to be on the safe side, I'd entrusted my pistol to Anna for safekeeping.

My little filly won our heat race by half a length as she ran her heart out. We were in the finals, but I worried that Melosa would be too winded from lugging my big ass in the heat race to be ready again so soon for the final. She didn't seem any the worse for wear, though, as I walked her back to the starting line. Belle, Maria and I detoured her over to the horse trough and I let her take a few sips before pulling her away. I'd let her drink her fill after the race, but I didn't want her to over do it beforehand.

My fears about my size being a disadvantage came home to roost in the final race. Melosa was a trouper and ran her heart out, but we finished fourth behind Pedro and two other small wiry vaqueros. Our finishing position in the race was high enough to move us up to fifth place over all. I unsaddled Melosa and left her ground tied under a willow tree so she could rest and graze. Melosa seemed content with that, and appeared no worse for the wear from her full morning.

I figured that with pistol shooting and bull riding coming up, I had a chance at a good overall finish. I wasn't looking to win the thing. I had already figured out that Pedro Diaz had a lock on that, but I thought that finishing somewhere near the top would earn me a little more respect.

The pistol-shooting event was open to anyone. The scores of the contestants in the cowboy games would count in the order that they finished, compared to the other competitors. I was not looking to beat just the cowboys, though; I wanted to win the whole enchilada. To that end, I was wearing my single holster rig, stuffed with the longer Colt Cavalry model. One thing I wasn't planning on doing was anything that would give away my ability as a gun fighter. There would be no fast drawing or trick shooting.

The pistol competition drew a lot of entries, as it seemed that every man in El Paso who owned a pistol wanted to compete. The format for the pistol event was simple. Each contestant fired ten rounds at a target set fifty feet away. The targets were the ringed bull's eye, type with the black bull's eye counting as 10 points, and each successive ring worth one point less. In the time I'd left, it would not have been much of a challenge. However, back here in the old west, it was a true test, because there was no match-grade ammunition or highly modified, accurized weaponry.

The shooting event was held on the edge of the river. The targets were tacked to poles set in the ground in front of a backstop of sandbags. The make shift range was set up for three shooters at a time and had been going nonstop for two hours by the time I wandered down there. The high scores were posted on a slate chalkboard set on an easel near the sign in table. As I moved towards the front of the line, I saw that George Howard was the first name on the list, with a score of eighty-six with five bull's eyes. Given the conditions, that was damned good shooting. Sheriff Faulkner's name wasn't on the list of the top ten, so I had to figure he hadn't been up yet.

When it became my turn, I was able to focus and my new long pistol still fired like a dream. I shot a ninety with six bull's eyes. When I finished shooting, checking my target and getting my score verified, I headed back to the arena. It was lunchtime and I was hungry, so I beelined it over to where Hector and Ramona were dishing out grub.

I was very surprised when I arrived at their tent to find Belle working with Anna, rolling chilies and beef up in some flour tortillas. Anna looked up, saw me gawking and nudged Belle to get her attention.

"Look at our handsome charro, Belita, I think he is surprised seeing you cook."

Belle smiled and pushed her hair from her face with the back of her hand.

"I have many talents that Tyler has yet to discover, Anna," Belle said cheekily.

Anna laughed and nudged her away from the table they were working at.

"So fix our big strong cowboy a plate and go sit with him. You might also discover he has more talents than you think."

Belle did just that, piling me a big plate of the tortillas she'd been rolling. We found a tree to sit under and Belle talked while I hungrily demolished the plate she'd made me. Belle really liked the Lopez women, especially Anna. She said that Anna talked about me in glowing terms and loved me to death. She also teased me about Maria. I kept my mouth mostly shut and filled with food, so I couldn't put my foot in it. I was sort of confused about the way Belle calmly accepted the other women in my life. Heck, she even smiled when Maria came over and joined us.

I sat and gabbed with the two of them as I let my food digest. I started regretting how much I had eaten, when I thought of the bull riding event coming up later. As we were talking, I saw Molly walk by, holding on to Clem's arm and talking animatedly. Clem had a big smile on his face as they passed by us without even noticing me. Seeing them like that made me smile.

The women left me alone after about fifteen minutes, so I pulled my hat down over my eyes and nodded off.

A giggling Maria woke me up.

"Wake up, Tyler," she said as she shook my arm. "You are snoring something terrible, and they are calling for everyone for the riding of the bulls."

I grabbed her and tickled her some for complaining about my snoring. She squealed and jumped to her feet.

"You are so rude, Señor," she griped.

I laughed and made as if to grab her. She squealed again and backed up quickly.

"If you had awakened me with a sweet kiss, I'd be in a better mood," I growled.

Her eyes got big and she looked around to see if anyone had heard me. When she saw we were alone, she gave me a smoldering look and an emphatic nod.

"I will remember that, Tyler," she said in that smoky Lopez voice.

I strolled over to the arena and found out I was the fourth cowboy up, so I leaned against the fence and watched the other riders. I knew bull riding Mexican style was different from what I had done, but watching the other cowboys drove the point home sharply. In the old El Paso version, you held on to the cinch rope with both hands and you had to stay on the bull as long as you could. Another big difference was that in this time, the bulls were much smaller. Instead of the fifteen hundred pound behemoths bred in the twentieth century, these weighed about a thousand pounds.

Scoring was different too, as a rider's final score was his time on the bull, multiplied by the bulls rating. Bulls were rated from one to three, based on how they performed. The nastier the bull was, the higher its rating. Since the bulls were rated after you rode, I didn't know in advance, what I'd be up on.

Turns out I drew a two, and hung on to that sucker for thirty seconds. It was way longer than I'd stayed on a bull before. I think that in contrast to the horse race, my size was a big advantage in this event, because I was a load on that bull's back. My sixty points made me the man to beat, as no one so far had come close. I figured my toughest competition was going to be from Pedro Diaz, who as the leader in points, chose to ride last.

If the scale for bulls went from one to three, Pedro drew a four. The bull he was on wasn't that big, but Pedro was a lightweight, and that critter had some of the nastiest moves I'd ever seen. Despite all that, Pedro hung onto that bull like a leech for twenty-one seconds, before it did this reverse spin that sent Pedro flying as if he'd been launched out of a cannon.

Pedro flew about twenty feet and landed flat on his back, with a thud that knocked him senseless. I watched with some concern, but two other cowboys closer to him jumped into the arena to drag him out as the bull started to head for the gate that swung open for him. That would have been that, if Rosalinda hadn't shrieked and clambered over the corral fence to get to her injured man. For a big ole' gal, she was pretty damned agile.

The trouble started when Rosalinda hit the ground running before the bull was out the gate. Even his myopic, beady eyes had no trouble noticing a new target the size of Rosalinda. He threw on the brakes, swung around and snorted. I guess my rodeo clown training kicked in about then, because I vaulted over the fence and sprinted to get between Rosalinda and the bull. The bull started lumbering towards Rosalinda, picking up speed with every step. I adjusted my course as I saw the bull rapidly closing on the running woman. Left no other choice, I charged right at the bull and grabbed his horns, using my body weight to bend his head down and to the left to change his direction of travel.

My ploy worked, but it left me in the uncomfortable position of standing right in front of a half ton of pissed off bovine. The bull flung his head in anger and sent me reeling backwards. I recovered my balance, spun around and hauled ass for the open gate. I looked back over my shoulder to make sure the bull was chasing me, then turned on the afterburners. I was about ten feet from the gate when I looked over my shoulder again. I almost crapped myself when I saw the bull about five feet behind me, with his head down, preparing to skewer me like a shish-ka-bob.

In desperation, I used a move that I had practiced on a trampoline, but had never tried in real life. I slowed down and jumped into the air as high as my adrenaline-filled body would go. I swear time stood still as the bull ran under me, his head still down. His horns caught me right at the ankles and pitched me backwards, almost exactly as I was praying they would. I bounced at an angle off his back and hit the sand like a ton of shit, but the bull's momentum carried him right on through the gate. Of course, I didn't see that, because my less than graceful landing knocked me out cold.
Joe J & Wet Dream-Girl
Chapter 24