Page 16 of The Pieces We've Lost

Maybe I wouldn’t feel an ounce of regret. Or maybe I would have given up after a year. At least if she had forced me to do it, I would have known.

That wasn’t in her nature, though. She never wanted to be the type of parent that tried to control her child’s entire life. She wanted me to make my own choices, but she made it very clear that I would have to live with the decisions I made. A “sure, you can eat bags on bags of candy and sweets, but when you have ten cavities and have to get them all filled at the dentist, don’t come crying to me,” type of thing.

“Folks, we’ve got a fan favorite coming up next.” The announcer’s voice cut through my thoughts. “If you didn’t get the chance to sign your child up to compete in the mutton bustin’ during the actual rodeo but they want to try their hand at it, take them over to The Junction, where they can participate in mutton bustin’ all day.”

Now, mutton bustin’ was a fan favorite for a reason. It very well could be up there with bull riding because it was highly entertaining and a lot less dangerous. Picture a child, between the ages of five and seven, riding on the back of a sheep trying their best to hold on and you had mutton bustin’. It never failed to get the crowd laughing and was a great break between events. It was almost like a halftime show for the rodeo.

I’d done some mutton busting when my dad was still around. He took me with him to a lot of the local rodeos where they would have it, or some kind of activity, for kids to participate in. The kids rarely got hurt during the event and the only tears that might have fallen were from gettinga big mouthful of dirt. For the most part, these kids were built tough.

My mom and I watched as a little boy named Emmett held on for dear life as the ewe sprinted across the arena. After his turn, another one named Payton rode the sheep facing backward, his helmeted face bouncing into the wool on its back as the crowd cracked up.

For some kids, this was how they would get their start in the sport. Some of them would go on to be great bull riders or ropers. Others, though, might end up like me, jaded and alienated. That was life.

My mother and I didn’t chat much about the rodeo. It was hard to talk about something when one person still loved it and the other didn’t. But that didn’t mean she didn’t try.

“Those girls looked good out there during the breakaway roping.” She tried to start a conversation.

“Mm-hmm,” I replied, unsure of what to say. This was so hard for me.

“I remember the first time you got on the back of a horse when you were little.” She reminisced. “You loved it. You could tell some of the other kids were terrified, being so high up, but not you. You always were such a brave girl.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I gave her a weak smile. I knew she was trying her best. We all had different ways of coping. This was hers. I did the best I could to stand by her and support her, but there was only so much trying I could do and I hoped she saw that.

A wave of cheers interrupted whatever conversation we weren’t having. Turned out a little girl had held on to her sheep for the entire six seconds without falling off and everyone was going crazy for her.

CHAPTER TEN

colter

After that run, we have a new leader on the board. Six-point-two seconds is the time to beat tonight, folks. Remember, the top four teams who have earned the most prize money over the past three days will have the chance to compete in the semifinals next week.”

I soaked in the announcer’s words.

Reid and I had already punched our ticket to the semifinals. If we won tonight, we’d be the top team in our series. If not, we’d be either second or third and would still move on.

Of course, neither of us wanted anything but first. We wanted to take home as much prize money as we possibly could from the round. But if we didn’t win, we’d still have the opportunity to compete, which was more than other teams could say.

The pressure increased with every win. There was no room for mediocre at this level. Once you got into a rhythm, you had to ride that momentum all the way to the end. You couldn’t afford to lose it in this sport. No time for mistakes. No room for distractions.

I mounted my horse and took a few practice swings over my head to keep my arm warm. They already had the next steer—our steer—in the chute.

“All right, ladies and gentlemen. These two cowboys are currently sitting second in the standings for the past three days. If they can beat six-point-two seconds, they’ll move into first place and take home $3,000 tonight. Let’s make some noise for Colter Carson and Reid Lawson!” the announcer boomed.

Our routine was the same every time. Some might call it a superstition, but I wasn’t about to break my habit and risk a loss. It always involved Reid backing into the box first, almost a reverse order of how we’d leave it. We also followed the classic superstitions: never wear yellow, don’t eat chicken before a competition because “you are what you eat,” and never carry change in your pockets, unless that was all you wanted to leave with.

I took a deep breath as I guided my horse back into the box.Exactly as you practiced. You’ve got this. Muscle memory.I went over my affirmations in my head before I finally gave the signal and the steer was released from the chute.

We roped the steer swiftly like we had done a million times. The run felt amazing. It felt even better when the announcer called out, “Five-point-nine seconds for the Montanans! We have a new series champion, folks! Colter Carson and Reid Lawson! They’ll follow the Boot Barn sponsor flag as well as the Montana flag around the arena for the victory lap.”

I took off my hat and waved it as I rode around the arena during the victory lap, soaking in the cheers from fans that came from all around the country, the world even, for this. And to think, this was only the series championship. We had secured our spot in the semifinalsround and had a shot at a championship gold buckle and $50,000. That was something to be proud of, but the work wasn’t finished yet.

We wouldn’t compete for another week, but that didn’t mean we were going to kick back and relax. No, we would still be practicing and keeping ourselves ready.

They would announce all of the winners again tonight after the bull riding, so I wanted to take the opportunity to take care of Bullet and get him untacked and in the corral while I had time.

“I’m going to take Bullet to the trailer and get all his equipment off,” I told Reid.

He nodded and said he’d be behind me with his horse shortly.

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