by Bobby Akart
“No,” replied Lucy. “They should have planned ahead. You know, like the ant and the grasshopper. The ant spent his time during the summer gathering food for winter when there wouldn’t be any. The grasshopper bounced around and played music with his legs all day. When winter arrived and the grasshopper came to the ant begging for food, the ant just shrugged his shoulders in disgust and sent him away.”
“So the moral of the story is there’s a time for work and a time for play, but no matter what, you have to plan for another day.”
Lucy laughed. “Quite poetic, Mr. Armstrong. I’m impressed.”
“Thank you.” He grinned as he reached for his eggnog from the coffee table. “All right, last question, then we’ll talk about what we’re gonna do today.”
“Fire away.”
Major took a deep breath because the conversation they were about to have had weighed on his mind for a while. “Let’s suppose a catastrophe were to hit us, directly impacting the Armstrong Ranch and the surrounding areas.”
“Or Texas or the whole country for that matter,” interjected Lucy, who was also enjoying the talk.
“Okay, a major collapse event—economic collapse, cyber attack, pandemic, EMP. We’ve considered and studied them all.”
“Any of the above, and the citizens of this country fall apart in a matter of days, if not hours,” added Lucy.
“Right. We’ve prepared as best we can to protect our kids and our employees on the ranch. But what happens when a neighbor and his wife, totin’ three young ’uns, say they’re hungry and need food. What do we do?”
Lucy pondered for a moment and then replied, “I guess the Bible tells us to share. Blessed is the one who is kind to the needy.”
“Okay, what if the food they ask for is what we might need to keep our kids alive for another day? Do we give away what we’ve stored, or do we make sure we take care of our kids first?”
Lucy came out from under the blanket and lifted her legs onto the couch to sit cross-legged facing Major. “The Book of Timothy says anyone who does not provide for his own household has denied his faith and is worse than the unbeliever.”
“Exactly,” said Major. “I believe God would have us take care of our own first before we give away to others who haven’t planned ahead. It’s the same as the ant and the grasshopper.”
“Major, how in the world do you turn away those begging eyes and hungry stomachs?”
“Lucy, you just have to. My duty is to you and the kids first, followed by Preacher and the ranch hands. Others should have planned ahead like we did.”
Lucy and Major sat quietly for several minutes as his words sank in. The news began to show scenes from the first NFL football game of the day in Philadelphia. The stands remained half-filled five years after the kneeling protests had begun.
Lucy broke the silence. “I’ve never thought about it like this before, but you’re right. As selfish as it may seem, we have to take care of our own. We’ve done it for years and we’ve sacrificed in order to protect our kids in the event of a collapse of some kind.”
Major added, “You know what? I’m good with that.”
“Me too,” said Lucy. She picked up the remote and pushed the guide button. “The Cowboys are playing the Eagles. Do you wanna watch some football? That would be different.”
“Nah, not really. I’ve had a problem with this NFL protest thing for years. They should have nipped it in the bud to begin with, but they were afraid they might offend somebody. Well, look at those stands. I hope the owners and that commissioner are happy with their decision.”
Lucy turned off the television, but Major added one more comment.
“Besides, I’ve always believed a man wearing a helmet while defending his country should make more money than a man who wears a helmet while defending a football.”
Chapter 59
November 25
Black Friday
The Calgary Stampede
Calgary, Alberta, Canada
The Calgary Stampede was an annual event held in a Canadian city located in the province of Alberta. Just north of Montana and to the east of the coastal province of British Columbia, Alberta was known for both its mountainous terrain in the north and the desert badlands to the east.
Billed as The Greatest Outdoor Show on Earth, the Calgary Stampede’s ten-day event attracted hundreds of thousands of visitors to the midway carnival-style rides, live country music performances and, of course, the rodeo events, including bull riding, steer wrestling, and barrel racing.
Once held in July, the rodeo was moved to coincide with America’s Thanksgiving week to gain more television coverage on U.S. networks and to be the final rodeo event of the season for qualifiers to earn the right to participate at the Pro Rodeo World Finals in Las Vegas in December.
Neither Palmer nor Riley had a chance to qualify for Vegas, but the experience gained at the Calgary Stampede was invaluable. This was, however, critical to Cooper’s chances to move on to the big show in two weeks. He had to have a successful eight-second ride, even if he wasn’t top in points awarded by the judges, to qualify for the PBR World Finals.
Palmer went into the lobby of the Deerfoot Inn & Casino to check into their rooms. One of the aggravations associated with participating in the Calgary Stampede was a lack of hotel rooms in the vicinity of Stampede Park. The Deerfoot Inn was located on the south side of the city and had become a favorite of the rodeo participants, especially at the discounted rate of a hundred dollars per night.
Riley and Cooper rolled back the tarp covering the pickup bed of Major’s truck to retrieve their luggage. They set the bags on the pavement next to a similar rig to theirs. The rear parking lot of the Deerfoot Inn resembled overnight parking at an interstate truck stop. Instead of tractor trailer rigs lined up side by side with sleeping drivers inside, the hotel’s parking lot was lined with dual-axle pickups, called duallies, and horse trailers.
“Should we even unpack the sponsor gear?” asked Riley. “We’ll just have to load it up again in the morning for the meet-and-greet booths.”
“No, I agree,” replied Cooper. “If we were in the States, we’d at least take in the Remington rifles. But these Canadians are practically communists with their zero-tolerance policy. I mean, how many times did that Canadian Mountie ask us if we had any weapons in our possession.”
“Yeah, I call that profiling, don’t you? Just ’cause we’re dressed like cowboys and are pulling a horse trailer doesn’t mean we’re totin’ six-shooters and old-school lever rifles.”
Cooper pointed toward a duffle bag. “Can you reach that?”
Riley stretched and grabbed the handles. “Got it.”
The guys began to close up the back of the pickup, and the conversation continued. Cooper recalled an event that took place in the province of Alberta several years back.
“They all overreacted to that shooting in Edmonton years ago. They started outlawing all kinds of guns except what was considered a hunting weapon, like what we push for Remington. Maybe they should have focused on the Somalia dude who shot up that football stadium. He was the guy pullin’ the trigger.”
“Folks don’t look at it that way,” added Riley. “Say, do you think they’ll let us each keep a rifle tomorrow? I want one of those new R-25s. In camo. Whadya think?”
“Not gonna happen, brother. Canadians see those as assault weapons. They’ve got a new pump-action in .308. It’s the model seventy-eight-hundred, I think. Get one of those. Our rep has always been generous.”
“Do we need a permit?” asked Riley.
“Nope, not for hunting weapons. Only handguns.”
The guys tied down the tarp and loaded up their gear and started toward the hotel’s entrance. Palmer came jogging toward them, her ponytail swishing back and forth from under her Realtree cap.
“Y’all will never guess who I saw in the lobby,” she said, slightly out of breath.
“Who?” asked Riley.
“Those two
jerks from the bar in Fort Worth,” she replied. “They were sitting at the lobby bar, drinkin’ and checkin’ out girls. You know, what they think they do best.”
“Did they recognize you?” asked Cooper.
“No. You know how it is. When you see someone in a different setting, it doesn’t register that you know them. Now, if Riley were to go in there and pounce on the one guy, I’m pretty sure it will all come back to them.”
Riley started laughing, handed Palmer her duffle bag, and began walking briskly toward the entrance of the hotel.
“Hold up! Nobody’s gonna pounce on anybody,” Cooper shouted to his brother. Riley frowned but slowed his pace. Cooper turned to his sister. “Did you get us rooms on the side of the hotel overlooking the parking lot?”
“Yeah,” she replied, showing two electronic room cards for the second floor.
“Good,” said Cooper as he directed them toward the casino entrance. “Come on, Riley, we’ll hit the casino elevators to our room. You don’t need to be startin’ up with those guys. This weekend is strictly business.”
“Can we play a little before we go up?” asked Riley.
Cooper shook his head and laughed. He grabbed his brother and pinched the back of his neck, leading him toward the door.
“You want to drive me nuts, don’t you?”
“It’s my job and duty as a little brother.”
“Great.”
Chapter 60
November 25
Black Friday
The Calgary Stampede
Calgary, Alberta, Canada
Cooper, Riley, and Palmer made the rounds to their sponsors’ booths before they arrived at the final stop of the fan meet-and-greets at the Pro Rodeo Magazine interview stage. At Cabela’s they met the muckety-mucks from Bass Pro Shops, which had acquired the outdoor retailer years before. They were very impressed with the Armstrong trio and promised to include them in future rodeo promotions.
At the Realtree booth, they signed autographs and stood for numerous pictures with fans. Palmer ribbed both guys afterwards for the attention they received from the buckle bunnies, a term bestowed upon cute, single girls who try to attract the attention of the rodeo competitors.
Finally, all three enjoyed their time at the Remington booth especially when they were rewarded with their rifle of choice. Naturally, they’d have to participate in additional meet-and-greet events over the weekend, in which they’d be required to pose with their gun of choice, but it was worth the effort for the media exposure and three brand-new rifles.
Along the way, they caught up with their friends from the bar brawl, Adriano Morales and Eduardo Pacheco. They had just been interviewed by Pro Rodeo magazine and now it was Cooper’s turn. Morales and Pacheco waited with Riley and Palmer while Cooper took a few questions.
He climbed on stage and got settled on a bar stool in front of a microphone to address a gathering crowd. After the chants of Coop, Coop, Coop died down, the journalist and Cooper made some small talk and then got into the meat of the interview.
“Coop, you seem to be fully recovered from your injury a month ago. How are you feelin’?”
“I gotta tell y’all, that bull kicks hard!” replied Cooper with a laugh and to the delight of his fans. “My brother tells me there ain’t nothin’ to a kick between my ears, but you know, he’s one to talk.” Everyone laughed as Cooper pointed toward Riley, who was getting a razzing from Palmer.
“I take it, obviously, that you’re gonna be good to go this evening.”
“You betcha,” said Cooper to the delight of the crowd.
Cooper noticed a couple of cute girls inching their way close to the stage. One in particular caught his eye. She was different from the others. This girl was less buckle bunny and more girl-next-door. He’d make a point to find her after the interview.
“Coop, you’ve really made a name for yourself, and with a good ride tonight, you’ll qualify for the PBR finals in Vegas. Is this a dream come true for you?”
Cooper laughed and winked at the cute girl, who’d pushed her way near Palmer and the boys. “After all these years competing, I still haven’t figured out why any bull rider, including myself, gets on a bull. You never really figure it out. We aren’t insane, I don’t reckon. We just kinda grew up with that desire to conquer that massive animal for eight seconds.”
“So you’re born with it?”
“I guess you could say that. It’s in your blood, almost like the worst drug in the world. Very addictive.”
The journalist nodded, checked his notes, and continued. “I’ve asked several of your fellow competitors this question, and most have answered the question the same way. But I’d like your take on it. Which sport is the most dangerous?”
“Heck, it’s not even close. A one-hundred-eighty-pound guy against an eighteen-hundred-pound bull. You do the math.”
“Coop, do you think money drives bull riding?”
“No, sir. Absolutely not. It’s like I said before. It’s in your blood. There ain’t enough money in it.”
Cooper paused for a moment, and then he looked down at Pacheco and Morales. He gestured in their direction. “These fellows know what I’m talkin’ about. It’s that feeling of being unbreakable. You wanna be one of the toughest cowboys in the world against the toughest bulls. That’s why we’re all here.”
“All right, Coop. Final question. You just mentioned riding the toughest bulls. Last go around, you drew One Night Stand. He’s in Calgary, too. In fact, I understand he’s been asking about you.”
Cooper and the rest of the crowd began to laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure he has been. Well, let him know I’m gonna pull his name out of the hat on purpose. Tonight, it’s gonna be lights out on this One Night Stand.”
Chapter 61
November 25
Black Friday
The Calgary Stampede
Calgary, Alberta, Canada
Cooper couldn’t have written the script any better. He shook his brother’s hand and high-fived Palmer. He glanced into the stands over Riley’s shoulder and winked again to his new friend, whose name and cell phone number was written on the back of a Canadian five-dollar bill, then tucked into his jeans pocket.
He nodded at the cowboys, and they readied his nemesis—One Night Stand. As Cooper approached the rails to climb over, the massive bull turned his head in Cooper’s direction. His nostrils flared, and then he let out a snort. Cooper stared his ride back in the eyes, unafraid and almost challenging the massive beast.
Bulls, like cows, were not known to have any type of intellect. They were animals that reacted on instinct, which was why a bull stops attempting to buck the rider once he’s been thrown. Or at least most of the time, as Cooper and One Night Stand both knew from personal experience.
One Night Stand snorted again, nodded upward, and then faced forward. The high-spirited animal was ready, and so was Cooper. He adjusted his hat, gave one final nod to the cowboys manning the gate, and climbed over the rails.
“I know you now,” whispered Coop as he threw his leg over One Night Stand and grabbed the rope. He worked to get his hand set, nice and snug. The routine was one he’d followed hundreds of times before.
For his part, One Night Stand followed his routine as well. Just like their last ride together, the bull slowly dropped down to his belly. Cooper tensed his body and got ready. One Night Stand began to rise from the dirt, his muscles contracting, coiling up with power.
“Here we go, boys! Here we go!” Cooper shouted as the fans roared their approval.
One Night Stand barely waited for the gate to open, crashing forward and jumping into the air. Cooper had replayed the previous failed ride through his head a million times. Not this time, buddy.
The bull twisted his body in midair before landing on his front legs. Cooper pushed against his rope this time, avoiding the costly mistake of moving too far forward on the bull’s neck.
Like before, One Night Stand turned to the left, and Cooper ha
ndled the twist. He never lost his balance as One Night Stand gave it all he had.
I know you!
The bull was furious—just as angry at himself as he was at the cowboy who dared tame him.
Jumping, spinning, twisting, and bucking, One Night Stand was on a tear, but Cooper remained undeterred. This was his turn to be in the limelight as the first bull rider to master this two-thousand-pound beast for eight seconds.
The fans in the arena were screaming his name. The cheers were overwhelming. One Night Stand was mad as the devil. Then the buzzer sounded.
Eight seconds! I did it!
And then the lights went out.
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NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.