Texas Thunder

by R. Casteel

  David’s horse, Twisting Tornado, came out of the chute and it was easy to see where the horse got its name. Almost immediately out of the chute, David was going into a spin so fast he became a blur. Without warning, the horse climbed for the clouds, landing and going into a reverse spin. David lost his hat on the reverse spin and almost his seat. Twisting Tornado wasn’t finished. With another leap he came down on his front legs his body almost vertical in the air as David held on. The eight-second whistle sounded and the riders came in to pick David off the horse. The crown went wild; David had received a score of eighty-eight points, enough for first place.

  “There are the girls!” Cynthia pointed excitedly to the area behind the gate. “They are up in the next event.”

  The clowns came out to entertain the crowd between events while the poles were set up.

  “The object of this is to weave the horse through those poles, turn around, go back through them again and race across to the finish line,” she instructed. “If they overturn a pole, the rider is penalized five seconds.”

  Suzan was the first up. Riding low in the saddle, she and the horse became one, flowing through the poles like air through the trees. Then trouble, she spun Lightening but didn’t give her a chance to gather her feet before pushing off again. That mistake cost her valuable time as Lightening broke her stride. Suzan knocked over a pole on the return trip. With the over turned pole her score was twenty-seven seconds.

  Cynthia looked at Charles. “I’m going down there. If she doesn’t shake this off and do it quickly, she won’t make a decent run in the barrels.”

  Denise was next out of the chute and with a run of nineteen point four five two seconds. It was easy to see why she was last year’s all-around cowgirl champion.

  By the time Cynthia made her way to the rider staging area, Denise had finished.

  She spotted Denise and Suzan standing off to the side, their heads close together. She smiled and went back to the stands.

  “Everything all right?” Charles inquired when she got back.

  “I have a feeling that every thing will be just fine,” she stated with assurance. “Denise was talking with her so I didn’t butt in.”

  Charles gave her a hug as they focused on the next rider. Elizabeth was up next riding Demon. Her run was near perfect with a score of nineteen point four eight seven seconds, enough for third place.

  Cynthia was excited, jumping up and down, yelling as if Elizabeth had won first place.

  “This next is steer-wrestling. It’s limited to the sixteen to nineteen year old boys. It isn’t one of David’s best events. I don’t expect a very good time,” she predicted.

  The first rider out of the chute was a tall gangly cowboy that didn’t look like he could pick up his own weight, but then looks are often deceiving. One second the boy was in the saddle and the next he was throwing the steer to the ground amid the dust and flying legs. The crowd again went wild even before the official time was announced. He landed a time of three point five-seven seconds, almost tying the state record.

  David was next; he drew a calf that was not going to cooperate with him or the hazer trying to guide the steer. He finally managed to bring the steer down but with a disappointing time of seven point six-three seconds.

  Cynthia shrugged her shoulders. “Those are the breaks of rodeo, and they can happen to anyone. The next event is the saddle bronc competition. David should place in the top three.”

  The loud speaker crackled with static. “There will be a short intermission before the next event. The rodeo committee wants to remind you that today’s proceeds are going to fight children’s cancer and help the families of cancer patients.”

  Cynthia stood on tiptoes and gave Charles a kiss. “I am going down and see how the girls are doing.”

  “While you’re doing that, I’ll grab something to drink.” Charles returned the kiss wishing there weren’t so many people around. Feeling her breasts brush against his chest had him desiring to grab something besides a cold drink.

  There was a long line at the refreshment stand. Charles walked over to a near-by booth. The earrings the Cynthia had looked at earlier were still there. The intricate design of the silver interwoven with the pale blue turquoise was unquestionably the work of an artist.

  “Those are the finest pieces I have ever created,” the man stated almost reverently. “Most of the items on display are only sold at this rodeo. I keep only the cost of the material to replenish for next year. Everything else goes to ‘Ride for the Cure.”

  Charles noticed a picture of a young cowboy on the counter; an angelic face with sparkling sapphire eyes stared back. The only problem with the picture, the boy had no hair.

  “That’s Charlie, my son.” He said with a voice that was broken. “He died three years ago, just eighteen months after being diagnosed with Neuroblastoma.”

  As Charles looked at the picture, he felt the tug at his heart. He took out his credit card and placed the earrings in his pocket. Wiping the moisture from his eyes, he thanked the man. The line at the refreshment stand was shorter so he ordered and paid for the drinks and went back to find Cynthia.

  “You’re just in time,” she said taking her drink. “Saddle bronc riding is next and David is first up.”

  The loud speaker crackled, “David Petterson is in the chute. He won’t be so fortunate on this horse. Nitro has never been ridden to the buzzer in the senior age division and only three times in the college age. This is one mean powerful horse that cowboy is straddling.”

  The chute opened and Cynthia’s hands locked onto Charles’s arm.

  Nitro exploded out of the chute with a high jump twisting his body completely around. David’s hand was in the air and his spurs raked wildly at the shoulders of Nitro. David was again thrown into the air as Nitro launched and spun, this time coming down front feet first. While the horse’s tail was still pointed to the sun, the front feet were already going back up. Twisting, turning with spurs flying David stayed glued to the saddle.

  The crowd was on their feet. The roar was deafening, drowning out the sound of the buzzer. The loud speaker blared, “He’s done it! He’s done it! He’s ridden Nitro to the buzzer! What a ride folks! What a ride! Ladies and gentlemen a perfect score of one-hundred points.”

  Cynthia was jumping up and down. The crowd was still on their feet. David was walking back to the gate waving to the fans when Denise came running out throwing herself into his arms. Two other young ladies were waiting at the gate to give David a huge hug.

  After the last rider had shaken off the dust, the clowns came out while the barrels were being set up.

  Cynthia was tense. Charles could feel it radiate from her. “Relax dear.” He gave her a kiss. “The girls will be just fine; after all they had an excellent teacher.”

  Elizabeth was first up. She looked confident waiting to start. Horse and rider merged as one entity. She bumped the third barrel but didn’t knock it over. She finished with a time of seventeen point four one seconds.

  Two more riders raced around the barrels with times that were close.

  Suzan was up next. Charles could tell by the way she sat the saddle and her squared shoulders that she was mentally ready and had shaken off her earlier problems.

  Cynthia’s tension, which had lessened after Elizabeth’s good score, had returned with a vengeance. Cynthia felt like a coiled spring that had been wound one turn too many.

  Suzan and Lightening broke the time barrier headed for the first barrel.

  Cynthia broke lose of Charles’s arm and started yelling encouragements. By the time Suzan was around the third and final barrel, Cynthia was jumping up and down waving her hat in the air.

  The loudspeaker blared over the noise of the crowd. “Suzan’s time was seventeen point four one five seconds. The top four are separated by less than one full second. This really puts the pressure on the rest of the riders. Especially last year’s champion Denise Miller.”

  Three other cowgir
ls raced around the barrels. The pressure was starting to take its toll as two of the riders knocked over a barrel taking them out of the running.

  Denise Miller was the last rider and by the reaction of the crowd clearly a favorite. She looked comfortable and confident at the gate. As soon as she started, the crowd was on their feet. Charles knew it was going to be close. Everyone held a collective breath as the announcer read the time and it was flashed on the board. Seventeen point four seconds, ladies and gentlemen the winner by one-tenth of a second. Give her a hand folks. When the pressure was on, she delivered.”

  “You want to watch the bull riding or go down to the girls?” Excitement filled Cynthia’s voice. “David doesn’t ride the bulls. He says it’s not concern about being thrown off. He just doesn’t like the idea of getting a horn up the butt afterward,” she said laughing.

  Charles could tell she wanted to go. Taking her hand, he led the way out of the stands.

  They found the girls amid a group of other cowgirls and boys. Several people, mostly reporters for western magazines spotlighting rodeos, surrounded David. As Charles stood watching from the outskirts of the crowd, he appeared to be handling the interviews rather well. He noticed the change in David’s expression; the eyes took on a sudden degree of hardness, the jaw tightened. His penetrating glare was directed at one reporter in particular. Several reporters standing next to the one that was on the receiving end of David’s sudden hostility stepped back. They could see what was coming but surprisingly were not preparing to capture it on film. The only camera that was still rolling was the one associated with the reporter and as chance would have it, was standing in front of Charles.

  That was when Charles heard part of the next question being asked of David concerning Cynthia. As David’s work hardened fist connected with the reporter’s soft pudgy nose, Charles lifted the camera off the surprised cameraman’s shoulder.

  The reporter glanced over to make sure everything had been caught on tape and two things happened. He realized there were no cameras rolling and David’s second swing connected with his chin.

  As Charles removed the film from the camera, he looked at the prostrate reporter. “I guess the moral of this would be,” he chuckled, “reporter’s with glass jaws shouldn’t ride cowboys.”

  That brought some good-natured laughs from the other reporters, as once again David’s ride of Nitro became the focus of attention.

  The girls came over as the rest of the family arrived and someone suggested it was time to eat.

  “There’s a steak house close by that serves a good T-bone,” Charles suggested.

  When they arrived, the restaurant was crowded. After a short wait, they were seated at a large table. The atmosphere was one of celebration as most of the customers had been to the rodeo. Several people stopped by the table and congratulated the young people on the times they had turned in.

  “You two had me worried,” Denise said with a smile. “If I had been up first, I probably wouldn’t have ridden as well. With the times both of you turned in, I knew I had to race as hard as I could and not hit a barrel. This is my last year for seniors, so I expect to see both of you on top in the near future.”

  Denise’s voice took on a subtle change. “David, if you never ride again, your name has already gone done in rodeo history as the only high school rider to ever take Nitro to the bell. If you do keep on riding, I expect we will be seeing each other at future events. Of course, you realize that after riding Nitro, the crowd will expect a repeat performance every time you ride. When you’re on top the attention is overwhelming. When you fall off, they quickly forget who you are.”

  “Cynthia,” she continued, “you might not do rodeos any more but there are a large number of girls that could benefit from your ability. Good trainers are hard to find. It’s obvious from watching Elizabeth and Suzan you’re an excellent trainer. If you want to do that for a living, you will have no lack of students.”

  “Thank you for the compliment.” Cynthia replied graciously. “I can’t take all the credit. I had good talent to work with. But I’ll keep what you said in mind.” She looked over at Charles and smiled. “I am afraid that until the baby is born, my barrel racing days will be put on hold.”

  There were still a lot of people around when they arrived back at the arena. They loaded their equipment and horses. “Bye love, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Charles said as he kissed Cynthia. “I’ll miss you.”

  “It’s just over night,” she teased. “But I’ll miss you too.”

  Chapter 15

  Tuesday morning found Charles backing his Blazer into his Dad’s driveway. Kristina was packed and ready to leave. She had gone shopping and found several outfits that she could manage getting into without any help.

  He contemplated the wisdom of trying to persuade his sister to change her mind but figured the ensuing argument wouldn’t be worth the results. With reservations, he loaded her suitcase and wheelchair into the back of the vehicle and headed to the office.

  “Thank you,” she said as they turned onto the interstate that took them through town.

  Charles glanced over to her. “For what?”

  “For not trying to convince me how foolish you think this is.”

  “If I thought that it would have done any good, I would have. Just because I have accepted this doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  Charles rolled Kristina into the conference room exactly at eight a.m. Nancy met him with a cup of coffee and the meeting was underway.

  “I hope everyone had a good week. It’s time to go to work Karen get this list of material down to the yard and have them hook the trailer up to the Blazer.”

  Charles paused to drink his coffee. “I want to be on the road no later than eleven this morning, make sure they understand that. The sooner they have the material loaded the better.”

  “Steve, how soon will the prints be ready for the surveyors to start marking the elevations and grade levels?”

  “Well, they should be done by late Wednesday evening or early Thursday morning,” Steve guessed. “I can’t foresee it taking any longer than that.”

  “What about the survey crew? When can they be ready to go?” he said looking at his calendar.

  “I just got off the phone with them,” Steven said. “Looks like they can have a crew ready to go by Monday morning.”

  “Have we been able to locate a local contractor for the excavation and digging the foundation?” Charles looked around the room waiting for a reply.

  “Afraid there is nothing in the area to handle the excavation, but I did locate a contractor about thirty miles away that can do the foundation work,” Tiffany replied while looking at her notes. “Steve estimated a week to ten days on the initial excavations. Rodgers Foundations can have a crew on site by the twelfth of February depending on the weather.”

  Karen came back in, “The yard crew has the list and is loading the trailer, figure on a ten-thirty departure.”

  “Good,” he replied. “Any problems I should know about at the other construction sites or design problems?”

  “Our designs for the high-rise in San Francisco were approved by the building commission. They congratulated us on the thoroughness of the plans and said that was the quality they were looking for.” With a smile on his face, Steve continued, “They mentioned we would be hearing from them again.”

  Karen spoke up. “Mr. Soling of the Orient Circle Trade commission called. They are very pleased with the lobby décor. When did you send them plans for lobby décor? Since when did you do interior design?”

  “First off, I didn’t design the plans,” he offered nonchalantly. “I sent them before I came back to Dallas.”

  “If you didn’t design them, and I didn’t design them. Would you mind telling me who did?”

  “Cynthia did, which reminds me. Make a note to put her name on the account payable list. I hired her as a consultant.

  “Nancy, have Glen Farley in designs start going throug
h those manuals I brought back from Colorado. I want him to be aware of the changes that I marked down.

  “Glen is the best design engineer we have. If there are no objections, I recommend promoting Glen to Chief Engineer. He has held this position for some time, but never been officially recognized or paid for it. I think it is time to rectify that.” Charles looked around the room. “Any questions, comments or objections?”

  “Then it’s settled. Karen, issue the necessary paperwork to personnel and a letter of congratulations to Glen.” Charles looked at his watch, “Kristina, if you’re ready let’s go.”

  Two hours later, they pulled up to the site trailer and admired the sign that had been put into place.

  Future Home of Faith Memorial Hospital

  Randall Construction & Engineering, Dallas, Texas

  Design engineers, Hayworth Engineering, Houston, Texas

  Financing by Lone Star Bank and Trust, Fort Worth, Texas

  “Sign looks good,” Kristina observed. “With the sign and the trailer set up it makes a person realize this is actually happening.”

  “The realization will be complete soon enough,” he reflected as he pushed Kristina up the ramp.

  Charles opened the door and turned around to pick her up.

  “I’ll get a new door put in this afternoon that will allow easier access.”

  Kristina wasn’t sure what she expected. The outside looked like a normal double-wide trailer. Inside, there were no carpets, no curtains and no furniture. In the center of the combined living and dining room was a large wooden table with a smooth Formica top. Hanging on the walls were several large Plexiglas sheets. Several desks and filling cabinets were positioned around the room. In one corner, there was a large built in desk with phones and two computers.

  The kitchen was small with the only necessary essentials and a small round table. The microwave was the only appliance that looked new.