(Average reading level: grade 8.7)
The old warrior was impatient. He quivered and shifted
nervously. Suddenly, he blew hard, an exhalation of nervous energy. The gelding
was a long time veteran of these rodeos. He knew well his task, his explosive
mission. And he sensed that the time was now here.
Sally had ridden him hundreds of times in dozens of arenas
here in South Georgia and north Florida. At 37, she was considering calling it
quits after this fall’s circuit of rodeos was done. Her rock solid, faithful
steed was at the end of his barrel racing time and she couldn’t bear the
thought of starting again with a fresh mount. Tonight would be the last go
round for them in this little arena. Her nervousness suddenly grew and her eyes
watered slightly, a tear escaped and ran down her cheek as she guided Little
Bill out into the night preparing to make the turn and the long run towards the
starting line.
The announcer’s call was booming around the small arena,
kids were cheering and a few of the faithful who actually knew her and Little
Bill rose in their seats. The old warrior’s sense of timing didn’t fail him.
Almost instantaneously, as her right knee pressed in, he wheeled around as if
he had sensed danger and was about to run away from it! Before she could even
bring her heels down to his sides to urge him forward, the old warrior exploded
into a dead out all for nothing run! The explosiveness of his start caught
Sally by surprise and suddenly she sensed that he knew! He was flying!
The crowd roared as the little gelding exploded down the
runway and into the brightly lit arena. Almost as soon as his racing, pounding
feet hit the sawdust of the arena floor his gaze shifted to the right, spotting
the enemy immediately. As his ancestors had done as they raced into battle on
the American plains so long ago, his head stretched forward as his body seemed
to level into a flying lance with his piercing black eyes gauging the enemy he
bore down on. Now Sally was holding on for dear life! Her hands gripped the
pommel with white knuckles, as she realized that tonight Little Bill had dug
deep and found an old strength of an earlier age.
With his warrior’s heart pounding within him, Little Bill
closed the distance in record time. The crowd, now all on their feet, roared as
if everyone could sense that tonight a true champion was giving it one last all out effort! Little Bill’s
pivot around the hated enemy was a thing of unusual grace and excellent timing.
The shower of sawdust and dirt flew out into the nearby stands as the bottom
rows of cheering fans roared even louder at such a show of skill and heart! As
if his rider had buried a lance into the hated enemy to finish him, Little
Bill’s gaze shifted across the arena to the second challenge.
The little warrior exploded across the ground covering the
distance in lightening speed. As the roar from the arena rose to an even higher
volume, the mechanics at the local filling station across the highway stopped
as one and turned to face the distant roar. “Maybe someone started a fight in
the stands,” muttered Wilson, as he turned back to the job at hand.
Nearing the second barrel, Little Bill snorted deeply
clearing the sawdust from his nostrils. With a tight turn, the little warrior
angrily launched himself at the remaining distant barrel. Sally, her hair
flying, hat now gone, held on tightly.
She rode now leaning forward and low as if her very action would help
her old friend in his mighty battle. The crowd roared louder, the bull riders
now up on the rails slapping their hats and cheering like they were young
children once more. The crowd, the riders, the clowns, all were now a part of
the battle! And Little Bill bore down on one last enemy.
Making the turn tightly with sawdust and dirt flying, the
little warrior’s eyes seemed like shiny black marbles in a patch of bright
white. The saliva flew from his gasping mouth. Suddenly from far across the
arena came the sound of a high piercing cry! An old Indian cowboy stood on the
top rails of the arena and, caught up in the moment, voiced an ancestral war
cry which seemed to reach to the heavens!
Momentarily stunned, the crowd hushed as if a switch had been flipped!
Then came the answering whinnying cry of the little warrior and the crowd’s
roar returned at full volume. With hats flying high many of the crowd now
rushed the arena’s bars, trying to get closer, as if to help the little warrior
win his final battle! Sally gripped
hard and now she whispered with tears falling, “You can do it, little man!”
Little Bill exploded forward racing down the straightaway!
The time keeper stared at the electronic clock with disbelief. No horse had
ever run such a time! The crowd roared with such enthusiasm, that the announcer
had to send a runner to call Sally and Little Bill back to the arena.
Gracefully, the little warrior trotted back through the wide runway opening
into the arena as the crowd stood applauding and cheering. Sally rode Little
Bill in a small circle and then with tears and smiles and many a thank you, the
little champion and his best friend trotted back into the darkness of the warm
Georgia night. And an old Indian cowboy,
his cheeks wet from his tears, looked to the night sky and was thankful. He
slowly walked away toward an old worn pickup truck, with a smile on his face.
Clint Bowman
August 2015
