Chapter 23

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 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 curtsy. 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 overdo it beforehand.