Riding Star. Stacy Gregg
shaking with the shock of the fall, she looked up at the clock on the wall above the bucking chute. Her heart sank. One point five seconds!
She had lasted on the stallion’s back for less than two lousy seconds.
“Not bad for a first-timer,” Shep said. He turned to the next pupil in line. “You’re up, Tyler.”
Tyler McGuane was a good-looking boy with lean legs, honey-tanned skin and sun-bleached blonde hair that constantly fell over his eyes. He stood above the bucking chute, chewing his gum and pulled a red bandana out of his pocket, tying it round his forehead to keep his fringe back. Then he lowered himself down on to the back of the next bareback bronc that had been lined up ready in the chute – a solid chestnut stallion by the name of Widowmaker.
Shep waited until Tyler gave him the nod and then the chute swung open with a loud bang. Widowmaker came barrelling out at top speed and flung his head down between his forelegs to start bucking. Tyler instinctively threw his torso so far back he was almost lying flat against the stallion’s rump to absorb the motion. Widowmaker lashed both hind legs out towards the sky. He was bucking as hard as he could and no sooner did his hooves touch the ground than he let rip again, spinning left and right as he did so, trying to dislodge the rider on his back. Tyler was rocking back and forth, one hand waving high over his head for balance, his backside glued to the saddle.
The clock positioned above the chute was counting down the seconds. For a bareback bronc rider to win they had to last ten seconds on the bronc’s back. Tyler had already reached eight seconds. Georgie watched the clock as it reached nine seconds, then ten and the bell rang. Tyler had made it!
At the far end of the arena the gates suddenly swung wide open and Tyler’s best friend, Jenner Philips, galloped in on a stocky grey Quarter Horse. In a few quick strides Jenner had lined his grey horse up alongside Tyler’s bronc. As Jenner pulled alongside him Tyler reached up his free arm and swung it round Jenner’s shoulders. Jenner suddenly slowed the grey horse up and as the chestnut bronc kept galloping forward the two horses parted company. Tyler was yanked free and clear off Widowmaker’s back so that he was dangling off the side of Jenner’s grey Quarter Horse. A few strides later, Jenner had lowered his friend to the ground and Tyler, nimble as a cat, landed on his feet in the middle of the arena.
It was a faultless dismount. On the sidelines the rest of the Western class applauded and wolf-whistled to show their approval. “Way to go, Tyler!” Bunny Redpath hollered out as Tyler loped out of the arena.
In the chute Blair Danner was preparing to ride. Georgie watched her wrap her hand tight in the rigging rope, her blonde hair tied back in a ponytail and a tense expression on her pretty face.
“Now this oughta be good.”
Georgie turned round. It was Tyler McGuane. He was leaning up on the railing right beside her.
“They don’t come much better than Blair,” Tyler said. “She’s ridden bareback and saddle bronc classes at Calgary.”
“Calgary?” Georgie said. “What’s that?”
“Are you kiddin’ me?” Tyler gave her a funny look. “The Calgary Stampede’s only the biggest rodeo in the world.”
Georgie shook her head. “Sorry. I’m more into English riding.”
“So why have you taken up this class?” Tyler asked suspiciously. “Are you a buckle bunny or something?”
“A what?”
“Buckle bunny,” Tyler said. “That’s what cowboys call the girls who hang around the rodeo circuit.”
Tyler lifted up his school shirt and at first Georgie thought he was just showing off the bull horn scars on his tanned, muscular torso, but then she realised she was meant to be looking at the buckle of his belt. It was made of bronze and imprinted with a steer head.
“I won this buckle at Calgary,” Tyler lowered his shirt again.
“That’s pretty cool,” Georgie said.
Tyler shrugged. “It’s a steer-roping buckle. The really good cowboys win their buckles for bareback or saddle bronc. The buckle bunnies all want to date a cowboy with a bronc buckle.”
“You’re kidding!” Georgie giggled. “You mean there are girls who honestly care about what sort of buckle you’ve got? Like rodeo groupies?”
“Totally,” Tyler said.
“Well, no,” Georgie said, more amused than insulted by the question, “I’m not a bunny.”
“Then what are you doin’ here?” Tyler said. “No offence, but you don’t strike me as a rodeo rider.”
“I got eliminated from cross-country and I needed a new option class,” Georgie said.
She would never have admitted it to Tyler, but she’d picked rodeo because it looked like fun – plus it seemed like an easy subject to ace an ‘A’ in the exams and impress Tara. Honestly, how hard could it be to ride like a cowboy? They just seemed to flap their arms and legs to make their horses go – as far as Georgie had thought, there was no real skill involved!
Now, as she watched Blair Danner come flying out of the chute on her bronc, hanging on like she was riding a tornado, Georgie realised she was just as much out of her element here as she had been in the dressage class. She could see the concentration in Blair’s eyes as she threw herself backwards with the movement of the bronc and the strength in her skinny, tanned arms as she gripped the rigging to keep her seat. As the clock ticked on towards the ten-second bell, Georgie marvelled at Blair’s skill. Even while the bronc was trying to buck her off, Blair Danner was still lazily chewing her gum.
Georgie jumped down off the railing of the round pen. “I’ll catch you later, OK, Tyler?”
Tyler frowned. “You’re going? But class isn’t over. Don’t you want another turn in the chute?”
“No, thanks,” Georgie smiled. “I think one humiliating fall per day is my limit.”
As Georgie walked back towards the stables, she knew that she was never going back. After her epic fail in the arena she doubted that Shep would be too heartbroken to lose her, but Mrs Dubois might be a different matter. She could only imagine the look on the school bursar’s face when she broke the news that she would be changing classes yet again this term. This was starting to get embarrassing.
*
“On the plus side, at least you’re sitting with us in the dining hall again,” Alice pointed out when Georgie joined the eventers’ table. “I could never really imagine you hanging out with the Westerns – line-dancing and Stetson-wearing is so not your thing.”
“I don’t know,” Daisy King said, “I always thought Georgie would suit those white leather boots with the tassels.”
Georgie got up from the table and picked up her tray. “I have to go.”
Daisy’s face dropped. “Hey, Georgie, I was only joking…”
“I know,” Georgie said. “I have to go and report to the library. Conrad Miller has put me on Fatigues, remember?”
The prefects at Blainford were ruthless, dishing out Fatigues each week and it didn’t matter how trivial or huge the crime had been, everyone got the same punishment – and this week that involved cleaning the library.
“Right!” Mr Wainwright the librarian addressed the group of twelve pupils. “The sooner we get started the sooner we’ll get this done. It’s quite simple. Take all the books off the shelf, then using the damp cloths you’ve been provided with, give the shelf a good dust before putting the books back again.”
The students groaned. Mr Wainwright pointed to the sign above his head that said ‘Silence’.
“I’ll also need some volunteers to help me sort out the archive section.”
No