True Colors

Vivi Ann was in the staging area, waiting her turn in the short round. There were only fourteen girls and women around her, all on horseback, who had also made the top fifteen. Run times were blaring through the PA system; tabulations were under way, starting with the slowest time and working to the top. She’d been in Texas for almost a week, and it had been one of the best rodeos in her life.

She leaned down and stroked the mare’s sweaty neck. “Hey, girl,” she said. “You ready to win this thing?”

The mare’s heart was pounding like a jackhammer. Clem was ready.

Moments later, Vivi Ann heard her name through the giant black speakers and a jolt of adrenaline coursed through her, erasing everything from her mind but this moment.

Vivi Ann pulled her hat down low on her forehead. Clem leaped forward, bounding toward the gate. Vivi Ann tightened the reins, holding the mare back until they were positioned correctly for the first barrel.

Then she leaned forward and released Clem, and they were off, heads down, racing forward into the arena so fast that everything around them was a blur of sound and color. All Vivi Ann saw were the three barrels waiting for them in the dirt, set up in a bright yellow triangle. All the way through the pattern, around the barrels, she was kicking Clem’s sides and urging her to go faster. The seconds passed with frightening speed, but Vivi Ann experienced it in a kind of slow motion—the way Clem snaked around the first barrel and then the second, and then they were hurtling forward for the last barrel, sliding sinuously around it and running back down the arena. When they passed the timer, Vivi Ann gently pulled back on the reins, bringing Clem to a bouncing trot.

She heard their time announced through the speakers and she grinned, then laughed.

14.09.

It would be a tough time to beat. She tried to do the math in her head, to see if she would win the average, but it was too difficult. She’d already won one of the two prior rounds. Only a couple of women even had a chance to beat her, and even so, it was unlikely. She had just run very close to a new arena record.

“Good job, Clem,” she said, leaning forward to stroke the mare’s neck. She slid out of the saddle and led the way back to the trailer. Giving Clem a bucket of water and some molasses-soaked oats, she unsaddled the mare and tied her to the side of the rusted old trailer.

Smiling, practically running, she headed up into the stands. Some of the other contestants were already there, especially those who had not made the top fifteen this time. Pam. Red. Amy.

“Nice run, Vivi,” said Holly Bruhn, scooting sideways to make room.

Vivi Ann smiled. “Clem was hot for an old broad, wasn’t she?”

“She sure was.” Holly reached down into the ice chest beside her and produced a cold beer. “Here. But you can only drink it if your time holds.”

“Ha!” Vivi Ann took the beer and tilted it to her lips.

Holly handed Vivi Ann a piece of paper. “This is for you.”

Vivi Ann looked down at the flyer in her hands. It was the sort of thing she’d seen a hundred times in her life, maybe more. A list of barrel-racing events. The only new twist was that it was for a series of weekends, with a high-point money winner at the end.

“We’re trying out a winter series,” Holly said. “Now that the barn is up and running, we need to start generating some income. I’d love it if you’d come. Tell your 4-H girls.”

And there it was: the idea. It came to her fully formed, so obvious a solution she couldn’t imagine why she hadn’t seen it before. “How many people have signed up?”

“So far we have about ninety. You can see the different fee schedules. And divisions for the kids, too. You have to attend four of the eight to be eligible for prizes, so you’ll have to make all of the next events to qualify—since you’d be starting late, I mean.”

“You’re giving away money and prizes?”

Holly nodded. “Prizes at the end, money along the way.”

“And you’re still doing the team penning and roping jackpots?”

“Every Friday. It’s starting slow—people are just discovering the arena—but every week is better than the one before.”

From that moment on, Vivi Ann could hardly think of anything else. Even that afternoon, when she picked up the saddle and prize money she’d won, she was too distracted to say much. Instead of hurrying out with her friends, maybe line-dancing down at the local roadhouse, she loaded Clem into the trailer and headed for home. On the long drive up from Texas, while Garth Brooks sang to her, she looked at the idea from every angle, trying to find a flaw in her reasoning. But there wasn’t one. She had finally come up with the answer her father needed.

She had come up with it. That made her smile almost every time she thought it.

Oh, she knew what people thought of her. Even her sisters, who loved her, saw her as a pretty decoration who could ride a horse like the wind but wasn’t good at the heavy lifting in life.

Now, finally, she could show everyone that she was more than just a pretty face.

That thought, that hope, accompanied her on the lonely drive home. When she finally pulled into Water’s Edge at midnight on Saturday, she’d corralled all her ideas and figured out how to present them to the family.

She couldn’t wait. They would all be so proud of her.