Rowdy Rides to Glory (1987) (7 page)

Bart Luby, on the other hand, had been appearing in all the big shows and winnin
g
consistently, and he had been competing against the greatest performers in the business.

Today, in the first event, the preliminaries in the calf roping, Rowdy would be ridin
g
a horse which for all its greatness was unfamiliar to him. Bitterly, he stared ou
t
at the dusty arena, soon to be the scene of battle and danger, and for the firs
t
time realized what this attempt really meant.

He was no stranger to the flying hoofs and tigerish bucking of outlaw horses or Brahm
a
bulls. He had seen men die in the arena, had seen others crippled or broken unde
r
the lashing hoofs of some maddened bronc. But for Rowdy more than life was at stak
e
out there today, and remembering Luby from the old days on the Bar 0, he knew th
e
man was fast and skillful. Undoubtedly, he had grown more so.

"I'm a fool," Horn told himself. "I'm bucking a stacked deck. I'm not good enoug
h
for these hombres."

After the parade was over, gloomily, Rowdy watched the first leppy dart from th
e
chute and leg it across the arena, with a cowboy on a flying paint horse behind it.

That was Gus Petro, a Greek rider from Cheyenne. Doubts lost in sudden interest
,
Rowdy watched the dust clear, and heard the time called. He smiled. He could bea
t
that. He knew he could beat it.

Yet when the official announcer announced his own name, and he heard that voice rollin
g
out over the arena, something leaped inside him.

"Folks, here comes Rowdy Horn, of the Slash Bar, ridin' that greatest ropin' hors
e
of all time-Silverside!"

The calf darted like a creamy streak, and Silverside took off with a bound. Instantly
,
Rowdy knew that all he had heard of the horse he bestrode was only half the truth.

With flashing speed, the black horse with the splash of white on his side was afte
r
the fleeing calf. Horn's rope shot out like an arrow, and in almost the same breath
,
Rowdy was off the horse, grounding the bawling, struggling calf and making a quic
k
tie. He sprang away from the calf.

"There it is, folks!" Weaver's voice boomed out over the arena. "Eleven seconds even
,
for Rowdy Horn on Silverside!" Bart Luby's eyes narrowed. It was a tough mark, ye
t
he ha
d
tied it twice. He was off like a streak when his calf darted away from the chute.

He roped, flopped the calf, and made his tie. "Eleven and one fifth seconds!" Weave
r
bawled.

Luby swore softly, his eyes bitter. With a jerk he whipped his horse's head aroun
d
and rode off to the stands. These were only preliminaries, and the final test wa
s
yet to be made. But he had never believed that Rowdy Horn would beat him, even b
y
a fifth of a second in a tryout, and he didn't like being beaten.

While the band played and the clowns ripped and tore around the tanbark, mimickin
g
the performances of the pre ceding event, the contestants headed for the shack t
o
draw horses for the saddle bronc riding contest.

Vaho was waiting for Rowdy near Chute 5, from which he would ride. He found tha
t
he had drawn Devil May Care, a wicked bucker that had been ridden only twice th
e
preceding year, in twenty-two attempts, and not at all in the current season. Bar
t
Luby had drawn an equally bad horse, Firefly.

"You were wonderful!" Vaho said, as Rowdy walked up. "I never saw anyone move s
o
fast!"

He grinned a little. "It's got to be better, honey," he said honestly. "Bart Lub
y
has done that well, and he'll be really trying next time."

"You can do it!" she insisted. "I know you can!"

"Maybe," he said. "But if I do, it will be that horse. I'll know him better nex
t
time. Let's just hope I draw a calf that's fast." "How about this event?" she asked
,
worriedly. "You drew a bad horse."

"Just what I wanted. You can't win in these rodeos on the easy ones. The worse the
y
buck, the better the ride-if you stay up there."

Bart Luby was first out of the chute on Firefly, and the horse was a demon. It lef
t
the chute with a rush and broke into
a
charge, then swapped ends three times with lightning speed and went into an insan
e
orgy of sunfishing. Luby, riding like the splendid performer he was, raked the bi
g
horse fore and aft, writing his name all over its sides with both spurs. At the finis
h
he was still in the saddle and making a magnificent ride. He hopped off and lifte
d
a hand to the cheers of the crowd.

Rowdy stared out through the dust and touched his tongue to dry lips. He mounte
d
the side of the chute and looked down at the trembling body of the sorrel, Devi
l
May Care. Sheriff Ben Wells stood nearby, and he looked up at Horn.

"Watch yourself, boy. This horse is a mean one. When you leave him, don't turn you
r
back or you're a goner."

Rowdy nodded and, tight-lipped, lowered himself into the saddle and eased his fee
t
into the stirrups. His fingers took a tighter hold on the reins, and he heard Weaver'
s
voice boom ing again.

"Here it comes, folks! Right out of Chute 5! Rowdy Horn on that bundle of pure poiso
n
and dynamite, Devil May Care!" Rowdy removed his hat and yelled, "Let 'er go, boys!"

The gate tripped open and Devil May Care exploded into the arena in a blur of spee
d
and pounding hoofs. His lithe body twisting in unison with the movements of the horse
,
Rowdy Horn got one frenzied view of the whirling faces of the crowd, then the hors
e
under him went mad in a series of gyrations and sunfishing that made anything Rowd
y
had ever encountered before seem a pale shadow.

The sorrel outlaw was a fighter from way back, and he knew just exactly why he wa
s
out here. He was going to have this clinging burr out of the saddle or know the reaso
n
why. Devil May Care swallowed his head and lashed at the clouds with his heels an
d
went into another hurricane of sunfishing, all four feet spurning the dust, his whipcor
d
body jackknifing with every jump. He swapped ends as Rowdy piled up points, scratc
h
ing the sorrel with both spurs.

Suddenly, with less than a second to go, the sorrel raced for the north wall an
d
swung broadside in a wicked attempt to scrape his rider off. In one gasping breath
,
Rowdy saw that the horse was going to miss the wall by inches. He kept his foot i
n
the stirrup, fighting the big horse's head around. Devil May Care came around lik
e
the devil he was and, as the whistle sounded, went into a wicked burst of buckin
g
that made any thing in the past seem mild by comparison.

Riders rushed from near the judges' stand, and Rowdy kicked loose both feet and lef
t
the horse just as all four feet of th
e
sorrel hit ground. Wheeling, teeth bared, Devil May Care sprang for his rider, bu
t
the horsemen wheeled alongside and snared the maddened bronc. With cheers ringin
g
in his ears, Rowdy Horn walked slowly back across the arena. The crowd was stil
l
cheering when he walked up to Chute 5.

Wells grinned at him. "That horse must be on your side, son," he said. "goin' fo
r
you like that sure impressed the crowd, and the judges too! Showed he had plent
y
of fight!"

"If he's friendly"-Rowdy grinned-"deliver me from my friends!"

Wells spat. "You've got a couple of mighty good friends, son. And neither of the
m
are horses."

Luby was standing near by. He turned, his elbows on the cross bar of the gate.

"You were lucky," he said. "Plain lucky."

Rowdy's eyes darkened. "Maybe. If so, I hope my luck holds all day. And tomorrow."

"It won't," Luby said flatly. "Your luck's played out! I've protested to the judges.

I told them that allowin' a killer to ride would ruin the name of the show."

"Killer?" Rowdy wheeled. "Why, you-"

Bart Luby had been set for him, and too late Rowdy saw the punch coming. It was
a
smashing right that caught him on the side of the jaw. His feet flew up and he hi
t
the dust flat on his back. Bart lunged for him. Rowdy rolled over and came up fast
,
butting Luby in the chest and staggering the bigger man. Bart set himself and rushed
,
smashing Horn back against the gate with a left and right, then following it up wit
h
a wicked hook to the head that made Rowdy's knees wobble.

Ducking a left, Horn tried to spring close, but Luby grabbed him and threw him int
o
the dust. His face smeared with blood and dust, Rowdy came up, and through a fo
g
of punc
h
drunkenness, he saw the big rancher coming in, on his face a sneer of triumph.

The man's reach was too long. Rowdy tried to go under a left and caught a smashin
g
right uppercut on the mouth. Bart, his face livid with hatred, closed in, punchin
g
with both hands. Then Rowdy saw his chance. Luby drew his left back for a wide hoo
k
and Horn let go with a right. It beat the hook and caught Luby on the chin with th
e
smash of a riveting hammer.

The big man staggered, his face a study in astonishment, and then Rowdy closed in
,
brushed away a left, and smashed both hands to the body, whipping them in with wicke
d
sidearm punches, left and right to the wind. Luby threw a smashing right, but Rowd
y
was watching that left. It cocked again, and he pulled the trigger on his right.

Bart hit the dust on his shoulders. He rolled over, and Rowdy stood back, hands ready
,
waiting for him to get up. Blood dribbled from Rowdy's mouth and there was a re
d
welt on his cheekbone, but he felt fine.

Luby was up with a lunge and caught Rowdy with two long swings, but Horn was insid
e
of them, smashing a left to the body and a right to the head. Luby backed off, an
d
suddenly, sensing victory, Rowdy Horn closed in. He chopped a left to the head, the
n
a right, then another left. He smashed Luby with a straight left, and as Luby cocke
d
a right, knocked him down.

Bart Luby lay there in the dust, thoroughly whipped. Reach ing down, Rowdy jerke
d
him to his feet and shoved him back against the corral bars. He cocked his righ
t
hand to smash the bigger man in the face, then hesitated.

Coolly, he stepped back.

"Nothing doing, Bart," he said calmly. "You started this, and you've had a beatin
g
comin' for a long time, but I'm givin' you no alibis. I want your eyes open becaus
e
I'm goin' to beat your socks off out there in the arena. When I win, I'll win o
n
the tanbark!"

Deliberately, he turned his back and walked toward the stables.

Bending over a bucket he bathed the dust and blood from his face and combed his hair.

He scowled suddenly, remembering Neil Rice. What had become of the printer? In th
e
hurry and confusion of being arrested, and then the rodeo, there had scarcely bee
n
time to think. Still, Rice might be back at the ranch by now.

What did Ben Wells have up his sleeve? Who were th
e
friends he had mentioned, and had they effected his release to compete in the rodeo?