Stadium lights, cheers and whistles, the occasional bullhorn, and the crackle of the announcers stand. The rodeo was practically exploding with energy, the stands packed even in the sweltering heat. People ebbed and flowed through the fairgrounds, heading from event to event— bull riding, calf roping, mounted shooting, and your event, barrel racing.

Sevika was among the crowd, having just competed in her own event, tie-down roping. She was damn good at it too, considering she spent her days moving herds of cattle through the hills while the sun beat down on her. She had been riding since before she was old enough to properly walk, the space between a horse’s ears being a familiar view. She was leaning up against the fence, watching as barrel racers warmed up their horses, the energy enough to get the entire audience buzzing.

You trotted past the rail, your horse snorting as you gently spurred them forward. Sevika watched as you joined the group of riders in the chute, heading into the pen to wait. As you left, she heard mumbles of “buckle bunny”— y'know, those girls who show up looking all pretty, wanting to score with some cowboys that had a couple wins under their belts. But you were far from a buckle bunny.

Sevika watched as different riders completed their runs, a few barrels being toed over by either the rider or the horse as they raced around like a whip. You were up, and behind the gate, your horse was getting antsy, quite literally chomping on the bit as you worked them in circles to keep them under control. When the gates open, you shot out of the chute, a cloud of dust flying up behind you. Your braid flew as you tore around the arena, ribbon hanging off your hair. Your eyes burned with determination, focus written all over your face.

You blew straight through the pattern like it was a walk in the park, taking it home with a time of 16.23 seconds. You definitely weren’t a buckle bunny— you could ride. As you exited the arena, Sevika walked up to you.

“Hell of a show you put on out there.”