8 Seconds

Titan's Wrath. Voted bucking horse of the year for the last two years running and set to keep his title for a third year. He was the best and nastiest horse in the circuit and in this year's eliminator pen. Vette looked down at the number in her hand. And she had drawn him. She had ridden him twice before and gotten bucked both times almost right out of the chute.

She stood on the back of the chutes, waiting for the guys to finish attaching her rigging and the flank to the horse. Clapping her hands against her chaps, Yvette looked around the packed arena. Camera flashes lit up areas of the crowd and the expectant hush had fallen over the crowd.

The workers gave her the nod and the cowgirl swung herself into the chute and onto the back of what could be described as her nemesis. It was just her, the horse, and that race to 8 seconds. Jamming her black beaver felt Stetson down around her ears Vette shifted herself, jamming herself under the rigging and holding on tightly.

Taking a steadying breath she gritted her teeth against her mouthguard and raised her hand above her head as she nodded signifying she was ready.

The gate flew open and with it Titan's Wrath took off. His first jump Vette marked him out and quickly got into the rhythm of his jumps. He bucked with his head down making it just that much harder for her. This was a horse that loved to buck. He would twist and kick out to the side, buck in circles, and sometimes raise his head and attempt to throw off his rhythm. The teen held on tightly though her form losing a bit of shape as she tried to not be flopped around like a rag doll.

Then the sound. The sound of the eight second buzzer. She had done it. Third time was a charm for her and this horse. The noise of the crowd threatened to overwhelm her as she worked to loose herself from the rigging while the horse was still bucking. Finally free she reached for the pickup man on his horse and wrapped an arm around his waist as she basically flopped herself onto the ground on the other side of his bay Quarterhorse. She ended up face first in the dirt but rolled and stood up without any difficulty

A laugh erupted from her throat as she took off her hat and gave the crowd an enthusiastic wave as she made her way to the fence. Climbing up and over Vette gave one more wave before disappearing from the view of the crowd. The guys behind the chutes congratulated her on a terrific ride which she acknowledged and waved off. At the moment she was starving and was in need of a good burger. She made her way out of the competitor's area and found the nearest concession.

"Double cheeseburger with the works and a coffee," Vette ordered from the clerk. She stood as she waited thinking back to the ride she had just ridden.

Really, Abigail was out of her comfort zone. The rodeo was no place for the British girl. She had no idea why her parents made her come here (Just because her parents friend son was in it didn't mean Abi had to go). Crossing her arms, she tapped her foot as she watched a teen go on this horse that everybody said was a 'true bucking horse'. She scowled. Did Robbie really have to be the last one to go in the arena. If he wasn't there would be an excuse to leave early.

"Can I at least get a soda?" Abi asked, tapping her foot. Her mother gave her a smile of amusement and handed her a wad of cash. "Get us something too dear." Nodding, she eagerly accepted the cash and hurried to go get something to drink and take her time getting back.

"A large cup of Dr. Pepper please," She ordered, with an thick british accent. "Along with two slices of pepperoni pizza." The other orders can wait until she was done eating. Looking around, she saw that girl who had went on the famous horse.

"Hey- good job on that horse out there," Abi commented, hoping that talking to this girl will delay her having to go back in the stands. "Even though I know nothing about Rodeo, it was pretty good."

Vette was midsip in her coffee when the other girl spoke to her. She seemed nice enough, British by origin if the accent was anything to go by, and by the look and feel of things was out of her regular zone.

"So a greenhorn, eh," the cowgirl responded in a light French accent in near perfect English, spending all her time on the American and Canadian circuits she had almost trained it out of herself and become proficiently bilingual. With a good natured grin she stuck out her hand after wiping the majority of the dirt off on her denim Wranglers. "Name's Vette, least that's what everyone 'round here calls me. Putting the 'Y' in front of it apparently makes it less of a rodeo name. Pfft. With some of those buggers riding the horses I'm surprised they know which end of a steer is which."

She took the extended burger from the concession lady, unwrapped it almost reverently and hummed in pleasure before taking a big bite of it. "Titan's Wrath, this is a good burger," she muttered more to herself than anyone.