The big black steer was a runner, but a good draw if you were mounted. I'd watched him at the last roping, and seen the last year's world champion win a round on him. His head high and tail high, he barreled down the arena, fully intent on the gate at the back. You could hear him crack his slack across the steer's back from one side of the arena to another, his gray horse was already committed--they were going left. Deep, damp sand flew from his feet as he dug his way across the pen, sliding the big corriente to his partner in this dance. A sharp "WHOA" brought the gray freight train to a stop. A wrap and a half and his hands were in the air. Gray stood on the end of the rope, leaning into the weight on the other end, keeping it tight, erasing any chance that the steer would get up. A hand across his hip, a soft murmur, a foot in the left stirrup. His horse eased the tension off the rope and turned toward the object of their affliction, standing steady as he loosened his rope from the saddle horn.
The untie crew moved in after Dad nodded the OK to them, the steer had stayed down for his mandatory six seconds. One on his head, another spun the string off of the steer's legs. There was a system to it, and when done smoothly took no time at all. These two were new to the game, fresh to the cowboy world and as eager to impress as they were to learn. I went to school with them during the week, and hadn't the slightest clue that either of them knew which end of a horse ate, but then again I was never too concerned with my classmates.
I eased my horse forward as the steer got to his feet, he shook his head and hooked at the slower of the two boys, which drew a laugh from all of us gathered around. I eased my horse around the edge of the group and followed after him, trailing him all the way to the catch pen, trying to listen for his time. There was a moment or two that passed, then the announcer's voice sounded again, telling us all that a new arena record had been set, but that they weren't sure what the record had been to start with! Laughter spread like wildfire again, along with plenty of claps on the shoulder, offers of "Good run, man!" along with "You lucky SOB!" Not many would take just a wrap and a half on such a stout steer, but then again not many other horses could hit one as hard as the gray horse had.