I watched him from the end of the arena. He smiled and laughed easily among his competitors, his enthusiasm was infectious. I sat in my spot in the catch pen, waiting for the next run to go out and trail another steer in. There were only a few more ropers to go, so it wouldn't be a long wait. It was getting hot, the sun was almost straight above the valley. The clouds to the south looked as if they held rain, but whether they would bring a downpour was anyones guess.
I trailed the last three steers from the arena, then helped to track all the extras from one end to the other. Few people were still in the arena, I was riding my own horse and leading my Dad's. It had been along day for the both of them, both were walking with their heads low, calm and relaxed. The breeze had layed the heat for the time being, and I couldn't help but feel good to be on a good horse with the bright sunlight warming my back. It was almost a lullaby; the sound of my horse's feet as they shuffled through the sand, the soft swish of their tails as they swatted at flies along with the low movement of their breathing. The rocking of my gelding's stride was so relaxing that I found myself becoming drowsy. Through my stupor I could hear hoof beats, and felt my horse raise his head as a rider approached. The big gray horse that I had watched win the round was now naked of saddle and bridle, he wore a plain rope halter and lead, nothing else. He and his rider both appeared to have had a dip in the creek, the horse was dark with water from knees to withers, and his rider's jeans were damp as well.
He rode to the middle of the pen then swung off in one rapid motion, flipping his horse's lead rope across his neck as he moved. As he stepped away, his horse immediately dropped his nose to search for the opportune place to roll. He searched for a moment or two, intent on finding the deepest spot to flop down in.I pulled my ponies up and smiled ot myself as the other horse lay himself down.