Ridin' the Dream

By G.D. Shedeck

From the dusty rodeo grounds of the Northwest two young cowboys join in a partnership that bonds them together forever.
A lucky string of events will put their lives into a tailspin that leads them from the northwest to the bright lights of San Francisco, and New York.
Bud was headed for rodeo's biggest prize when his world was turned upside down, the war in Viet Nam.

• Language: English
• Publisher: G.D. Shedeck
• Release date: Apr 3, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301796007

G.D. Shedeck

G.D. Shedeck lives in Arizona with his wife Joan. Born and raised in Oregon he spent twenty-five years as a firefighter. Rodeo and roping and the cowboy life have always been his passion. He is a life member in the United States Team Roping Championship, and a gold card holder in the Northwest Professional Rodeo Association and a past member of the Senior Pro-Rodeo Association.

Book preview

PREFACE

The old transport plane shook as the wheels locked in place. Bud stared out the window as the shores of Vietnam gave way to the rough surface of the ocean. He was heading home. As the hours passed he stared out the window at the blue Pacific Ocean, and his mind drifted back to the days before the war.

The last two years had been a living hell for the young cowboy from Oregon. He was drafted in Uncle Sam’s Army, when he was well on his way to becoming the world’s all-round champion cowboy.

Eighteen months ago he was assigned to a five man recon team that was flown in to Cambodia to get information on VC troop activity. The VC was waiting on their fifth mission into Cambodia, as the Huey was about to touch down. Bud was first man out, when a ground-to-air missile ripped through the chopper, killing everyone inside. The only thing that saved him was the flash he saw as he jumped. He rolled behind an old rotten tree stump as the explosion and fireball rolled up and over him.

He stayed on his belly and kept crawling deeper into the jungle. As he lay buried in the underbrush, he watched as the VC surrounded the burning chopper, cheering as they fired their AK-forty-sevens into the burning wreckage.

The next morning as he lay watching, the VC removed the remains of the soldiers, picked up what was left of the chopper, and covered everything with underbrush. The crash scene looked like it never happened.

The following day, there were spotter planes in the air, but Bud had no way of signaling, for the place was crawling with VC. Bud and the other four soldiers, and two pilots, were eventually listed as missing in action and presumed dead.

When word of his death reached home, his grandfather Frank contacted his friends and his second family, the Pollards of Prineville, and relayed the news.

It was late morning when Frank drove up to the Pollard Ranch and started walking toward the door. Gene saw him coming, and walked out to greet him, Nice to see you Mr. Spencer. What brings you over to this side of the mountain? He looked into the old man’s sad eyes, and knew what was coming.

I’m sorry Mr. Pollard. We just got word of it yesterday. It looks like Buddy has been killed in action. But they haven’t found his body, so there’s a slim chance he may still be alive, but they gave little to no hope.

Gene took Frank’s hand, I’m so sorry Frank. Bud was as much a son to me as my own son. This is going to devastate my boy, and I don’t even want to think what it will do to my daughter. She loved him from the day they first met.

Well, Mr. Pollard, I prayed to the spirits of my ancestors, and when I looked up into the sky he wasn’t there, so I believe in my heart that he will return.

Gene smiled at the old Indian. I hope you’re right Frank. I hope you’re right.

When Gene broke the news to his son Shorty, He never said a word He walked out to the barn, and in about an hour walked in the back door. It’s all bullshit, Dad. If they can’t find his body, he ain’t dead.

He never said another word about it to his dad. When January rolled around he loaded up and headed for Denver to the Grand National.

Upon returning his dad tried to talk to him about accepting the fact that Bud was gone. Shorty looked his dad in the eye and said, Dad, I know you’re just trying to do what you thinks best, but until I see Bud lying in a box, as far as I’m concerned he ain’t dead. I’ll keep our operation going till he comes home one way or the other.

As the year slipped by, Shorty rodeo’ed hard, keeping to himself and never talking to anyone about Bud.

When Gene told his daughter Patti, she didn’t leave her room for two days. Finally her mother went up to her room. Sis was lying on the bed crying. "Oh, Mama, I loved him so much.

I know you did, Sissy, she replied, as she sat down beside her.

Later when they came down, both their faces were swollen from crying. When Gene tried to comfort her she broke down, and started screaming, I tried to tell Bud and you, but neither one of you would listen. That damn war just cost me the only man I’ll ever love.

When she went back to college that fall, she became more involved with Students against the War, and spent all her free time protesting. Anytime she was seen protesting, she was always wearing the buckle that Bud had given her for her seventeenth birthday.

Eighteen months later Bud walked out of the jungle into a First Cavalry outpost that was set up to protect a friendly village in South Vietnam

Chapter 1

Bud whose given name is William Frank, spent his growing years living with his grandparents on their small ranch in the hills east of Salem, Oregon.

His mother Paula was killed in an auto accident when he was a small boy.

His father, Shawn Robert, who was a part time professional boxer, was working a construction job, and was out of town at the time of her death.

Blaming himself for not being there at the time of the accident, he spent the next few years hiding behind a bottle of Jack Daniels. His grandparents stepped in and took over the job of raising Bud.

His granddad, Frank Spencer, whom Bud called Pa-Pa, was half Sioux and half Irish. He was a large boned man in his mid sixties with a full head of graying hair. Pa-Pa Frank always called Bud his little buddy and the name stuck. Soon everyone was calling him Bud.

Bud learned a lot about horsemanship and reading a horse’s mind from his granddad, whom some people now days would call a horse whisperer. Bud’s grandfather would say you had to take the time to listen to what the horse had to say.

His grandfather had learned his horse handling as a child from his Sioux mother whom had been taught the old Indian ways while growing up on the Montana prairie.

When his granddad was a young man he became known around the valley as the half-breed who talks to horses.

As time went on his reputation grew, and the word got out that he could get a lot of run out of a horse; therefore he was sought after, and employed by many wealthy racehorse owners.

Someone was always bringing him a crippled horse, and in a few weeks the horse would be completely sound. People thought he was some kind of medicine man but when asked, he always said, Oh, no, just an old Indian remedy I learned from my mother. But he never revealed any of his secrets. When his grandfather would leave for a race meet he would sometimes take Bud along, therefore exposing him to the one of a kind life, of living on the racetrack. He learned about the has-beens, the drunks, and the want-to-be’s. But he also learned a lot about the horses, the owners and trainers, and a way of life, behind the sport of kings.

As Bud grew older, his father slowly began to get his life back in order. Shawn moved back to the family ranch, sobered up, and remodeled the cabin he built before Bud’s mother had been killed.

As time passed he was able to buy a dump truck and backhoe. He then started a small excavating company called Shawn Spencer Construction.

When Bud reached Jr. High, his dad bought him a pair of boxing gloves and began teaching him the art of self-defense. Not only did he teach him how to box, he taught him how to fight to win.

Reaching high school Bud joined a local boxing club, and in his senior year fought and won the amateur middleweight title in the northwest. For Bud it was a challenge he enjoyed but never the passion he got from helping his grandfather with his horses.

Bud had always given his dad all the credit for his fighting ability because of the training he had given him as a boy. As his interest in boxing dwindled he spent more time with the horses and less time in the gym.

Bud began working weekends while in high school for a transplanted Texan by the name of Elmer Johnson. Elmer, a tall thin man in his mid -forties, owned and operated a horse boarding and training facility near the Fairgrounds.

Elmer could see Bud had a lot of natural talent when it came to handling a horse. It wasn’t long until Elmer had Bud riding and showing some of his reining horses.

Bud worked hard and continued working for Elmer after graduating from High School.

Chapter 2

After graduating he began working for Elmer full time. There he met a local rodeo cowboy by the name of Larry Bolt. Larry, a wiry six-footer with salt and pepper hair, was pushing forty, but still kept some practice bucking horses at the fairgrounds. He asked Bud if he would like to try one. Bud got on a couple of practice horses and was hooked. His love for rodeo and ridin’ rough stock grew to the point of becoming an obsession.

After Bud had got on a couple of dozen practice horses Larry entered him in a local amateur rodeo where he won the bareback riding. Winning his first silver buckle and seventy-five dollars gave him the confidence he needed to enter more local rodeos around the valley. So for the next couple of years Larry packed Bud around the valley to some of the local weekend amateur rodeos, paying his entry fees for half of Bud’s winnings. Bud thought it was a great deal, while Larry who liked helping the kid was able to make a few bucks on the side.

It was mid-summer in the early sixties. Larry entered himself and Bud in the bareback riding at the Dayton Buckaroo. Bud drew a crow-hopper that didn’t buck much and marked a sixty-one. He thought he should have had a re-ride but the judges didn’t see it that way.

Larry drew Tucker’s big roan that they called Firebomb, and when the whistle blew his score was seventy-eight points, well enough for second in the go-round. So that night Larry took Bud to town to celebrate.

The party was going full bore at the local gin mill when the fight broke out. Larry told Bud to get out the back door before the cops arrived or they would probably arrest him for not being twenty-one. As Bud started for the door, he was hit across the forehead with a beer bottle, splitting his forehead from the eyebrow up.

Larry smashed a chair over the guy’s head, then reached down and grabbed Bud by the arm, helping him out the door and down the alley. Bud kept pulling back saying, Let’s go back, and finish the fight.

No way kid, you’ll live to fight another day and you damn sure ain’t about to like the inside of the Yamhill county jail, replied Larry.

Fifteen stitches later at the local hospital, Bud was as good as new. Larry paid the bill and they headed back to the rodeo grounds.

The next morning Bud’s eye was completely swelled shut. Larry took one look at him and said. You look like someone shot at you and missed, and shit at you and hit. Bud looking in the rearview mirror began laughing. Well no one ever said I’d win a beauty contest.

When the rodeo started Sunday, the stock contractor said they were short of bull riders.

We’re paying five dollars to any one that will get on a bull.

When Bud heard that he went right over and signed up, You sure you want to get on a bull, Larry said, ya’ no they can damn sure hurt ya’.

Hell, Bud replied, I already got one eye swelled shut, might as well make it two.

Bud borrowed an old bull rope from a cowboy by the name of Ronnie Waters, whom he knew from Salem. Ronnie showed him how to rosin the rope, then he loaned him a pair of bull spurs with locked rowels.

They ran a spotted Brahma cross into the chutes that weighed about fourteen hundred pounds. He had a set of banana horns that turned down toward the ground. Ronnie and Larry jumped up on the back of the chute to give Bud a hand. Bud climbed up over the bull as Larry pulled the rope through the loop handing the tail of the rope to Ronnie. You’re up kid, the chute boss yelled at Bud.

Ronnie gave Bud some last minute instructions as he pulled the rope tight and handed Bud the tail to take his wraps. Bud looked over at Larry and said, Well, here goes nothing. Turning his head and tucking his chin, Bud yelled to the gateman, Let’s rock n’ roll.

The bull beat Bud out of the chute throwing Bud a little off balance, but instead of turning away from Bud he jumped back under him. Bud regained his balance and held on for a couple more jumps. The bull turned away from Bud’s hand and jumped out from under him. Landing on his butt, Bud jumped back up and ran back to the chute. Climbing up the chute Bud hollered, Man that was fun. I might have to try that again sometime.

Larry just shook his head and said; I think you need a little practice kid before you enter any bull ridin’.

Ronnie said, You did great Bud. I got a friend that lives over in Turner that has some bulls. He charges a couple of bucks to get on them. If you want to learn how to ride bulls, that’s the place to go.

Tell me how to get there, Bud said.

I’ll do one better than that, Ronnie replied, I’ll pick you up around four tomorrow afternoon and we’ll drive over and I’ll introduce you to him. That way both of us can get in a little practice.

Larry just shrugged his shoulders saying, Oh shit, we got us another bull rider.

Over the rest of the summer Bud and Ronnie spent a lot of time at the Turner practice pen.

That fall Bud entered the local Salem Saddle club rodeo, and win fourth place in the bull riding. A check for thirty-five dollars was a big boost to the young man’s ego.

Later that year Bud got a phone call from Larry. Saying, Don’t ask any questions. Pick up my two buckin’ horses, haul them down to C.Bs, and then mail me the money in care of general delivery, Winnemucca, Nevada. If anybody comes around looking for me, tell him you don’t have any idea where I’ve gone. Hope to see you around, Pard. Then he hung up. Bud did what Larry told him to do without knowing any of the reasons for his leaving.

About two weeks later, Bud was working at the training stables when a guy showed up in a business suit looking for Larry. He singled Bud out and started asking questions about Larry Bolt. I understand you and Mr. Bolt were good friends. The man asked. I would like to know where I could find him.

Bud replied. Yes, we are friends but I haven’t seen him for a couple of weeks. Bud lied. He might have gone up to Portland. I think he has a sister up in that area. The man left and Bud never knew the reason for Larry’s sudden departure.

The rest of the winter was spent working for Elmer and helping his grandfather with his racehorse training. Rodeo was put on the back burner until spring.

Chapter 3

The following spring, Bud got a flyer in the mail about an open rodeo in John Day. After reading the flyer he said to himself, Why not. It’s time to get back to rodeo. I’m just going to load up and go. He called the rodeo office, got entered, and when Friday rolled around he threw his riggin’ and sleeping bag in the old nineteen thirty-seven Ford four door sedan his granddad had given him, and headed for John Day.

John Day, a small town nestled in a valley on the east side of the Ochoco Mountains, where cattle and logging are the main source of income, has long been known for its western lifestyle, and down home hospitality.

Bud drove into town and the first thing he saw was a sign saying rodeo grounds next left. Bud made a left turn and drove a block when he saw the old wooden bleachers. Pulling in he drove around and parked behind the chutes.

Jumping out of the car with an excited look on his face, he watched a couple cowboys as they ran some bulls out of the arena, and into the pens behind the bucking chutes.

Thinking out loud he said, God, I love this.

Bud reached up to the top rail of the arena fence and catapulted himself to a sitting position. He pulled out a pack of Lucky’s, and lit up. As he was sitting there watching, a couple of cowboys on horseback started running calves down the arena, and out the back gate.

He felt the fence move as a young cowboy dressed in a black hat, starched Wranglers, well worn high-heeled boots, and a white shirt sat down next to him. Got room for one more?

Sure come on up, Bud said.

The smiling faced cowboy sat down and asked, What’s going on?

Bud replied, Looks like they’re showing some roping calves the back gate.

He stuck his hand out to Bud saying, My name’s Shorty Pollard.

Bud returned the handshake with, Glad to meet you. My name’s Bud Spencer.

James Robert Pollard, who went by the nickname Shorty, grew up on a horse, cattle, and hay ranch outside of Prineville, Oregon.

His dad was a saddle bronc and bareback rider for over twenty years, so some of Shorty’s earliest memories were going down the road with his mom, dad, and younger sister to the rodeos around the Northwest.

His dad never traveled much outside the Northwest because of the ranch and family obligations. It was known around the rodeo fraternity that if he would have rodeo’ed full time he could have had a shot at the championship.

Shorty’s dad always kept a few bucking horses to practice on at the ranch, so as it turned out Shorty rode his first saddle bronc when he was around eleven years old.

By the time he graduated from high school he had become a tough little bronc rider.

Where do you hang your hat Bud? Shorty asked.

Over in the valley east of Salem.

I didn’t think there were any cowboys over in that part of the state, Shorty said with a big toothy grin.

There are a few of us scattered around the valley. I guess you got to know where to look.

Do you live here in John Day?

No, I live over in the Prineville area. My dad has a ranch out of town a ways, Shorty replied.

As the boys were sitting there talking they heard a loud voice from behind them yell out, Who the hell owns that old Ford parked by the fence?

Bud turned and said, I do. Is there a problem?

You’re damn right there’s a problem. If you don’t move it right now I’ll run the damn bulls right over the top of that pile of shit.

Bud started to get down off the fence, but Shorty beat him to the ground saying. Back off Jimmy, This is a friend of mine. We’ll move the car in a minute, so quit letting your mouth overload your ass.

See that you do, he said as he turned and headed towards the bucking chutes.

Bud was on the ground and heading past Shorty as Shorty grabbed him by the arm saying, Don’t pay any attention to him, Bud. He works for the stock contractor, and they gave him a little authority. It damn sure went to his head. I went to high school with him. He was a prick then and still is.

Bud turned to Shorty and said, Well, he’s sure got a big mouth, and I ain’t about to take any of his shit.

Shorty smiled and said, Hell, Bud, he ain’t worth working up a sweat over. By the way, you had supper yet? If not, let’s go down town and have a burger. I’m buying.

Sounds good to me, replied Bud. So the boys jumped in Bud’s Ford and headed back up town.

With that chance meeting a friendship was born that would eventually bond them closer together than blood brothers, leading them down the road from dusty rodeo arenas to the streets of New York City.

Shorty Pollard stood five foot nine and weighed about one sixty. He had blond curly hair with deep blue eyes and a boyish grin that showed a mouth full of perfect white teeth. That friendly, and never ending smile, and a great gift for gab had most all the girls doing a double take.

Bud was more the quiet and shy type, without a whole lot to say. He stood close to six feet, weighing in at about one seventy-five. His thick dark brown hair gave way to his rugged looks and olive complexion. His steel gray eyes when mad could bore a hole right through a man.

The olive complexion dated back to his great grandmother who was full-blooded Lakota Sioux. She met and later married his great grandfather, an Irish trapper, who in the late eighteen hundreds was trapping in Montana. They met shortly after the great Indian wars. They married, and migrated to Oregon around the turn of the century, settling in the Willamette valley where they raised two boys and one girl. Bud’s grandfather and father still lived on the original homestead.

The boys drove over to the local hamburger joint, ordered cheeseburgers, fries, and milkshakes. After they had eaten, they headed back to the rodeo grounds and talked for hours about rodeo, growing up, and what they wanted to do with their lives. Both wanted to try the pro rodeo circuit, so they came up with the idea that they could buddy up, split the expenses, and go down the road together.

The next morning the boys rolled up their sleeping bags and headed for the rodeo office to see what they had drawn. Bud drew a mare called Mother Rat in the bareback riding, and Shorty drew a big gelding in the bronc riding called Red Cross. In the bull riding, Bud had number 9 in the second round, and Shorty had number 3.

With time to kill they headed for the cowboy breakfast, which was put on by the local V.F.W. They sat down and started loading up on pancakes and coffee. Shorty was stuffing pancakes in by the fork full when Bud said, This has got to be the best half-dollar breakfast I’ve ever had.

Shorty didn’t even look up. He just kept stuffing his mouth full of hot cakes. Finally he laid down his fork saying, You got that right, partner.

Bud smiled to himself thinking, That boy’s really got an appetite.

As the rodeo got under way, Bud was first out in the bareback riding. Shorty jumped up behind the chute, and helped Bud set his riggin’, while the high school band played the national anthem.

Cinch ‘em down boys.

Bud climbed up over the horse as she stood quietly in the chute. She was a big stout red roan mare with a heavy shaggy mane. As Bud worked his hand in the riggin’ he said to Shorty, Pull that latigo a little tighter. Shorty tightened the latigo and tied it off.

Bud settled down on the mares back with his feet resting on both sides of the chute. Leaning back he said, Let’s rock n’ roll. The gate swung open, the big mare spun out of the chute, and ran about ten feet. It felt to Bud like she swallowed her tail before kicking high over her head. Then she sucked back, and when she did that, Bud jerked his knees and began spurring. Three jumps later the big mare blew the boy’s hand out of his riggin.’ Down he came landing on his butt, with a what happened look on his face. Walking back to the chute he dusted off his backside, unbuckled his chaps, and looked up at Shorty. I thought I was doing great, until they opened the gate.

Shorty laughed. You looked like Jim Shoulders for a few seconds. What happened?

Man she blew my hand right out of the riggin’.

I think you need a new riggin’. That handhold looks a little flimsy. I might know right where you can get one, replied Shorty.

They both stood back behind the chutes, waiting for the saddle bronc’s to be run in. Soon Shorty’s horse was run into the chute. He was a big raunchy looking horse weighing at about fourteen hundred pounds with a long Roman nose and fetlock hair hanging on the ground. Shorty slid the saddle on to the horses back as Bud reached under his belly with the cinch hook. Hooking the cinch he slid the latigo through and tightened up the saddle. Shorty adjusted the bronc rein, and slid down into the saddle.

The chute boss said, you’re up, it’s show time."

Shorty slipped his feet into the stirrups, and adjusted his chaps. He then pulled back on the bronc rein and yelled, Outside.

The big gilding leaped into the air with Shorty’s spurs high in the horse’s shoulders. The big horse jumped and kicked, bucking straight down the arena with Shorty spurring him with every jump. The crowd went wild as the whistle blew. Shorty slid on to the back of the pickup horse and down to the ground. Unbuckling his chaps as he walked back to the chute, he heard the announcer say, What a ride for that young cowboy, the score is seventy-eight points.

Bud looked down at Shorty yelling, Great ride, Shorty. Where did you learn to ride like that?

Shorty looked up smiling. My dad taught me everything I know.

After the bronc riding the boys changed to their bull spurs, rosined their bull ropes, and waited for the bull riding to begin. They ran Shorty’s bull in right after the barrel race was over. The boys saw he was an Angus cross weighing about fifteen hundred pounds. Bud helped Shorty pull his rope as Shorty sat on the bull with both feet on the old wooden chute.

The gate man looked up at Shorty as he slipped his leg down between the bull and the gate. Slapping himself on the face Shorty said, Turn him loose. The bull jumped out bucking and spinning away from his riding hand. The bull beat Shorty around the corner, throwing him off balance. He was unable to recover and landed flat on his back.

The clown jumped in and turned the Bull away from the falling rider. Shorty jumped up and ran to the fence. Goddamn, I sure thought he was going left.

Bud glanced down at Shorty. He fooled me too. I don’t think he wanted to play fair. Bud looked up as they ran his bull into the next chute. Can you give me a hand pulling my rope?

Shorty jumped up on the backside of the old wooden chute and pulled Bud’s

rope. Bud said, Just right Shorty. Hand me the tail.

Bud eased his legs down between the bull and the sides of the chute. Gritting his teeth he nodded his head. The gate swung open. The bull turned out buckin’ straight for three jumps, then turned left, spun and kicked into Bud’s hand until the whistle blew. Bud was glued to his back like a tick on a deer. Stepping off, he landed on his feet and ran to the fence.

The announcer said seventy five points." Bud was all smiles as he left the arena.

Later at the rodeo office Bud picked up his check for second place in the bull riding.

Shorty ended up winning the bronc riding and picked up a check for one hundred forty dollars.

Shorty then asked Bud if he could bum a ride back to Prineville. My pickup has a blown transmission, so I bummed a ride to John Day with a trucker on his way to Boise.

Not a problem, Bud said. I’ve got to go right through Prineville on my way home.

So the boys loaded their gear in the back seat of Bud’s old ford and headed back to Prineville.

Chapter 4

The boys re-lived the rodeo a half dozen times while driving back to Prineville. Shorty, who lived outside of town a few miles up McKay Creek, was still talking as they pulled into the ranch.

Bud turned the ignition off as Shorty stepped out of the car. You’d better come in and meet my family, Bud. I know they sure would like to meet you.

I reckon I got time for that Shorty, because I sure ain’t on any schedule. Bud hopped out of the Ford and was greeted by a red heeler cow dog that gave him the once over.

Shorty said, He’s okay, Red, and the red dog gave him a big lick on the hand. That’s Dad’s cow dog. He calls him Red-dog, and he damn sure keeps an eye on the place.

Bud followed Shorty through the front door with Red-dog following right behind, heeling him all the way into the living room. With a big smile on his face Shorty said, Hey Mom, Dad, Sis, I want you to meet my new friend from the valley. This is Bud Spencer. He gave me a ride home. My dad Gene, my mom Laura, and my little sister Patti, but you can just call her Sis. Everyone else does.

Shorty’s dad, a man in his mid forties that looked to Bud like an older version of Shorty, got up and with a slight limp walked over and shook Bud’s hand. Nice to meet you Bud, welcome to our home.

The pleasure’s all mine Mr. Pollard, Bud said, as he thought, Shorty’s dad has got a grip like putting your hand in a steel vice.

Then Bud removed his Stetson, as he turned facing Shorty’s mother. He reached out and took her extended hand pleased to meet you ma’am. She was a tall slender woman with long brown hair that fell to the middle of her back. Her face showed the years of hard work on a Central Oregon ranch, but her natural beauty came through in her soft smile and striking blue green eyes. Smiling, she thanked Bud for giving Shorty a ride home. Then Bud stuck out his hand to Sis, a long legged skinny brunette in Wranglers, with pigtails that reached the middle of her back. She had the natural beauty of her mother with the bluest eyes Bud had ever seen. Nice to meet you Sis, Shorty tells me you’re quite a roper. Sis started blushing as she dropped her eyes and replied, He’s just prejudice.

Shorty’s mom broke in saying, You boys must be hungry. Why don’t you two get washed up and sit down. Supper’s almost ready.

Shorty and Bud headed for the washroom while Sis helped her mother set the table.

They all sat down to fried potatoes with steak, gravy, and beans.

All through supper Shorty filled them in on what happened at the rodeo, telling them about Bud winning second place in the bull riding, and him winning the bronc riding. Bud had to laugh to himself as he listened to Shorty, thinking that Shorty sure can talk.

Shorty’s mom broke in and said to Bud, Bud, why don’t you spend the night? That way you will be able to drive over the mountain in the daylight.

That would be great, Mrs. Pollard, but I don’t want to put you folks out.

No problem, Bud. We have an extra room, replied Mrs. Pollard.

Bud then excused himself and went into the bathroom. Shorty’s mom said, He seems to be a nice young man Shorty, and he even has good manners. She then turned to Sis and said, As for you young lady, you quit goggling at Bud, and finish your supper. No one likes to be stared at.

That embarrassed her, and her eyes dropped to her plate. When Bud returned to the table he smiled at Sis saying, "I sure like those long pretty pig tails Sis. I’ll bet the boys sure like to pull ‘um. She blushed a little and looked back down at her plate not saying a word.

After supper Shorty asked Bud to come out to the barn for he had something he wanted to show him. Bud got up from the table and thanked Mrs. Pollard for supper. Looking over he saw that Sis was staring at him, so he smiled and winked at her. She quickly turned her head and left the room. Bud thought to himself as he was walking out to the barn, Shorty’s sister sure is a little sweetheart.

When they reached the barn and went in to the tack room Shorty reached into a big trunk and brought out a bareback riggin’. He then turned to Bud saying. Pete Dixon was a good friend of Dad’s. He built this bareback riggin’ for my dad several years ago. I think Pete built as good a riggin’ as a man can buy. Dad gave it to me when I thought I was going to ride bareback horses. I’m sticking to saddle broncs so if you want to try it, I’ll loan it to you and you can give it a try. It’s got a solid rawhide handle and it’s twisted for a left hand rider

Bud didn’t know what to say. He just stood there with a surprised look on his face. Shorty smiled and said, After looking at that riggin’ you been a ridin’ with, I could see why that horse blew your hand out of the riggin’.

God, Shorty, I would love to try it. I can’t believe you’d loan it to me.

Then Shorty said, Hey we’re partners now, and if we’re going to rodeo together, I want you to have the best. I think the Dixon riggin’ is as good as they get.

Bud put his hand in the riggin’. Boy if I would have had this Saturday, I think I could have ridden that juice hog.

Shorty’s dad stepped into the tack room smiling, What you boys up to?

I’m going to let Bud try my Dixon riggin’ and see how he likes it. We have decided to go down the road together, hitting some of the local rodeos around Oregon. If we do any good we’ll buy are R.C.A. permits and go from there.

Sounds like you boys got it all figured out. Let me tell you one thing. It’s a tough road out there. It’s chicken today and feathers tomorrow in this rodeo game. I rode those buckin’ horses for twenty years. I was damn good at it, but I sure didn’t get rich.

I know, Dad, but you know it’s been my life’s dream. We got to give it a shot. Besides that, Bud feels the same way I do.

Well, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. If you boys got your minds made up, starting next month I could use another hand here at the ranch. Turning to Bud he said, If it would work for you and you don’t have a steady job, why don’t you move on over to the ranch and work for me this summer.

Bud was all smiles. That would sure work for me, Mr. Pollard.

That’s a great idea Dad. We can go over to Sonny’s and get on some practice horses during the week.

Gene smiled saying, I’ll even pack you two for a while. Maybe I might be able to teach you two a thing or two about rodeo.

The boys were really excited about that, so when they got back to the house, they sat around the kitchen table drinking coffee, and talking rodeo for half the night.

Early the next morning during breakfast Sis went right back to watching Bud through the corner of her eye. Finally she asked him how he got that scar on his forehead.

Laura jumped right on her, saying, That’s rude, asking a personal question that is none of your business.

Bud said, I don’t mind, Mrs. Pollard.

Then he turned back to Sis and said; I guess I was talking Sis, when I should have been listening. He then got up from the table and said, Thank you for putting me up for the night Mrs. Pollard. He shook Gene’s hand, then turned and smiled at Sis. She looked up at Bud for a moment, smiled at him and then, surprising Bud reached out and shook his hand before leaving the room.

Shorty walked him out to his car. When they reached the car Shorty stuck out his hand and said, Well, partner, I’ll see you next month.

They shook hands. Bud jumped in the Ford, and headed out the driveway. As he looked back and waved he could see Sis looking out between the blinds as he pulled out on to the highway.

Chapter 5

The next month flew by. Bud kept busy riding a bunch of colts for Elmer, and working with his grandfather.

The phone rang one evening, and it was Shorty.

Dad’s ready for you to go to work, so as soon as you can get away, come on over.

Bud spent the rest of the week finishing out a colt for Elmer, and then he packed his gear and said his goodbyes to his family, and headed out on the biggest adventure of his young life.

Pulling in to the ranch, Red-dog was the first to greet him. Sis came running out of the house hollering at Red-Dog to get down. Come on in. Shorty and Dad are in town and Mom’s upstairs getting your room ready.

Bud got his gear out of the Ford and headed toward the house, as Gene and Shorty pulled into the yard. Shorty jumped out, and Gene waved as he drove by, heading for the barn.

Should have known Sis would be out to greet you, you’re all she’s been talking about for a month.

Sis gave Shorty a nasty look and said, Shorty. Bud pretended not to notice as they shook hands.

As the boys walked toward the house they filled each other in on what’d been going on in their lives for the last month.

Laura had Bud’s room finished, so after Bud got settled the boys spent the rest of the day planning their first rodeo. It was the following weekend up the Columbia River at Arlington, Oregon.

Bright and early the next morning Gene rolled the boys out, Up and at ‘em boys. We’re going to go ride some broncs. The boys were up in a flash and ready to go.

Can I go with you guys? Patti asked.

If it’s all right with the boys you can come along. What do you think, Bud, shall we take Sis with us?

It’s fine with me, Mr. Pollard. Whatever works for you suits me just fine?

I like your attitude, Bud, replied Gene, with half a smile.

The boys gathered up their gear and they all headed for the pickup. Shorty jumped in with Sis hopping on his lap. Bud got in and slammed the door while Red-dog jumped in the back.

Gene drove into Prineville. Stopping in front of the Ochoco Inn he said, Let’s have some breakfast before heading over to Sonny’s ranch. They all agreed that was a great idea, so they jumped out and headed for the Inn with Red guarding the pickup.

It didn’t take Shorty long to finish his bacon and eggs so he ended up eating half of Sis’s. After watching Shorty eat, Bud said, Man if I ate that much I’d weigh two-hundred pounds.

Gene started laughing, Hell, Bud the kid has eaten like that since he was a pup, and he doesn’t gain a pound.

Later as they were pulling into Sonny’s ranch they saw Sonny and his boys running about ten head of horses into the arena. The