Mary J. McCoy-Dressel

“What does it look like down there?” Velia asked, trying to hide her shaky hands.

“It looks like a bunch of, how you say…cowboys?” Natale said, her eyes large. “One is very, very handsome.”

“Yes, my Caulder.”

“One more,” Natale said then giggled.

Velia sighed. “Dad, please look out there to see who she’s talking about.”

Ric peeked out and Natale scooted under his arm to direct him to who she looked at. He closed the door and said to Velia, “You call him Foley.”

Natale’s face beamed. “Sì. I like Foley!”

“Well, he’s a bit old for you, Natale, but younger than most of the other riders. And, sì, he is handsome.”

“Belli eyes,” she replied, swooning.

Velia smiled to herself and nodded to her father…

Caulder sat beside Velia as they watched Foley in the chute. He had a crazy-wild bull. Foley nodded to the gate man.

“Looks like he knows what he’s doing thanks to you,” said Velia, her voice filled with pride.

“If he takes it slow he’ll be okay. He wants to rush everything. The big score last night boosted his confidence. Look! He’s becoming distracted.” Caulder jumped up when Foley got bucked off, and he hit the ground hard. “See what I mean?”

Foley picked himself up from the sand. He went down on one knee and lifted his hand and eyes upward. Yet, he limped out of the arena.

“I bet you were the same way.”

“No I wasn’t. Not by the time I got to the pros. This isn’t a game anymore, Velia. If he wants to continue in the pros, he has to listen to someone who’s been there.”

“Well,” Velia pointed to Foley as he hobbled to the back. “There he is, go tell him.”