“The Rodeo Dog”
By Sarah Quelland
Copyright 2010 Sarah Quelland
Smashwords Edition
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The poor dog was starving and miserable. He’d been surviving on carrion for many moons now. Luckily, the monsoons brought water from the sky. But shelter was hard to come by. Panting heavily from the heat, he crawled under a rock ledge, half expecting death to come to him as it had come to his old master. There, he slept until the sun was set and dreamed of his days rounding up sheep and cattle on the sweet grassy pastures he once called home.
At moonrise, he emerged, gratefully breathing in the cool desert air. With nowhere to go, he simply walked, pausing now and then to sniff the wind for some signal, some direction.
He saw bright lights in the distance. He remembered lights like that meant people lived there. He picked up his pace.
The smell of barbecue and fried potatoes caused his stomach to growl loudly. The lights were like an oasis, filled with human voices and lots of food. He crept closer, hiding in the shadows.
The people were gathered around a dusty arena. There were hundreds of them. A loud noise startled the dog and he watched as a man burst out of a gate astride a bull that twisted and bucked violently until the man was thrown off. He stood up, dusted himself off, and the people cheered. Minutes passed and another man did the same thing. Then another. The dog watched, cocking one ear, perplexed by the scene. He’d had experience with bulls and knew they were dangerous beasts.
He circled the dark outskirts of the arena, searching for scraps food. He felt a hollow rumble as his empty stomach complained. The feast inside was too much to resist, so when he saw an open gate, he slunk in.
He followed his nose to the barbecue tent. There he found a garbage can overflowing with scraps and began chowing down heartily.
It wasn’t long before he was spotted.
“Hey, dog! Shoo! Get away from that! Get out of here!” the man behind the barbecue pit hollered, waving a long spatula.
The dog grabbed a half-eaten hot dog and ran under the bleachers to finish his meal.
He was feeling restored and licking his paws when the stands shook. A cry of astonishment swept through the crowd putting the dog on instant alert. He followed their gaze.
In the center of the arena, a rodeo clown was being chased by not one, but two bulls. He was in real danger. One bull was storming the arena angrily, his eyes wild on the rodeo clown. The biggest, meanest one was stamping and frothing at the mouth. He was ready to charge.
With no thought to his own safety, the dog raced out on the field, barking frantically. He nipped at the bull’s hoofs, slowing it just in time to help the man escape. When the bull’s head whipped around, his horn nicked the dog’s eye. He yelped in pain and struggled blindly.
In that instant, two cowboys appeared on horseback. They quickly lassoed the raging bulls and got them corralled. The crowd cheered in relief and the rodeo clown ran out to the dog.
He kneeled down, carefully taking in the dog’s injury. “Get the vet out here now!” he called to the cowboys on horseback.
In seconds, the rodeo vet was on the field and the dog was surrounded by cowboys. He hadn’t had this much attention in ages and, despite his pain, he liked it.
“He’s going to lose this eye,” the vet told the rodeo clown. “But I think he’ll be okay. Let’s get him to the van.”
“Good dog, that’s a good good dog” the rodeo clown said, scooping him up and carrying him to the vet’s van. The vet cleaned the eye and stitched up the dog’s wound while the rodeo clown watched on anxiously.
“I think we’re done here,” the vet said when he was finished. “Is this your dog?”
“I don’t know where he came from,” the rodeo clown said. “He ran out from the stands. He must belong to someone.”
“Could be,” the vet said. “But he’s awful skinny. This dog looks like it hasn’t had a decent meal in a year. Ain’t got no collar either. I wouldn’t count on anyone coming to claim him.”
“Well,” the rodeo clown looked at the dog. “He does look a might on the hungry side. I’ll get them to make an announcement over the loudspeaker and if no one comes to claim him, he’ll come with me. Won’tcha boy?” he said to the dog.
The dog licked his hand and the rodeo clown smiled, touched by the affectionate gesture of trust.
The rodeo clown washed the makeup off his face, got out of costume, packed up his gear and waited until the stands were empty. No one came for the dog.
“Looks like you’re coming with me,” he said, realizing he’d been hoping no one would claim the dog. “How’s that sound?”
The dog wagged his tail and looked at the man expectantly. He licked his hand and the man smiled again.
When the man opened the door to his truck, the dog hopped in like he belonged there. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
They hit the road around midnight. After the man wheeled his truck and trailer onto the freeway, he glanced over at the dog.
“Well, I don’t know where you came from, but I sure do thank you,” he said. “I’m going to have to call you something. My name’s Huck. He extended his hand and the dog raised a paw to shake.
“My, you’re a smart one, ain’t you? I wonder how you ended up at that rodeo tonight. All skin and bones and starving. That’s no life for a dog. And the way you ran out there willy-nilly to save my hide. That’s it!” Huck said. “I’ll call you Willy Nilly.”
The dog barked.
“Willy Nilly, that’s got a nice ring to it, don’t it?” the man said.
The dog barked again.
“Well, Willy Nilly. We’ve got a long road ahead of us tonight. We gotta make Amarillo by morning.”
The dog, still recovering from his injury, curled up to sleep, lulled by the steady rhythm of the road and the comfortable sound of the man singing along to old Country/Western songs on the radio.
Huck pulled into a truck stop near daybreak. Willy Nilly raised his head.
“Just a pit stop friend,” the man said, gently patting his fur. “We’ll be there soon.”
He stepped out of the truck and headed toward the door. The dog waited until he returned. The warm black smell of hot coffee reached his nostrils when the man got back behind the wheel. It reminded him of his old master. He put his head back on his paws, trying to ignore the ache of his wounded eye, and went back to sleep, feeling safe and content for the first time in a very long time.
Willy Nilly was fast asleep when Huck parked the truck on the rodeo grounds. The rodeo clown decided to catch a few winks himself before getting ready for the next event. A light sleeper, he heard Willy Nilly whining and woke up.
“Need to go out, boy?” he asked, and Willy Nilly barked.
“How’s that eye looking? Not bad, not bad,” he said, getting the eye wash the vet gave him out of his shirt pocket. Willy Nilly squirmed as the man squirted the cold liquid in his damaged eye. Then the man rummaged around in his back seat until he found what he was looking for. He strapped a leashed collar around Willy Nilly’s neck. “Can’t have you running off,” he explained, before opening the door.
The dog hopped out behind Huck and did his business while the man waited.
“About time for you to meet your new friends, I think,” he said, leading Willy Nilly to the trailer.
When he opened the door, Huck was greeted by a series of happy barks. Willy Nilly shrunk back and let out a low growl. This was not what he’d expected.
Huck’s trailer was a traveling kennel with six stalls that housed five dogs.
“Willy Nilly,” he said, “welcome to Huckleberry’s Hounds! The best darn dog show on the rodeo circuit.”
“Ready for breakfast?” he asked the crew, who responded with more happy barks. Amid wiggling noses and wagging tails, Huck filled their bowls and the dogs started chowing down.
Still leashed, Willy Nilly sat down outside the trailer. He felt intimidated and more than a little jealous.
“Now, now there, what’s the matter?” Huck said, stepping down, his cowboy boots kicking up a fine dust that caused Willy Nilly to sneeze, which pulled on his stitches painfully. He winced.
“These dogs here, they’re just like you. They lost their way somehow and fate brought them to me. Just like you. We’re a family now. You’ll see,” he said, stroking the dog’s head, careful of his eye, “you’ll see.”
Willy Nilly didn’t see at all and was relieved when Huck led him back to the truck, opened the door and allowed him to hop in.
“I’ll give you some time to get used to the idea and heal that eye. Then we’ll start training.”
Huck was busy all day, getting ready for the night’s performance. Willy Nilly watched the broncs and the bulls get loaded into the gates of the rodeo arena and listened to the cowboys gearing up for event.
Huck returned every so often to check on him and flush his eye. When he came out in his oversized overalls, colorful scarves and painted on smile, Willy Nilly knew it must be showtime.
“Come friend,” Huck said, opening the door. “I want you to see this.”
Huck introduced him to a buddy, Jimbo, who led the reluctant dog to the side of the arena.
“You’re in for a real treat tonight,” the announcer told the crowd. “Let’s give a big Amarillo welcome to Huckleberry’s Hounds!”
The lights came up and the stands shook as people stomped their appreciation for Huck and his band of mutts.
Willy Nilly couldn’t help being impressed by the show. The dogs were talented performers and Huck was a real entertainer. Music pumped through the speakers as the dogs strutted their stuff, jumping through rings, scooting through barrels, dancing on their hind legs, and conspiring to knock Huck headfirst into a barrel. The crowd cheered after every trick.
Huck bowed at the end, and allowed the dogs to drink in the praise from the audience, before exiting the arena with the dogs trotting behind him in a line.
“Let’s go find your new papa,” Jimbo said, leading Willy Nilly back to the trailer.
“You done good kids,” Huck said, lavishing treats on his dogs, before ushering them into their stalls.
“Great show!” Jimbo said, extending his hand. “I mean it!”
“Thanks man,” Huck said. “It’s all in good fun. We’re actually working on a new stunt called The Evel Houndevel. I’m hoping our new friend here will be up to speed in time to become part of it.”
“I’m sure he will,” Jimbo said. “He paid real good attention to y’all out there, didn’tcha boy?” he said, giving Willy Nilly a quick pat on the head.
“Yeah, he’s a smart one, I can tell,” Huck said. “Once he’s adjusted, I think he’ll do just fine.”
Huck and Jimbo said goodnight as Huck finished loading the dogs and his gear into the trailer.
“Hop up,” he said, opening the truck door for Willy Nilly once again.
Tonight, they’d sleep in the trucker’s zone of a rest area. The next stop was Lubbock.
At daybreak, Huck popped an old Mac Davis cassette into his tape deck for the occasion and sang along: “I thought happiness was Lubbock, Texas in my rearview mirror.” Later, he’d give the Dixie Chicks a spin.
They pulled into Lubbock past noon and started the whole process over again. Town after town, Willy Nilly was becoming accustomed to his new life on the road. He liked Huck, respected the dogs, and finally, his eye pained him no more.
“I think you’re ready,” Huck said when they arrived in Albuquerque. “It’s time to start training.”
Huck had been evaluating Willy Nilly’s ability, testing him with simple commands. Sit. Stay. Roll over. High five. Heel. The dog was very obedient and very sharp. Huck was sure he could get him up to speed with the rest of the dogs in no time. They began rehearsing the easiest tricks first. Willy Nilly caught on quickly. He was an exceptional student. In no time, he’d mastered all the popular tricks. He learned to jump through rings, scoot through barrels, dance on his hind legs and do the stunt where he pretended to be a bull knocking Huck headfirst into a barrel. It was time to start everyone on the Evel Houndevel.
Every day they practiced and Jethro, the best jumper, learned to leap over first one dog, then two, then three, then four, then five. The stunt was coming along nicely.
Then Huck caught the flu. As much as he hated to, he had to get some proper rest in a proper bed. He put the dogs’ training on hold and checked into a motel. After getting his crew settled, he went to his room and crawled under the covers and slept and slept and slept. He slept so long he overslept. When he woke up, it was already after noon. Realizing the dogs would need to get out, he dragged himself out of bed and shuffled out to the trailer to see to his crew. They greeted him happily and he opened each dog’s cage to let them stretch their legs on the motel’s back lawn. He sat down on the back of the trailer’s floor to keep an eye on them.
Willy Nilly spied something he recognized. His old master had been an active swimmer before he died and, under his fine coaching, Willy Nilly had developed a rare talent. Remembering the feel of the hard springy board beneath his paws, Willy Nilly trotted toward the pool to see if they had a board like his old master’s. They did. Without pausing to think, Willy Nilly found himself running, hearing his old master’s voice “Dive, boy,” jumping, flying gracefully into the air, head over tail over head and landing paws-first in the water with a satisfying SPLASH! Coming to the surface, he felt invigorated, reminded of his old master, and had to do it again.
Huck noticed Willy Nilly had wandered off and was scanning the grounds when he heard a loud SPLASH! Huck’s instinct told him Willy Nilly was responsible. What if he’d fallen into the pool? What if he couldn’t swim? What if he was hurt? Huck rushed over and through the chain-link gate to see Willy Nilly dog paddling to the steps in the shallow end. He got out, shook himself off, and headed toward the diving board.
“You teach him that mister?” a young boy called out.
“Teach him what?” Huck replied.
“Watch! I think he’s gonna do it again,” the boy said.
Huck watched in disbelief as Willy Nilly scrabbled up the ladder, took a running leap and launched himself up high off the diving board and did a perfect flip into the water. When he surfaced, he dog paddled back to the steps, climbed out, shook himself off and padded damply over to Huck.
“Where on earth did you learn that?” Huck said, stunned.
Willy Nilly could tell his new master was pleased and it made him feel proud.
Huck scratched him behind his wet ears. “Boy, that stunt of yours is gonna pack the seats.
Huck didn’t feel sick anymore. The wheels in his head were turning.
Huck dropped off the rodeo circuit and headed back to the family farm in Colorado. The dogs trained every day for two months until they had the new routine down. Huck got them booked for the next big event: the California Rodeo in Salinas.
From a distance, the stands looked like a boisterous sea of rhinestones and cowboy hats and smelled like buttery popcorn and cinnamon churros. The bronc riders had given quite a show and the fans were hungry for more action. It was time.
“Y’all won’t want to miss this, folks!” the announcer said over the loudspeaker. “You’re in for a real treat! We got Huckleberry’s Hounds up next! The best darn dog show on the rodeo circuit! Not only is this their Salinas debut, but y’all get to witness the world premiere of not one, but two, count ‘em two new stunts: The Evel Houndevel and the Wet Willy.”
As the announcer went on, telling the crowd about Huck and his rescued dogs, Huck tucked his colorful scarves into his oversized overalls and took a deep, calming breath.
“Ready for your debut, boy?” he said, squatting down and giving Willy Nilly an encouraging pat. “You know what to do.”
The speakers were pumping “Who Let the Dogs Out?” as Huck and his furry crew took center arena.
The crowd was wowed by every stunt and clapped appreciatively at the dogs’ talents. Jethro’s daredevil Evel Houndevel was a huge hit and the stands went wild.
Then the arena went dark as Huck and his hounds prepared for the encore: The Wet Willy. A hush fell over the crowd when the lights came up revealing Huck’s swimming pool setup. The dogs took their positions for the Evel Houndevel, this time with Willy Nilly making the leap.
Willy Nilly’s one eye was trained on Huck. “Dive, boy” his master whispered, and Willy Nilly obliged, running, jumping, sailing over all five dogs, springing off the diving board and flying gracefully into the air, head over tail over head and landing paws-first in the water with a satisfying SPLASH! As he emerged and paused to shake himself dry, he was overwhelmed by the thunderous applause from the stands where the crowd was cheering, stomping and howling with so much enthusiasm the sound carried for miles. In that moment, a legend was made.
And that’s how Willy Nilly went from being a starving stray to a superstar!
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
My background is in journalism. I graduated from Mills College in Oakland with a degree in Communications/Journalism emphasis. I went on to take a full-time position at Metro, Silicon Valley's weekly alternative newspaper, where I was the music columnist and reviewer. There, I not only covered local music, but interviewed national popular artists and contributed other entertainment-related features as assigned. After seven years with Metro, I was hired by the Santa Cruz Sentinel, where I spent five years working in the newsroom. In 2009, I took a position in radio, but I remain passionate about writing. I have been writing creatively from a young age and, since 2004, I’ve written a number of children's stories that I’m working to get published and developing as ebooks.
If you enjoyed “The Rodeo Dog,” look for “The Storm King,” “A Story for Morrie” and other titles by Sarah Quelland at Smashwords.com.
Readers are encouraged to post reviews of this ebook at Smashwords.com. Literary agents, publishers, illustrators and others are invited to e-mail the author at quellandpublishing at hotmail dot com.