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MidReal Story
The Rodeo Rider's Revenge
Scenario:Family: Bodenwieser
Family Members: 43
Location: Sturgis, South Dakota, United States
Location: Five large tents on a field outside town (home)
Stature: Middle to wealthy
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Boden Calloway
and protective. After losing his sister, Boden struggles with emotions but takes care of his niece, Briar. He is determined to provide her a stable home despite his past that includes a loss. Boden is preparing for his brotherinlaw's wedding and grappling with feelings for a woman he met recently.
Caleb
and dedicated. Caleb focuses on maintaining the ranch's horses and assists with daily chores. He has been riding horses since he was ten and takes pride in his work. Caleb respects Boden's leadership and shares a close bond with him, often seeking guidance but also contributing to the ranch's success. His dedication helps maintain the stability needed for the ranch operations.
Mason
and loyal. Mason shares a close bond with Boden and helps him around the ranch. He has a history with women but remains single. Often found working on the ranch and socializing with coworkers, Mason brings humor and energy to the ranch. His relationship with Boden is marked by trust and camaraderie, making him an essential part of the ranch operations.
I wasn’t in a hurry to get home after stopping to pick up some supplies in Rapid City, but something had me anxious to get back to the ranch.
Maybe it was the knowledge that my brother-in-law’s wedding was only a week away, and I still hadn’t found the right gift for his beautiful bride-to-be.
Maybe it was because I’d just gotten word that my rodeo schedule had been updated, and I needed to look it over carefully.
Maybe it was because I hadn’t been back to the Bodenwieser Ranch in almost a week, and I was worried that my ten-year-old niece, Briar, might be missing me too much.
Whatever the reason, I’d pointed my truck toward Sturgis, South Dakota, as soon as I left the big-box store and hit the open road again.
It wasn’t often that I got away from the ranch by myself.
Usually someone else was with me: one of my cowboys, Mason or Caleb, or even Sage, the new horse trainer I’d hired last month.
Usually my ten-year-old niece, Briar, was with me too.
She loved riding in the truck almost as much as she loved riding horses.
The late afternoon sun glares through my windshield as I spot a wide shoulder on the highway.
I ease the truck onto the gravel, putting it in park before I reach for the folded paper in my jacket pocket.
The schedule feels heavy in my hands.
Each date represents time away from Briar, from the ranch.
I scan the list: Cheyenne, Casper, Billings.
More dates than last year.
I don’t know why I’m surprised.
My agent said there was more interest this year, and I should be happy about that.
I am happy about it, but it’s not what I expected when I started rodeoing again two years ago.
I thought I’d do a few events here and there, just to keep myself busy and make a little extra money for the ranch.
But then I won a few events, and my name got out there again, and now…
The truck’s engine ticks as it cools down, and a semi roars past me on the highway, rocking my vehicle with its wake.
I pull my phone from my pocket to check the time and see three missed calls from Mason.
He’s left a message, but I don’t bother listening to it.
I already know what he’s going to say.
The setting sun casts long shadows across Highway 79 as I merge back into traffic.
I grip the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary, and my old Ford rumbles along steadily.
The bed is loaded with feed bags and ranch supplies, and I’m grateful that I was able to get everything I needed in Rapid City.
The radio crackles with static between country songs, and I reach to adjust the dial.
My hand hits something on the dashboard, and it falls to the floor of the passenger side.
I glance over and see a business card lying near my boots.
Mason’s name is printed in bold letters on the front, and his phone number is scribbled on the back.
I frown at it for a moment before returning my attention to the road.
Dark clouds are gathering over Bear Butte, and I wonder if there will be an evening storm.
I press the gas pedal, determined to reach home before the first raindrop falls.
I pull onto the shoulder near mile marker 79, and the dust kicks up behind my truck.
The engine idles as I fish my phone from my jacket pocket, Mason’s business card between my fingers.
Lightning flashes in the distance over Bear Butte, followed by a low rumble of thunder.
Rain starts hitting my windshield in fat drops.
My thumb hovers over Mason’s number on the screen, remembering that he rarely calls unless something needs immediate attention.
The last time he called this many times, we had a fence down and cattle loose on the highway.
I punch in the last digit, but the call drops immediately.
No signal.
The rain is coming down harder now, and I pull back onto the highway.
Thunder cracks overhead, and I press the gas pedal harder than usual.
The rain intensifies, and I slow down despite my desire to get home quickly.
The windshield wipers swish back and forth in a steady rhythm, and I squint through the water spots on the glass.
I see a herd of deer by the side of the road, and I hit the brakes sharply.
The feed bags slide around in the truck bed behind me.
I pass the deer and take the turnoff for the ranch, my tires splashing through growing puddles on the dirt road.
The silhouette of our main barn comes into view through the downpour, and I park next to Mason’s mud-splattered truck.
Mason is already at the barn door, waving me over with urgency.
"Did you listen to my messages?" he asks, his voice barely audible over the rain.
"No, but judging by your expression, I’m guessing it’s not good news," I reply, stepping out into the storm.