Charlotte and Kylie linked their arms together and giggled. Kylie glanced over her shoulder to smirk at me, but Charlotte, she didn't even spare me a second glance before they walked away.

My blood boiled in a wrath of biblical proportions. It was a miracle that my rage didn't short circuit the arena's electrical supply or make Charlotte and Kylie's heads explode, splattering their putrid contents all over the hay strewn floor.

I despised them.

No, that wasn't true. Kylie was bullshit, a simple, cruel little creature. But she was dumb as fuck, meaner than a snake, and as ugly as sin, an unholy trifecta that guaranteed she'd end up Forever Alone. She was laughable, a mere annoyance, and without Charlotte, nothing she could ever do could hurt me. Fuck Kylie, Karma would take care of her.

But Charlotte.

Charlotte was dangerous. She led such a privileged and sheltered life, never wanting for anything. I had nothing and yet she wanted to tear me down until I was hopeless and helpless, begging her to stop. For what? For her entertainment.

Well, she'd gone and pushed too far. At this point I wasn't beyond hiding behind a dumpster with a baseball bat, waiting to jump her.

Did she think she was bad? I would show her bad.

She'd live to regret this.

But first, I wanted the crown.

"Jake," I said, still staring daggers at the back of Charlotte's head. "I'm gonna ride Satan."

Jake was in the holding pen adjacent to the stall that Beth and I were in. Behind him, Satan was in a frenzy, pacing back and forth in his profound agitation. Wild. Angry. Trapped. Every once in a while, he'd make an unearthly roaring sound, primal and ancient, similar to something I'd imagine dinosaurs or dragons would make.

It made the skin on my entire body itch, like a million fire ants were skittering over me.

Jake grinned.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Don't even try to tell me no."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said.

Wide eyed, Beth looked from Jake to me, then back at him again. "You guys can't be serious. You can't ride Satan," she said, her attention snapping back to me. "They couldn't even get him to calm down enough to move him back to the stables- you'll get yourself killed!"

"You forget who you're talking to," I told her with a wink. "I'm Clint Danner's girl, remember?" I started unbuttoning the cumbersome skirt. Not even daddy could manage what I would attempt in a dress like this.

"Jake, you've got to stop her. She's lost her mind. I don't care if you have to haul her out of here by the hair, you stop her right this minute!"

"She can do it Bethie. I've seen her ride."

"So have I-"

He winked at her. "Not yet, you haven't."

The judges were deliberating, their faces broadcasted on the Jumbotron.

"Hurry Beth, I need your shorts."

"Jake, you need to stop her!" she cried, but her hands were already at her waist, unbuttoning.

Beth was oddly shaped. Chubby but very narrow, and only about five feet tall. I managed to squeeze the denim over my hips but there was no way in hell this thing was buttoning up.

Oh well. My outfit was going to be the least of my problems.

Yanking her shirt down over her horse printed granny panties, Beth scurried behind a haystack. I peeled the skirt off and nodded at Jake. He unlatched the gate and whistled. Satan galloped right out of the pen, bounding to freedom. Well, relative freedom.

The crowd expelled an excited gasp. A low murmur started and spread until the collective whispers made the air in the arena buzz with excitement, respect and awe.

Because this was a Horse.

Satan reared and roared, commanding the undivided attention of every set of eyes in the arena. He bucked, twisting his body off the ground, working off his fury.

Easy, Satan, I'm about to chicken out, here.

Then he launched into a full gallop, the excess energy pouring off his body like vapor off dry ice. He ran circles around the ring, snorting and tossing his head while Kid Rock screamed about Cowboys and pimps on the loudspeakers. Not exactly the music I would've chosen, but, you know.

The rodeo announcers finally shook off their shock, dropped their Dr. Peppers, and scrambled for their headsets.

"Bob, it looks like the Mustang's gotten loose!"

"Gee whiz! That sonuvagun really is somethin' else, ain't he, Troy?"

"We're gonna need to get some cowboys and ropes out here to get that beast under control!"

"Y'all send some professionals out here now, not the wannabes who tried mountin' him earlier, you hear? We ain't got all day."

While the crowd chuckled good naturedly, I followed Satan out on shaking knees. The laughter turned into gasps of horror.

Troy bolted up from his chair and frantically waved his arms. "Hey! Hey! Hey! Get outta there! Somebody get the girl out of the pen!"

More words and shouts of warning followed from all sides of the ring, but I was no longer listening. All the world faded away, the sounds of the crowd dulling to a low hum, everyone and everything bleeding into a blur until all that was left in the universe was me and Satan.

And he was breathtaking. He was glory. The fine sheen of sweat on his jet black coat shone like polished ebony, the muscles of his body catching the light with each of his movements, a tremendous display of raw power, unparalleled endurance, and an unbendable will.

Satan knew who he was and he would make no apologies.

I made no mistake about it, if he let me on, it would be his choice, his terms. Daddy would always tell me that the best a cowgirl could do was hone her skills to make sure she could keep up when and if the moment came, but that "the ride" would be an honor the horse chose to bestow upon you, a temporary glimpse into heaven and true majesty. They could do that, he'd say, because horses were closer to God.

Satan bucked again, and doubt crept into my trance.

Are you here to set my spirit free? Because yesterday is gone forever and tomorrow is an eternity away? Is this the moment? My moment?

And then I saw him, daddy, kneeling between me and Satan, urging me forward. "Talk to him, Layla-girl, if he hears your heart speak to him, he'll give you the ride of your life."

My hands were slick with sweat as I tracked Satan, my eyes reading his body as daddy'd taught me to do. And with my heart, I felt his energy, sensed his nature. He was running in a pattern, slowing at certain points.

Around and around he went until Satan's eyes locked onto mine.

And he knew.

So this was what it felt like to be struck by lightening. It was transcendental, every atom of my being blooming to life. I swear there was a charge, an invisible string tying the two of us together, pulling us toward the other, so real that I could see and feel it.

Satan felt it too because he never took his eyes off of me, even as he continued his frenzied gallop.

Daddy, it's happening.

"I see it, Layla-girl."

Daddy ran alongside Satan, beckoning me with his arms. "C'mon Layla-girl! Get after him!"

I grabbed some dirt and rubbed it between my palms. Then I ran, chasing them, positioning myself where I knew Satan would slow.

And waited for his signal.

He slowed his approach.

"Now!"

I took hold of his mane but the tiers of lace on my sleeves got in the way, obscuring my vision. I slammed into the ground and cried out as sharp pain jolted up my body.

"Get up, girl, one more time!"

Stumbling to my feet, I hesitated just a second before tearing the shirt off. So now I looked like Daisy Duke in my bikini top and too-small shorts, but hey, in life, you win some, you lose some.

Twice more I fell, bloodying my knees and elbows.

Satan adjusted his gallop with each of my failures, still aiming directly for me. Because he wanted me as much as I wanted him. This was his will, my will, our will.

"Look, look, look, what's he telling ya? Trust the horse. Always trust the horse."

I got it daddy.

Satan was coming around again.

"Steady... A little more bend... there you go, just like that, now hold... steady, girl... now!"

I threw my body forward, knowing without a doubt that Satan would take me.

And he did.

Well, good enough, anyway. I hung belly down across his back, faceplanted on his flank, ass in the air, legs swinging madly for purchase, holding on for dear life.

"Legs, legs legs! Keep your eyes on the prize!"

I scrambled into position, throwing my legs over his back.

"Hips! There ya go. Atta girl. But if you ride with your tongue like that and he jumps, you're gonna lose it."

I did it daddy!

"Good girl, now breathe. And enjoy the ride."

Daddy stopped running and when I looked over my shoulder, he touched his fingers to his Stetson, fading back with each of Satan's strides. "Bye now, darlin'."

Goodbye, daddy.

I rode with wonder as the world returned around me, the screaming crowd, the heat, the thundering beat of Satan's hooves, the harsh exhale of his lungs. He was such a force of nature that he created wind with the sheer power of his legs. It was total freedom, unrestrained by the crushing weight of the world.

I laughed and Satan laughed with me, like souls, our wild hearts, fettered but unbroken.

Bob the announcer's voice echoed through the arena. "Y'all, I'm just now getting word... Dang it, I knew the style was familiar, it's right there in the carriage and the form, y'all see there? How she's holding her hip just a tad too forward and open in her seat? She's got her daddy written all over her!"

Troy picked it up from there. "Well, I'll be damned... That's right y'all, Miss Layla Danner belongs to the legendary Clint Danner, seventeen time world champion with nine Triple Crowns, inducted into the Cowboy Hall of Fame when he was just twenty six years old." Troy whistled. "Boy, now that was a man who could ride."

"You know, Troy, now that you mention it, I do recall seeing a little girl with him at his shows, just a tiny little thing. But it looks like she's all grown now. Time sure does fly, don't it?"

"Folks, not to rain on this parade, but I think it's important to take a moment to remind y'all how important it is to make sure cigarette butts are put out properly, there's a lot..."

Satan wanted to run, the really run, so I drowned them out. I didn't care about cigarette butts, the crown, or the people watching. Nothing mattered except for me and Satan, nothing more than our hearts set on fire.

Well, maybe I cared about one other person, the only other person in here who could read a horse's heart, and maybe mine too.

"Layla!" Jake pounded his fist on the side of the retaining wall. The next time we came around, he was folding the top gate down.

There would still be a jump, but Satan was game.

Me, I would trust the horse.

I relaxed my knees to give Satan unrestricted movement of his shoulders and used my thighs to grip him. When I felt him ready, I pushed my butt off his back, tangling my fingers into his mane.

Heels down, toes forward. Back parallel to the horse. Head up, look forward. All legs, no lean.

Satan's jump was so explosive, my heart nearly burst in my ribcage. And as silly as it sounds, I related those cartoon characters straddling a rocket ship, blasting off into space, into territories unknown and undiscovered.

But really, we soared into the open fields, red dirt and blue skies for as far as the eyes could see.

Satan was so fast that I could barely see the ground beneath him, fast enough that his gallop was a glide, resembling flight rather than a run.

I cherished every moment, memorizing every sensation so that I could remember this forever and draw from it in the future.

Because this was a once in a lifetime ride. After this, life would never be the same.

It was time to grow up.

And things were going to be A-okay.



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