Clay Hold On

He slid his hand in to tighten the knot, stretching his palm through the lightning harnessed loop, flexing his fingers so they would bite into the rawhide and made a fist, Sweat dripped from under the band of the drooping tan hat, stinging his eyes.

He took a deep breath, teeth clenched and legs locked. He nodded ever so slightly, staring down at hide and leather, tightened his elbows and lowered his head. “Here we go!” the gatemen ordered, riding the gate as the explosion launched into the air.

Clay’s head snapped up, whiplashing his spine from front to back. but, Clay held on.

El Diablo threw himself into the air, muscles quivering over his shoulders and neck, eyes wild with fright and anger at the thing on his back.

He turned to the right in the air as if he were going around a corner, his rear-end corkscrewing to the left.

His massive head came up, ripping the air for the rider with his horns. The man thing lay low out of reach. and, Clay held on.

Clay slipped his seat, but his legs gripped like steel pincers cementing him to the monster’s ribs. His hand numbed and locked as

El Diablo planted his feet and kicked off with his back legs, rocking Clay forward, crashing his face into massive shoulders, blooding his nose. but, Clay held on.

El D rose in the air twisting, to shake this thing from his back. Dust rolled from his shoulders, snot and drool flew from his nose, blood shot eyes narrowed in hate, fighting to shake off the man thing and stomp it into the ground, another leap, another lunge. Too late.

Time! Clay held on.

The cowboy leaped for the gate, looking back as El Diablo hooked the empty air with his horn, bellowing his hate and defeat as the thing escaped.

Sides heaving, El D shook the froth from his face, lowered his head and pawed the ground, challenging the dusty cowboy to try again.

Blue eyes and black hair stepped from the fence, smacked his chaps with his hat, walked into the ring grinning in triumph as he bowed in tribute to ol’ Diablo.

“To his majesty.” Clay announced, sweeping his hat across the arena’s dust, in honor of the old warrior.

A gate groaned and squealed in protest as it opened. El Diablo snorted, tossing his head in disdain eyeing the thing on two legs.

He bellowed again, pawed the ground, shook his head and turned and trotted off to supper. It would have to wait for the next time.

Clay unrolled his starched blue jeans and shook them out. Showered and shampooed, he was ready for the night and the cowgirl who waited.

A silver buckled belt slid around his waist and he pulled on shiny black cherry boots, buttoned down his favorite turquoise cowboy shirt and put on his new black hat.

Clay had held on and he was ready to dance.