As we drove down the highway, the wind drove the pouring rain across the windshield and on the pavement of the road. Inside the truck, Charlotte, Saige, and I slept while Stucky, the driver, struggled to see through the downpour. I awoke to a liver colored dog, named Dollar, licking my face. Poo, the other dog in the truck, slept on, oblivious to the torrential rain that made visibility low and driving dangerous. Stucky drove on, nearing our destination, the Florida Fairgrounds, as the clock ticked nearer to ten o’clock. We drove from our barn in New Jersey to Florida for the High School Rodeo Finals which Saige and I qualified to compete in.

Behind our truck tagged a silver horse trailer. In the trailer stood our three horses, all of which remained wide awake as they braced and balanced on the long ride. Cheyenne, a deep brown colored Quarter Horse belonging to Saige, shifted her foot. Next to her, Justin, my a sorrel Paint Horse, ate his hay. Last in the trailer, Rocket, an ebony black Quarter Horse, swiveled his ears as he listened to the sounds of the road. These three horses traveled with us as our mounts for the rodeo. Justin and Cheyenne, the two barrel racing horses, belonged to us, but we borrowed Rocket to use for the roping competition.

“We’re almost here!” I exclaimed excitedly as we drove past a sign pointing towards the Fairgrounds.

Stucky and I roused our sleeping companions as we pulled into the Florida fairgrounds: our destination. Sleepily, we climbed out of the truck and carefully unloaded the horses, leading them to a stable in the distance. As I walked, I felt the cold rain soak my tired body and the wind blow the droplets into my face.

“Put the two barrel horses in the right stalls, I’ll stick Rocket in the stall opposite the tack room,” Charlotte called to Saige and I as we walked into the well-lit barn.

Lined with rows of stalls, this barn housed all the horses that would compete over the next two days.

“Alright guys, lets get this crap unloaded so we can crash at the hotel already,” I complained to my companions.

Together, we tended to the horses and stowed our gear before parking the trailer and heading to the warm hotel. As I readied myself for bed, I felt that tomorrow could not come soon enough. I fell asleep to excited thoughts about the completion the following day.

Saturday dawned bright and warm, but we room mates had roused ourselves long before the sun rose. We fed and watered the horses and prepared ourselves for the day’s activities. As I watched the sun begin its assent, and the beginning of competition draw near, I felt the beginnings of nervousness rise in my stomach. Stucky, on the other hand, evidently felt none of that pressure.

“Holy cow, you guys are going to get soaked! Have you checked out the arena? Its pure mud! Crash, ya better be careful!” Stucky exclaimed as he walked into the barn.

I had received the nickname crash years ago after a less-than-graceful fall from a horse.

“Stucks, will you stop harassing them? They’ve got a job to do and your not helping. Now get in there and quit your messin’ around!” exclaimed Charlotte.

“Elena, have you seen my crop?” Saige shouted.

“Nope, did you have it yesterday?” I inquired.

“I haven’t seen it since we got here. Do you have an extra?” she asked hopefully.

“No, your on your own…hey where did my goat string go? Guys, I need that string. Anybody seen it?” I asked frantically.

“I don’t know but you better find it.” Charlotte exclaimed, “We needed to be warming up five minutes ago. I’m going to the ring, meet me there.”

With time waning and pressure of the difficult day that lay ahead of us bearing down, both Saige and I began to crack with the stress, and accusations flew readily.

“I know it was in my trunk last night, did you move it? I wouldn’t be surprised if you did.” I complained to her.

“You know what, I didn’t touch your stuff, and if you haven’t noticed, I’m a little preoccupied looking for my crop, which I desperately need.” Saige answered.

By the time we met Charlotte at the ring, anger and tension flew between Saige and I. Justin jittered underneath me, picking up on my stress. Meanwhile, Saige struggled with a misbehaving Cheyenne. Both horses had picked up on the tension of their riders and reacted to it negatively.

Saige ran Cheyenne first. I half-heartedly wished her good luck, but secretly I hoped to beat her. I barely tasted the soda I hurriedly drank before mounting Justin in preparation for our run.

Seeing the bright red alleyway and the barrels ready for my run, my nervousness left me and I felt nothing but excitement. I gripped the reins, feeling the tough leather resting in my hands.

“Our next run is by Elena Mirabito and Justin,” the announcer proclaimed, “this pair traveled from their home state of New Jersey to be with us today. Show us what them Jersey girls can do, cowgirl!”

Charlotte gave me an encourag