Page 18 of Knot my First Rodeo

“Suit yourself.”

But I see it. The way her eyes flick back to us almost immediately.

Yeah. She’s interested.

Clint gets set first, reins gathered in one hand, rope coiled and ready in the other. Captain shifts under him, that big black and white paint gelding already keyed in, ears forward and ready to move.

Briggs nods and Clint dips his chin in return, signaling he’s ready.

The calf shoots out like a bullet, legs scrambling for traction as it bolts across the dirt. Clint and Captain are already moving, hooves pounding as they close the distance. There’s no hesitation or second guessing, only speed and timing.

Autumn shifts closer to the fence, arms dropping from where they were crossed, her attention locked in like she can’t look away.

Good.

Clint lifts his arm, rope already spinning overhead, loop opening wide as he tracks the calf’s movements. It’s not rushed… it’s smooth and controlled.

Then he throws and the loop sails out, dropping clean over the calf’s head before it snags tight in the same breath. Captain stops hard, bracing back on his haunches, knowing exactly what comes next.

Clint’s already out of the saddle and sprinting toward the calf before the dust even settles. He gets to the calf, one hand on the rope, the other grabbing for its flank. He flips it and the little guy struggles for half a second, but Clint’s faster.

He pulls its legs together, wrapping and tying them off in one smooth motion, fingers moving with muscle memory that took over years ago.

Three wraps, a tuck. Done.

He leans back just enough to give the rope slack, letting the calf test it, making sure it holds. Then he stands, dust clinging to his jeans, breathing steady like he didn’t just chase down a running animal and drop it in seconds.

The whole thing takes less than ten seconds.

Autumn lets out a quick, “What the hell…”

I glance at her, then back at Clint as he resets like it was nothing.

“That’s tie-down roping,” I say. “All speed and timing. Miss once, you’re done.”

She glances at me, then back at Clint like she doesn’t want to miss anything. “That’s insane.”

I huff a quiet laugh. “It’s practice.”

“That’s practice?” she repeats, brows pulling together.

“Yeah.”

She shakes her head a little, like she’s trying to make it make sense and failing.

I like that.

Clint frees the calf and mounts Captain, herding the calf back into the holding pen. Briggs pushes off the fence, heading toward the other end.

“You’re up,” Clint calls.

Briggs doesn’t respond, just mounts up on Bruce, his buckskin, and gets into position.

Autumn shifts again, a little closer now, close enough that I catch her scent for a second. It’s faint, blocked like it should be, but there’s something under it I don’t remember from yesterday.

I glance at her.

She’s focused on Briggs now, eyes narrowed slightly like she’s trying to figure him out.