Jake drew back against the corral, his sharp hazel eyes on Bob Butcher who was passing close by in the company of a woman. In the three days since Jake had gotten into town to help run stock for the Golden State Buck Off he had noticed them several times. Bob in his fancy designer clothes, exotic skin boots was an eyesore to Jake's way of thinking. Bob was a new breed of rodeo stars, men who were slick and polished, with large appearance contracts and advertising deals, men who while they could rodeo could not even do a honest days work on a working ranch.

The boots with their rundown heels, faded wranglers, and a shirt with mismatched patches made Jake a distinct contrast to the likes of Bob Butcher with his Ralph Lauren outfit, but the contrast did not stop there. Bob Butcher was a splendidly sculpted man, two hundred and ten pounds of gym hardened muscle. Bob was well over six feet tall. He was the alpha male, looked it, acted it, and wanted it known. Bob Butcher was the hero of the rodeo world, and Jake was an unknown, a hard faced youngster who was the last of a dying breed, the work a day cowboys.

Butcher, and the woman stopped at the corral and peered through the horizontal bars to watch the milling horses.

"That's Highbinder there." Butcher pointed out a horse to the woman.

"Rankest horse in this show, a man could make a good ride on him. The judges keep a sharper eye when you come out on a bad horse. That Highbinder hasn't been rode yet, but I think that is all due to change this weekend." Butcher bragged.

Jake groaned inwardly as he glanced tolerantly towards Butcher.

"That Highbinder's pretty bad isn't he boy?"

Jake stiffened. He didn't like being called boy, much less being talked down to like that. He was twentysix, and even by that as his grandfather would say "None of them a boys year since outta diapers."

"Not really." Jake replied flatly.

A dark shadow of dislike clouded Butchers eye. He was used to being yessed by the wranglers.

"I suppose you think you could ride him?" He suggested sarcastically.

"Yes sir I reckon I could." Jake replied calmly with a nod.

"Anyway, he is easy goings compared to that Shadow horse." Jake nodded toward the lean, narrow headed grulla that was idling alone near the far wall of the corral.

"That's a bucking horse no doubt."

Bob huffed as he regarded Jake. "So you think you can ride Highbinder."

Continuing with malicious amusement. "You should be in the show instead of working stock! You'd be better then half the riders in this event! Maybe better then all of them!."

"Maybe" Jake said shortly, starting to turn away, but Bob's voice stopped him and he turned back.

"Just for fun, since your so good and all. I'll bet you a hundred dollars you can't stay eight seconds on Sonora. Bob smiled at Jake.

Jake looked over Sonora, a wild eyed buckskin. "I can ride him."

"Then put your money where your mouth is big shot, talk is cheap." Butcher taunted Jake.

Jake flushed, and squared his jaw looking around for an escape."Come on I don't have all day. I have to finish this interview." Butcher stated gruffly.

By now a crowd was gathering. Among them was a man of some sixty year, a white haired man smoking a expensive cigar. Jake was quiet now, at a loss for words. Butcher however had no trouble filling the silence.

"Don't let me hear anymore of that big talk coming out of your mouth! Stick to moving the stock, and leave the rodeoing to the real cowboys."

The crowd fell away along with Butcher and the woman. Jake was all alone seething with anger.