Justin and the Best Biscuits in the World (6 page)

A
LREADY THE PARADE
was an hour late. Popcorn bags were empty, candy bars all finished, and not a band in sight.

Justin stood with Grandpa right up front. Everyone waited impatiently. Often handclapping broke the humdrum and Justin strained to see, but nothing happened.

Finally faraway music alerted the crowd. Soon a marching band led by a lively majorette pranced near enough for Justin to see. Clowns passing out balloons followed
the band. With all the color floating around them, the crowd came alive.

Floats representing the months of the year passed slowly. June and November were the most beautiful, Justin thought. June brides with lovely embroidery, fancy quilts, and frilly finery brought cheers. November with gold and brown, Thanksgiving, and bountiful horns of plenty also thrilled the crowd. Others were so much like the exhibit hall that Justin fidgeted, bored. He dared not stop looking, though, in case something interesting came along.

Finally the horses came. Justin cheered and whistled with the crowd. Cowboys from the rodeo in boots and spurs rode tall in their saddles, doffing their cowboy hats. Some did lasso tricks. One cowboy's horse did special dance steps and bowed when the audience applauded.

Then came local cowboys at the very end. Boys and girls rode among them. Justin saw Don who had eaten so much pie. He looked fine on a beautiful sorrel mare.

The crowd followed the parade the short distance to the fairgrounds, where prep
arations for the games started right away. Every boy and girl was given a list of events. There was so much going on, so much to enter, that Justin didn't know what to do—some twenty events from which to choose four or less. Shearing sheep he knew he could not do. Catching a greased pig, maybe. Spitting watermelon seeds, tossing bean-bags, and pitching horseshoes he might be able to win. He decided to enter four events: spitting watermelon seeds, pitching horseshoes, tossing bean-bags, and kicking his shoe.

While Justin and Grandpa prepared the entry blank Justin saw Don nearby. Justin smiled and waved.

Don came over.

“You from a farm near here?” Don asked.

“My grandpa's ranch, Q-T. But just for the festival,” Justin answered.

“Which ones did you enter?” Don asked.

Justin told him the four events.

“All of those are easy. I'm going for sack racing, sheep shearing, and the greased pig,” Don said proudly.

Justin, surprised that a boy who looked
no older and bigger than he knew so much, asked, “Where you from?”

“Not far from here. We own sheep and I've come to the festival every year since I was a baby.”

“How long is that?” Justin asked.

“Twelve years.” Don talked a lot. Justin listened because he had never spit watermelon seeds or kicked his shoe off. Because he played basketball, he felt he might do well pitching horseshoes and tossing bean-bags.

“Try catching the greased pig with me,” Don said.

“I don't know about that,” Justin said, and looked at Grandpa.

“It's easy,” Don said.

Grandpa laughed. “I wouldn't say it's easy, but it's fun. Try it if you want to.”

“What event can I take off?” Justin asked.

Grandpa and Don looked over the list with Justin. “Maybe spitting seeds,” Justin said.

“Pitching horseshoes, I'd think,” Don said. “That's tougher than spitting seeds.”

Justin didn't want Don to think that he
could do only easy things, so he entered greased pig instead of spitting seeds.

After Justin and Grandpa had cheered when Don sheared his sheep faster than anyone, it was time for Justin to kick his shoe. He lined up with boys big and small, short and tall. They untied their right shoes and loosed the strings.

“The winner is the one who kicks his shoe the farthest distance,” the referee said. “OK, get ready. Kick!”

Justin stepped forward on his left foot and kicked so that his shoe flew off his foot, up and out. The crowd cheered as shoes sailed away. They laughed and scrambled out of the way as some shoes went straight up and fell very close by.

Justin watched his shoe soar away, but not far enough. When they measured he learned he had won third place. He was happy.

The sack race proved fun to watch. Boys and girls hopped along. Those who tried to run stumbled, toppled over, and rolled. Justin rocked with laughter. Don fell so many times, he didn't even place.

Justin's basketball skills paid off. He easily won first prize tossing the bean-bag through the holes in a big board, and tied for second in pitching horseshoes.

Then it was time to catch the greased pig. The little pig, round and fat, waited in a crate about three feet away from the boys and girls ready to chase and catch it. The crate sprang open and the pig ran toward them. Justin raced ahead. The pig moved right in reach. He grabbed, but it slipped through his hands.
Like trying to catch an eel
, Justin thought. Every time Justin knew he had the pig—swish—it was gone. He was stumbling and falling, still hoping to grab it and hang on. No one had any better luck.

One time Justin thought Don might get hold, but the pig scrambled wildly away from the chase. Then finally a girl dashed for the pig and fell down with one of the pig's feet caught under her chest. She hugged him to her and became the winner.

Justin, hot, sweaty, and dusty, had never
had so much fun. He counted his ribbons: one white, third place; one red, second place; and one first place, blue. He knew Grandpa was proud of him, but he wondered,
What will Evelyn say when she sees these?

 

Justin walked through the crowds at the fairgrounds with Grandpa, his chest swelling with happiness. Now he would see the cowboys he had heard so much about in action.

Grandpa guided him through the surging crowd. A tall cowboy hat and high-heeled boots made his slim grandpa look even taller. With a feeling of pride, Justin hitched up his jeans, glad he had brought his cowboy belt with the silver buckle. He wished he had a cowboy hat.

The smells of barbecue, baked beans, and popcorn tempted the crowd. Grandpa ordered barbecued ribs for Justin and a hot link sandwich for himself while Justin ordered tall cold drinks for them both.

All over the arena colorful banners
splashed:
BILL PICKETT COWBOY RODEO SHOW
. Justin whispered, “Grandpa, is there another Bill Pickett?”

Grandpa smiled, “Oh, no. Cowboys today, knowing what a good showman William Pickett was, name their show after him.”

Cowboy music got the crowd in a mood for action. First cowboys on lively horses galloped around the arena. Then two clowns ran in. One was a lady dressed in a long skirt and pantalettes. Suddenly a voice over a speaker said, “Howdy, partners. Welcome! The famous Bill Pickett Rodeo is about to get under way. Cowboys and cowgirls will ride, rope, and bulldog. You ready, partners?”

The crowd roared, “Ready!”

Suddenly a bull shot out of a gate like a silver bullet, a cowboy on his back. At first Justin was so scared he couldn't look. The crowd roared its satisfaction. Justin finally peeked through his fingers. The cowboy was still riding. The bull was bucking, pitching, rocking, and rolling. The rider still stayed on, squeezing, hugging,
and holding that bull with his legs. Then the bull moved like it was waltzing, and the rider fell to the ground.

Instantly the bull turned and plunged at the rider. Justin screamed, “Watch out!” The clowns rushed in, waving banners of cloth to distract the bull. The bull ran away into the corral.

The next event was the lady clown riding a bull. She seemed hardly able to hang on. The bull tossed her about. Her hat and wig came off. Then her dress came off and Justin knew that it was no lady at all. Everybody laughed.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the voice over the speaker called. “Give the rider a hand. That's Rooster. He's not a clown, but one of our best ‘pickup men.' Let's hear it for Rooster, partners.”

“What are ‘pickup men,' Grandpa?” Justin asked.

“They're men who rescue fallen cowboys, or pick them off horses so they won't get trampled.”

The cheering was interrupted. “Now, partners, we have the best broncobuster
since Jesse Stahl, who rode Glasseye. Watch this cowboy from Laredo, Texas,” the announcer said. “He will ride a bronco that's as hot as cayenne pepper and as explosive as a volcano.”

“Think he'll be as good as Jesse Stahl, Grandpa?” Justin asked.

Before his grandpa answered, the rider came out on a bucking horse between Rooster and another pickup man. The horse streaked into the arena jumping, spinning, and shaking. With its head down it bucked high in the air. The rider stayed on. The horse pitched, plunged, jumped high, twisting in midair. Still the rider stayed without holding on to the saddle horn.

“Why doesn't he hold on to the saddle, Grandpa?” Justin asked.

“If he touches the saddle horn, he will be disqualified and cannot win a prize.”

The crown, up on its feet, roared while that horse tried to toss the rider. The horse started to run and the pickup men rushed in and pulled the rider off its back. The rider had won.

The horse ran all over the arena snorting and kicking as the crowd still stood, roaring.

Justin wondered what would happen if that horse jumped over into the stands.

“That rider is good,” Grandpa said. “He's
young, too. He might outbest Jesse one day, but he isn't there yet.”

Then the cowgirls' turn came. Women in pretty costumes rode fast-moving horses around barrels. The crown watched to see which rider could race around four barrels then back to the field in the shortest time. Justin's heart seemed to stand still as one rider, moving as fast as the wind, rode very close to the barrels. He felt sure she would run into a barrel and fall off her horse. But she didn't touch a single barrel and became the winner. Justin shouted with joy.

When the crowd settled, the announcer was telling about calf roping and of another famous Black cowboy, Nat Love. Justin remembered Nat Love, nicknamed Deadwood Dick. He looked at Grandpa and smiled as the announcer went on, “Not only did Nat rope and tie calves, he roped and tied wild mustangs, too. Today, let's watch a young cowboy from Prairie View, Texas, rope and tie calves.”

Justin jumped to his feet as a black calf came out of one gate and a cowboy on a
horse came out of another. The race was on. Finally the cowboy threw his lasso and stopped the calf. The cowboy slid off his horse, threw the calf to the ground, folded its legs, and tied three of them together. Then he raised his hands to let the judges know he was done. The horse moved slowly backward, tightening the rope just enough to keep the calf in place.

Would the calf stay tied six seconds so the cowboy could win? Justin waited. The calf did not wriggle loose. Justin roared with the crowd. “What will his prize be?” Justin asked.

“Money,” Grandpa answered.

At last the event Justin had been waiting for arrived. The bulldogging began. A big black steer with long sharp horns raced out of a gate. Two cowboys on horses shot out after it. Suddenly, one of the cowboys jumped off his horse and grabbed the steer's horns. He wrestled the steer to the ground, twisting its head back until its nose was up. This was done so quickly and easily that Justin stood and cheered with the crowd.

“That's the way Bill Pickett did it, eh, Grandpa?”

“Yes, but even faster and easier,” Grandpa said.

When Justin was sadly thinking all the fun was over, the voice boomed over the loudspeaker. “All boys and girls ten years and younger can now become cowboys and cowgirls. We are going to let loose some baby Brahman bulls. Three of them will have red ribbons on their tails. The boy or girl who gets a ribbon will win a prize.”

Justin listened and wondered if he should try.
A cowboy needs a hat
, he thought.
If only I had a cowboy hat
. Suddenly he said to himself,
If I win prize money, I will buy a hat
. “Grandpa,” he asked, “can I try?”

“Sure you can. And bring back a ribbon, you hear?”

Justin waited at the gate with the other boys and girls who also wanted to try. The sharp horsy smell floated over him. He felt good and at ease with that smell he loved so much.

The gate to let the baby Brahmans out
opened at the same time as the gate to let the boys and girls onto the field. The scramble was on as the blue-gray Brahmans raced about.

Justin waited. Then he saw a baby bull that he could head off and chase in the opposite direction.

The bull calf stopped and faced Justin. Justin stopped, too. He put his hands on his hips and looked at the bull. Suddenly Justin had an idea. He would grab that bull and wrestle it to the ground and draw cheers from the crowd the way the other cowboys had done.

Justin moved forward.
Oh, no
, he thought.
This bull has no horns! A dogie needs horns
. As he looked the bull in the eye it turned and ran away, waving its tail.