“C’mon,” he beckons. She shrugs and hides sheepishly behind the felt brim of her new hat. “I’m sure you’ve had tougher rides,” he teases. She giggles at the innuendo and her friends begin to cajole.
“What’s the go?” She takes half a step forward. He holds out his hand and calls her over with a nod.
“Climb up, and hang on. Nothing to it.”
“Are you sure I’m not going to come a cropper?” By now, she has covered the distance between them. Skilfully, he helps her up in a single motion as he answers.
“Just fall toward the mattresses, and not the street,” he smiles. “Besides, you’re in Quilpie, what could go wrong?”
Friends hoot as the mechanical bull starts to gently roll. Awkwardly at first, she quickly finds her centre and counteracts its motion. “That’s the way, Love. Now let’s see how you go.” Almost as soon as he finishes the sentence, the beast bucks her high. Her expression reflects the surprise, but the hollering of her friends quickly returns the smile to her face.
It gets faster, and more unpredictable. She squeezes her legs hard against the leather of the saddle and conquers its rhythm. Her smile continues to broaden.
There is much applause as she dismounts and staggers back over to her friends, her balance thrown by the ride. He turns to the group, and while adjusting one of the mattresses with a kick, challenges them to beat her. There are no takers, and they wander off in a cacophony of amused chatter.
The showman laughs after them, content in the knowledge they have enjoyed the spectacle. With a practiced eye, he begins to search for another group he can engage.
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