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EARNING HER RESPECT
by Jessica Jorgensen
Leonard Palmantier was a bareback-bronc riding champion of the 1920s.
There is a legend that after winning a championship, he rode one of the meanest
horses at the Stampede - backwards - and stayed on until she was too tired to fight
anymore.
Just for a moment, I let myself meet her eyes. Through these, I could instinctively feel
all the pain and suffering she had endured; they were wicked, wild, sending a shiver down
the length of my tensed spine. Uncontrollable, flickering from left to right too fast to
follow. Her nostril flared and she snorted, tossing her head away from my intent gaze,
expressing her dominance over the incapable human creature that she determined me to be.
Wordlessly - yet with more clarity than that of spoken language - she dismissed me.
I had no need for her respect or approval. Her obvious distaste for me would, in truth,
make this accomplishment much more satisfying. She already had the upper hand, but I was
certain I would outlast her despite any advantages on her part.
"It's time," he said to me softly, coming up beside me quietly. I nodded, turning to face
him. He opened his mouth to speak again, but stopped. I heard the urgent words in his
desperate gaze, begging me to reconsider. I didn't speak, but instead smiled calmly in
answer. Certainly, I knew the risks. But to be successful, I could not dwell on such
realities. Looking anything but convinced, he walked back to his post.
I took a breath, and held it deep. Releasing slowly, I swung my leg up and took my
mount. It was awkward and unnatural, foreign and unusual; I had known it would be. She
immediately retaliated against my intrusion, swinging her hips from side to side to sway
and jostle me out of position. Our cramped quarters prevented her from losing me, and
allowed me to regain my balance. I steadied myself and gripped tight, preparing for the
battle that I knew would ensue. She would not be easy to overcome, but I was not looking
for an easy fight this time around.
This was not a game of strategy, but rather sheer will and determination. I did not
necessarily need to outwit her. I needed to be stronger, last longer. Nothing else. The
last left standing would be the victor, regardless.
I took the deafening roar of the crowd as my entrance cue, giving my nod to the
gatekeeper; I had to wrench my neck around to face him from my unconventional seating.
He opened the gate to release my rival and I from our crowded confines, and we burst
out in a blur: the battle began.
Pounding and banging, screaming and yelling: I cleared all potentially crippling
distractions from my focus. Here, in the widened space of the ring, there was no room
spared for error. I concentrated solely on the fluidity of our movements; with each leap,
stomp, or twirl she executed, I swayed along in a mimicked fashion. I stayed with her
through every buck and every rear as she tried her hardest to lose me. I disregarded the
passing presence of true time, and welcomed the endless existence of infinity.
Each time she paused, I would realign myself and clutch tighter to her body, preparing
for the next round. Her stamina seemed endless, and her strength seemed insurmountable. I
did not let my determination waver. I was not willing to go down; I would not let her
lose me.
We were one, I told myself. No longer two separate beings, horse and human, but one
combined individual. She could not rid herself of me, as I was part of her.
I was tense and relaxed, focused and free. Instinct directed, and passion propelled me.
My eyes were open, but did not see what was in front of me. All the senses of my body
were concentrated solely on the movement of the beast underneath me, trying desperately
to drop me.
The battle was quickly becoming more mental than physical. This was the period of time
in which exhaustion became a prevalent issue in one's mind. It was barred entry from
mine. Without a doubt, my rival had the advantage of physical strength - but I would
prove that I had the mental force to overcome.
She's beginning to slow down, I told myself, not certain at all if it was true. I held
fast to my position, examining her efforts for any break or pause or breath. I would win.
I would outlast her.
There. A hesitation. I waited, anticipating her next move. I risked a breath of my own.
I could feel her fatigue-ridden panting, the cumulative inhale of the crowd. All the
oxygen seemed to be pulled from the air of the ring. I waited.
Without warning, she exploded into movement once more, catching the naïve spectators
unaware. But I was prepared. I had never met her before this day, but my extensive
experience helped me to predict each move she made. We had developed an intense
relationship - one such as this could rarely be cultivated in such a short period
of time.
Her renewed vigor pushed her higher, farther, faster. I persevered, silencing my tired
muscles and aching limbs. There could not be much time left, I tried to convince myself.
Surely, she would collapse soon. Surely, her exhaustion would become too great to bear.
Yet I did not dwell upon it. My focus overtook my speculative thoughts.
Was she stopping? I inhaled sharply. Perhaps it was over. One, two, three; immeasurable
moments passed. Were we finished?
Her movements ceased completely, and her breath slowed. I could feel the failure within
her stance. I swung my leg over and slid down, pausing to run a hand along her
sweat-drenched back as a consolation. I could respect the fight in her. Her physical
strength and advantages had not been able to overcome my determination, my focus, my
resolve. Yet she had pushed farther, harder, than I imagined she ever had before.
The battle was over, and I emerged triumphant. I turned to watch my defeated rival slowly
exit the ring, head hanging in humiliation. I lifted my head to face the excited crowd,
letting their yells and cheers wash over me. Yet I did not feel the sense of victory I
had expected.
I did one more slow turn where I stood, taking in everything around me. It was then that
I realized she had stopped, at the very edge of the ring, and was staring intently back
at me. Respect emanated from every facet of her gaze, and I felt it envelop me across
the wide distance between us.
It was only then that I believed myself to be a victor: when I understood that I had
earned the respect of the one for which I had the most pure admiration - for her
strength and her endurance, her fight and her spirit.
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