(A fight between a 31-year-old rodeo cowgirl and an 18-year-old high school cheerleader)
Heather Colson pulled into the Best Western Hotel lot, parked her Ford pickup and turned off the ignition. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out through pursed lips, which rustled her blonde bangs. After nineteen and a-half hours on the road—from Dallas to Columbus, Ohio—she’d finally made it to the site of tomorrow’s rodeo. It was just after five in the afternoon, as the cold wind chuffed at the sides of her truck and rocked it on its chassis. Snow was on the way according to a reporter she’d just heard on the radio. And that was on top of the four inches already on the ground.
Heather grabbed her white cowboy hat and placed it on her head. She stepped out into the cold January winds, clicked her lock shut with her fob and ambled toward the front lobby. A couple girls passed her in the entryway and smiled. She returned the smile and opened the second set of glass doors before entering Best Western’s lobby.
Six girls stood in line at the front desk behind an adult female, who wore sweats and a red fleece sweatshirt. Farther down the hall, a dozen more girls congregated around a vending machine, where one girl pulled a soft drink from the open vent. The teens laughed as the girl opened it and watched it fizz and overflow. Her mouth widened and she smiled, then shook the soda off her soaked hand.
Heather saw some other girls traipsing toward the adjacent hallway. Some huge sporting event was apparently going on, but all Heather could think about was getting some sleep. She hoped the room would be quiet tonight.
“Hi. Welcome to Best Western,” said the young female clerk at the counter. “How can I help you?”
“I need a room for two nights. Non-smoking.”
“Okay. Let’s see if I have anything available.”
“Oh, don’t tell me that,” said Heather. “I’ve just driven all the way from Texas, and I’m exhausted.”
“I understand,” said the girl, “but there’s a state cheerleading competition in town this weekend, and many of the rooms are already booked.”
“Oh, I see,” said Heather. She watched the girl’s fingers dance across the computer keyboard.
“I do have two single beds left on the top floor.”
“Is it non-smoking?”
“Yes. There’s no smoking in this hotel.”
“Perfect. I’ll take it.” Heather handed the girl her MasterCard.
"You’re in room 650. Just take the elevator to the sixth floor and hang a right. It’s the last room down on the left.”
“Thanks,” said Heather, as the girl handed her the tiny white envelope containing her room key. She strolled back out into the cold air and grabbed her suitcase. The sun was just starting to set as dozens of girls walked outside and headed for their cars. They were probably on their way to McDonald’s, Taco Bell or whatever fast food joints teen girls fancied today.
Heather dropped her suitcase on the bed and pulled her cell phone out of her jeans. She called her friend Sally. She answered on the second ring.
“Yeah, where are you?”
“I’m still in traffic,” said Sally. “I’m about thirty miles away on 71 North.”
“Are the horses okay?”
“Yeah. They’re great. I just checked them twenty minutes ago.”
“Okay. You getting a hotel down by the arena then?”
“Yeah. But it’s going to be awhile before I get there.”
“I’d imagine so from the traffic,” said Heather. She sat down in a chair near a round table. “Let me know when you get in.”
“I will.”
The rodeo was tomorrow night at Nationwide Arena. Sally was transporting both of their horses from Tulsa, Oklahoma. Heather had driven her single trailer up to Tulsa and parked it at Sally’s ranch. She then drove ahead because she wanted to visit some relatives in Ohio for a couple days after the competition.
“I better go,” said Sally. “Traffic is getting crazier by the minute. And there’s a wreck up ahead.”
“Okay. Be careful.
“I will.”
“Later.”
Heather had been friends with Sally since they were in high school themselves—a decade ago. They both road the rodeo circuit and were competing in the barrel racing and calf wrestling events tomorrow night.
Heather set her phone down on the dresser. She took off her hat and placed it down next to the cell. She then grabbed the menu from the dresser and scanned the lists of restaurants in the area. Best Western didn’t have a restaurant—just a room where they furnished a continental breakfast each morning.
Heather dozed off at eight o’clock, after consuming a small steak and potato from a nearby restaurant. She slept in her clothes on top of the bedspread, as the television droned on low volume. Around ten-thirty, she heard someone shout. It came from the room next door. A couple minutes later, the television started blaring.
“Shit,” said Heather as she sat up and placed both boots on the carpet. She listened as the television continued blaring, then several girls started laughing and screaming.
“I’m going to put an end to this real quickly,” said Heather. She didn’t know whether to call the front desk or confront the girls herself. But she had to do something. She needed to get a good night’s sleep to be prepared for tomorrow’s rodeo. She decided to walk over and knock on the door. Didn’t these girls have chaperones?
Heather made sure she had the room key with her. She tapped the front right pocket of her snug indigo Levi’s, felt the key and flipped off her television set. She then walked out in the hallway. Several seconds later, she knocked on the door to room 648.
She heard some girls mumble something, then their TV went silent. A short red-haired girl opened the door thirty seconds later.
“Yeah,” she said. A taller brunette, who she later found out was 18, stood behind her. She glared at Heather with her large dark eyes, as if she were interrupting something important.
“I’m staying in the room next door. Could you keep the TV down please? I have to get up early tomorrow for a meeting.”
“Okay,” said the redhead. “We’ll keep it down.” Heather heard laughter after the girl closed the door. She walked back to her room, grabbed her tooth brush and started getting ready for bed. She had just grabbed her belt buckle, preparing to take off her jeans, when the television started blaring again. Then someone knocked on the wall several times. Seconds later, multiple girls were pounding on the wall.
Heather reached over and dialed the front desk.
“Hi, how may I help you?” the woman said.
“I’ve got some girls up here blasting their television and pounding on the wall. This is even after I went over and asked them to turn their TV down.”
“This is room six forty-eight you’re talking about?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll call them and ask them to turn it down,” said the front desk lady. She sounded different than the one who’d greeted her earlier.
“I really appreciate it . . . Oh, one other thing.”
“Yes.”
“Can I get a wake-up call for seven a.m.?”
“Sure. I got you down.”
“Thanks.”
Heather listened. She couldn’t hear the phone ring over the loud TV, but someone turned the TV volume down a couple minutes later.
“Now then,” said Heather. “Time to get some sleep.” She called Sally to see if she’d gotten in okay. She said she it took a couple hours from the time they’d spoken to get to the arena. She was staying in a Holiday Inn Express not too far away. All the cowgirls and cowboys had to meet down at the arena at nine a.m. Then she had to get her horse ready for the rodeo events.
“I asked you to call me.”
“Sorry,” said Sally. “I was hungry and grabbed something to eat.”
“You’re forgiven.”
“Thanks.”
Heather placed her cell and room key on the dresser near her cowboy hat. She then ambled over and flipped off the entryway light. She left the bathroom light on but closed the door. That’s so she could see if she needed to get up during the night. She ambled back across the room and clicked the standing lamp off by the desk. Only one lamp remained on—the one on the nightstand next to the bed.
Heather sat down on the bed. She listened for several minutes as the mumbling waned down next door. She decided to lie on her bed in her clothes in case she had to get up again. She had just fallen asleep when she heard a knock on her door.
Heather’s eyes shot open. She gazed at the alarm clock. It was 11:49 p.m.
Boom . . . boom . . . boom. Three knocks this time.
Heather’s heart started pounding. She stood, walked over to the desk, stuffed her room key into her front jeans pocket and donned her hat. She traipsed over and peeked through the peep hole. On the other side stood the 18-year-old brunette girl whom she saw earlier. She was dressed in a red sweater and black tights.
Heather opened the door. She stared at the girl who stood about 5’9”—five inches taller than she. The girl probably weighed 135 to 140 pounds.
“Can I help you?” said Heather. She tilted the brim of her hat over her eyes, a habit she had when she first started talking to people.
“That your blue Ford pickup outside?”
“I’m not sure. There’s probably more than one.”
“Well, I’m talking about yours,” the girl said. “One of my friends saw you get out of it earlier.”
“What’s the problem?” Heather felt her heart sink.
“I just ran into it.”
“What?”
“I was out getting a late snack at the convenient store down the road. When I pulled in, I slid on some ice and hit your truck.”
Heather pursed her lips. What next—a fall off her horse tomorrow in front of thousands of fans?
“Let me get my coat and I’ll be right out.”
“Take your time.”
Heather grabbed her leather jacket and walked into the hallway. Her truck keys were already in her jeans. The floor was silent and no one else was around. A few of the bulbs had burned out near their rooms, which rendered the hallway unusually dark. The two walked to the elevator.
“After you,” said the girl.
Heather stepped into the elevator and hit “L” for the lobby. The girl stepped in and shot her a quick glance that Heather didn’t see.
“So, you’re a cheerleader?” said Heather, as she glanced over at her.
“Yeah, up in Cleveland.”
“I see.”
“We’re competing in the state championship here.” The girl scanned Heather from head to feet. “What’s your story? Are you a cowgirl or something?”
“Yeah, a professional rodeo rider. I’m competing tomorrow against some other cowgirls.”
“Cool,” the girl said. “I’ve never met a rodeo cowgirl before. And a professional one to boot.”
“Really. It’s no big deal.”
“Sure it is.” The girl looked up at the illuminated numbers above the elevator door, as the unit passed the second floor. “And you’re not from around her either, I gather.”
“No, I’m from Dallas.”
“I was going to say Texas or Oklahoma from your accent,” the girl said. “Imagine that, I’m in an elevator with a real Texas cowgirl.”
“That’s right.” Heather rolled her eyes. She was now fuming but tried not to project her anger.
The elevator pinged, then the door opened. Heather stepped out, headed for the front door of the hotel, opened it and walked into the cold night air. She didn’t know why she had parked so far away. Usually, she moved closer when she stayed at hotels, after she located her room. Her truck was parked on the far end of the parking lot near an open field. In the distance, trees bordered the fringes of the dark field on two abutting sides, where a hundred yards of pristine snow lay before it, shadowed by the night skies.
Heather walked behind her truck. She bent down and examined the paint on both sides of her fender. “Where did you hit me?” The girl didn’t answer. Heather paused a second; she then stood and looked back at the teen. The girl held a knife at her side, which glistened under a nearby parking light. The knife was at least four inches long.
“Wait a minute,” said Heather. She stuck her hands up by her ears. “What’s going on here?”
“Not here, cowgirl. Too many security cameras. Let’s take a walk.”
The girl approached her. Heather put her hands up again and backed up. The girl’s voice deepened.
“Turn around and walk toward the far end of the field.”
“Look, I’ve got a rodeo competition tomorrow night and need to get some sleep.”
“I don’t give a fuck what you’re doing tomorrow,” said the teen. “Move your tight little ass now, or I’ll stab you in the gut.”
Heather turned and walked across a sidewalk into the snow-covered grass. She stopped for a second and turned around.
“What’s the problem?” she said. “What did I do wrong?”
“I got my ass chewed out tonight by my coach after you called the front desk,” said the girl. The teen moved closer. Heather put her arms up again and shuffled her boots backward.
“I asked you to turn your TV down, and you didn’t.”
“We were just having some fun. We would’ve turned it down eventually. But you had to go and call the damn front desk . . . I’m already in trouble with the coach.”
“What for?”
“For fighting—not that it’s any of your business. I beat a girl up awhile back and put her in the hospital.”
“But what has that got to do with tonight?”
“Coach Metz is going to tell my parents, that’s what. That means I have to quit cheerleading. My parents warned me to stay out of trouble.”
“And pulling a knife on someone’s going to keep you out of trouble?”
“Just shut up, you stupid cowgirl, and walk.” She flashed the knife again. “Let’s go.”
Heather turned and started walking into the field; the snow crunched beneath her boots. She thought about running to her right and back to the parking lot. But the girl looked pretty athletic with those long legs. And she was bigger than Heather. Twenty-five pounds bigger—at least! She just kept walking.
About seven minutes later, they approached a row of dense trees near the woods. And in the distance, Heather saw three other girls pacing around some bushes, blowing on the hands and trying to stay warm.
“Hey, wait a minute,” said Heather, as she turned toward the girl. “What’s really going on here?”
“Just keep walking.”
“So I can get ambushed by four girls. No thank you.”
The girl reached forward and shoved Heather in the back between her shoulders. She went flying forward and fell on her knees and forearms. Her hands sliced through the snow and she hit her chin on the ground. Her cowboy hat fell off. The girl hustled forward and kicked it away.
“Hey, I need that for tomorrow,” said Heather, as she lay on the ground.
“I don’t think so.”
Heather got to her feet. “Hey, you f*cking bitch. Give me back my hat.”
“You want it?” The girl walked over, bent down and skewered the crown of the cowboy hat with her knife. She then picked it up and walked it over to Heather. “Here you go.” Heather grabbed it.
“That’s a one hundred-fifty dollar hat you just ruined,” she shouted.
“Oh,” said the girl. “Sorry. You said ruined?” She grabbed the brim of the hat, pulled it away from Heather and slashed the crown with her knife. She then threw it back at her.
“You bitch!”
Heather gritted her teeth. She then charged the girl.
The girl arced the knife toward her head, but Heather ducked and tackled her before she could impale her with it. The knife fell to ground and sank down into the snow. Heather straddled the teen while on her knees. She then hauled back and punched her in the face. She was just about to punch her again, when the girl threw her off of her. Heather landed on her back. She tried to get to her feet, but the girl kicked her in the side of the gut and knocked her on her back.
“Pick this piece of shit up and take her into the woods,” she said. When Heather looked up, she saw the other girls surrounding her.
“Come on, you little bitch,” said one of the teens. Two of them grabbed her by the arms and pulled her to her feet.
The tall brunette grabbed her by the throat.
“Bad move, cowgirl. Now, I’ve got several things to pay you back for.” She nodded at the two girls who were holding Heather. “Walk her to the edge of the field.”
“How long do we have to stay out here?” one girl said. She looked like the one who had smiled at Heather earlier as she was entering the hotel.
“Get her to the far side of the field, and then you can go,” said the brunette. “I thought she’d be more of a challenge. But I’ve got her from there.”
“What are you gonna do, Sandy?”
“What do you think?”
“But you’re already in trouble,” said the girl.
“Nobody will know. She’s just some shit-kicker from Dallas. Besides, they’ll think some gang members got to her . . . or a rapist.” The girl laughed.
“I don’t know about this.”
“You don’t have to know shit,” said Sandy. “Just walk her ass over there and leave. I’ll be back at the hotel in fifteen minutes tops.”
The two girls turned Heather around and walked her to the edge of the field. When they reached the tall grass near some bushes, they released her arms.
“Sandy . . .”
“Just go. All of you. And don’t tell any of the other girls about this.”
The two girls walked away. The third one caught up with them. The concerned girl looked back as Sandy approached the woman. One of the girls then grabbed her arm, pulled her forward and they walked back to the hotel with the other girl.
“What, you want to fight me now?” said Heather. “And try to put me in the hospital like the other girl you beat up?”
“You’re smarter than you look, bitch. But I will put you in the hospital . . . or maybe worse.”
“F*ck you.”
Heather charged the girl, but this time Sandy lunged forward and punched her in the jaw. The blow knocked Heather off her boots. She landed on her right side. She tried to push herself up amid some tall weeds sprouting through the snow, but Sandy kicked her in the side and knocked her on her back.
“Ohhhhh.”
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” said Sandy. “And I don’t give a fuck which one you choose. I’m having fun either way.”
Heather got to her feet. She brushed the snow off her coat and jeans. “Where to, high school girl? You want to fight me, just show me the way to your designated spot and we’ll fight.”
“Don’t be so agreeable, cowgirl, because you don’t know what I’ve got in store for you.”
“Eat shit, school punk.”
“Big words coming from someone I just put on the ground,” said Sandy. She shoved Heather forward. “You sure act cocky for someone who’s about to get her ass kicked.”
Heather didn’t say anything. She kept walking. Ten yards into the woods, they came upon a steep embankment that led down to a concrete structure. Heather couldn’t make out what it was but soon heard water trickling below. A sense of dread stirred within her as they approached the concrete abutment several minutes later.
Part of the dread stemmed from knowing she wouldn’t get enough sleep for her rodeo events tomorrow night. But the girl’s threats rang large at the moment. The teen really meant to harm her. She could see it in her eyes. And Heather was starting to lose confidence that she could take the girl. Despite all the exercise and training she’d endured over the years, including wrestling calves, she knew the girl was stronger and more athletic.
“Keep going, bitch,” said Sandy, as Heather paused ten yards in front of a long oblong structure, where water flowed through an opening. It was a creek culvert that ran underneath one of the roads in the distance.
Sandy shoved Heather forward. She stumbled and nearly fell on a large rock. She regained her balance and stepped onto the concrete landing next to the water.
Heather stared at the five-foot opening in the culvert, which was shaped like an arch. The tunnel grew pitch black about fifteen feet inside, and she wondered how far back it went and where it led.
“You ready, cxnt?” said the teen, as she stepped in front of Heather, raising her fists in a fighting position. She crouched down in a stance that made Heather aware the girl was more of an experienced fighter than she led on. She seemed to enjoy the violence, like some blood-thirsty mobster.
Heather’s throat churned, and the girl saw it. She smirked.
“I’ll let you throw the first punch, cowgirl,” she said. “It’ll probably be your last one, too.” She chuckled. “Come on. Let’s dance.”
Heather knew she had agreed to this fight. But it was more than a bit absurd. Never in her worst nightmares would she have thought her evening would end up like this. A nineteen-hour junket over two days now had her facing some maniac teen girl, who planned to either beat her, kill her or her both.
Heather crouched down.
“Come on,” said Sandy, waving her forward with both hands.
Heather threw a waist-high roundhouse kick that the girl easily slapped away. She then followed up with a front kick that caught the girl in the gut. Sandy grimaced and backed up a couple steps, then waited for Heather’s next move.
Heather feigned a kick. She then spun around and lashed her boot out in a back kick maneuver. But she left her leg extended too long, as she pivoted her free boot on the cement, and the girl grabbed it. Sandy then lunged forward, pushed Heather’s leg away and took her down near the edge of the water.
Heather’s back smacked the concrete and knocked the wind out of her. Before she could react, the teen punched her in the mouth and knocked her head toward the water. She could feel the blood trickling down her jaw. Another punch smashed her lips again, sending a spurt of blood pouring down her chin.
Sandy hit Heather again, then picked her up by the shoulders of her jacket and slammed her down on the concrete. Heather’s head spun. She watched the girl stand up, grab her arm and pull her to her feet, but Heather had nothing left to defend herself. Her legs wobbled when the girl released her grip.
Sandy wasted no time as she punched Heather in the gut.
“Uhhhhhh!” Heather’s knees started to buckle.
“No you don’t, cowgirl,” said Sandy, as she held Heather up under her armpits. “I’m not finished with you yet.” She released her grip and slugged Heather in the gut again.
“Uhhhhhh!”
This time, Heather dropped to her knees. Her head lolled forward and her chin sank to her chest.
"I told you, bitch. Not yet,” said Sandy, as she grabbed Heather by her armpits and pulled her up again.
Heather stumbled forward. She waved both hands in front of the teen’s face as she reached for the girl—eyes squinty and her body ready to collapse. Sandy laughed at her. She pushed her arms down, raised her right fist behind her left ear and smashed Heather across the face with the back of it.
Cusssshhhh!
Heather spun around and landed face-first in the water. She tried to push herself up, but Sandy jumped on top of her ass and shoved her face back in the water.
"Yeah, this won't take long, cowgirl," said the girl. "Not long at all to f*ck you up."
(To be continued . . . )
