The Demon Bull of Lincoln, Montana
I’m from a poor family.
The Ring of Fire at the annual 4th of July rodeo in my home town of Lincoln, Montana was something I had eagerly anticipated the last four months since I turned 18.
The Ring of Fire is an event where any six participants over the age of 18 can get into the ring with a live bull. The object of the event is to grab a rope attached to the bull’s horns.
It’s not as easy as it sounds.
Prior to the event each contestant stands in the middle of the ring and the gathered crowd is given a chance to bid on their chances of winning. It’s like a wild west version of the Hunger Games.
The person with the highest bid on the winning contestant collects half the money wagered while the winning contestant gets the other half.
Everyone else gets to watch their friends and neighbors get run down by a hyperactive bovine.
For the poor kid in town it’s a chance for prestige and the equivalent of the two weeks pay I would make at my job as a ranch hand.
Rodeo Saturday came and I tried to keep my nerves at bay throughout the preceding events. The Ring of Fire was the final event of the evening so I had of full day of walking around, checking out the crowd and watching all the skilled participants in the roping, barrel racing and bullriding events.
The beer was flowing on this clear, 85 degree day and the crowd of well over five thousand lining the green grass hill over looking the rodeo grounds was getting more and more excited as the day went on.
I was doing my best to stay hydrated and not throw up.
Finally the time had come for me to enter the arena.
I was familiar with Chi-Chi the Mexican fighting bull that was going to be released upon us. So I figured I had a bit of an advantage.r
The bids came in fast and furious. It was like everyone in the crowd wanted in on the action.
There was:
Jesse Winkle - our high school quarterback when I was a sophomore. He looked like he’d been hitting the bottle more than the weight room since graduation. He was the odds on favorite and the bidding confirmed it. $1500 from a local casino owner.
Andy Dyer - A local barroom tough guy. Way too old for the role and too old to be in this competition. But here he was in his sleeveless shirt and weight lifting gloves fetching a solid $1100 bid.
Sheila LaDoix, I’ve always been friendly with her. In that way that guys can be friends with girls they’re not trying to hook up with. She lead
basketball teams to the state tournament in her high school years and went on to briefly play volleyball at Northern Idaho before suddenly leaving the program for unknown reasons. Several of her girlfriends pooled their money together to outbid a local rancher for $1000 dollars.
Martin Garcia – Another local ranch hand who nobody really knew much about except that he was hard working, well mannered and his English wasn’t great. There were rumors that he used to be a professional cowboy in Mexico but nothing ever confirmed. His greying hair worked against him in the bidding and he only got $975.
Zeke Carlisle – The town drunk in a town that’s seen it’s share. Having him in there was a little awkward. I’m surprised they allowed him. His clothes were thrashed, his beard was scraggly and grey and he danced around like a fool in front of the crowd to try and elicit some bids. $50 was finally placed. Something of a mercy bet.
Then there was me.
Zeke Carlisle’s son. The guy who everyone always felt needed to know about his father’s antics. I love this town and the people are great people but it’s too much to be the son of the town drunk so I need to win this thing and put my father in the rearview mirror.
As I was introduced the rodeo grounds went silent. All eyes on me. You could hear a mosquito fart in the woods.
I wasn’t about to dance around and play the fool like my old man. So I stood there. Chin up and tried to make eye contact with as many people in the crowd as I could as the announcer championed for someone, anyone to put some money down on me. Nothing.
Not one bid.
The sky darkened. A long black storm cloud rolled over us from seemingly out of nowhere.
This isn’t unusual in Montana. Hot days give way to afternoon thunder storms regularly around here. The rodeo organizes sure weren’t going to cancel the festivities due to a little rain and lighting so it looked as if we were going to be doing this thing under fire.
The announcer joked about us having to dodge lightening strikes and bullhorns before returning to his plea for someone to lay some money down on the teenage ranch hand so we could get on with the show.
“Two thousand dollars!” bellowed a dark, sinister sounding voice from the hillside viewing area. The collective crowd veered their attention to the source and were met with sight of a cowboy figure dressed in black striding toward the paddock.
His long white hair and beard contrasted his head-to-toe black wardrobe. The only spots of color shown from his golden spurs. His long black duster flowed in the breeze of the nearing storm .
With one hand on the top rail of the fence the old cowboy leapt into the arena with the contestants and charged toward my father who stood frozen in the thick dirt of the arena. The dark cowboy halted in front of my father.
My father seemed to sink into the dirt as the dark cowboy raised his finger to his face and spoke something indisiferable rto him through his teeth.
The dark cowboy turned away from my father just as the bull chute opened and we got our first look at the buffalo-sized black bull with glowing crimson eyes.
The target rope was tied up in a noose from each end and looped around both two foot long horns that nobody seemed to remember to file down for our safety.
This wasn’t Chi-Chi.
Usually the bulls come out of the chute with a bang. Mad bucking, hard charging for a short time before settling down. This one, this demon bull simply stepped out of the chute and seemed to take a lingering look at each of us lined up in an arch from left to right: Jesse, Andy, sheila, Martin, Dad and Me.
Then he settled his burning gaze on the Dark Cowboy who gave him the slightest of nods…
And BANG! The Demon Bull shot out toward Jesse who never lost the terror frozen expression on his face before the top of the Bull’s head caved it in.
Pain happens in the Ring of Fire. We all know the risks before we step in the arena. This was something else. I don’t know what everyone else did in that moment but I lost my shit.
I ran for the fence to get the hell of out there. Money be damned.
I didn’t make it five yards before someone tackled me from behind. I turned over quick to see my Dad on top of me, desperation across his face.
“We can’t run, boy! We have to finish the game!”
I looked over to the Dark Cowboy and caught a glimpse of the Demon Bull goring Andy through the back and out the other side of his chest.
The Dark Cowboy just looked back at me and tipped his hat.
My Dad pulled me back to my feet.
“Get on the fence and I’ll bait him over to you!” When we pass by, grab the rope!”
I hesitated to argue for a moment before he pushed me toward the fence and yelled for me to “Go!”.
Shiela seemed to have the same idea I had because she was booking for the fence as fast as I was. But she didn’t escape the Bull’s attention and he charged her with thunderous stomps.
Lightening crackled across the sky.
Thunder rolled over us and the first giant drops of rain began pelting the rodeo grounds.
It was a race to the fence. Shiela in the lead with the Bull bearing down on her.
Twenty yards, fifteen, ten, five…
Shiela leapt for the fence as the Bull’s head dipped under her ass and tossed her over. She must’ve gone up ten feet and landed across the top rail of the paddock ribs first before dropping to the mud below.
I got to the fence and climbed to the top rail. Something made me feel like I couldn’t go over the rail to freedom though. It was like an invisible force, whether mental or supernatural was stopping me from running to fr eedom.
Martin was opportunistic and leapt onto the Bull’s back. A wave of hope shot through me. I didn’t care if I won or not anymore, I just wanted this nightmare to be over. If Martin could get the rope off the Bull’s horns all this would be over.
I hoped.
The Bull noticed Martin immediately and the ride was on. Martin took hold of the rope and held on for dear life and that mountain of black death kicked and twisted with the ferocity of a god.
I’m young but I’ve been around rodeos all my life and I’ve heard all the stories of the great bullrides of all time.
But this one was the most incredible I had ever seen.
This aging cowboy from Somewhere, Mexico stayed on that beast for eight seconds, and I started counting late.
Martin flailed at the rope as the demon bull launched him and managed one loop off before hitting the now muddy ground.
Time seemed to stop as Martin lifted himself upright on his knees and reached for his hat beside him. The Bull, no longer in a rage crept up to the champion rider as he placed his hat over his heart and stiffened his posture.
The Demon Bull eased the point of his right horn to Martin’s throat as the proud ranch hand raised his chin and closed his eyes.
The Demon Bull stopped and held the position for just a moment before delivering his verdict…
The next wave of thunder fell on us and the rain became so heavy I could barley see my father approaching the Bull from behind. dad began to hop and wave his arms around like an idiot drunk.
He was taking care of his part of the plan. I just had to execute mine and we could get out of this alive.
The Demon Bull went for my Dad and I readied myself on the fence.
Dad turned tail and fled. No more showmanship, just a wild scramble for life.
Within three seconds the old man past me and I tried to snatch the last loop of rope from the bulls rhorn.
I got the rope!
But didn’t clear the horn.
I felt the ball of my right arm leave the socket of my shoulder with sudden snap and somewhere in the blackness of pain I hit the ground.
It wasn’t out long. The last thing I wanted to do was get up. But the terror pushed me to my knees. I tried to see my Dad’s fate through the mud and tears in my eyes. But all I saw was his limp, hunched-over body sitting up against the rail of the fence twenty yards away.
The Demon Bull turned back toward me. For a moment I hoped that the game would be over since I was the last one.
But no. The rules were clear. The game wouldn’t end until I removed the noose from the Bull’s horn.
I wiped my eyes as clear as I could and I saw the Dark Cowboy staring back at me from the middle of the arena.
I lifted my mud-soaked body up with a wobble. My right arm was useless and I was no good with my left.
I didn’t have a chance in Hell so I did the only thing I could think of and charged the Dark Cowboy.
I had no plan. I couldn’t fight him with one arm but I charged anyway and the Demon Bull followed.
Darth Cowboy stood his ground but I caught a look of interest from him as if he hadn’t anticipated this tactic.
It was a race to the Grim Shitkicker and I had a decent jump. I figured I’d try and tackle the old man and if the Demon Bull ran me down, he’d take out his master as well.
Twenty yards out, fifteen, ten, five and I ate shit when my legs got to far extended for me to keep my balance.
On the ground again. I heard the booming gallup of my coming executioner.
It was over.
The only thing to do was to face it like a Cowboy. So I lifted myself up to take the hit. I elevated slowly taking in the sight of the Dark Cowboy’s boots and spurs and then his golden bull skull belt buckle.
His arm was extended, hand out and he had an easy expression on his face. I turned and the Demon Bull had stopped within six inches of where I was standing. His heavy breathes heating my face.
I don’t know why I dared. But I reached out to my would be killer and removed the double sided noose from the one horn it still hung from.
As soon as I did this the Dark Cowboy lowered his hand. The Demon Bull turned away and began walking toward the gate to the outside.
I held that noose in my hand and any sense of accomplishment was drowned out by thoughts of what would happen next.
I couldn’t hear the crowd. I hadn’t heard them since the Dark Cowboy had appeared.
The Dark Cowboy breezed past me and strode to the announcer’s booth. I watched as he extended his hand to the frightened announcer. The announcer shoved an enormous pile of money into the Dark Cowboy’s hand and fled.
The Dark Cowboy turned and stormed back toward me. I didn’t dare run. I just stood there holding my noose as he came nearer.
I heard the crowd come alive all of a sudden as if someone had pressed play with the volume too loud. They were screaming with shear terror and scattering as fast as they could back to their trucks or over the hill. Any avenue of retreat they could muster.
The angry sky parted and sun light split through onto me.
The rain stopped and the Dark Cowboy and ir came face to face
He held the thick wad of money out to me to take. I hesitated but took the dough being offered.
I looked him in his yellow eyes because I thought he would espect me more for it.
This was the first time I got a good look at his facial features. They were old, starved and stoney but ever so familiar.
He looked like my dad.
He looked like me.
“Give your old man a proper burial. Then get out of town.” He grumbled to me.
I nodded and gave him a frightened, “Yes, sir.”
He nodded and split away. I stood there watching him and the Demon Bull wander into the fast fleeing crowd.
Sirens were approaching, so I stuffed the wad of cash in to my muddy pocket and approached my Dad’s slumped over body.
This man, Zeke Carlisle Junior, whose name I share, was responsible for so much pain in my life but I’m guessing that he was going through his own thing as well.
Some of those thing’s I’ll never understand.