Chapter VII

Passport! You’re Not a Model?

The man who had done all the yelling before, stepped up. "What's the matter? Get her to toss that rope again like she just did and we'll shoot it."

Linda was watching me like I was some sort of wild animal. "She's not your model. We don't have any pictures."

"WHAT! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN SHE'S NOT OUR MODEL? WHO THE HELL IS SHE?"

They all turned toward me expectantly. I was wondering what I had done. "This isn't the place for the passport pictures?"

"OH SHIT!!! We are going to loose it all. Who the hell are you and what are you doing in our studio?" Linda was glaring at me.

"I'm a calf roper." I was wondering how much to say.

"A CALF ROPER! A CALF ROPER! YOU’RE A CALF ROPER?" The man was screaming at me.

What was the matter with his hearing? I thought that was plain enough. "Yes."

"OH DAMN! Please tell me you are a model! Please to god, tell me you are a model and the agency sent you over." He was leaning toward me as if he could will me to say what he wanted to hear.

"I don't know about any modeling agency. I'm here to get some passport photos taken so I can transport a horse."

"OH SHIT! OH DAMN! OH SHIT AND DAMN!" He walked away wringing his hands.

Linda was edging in closer as she studied me. "What's your name and how old are you?"

"Katrina McDonald. Everyone calls me Jake. I'm eighteen."

She threw up her hands and everything she was holding onto went into the air as she spun around the other direction. "Holy shit, we're fucked. She's a minor. Jeeze what else can happen?"

"Listen, I didn't mean to hurt anyone. Anna said I was to come over here for some passport pictures. The lady at the front directed me back here. I'm sorry if I messed up anything." I gathered the rope off the Pinto as I had no idea what it was I had done.

Beckman had returned. "Okay, how much is it going to cost us? I need those pictures and I need you to sign a release."

"What? You want to pay me?" I was thinking I was going to have to pay them for ruining their pictures.

He was watching me closely. "You've never been in pictures before have you?"

"No sir."

"Linda, I have an idea. We can use a free agent. She's a free agent. Get a contract. What did you say your name was and where are you from?"

"I'm Katrina McDonald. Everyone calls me Jake. I'm from Montana. You may have possibly heard of me. Bill Randall and I are head and heel steer ropers. We took state team roping championship for the past three years."

He shook his head as he offered me his hand. "I'm Ronald Beckman. Sorry, I don't pay a whole lot of attention to those things. Can you get your parents to sign a release for you? I need those pictures we took."

"Yes. Can you do me a favor?"

He eyed me suspiciously. "What?"

"I need a passport photo."

Shaking his head, he walked away. "A passport photo. All she wants is a passport photo."

I signed some papers. They took a lot more pictures of the Pinto and me. I found out they were an advertising agency. I roped just about everything in that studio for them as I tried to explain the techniques behind throwing a rope. Sam had one of his trick ropes in that canvas bag so I did a few rope tricks too. That's a shorter version of the lariat. Spinning the rope over my head or jumping back and forth through it was something I hadn't practiced a lot. It was twice as tough wearing heels and a dress but I managed it. I did it without falling down or getting tangled up in the rope.

I learned later they sent some pictures and a release form to mom and dad by next day mail. After talking to Leonard by phone, they told him they would give me a ride out to Valley Downs Farms. They promised to get the right pictures back to the right people for that passport.

I had changed back into my jeans and shirt. My cowboy hat didn't fit over all that hair spray and other things Anna had them do to me. I wasn't able to pull those long nails off either. They were glued on better than my own nails. A lot of the people had already left the studio when I walked back in and was waiting on my ride.

Linda watched me walk back into the room carrying the purple dress on my arm. "Katrina, I'd like to take some more shots. Would you mind?"

"I don't want to have to dress up again. I'd rather not." I walked up to where she was standing.

"No, I mean like you are now. The real you." She was waiting for an answer.

"This isn't the real me. I didn't take off any of my makeup. My hair is so stiff I can't get my hat on and I can't get these nails off. This isn't the real me. I probably couldn't rope a calf like this. I'm sure I don’t want to try any heel and head roping."

"Close enough. I'd like to take some pictures. Do you mind?" Linda picked up a camera as she turned on the lights.

"Why not? What do you want?" I laid my dress down on the back of a chair. I'd have to make sure Anna got it back along with the heels.

Some of the others were starting to gather back around. Linda motioned toward the canvas bag full of Sam's ropes. "Do some of your rope things and tell me why that first rope we had wasn't the right rope for a cowboy."

I picked up the nylon rope they first laid out. "It's too soft and limber. You can't control it. The loop won't open up and when you throw it, there isn't a hole for the calf to run through."

I coiled the rope up and gave it a turn over my head before I threw. The loop barely opened and the chair I aimed for was knocked over rather than being lassoed. Picking up one of Sam's lariats, I did the same thing and roped the chair beside the first. I removed the loop off the chair. One of the men was walking across between us. I tossed the end of the rope out and dropped a loop where he stepped into it. I pulled it up and then released it just as quickly. If I had held onto it I would have had his legs tied together and he would have tripped.

"Roping has to do with timing. You have to aim for where the animal is going to be at the same time your loop gets there. Don't aim for where he is at the time you throw or you won't ever catch him. Put it out in front of him and let him step into it or run into it. Make sure you have the loop closed by the time he's there or he will run completely through the loop and you've missed." I dropped a loop over Linda as she was shooting pictures.

"Do it again. I need you to do that again." Linda stepped out of the loop and was busy with her camera again.

We played for almost an hour before I helped Linda load up some cameras and other gear into her car in the parking garage. I also helped load up Sam Chapman's ropes. He would want them back for sure. A roper's lariat is a personal thing. I had no idea how they managed to get Sam to part with his ropes long enough for a photo shoot.

We were headed north out of Atlanta when I asked Linda about Sam's canvas bag. "How did you manage to get Sam to loan you his ropes? That would be almost as bad as asking for the loan of his horse."

She passed a couple cars before she glanced in my direction. "I don't know. I asked Harold Strick if he had any ropes he could loan us for a photo op we were shooting and he said he would see. I don't know Sam Chapman but I guess Harold does."

This whole situation was so odd. "If it's the Harold Strick I know, he is a top hand in bronc riding. He was number thirty four in nationals last year. That may not sound like much. You have a couple thousand cowboys competing for the same thing and that's a long ways up toward the top. Harold and Sam bunk together a lot of times. They share truck and trailer to defray some of the cost of getting on the road. Where are Harold and Sam? They should be in Dallas this week."

Again she glanced in my direction. "You didn't hear? Harold was hurt pretty bad last week. The horse he was riding fell down trapping him under it. He was caught between the fence and the horse. Broke some ribs and gave him a concussion. He's recuperating out close to the place you're going, Pine Farms."

Such a small world. I knew people from the rodeo everywhere I went. Maybe it was the kind of people who rode in the rodeo that made it such a special group of people. "How's he doing?"

"He's okay. Beat up and bruised. I understand a lot of cowboys are usually that way most of the year."

It was a long ways out to the Farms. I was really appreciating the effort Linda had gone to when we finally got there. As she pulled into the lane leading down to the house and stables I was impressed. Everywhere I looked suggested money and lots of it. White pipe rail fencing, manicured lawns and paved driveway. The house looked like a mansion. It went on and on.

After Linda stopped the car I got out and walked out to the barns. I could have lived in the stables and been happy. Those stalls were so darn clean I could have eaten off the floor. The barns were expansive. They had air conditioning and blowers everywhere. They treated those horses better than most humans were treated. There were a couple dozen men and three women that I counted there. Grooming horses, walking horses, changing bedding, whatever. Most of them ignored me, a few acted like I was trespassing on their turf, and no one said hi to me even after I greeted them. I was the foreigner in their world. I guess I deserved what I got. My jeans and shirt didn’t match the makeup and my hair style. Everything Anna had done to me said one thing and my working clothes said something else. One way or another, part of me was pretend and the other was real. They figured the hairstyle and makeup was real and the jeans were pretend. To them I was the socialite who had come out to play in their business and they resented it.