Can a 14-year-old girl in Montana in the 1920s become a Rodeo Star? Based on a true story of the American West, the author's grandmother. "A heart-warming read for all ages." Jane Kirkpatrick, author of A Mending at the Edge.
Defying family and social pressure, Nettie Brady bucks 1920s convention with her dream of becoming a rodeo star. That means competing with men, and cowgirls who ride the rodeo circuit are considered “loose women.” Addicted to the thrill of pitting her strength and wits against a half-ton steer in a rodeo, Nettie exchanges skirts for pants, rides with her brothers on their Montana ranch, and competes in neighborhood rodeos.
Broken bones, killer influenza, flash floods, and family hardship team up to keep Nettie from her dreams. Then she meets a young neighbor cowboy who rides broncs and raises rodeo stock. Will this be Nettie’s ticket to freedom and happiness? Will her rodeo dreams come true?
Based on the life of the author’s grandmother, a real Montana cowgirl.
Excerpt
The rangy, reddish-brown steer stared into Nettie Brady’s eyes for just a second. Then it shook its massive head and blew hot, moist air into her face.
Nettie leaped back and glanced around the makeshift arena to see if anybody was laughing at her.
A dozen parked Model Ts formed a black ring in the pasture where cows had
grazed only hours before. Ranch-hands perched on their vehicles in the late-morning sunshine as they waited for the next stage of the neighborhood rodeo to begin. One cowboy, ready to announce Nettie’s debut, stood on the fender of his brand-new 1920 Coupe, a saddle blanket protecting its shiny
black finish from his boots.
“Look out there, little gal. Let us get ’im eared down first.” A cowboy grabbed the animal’s ears and held its head
close to the ground, while another man fastened a denim jacket blindfold over the eyes. Two more cowhands stood behind
and splayed the hind legs tight with ropes so Nettie could mount. She took a step forward.
“This ain’t no place for a girl.” A bow-legged, leatherfaced man wedged himself between her and the steer. “You
belong in skirts, not trousers.”
“What?” She’d borrowed her twelve-year-old brother Ben’s denims, sneaked out of the house before her folks rose
this morning, and come all this way, and now this old man wasn’t going to let her ride? Nettie rose up to her full height.
“Mister, I can ride as good as my brothers. And they’re competing today.”
“You’re a girl. You’re too young,” the old cowboy persisted. “You get on outta here ’fore you get hurt.”
“Yes, I’m a girl. But I’m almost fifteen.” Nettie looked him straight in the eyes, anger boiling inside like a stewpot on a stove. “And I’m gonna ride that steer. You just wait and see.” She stepped around him.
One of the cowboys holding the animal chuckled. “Ah,let her give it a try.”
The leathery face scrunched into a frown. “You know you gotta ride till yer thrown or the steer stops bucking, don’t ya? Ain’t no 10-second whistle here t’ let ya off easy.”
Nettie squared her shoulders. “I know.”
The old man snorted, mumbled something about “women in rodeos” and stalked away.
“Ready?” a cowboy asked.
Nettie wiped her sweaty hands on her pants, tugged on a pair of leather gloves, and turned toward the angry steer beside her. Was she really ready for this? Sure, she’d ridden calves
and yearlings out in the pasture, but a half-ton steer? And in front of a bunch of men?
One more hard swallow, one more deep breath of the manure and animal sweat-laden air. She accepted a leg up
onto the steer’s bony back from one cowboy’s cupped hands. He chuckled. “You don’t weigh much more’n a feather to be ridin’ this big ol’ beast. You sure you wanna do this?”
She couldn’t back out now. She had to show them she could ride.
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