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A 30 Minute Roundup
“Trial and Error” by Nicolegesq
The sunny glade near the brook was a favorite hideout for the brothers. It was far enough from the house to be private but close enough not to be forbidden. The clearing had been clubhouse, castle, fort, stage, classroom, hideout, and deck of a ship. It had been the oasis in a desert, a deserted island, the lone opening in the middle of a jungle. Today, it was a haven, a quiet escape where a boy could disappear with his thoughts and his insecurities. And try and try to master the most basic of skills.
The sun shone down through the surrounding trees, the warm glow casting shadows on the now trampled soft green grass, the air filled by the sounds of nature, the shrill call of birds, the occasional crunch of leaves as some small animal hustled to its burrow, off in the distance the gurgle of the brook as it played on the rocks underneath. And there was the sound that broke the quiet. Shoosh. Shoosh. Shoosh. Thump. And the sound of the rope dragging through the fallen leaves, the small twigs that made up the forest floor. Each time the rope flew through the air, each time the rope fell, each time the rope missed the stump, and the air was the only witness to the heavy sigh of the small boy, the muttered disappointment, the cursings of the young boy, such as they were. “Drat it.” “Dagnabit.” “Shoot.” And finally, “Blazes and damnation!” although that one did cause him to look around quickly, making sure he was alone. He pulled the rope to him once again, coiling it as he pulled it in, holding the knot in one hand, examining the knot yet again to see if it was properly tied, to make sure the knot would slip. He blew the breath out of puffed cheeks, it wasn’t the knot, not the rope. Letting the rope open into a small circle, he began to try to circle it overhead, the rope opening, the circle growing as he twirled it overhead until things went terribly wrong, the circle warping out of shape until the boy knew it would not fly true and he allowed it to twist and drop to the ground. He stood for a moment, staring at the misshapen bits of fiber, whirling around when he heard the high pitched voice.
“What ‘cha doing?”
“What are you doing out here? You know you’re not allowed to come down here by yourself?”
“I’m not by myself. I’m with you,” the younger boy insisted. “What ‘cha doing?”
Jarrod sighed heavily, looking down at the rope in his hands. “I can’t get this to work.”
“What’s it supposed to do?”
“It’s supposed to go around that old stump.”
“That don’t sound so hard. Pa does it all the time.”
“Well, it’s harder than it looks. Like lots of the things Father does.”
“I don’t think it’s so
hard. I like riding out with
“That’s cause you’re too little to be doing any work yet. When you’re big like me, it might not always seem like so much fun,” Jarrod insisted.
“That’s not true, Jarrod. When I go out with the men, I have my jobs. I got to help take care of the horses, and get wood together when we make a fire – ”
Jarrod rolled his eyes. “Ya’ know, you’re not doing any of the real work yet, just ‘cause you got some chores. It’s not like you’re a cowboy just ‘cause you help feed the horses.”
Nick narrowed his eyes, his fists balling up, going to either side of his waist. “I am too a cowboy! Pa says I am. That’s what he calls me all the time.”
Jarrod wanted to make a cutting remark but he had to smile at the sight of his little brother, adopting the same stance that was so often their father’s. “Yeah, father does call you that. Calls both of us that, doesn’t he?” He walked the few steps to his brother, coiling the rope for the millionth time and handed it to his younger brother. “Here, you give it a try. Now, you want to hold it – ”
“I know,” Nick uttered impatiently. “I seen Pa do it lots and lots of times. And I watched when he was showing you.”
“Then have at it,” Jarrod answered, stepping back to give Nick room, sitting on the edge of the clearing, figuring he’d let someone else fail for a while, “but like Father’s said, don’t be surprised when you can’t get it to fly. You’re not tall enough yet.”
He watched as his little brother stepped up, his tongue protruding from his mouth as he fingered the rope, his eyes going from the knot to the stump at the far side of the clearing. Biting his lower lip, he adjusted the rope in his hand and began to swing it, the circle magically growing before Nick released the rope. And there it went, floating effortlessly through the air, flying true, the rope circling the stump and pulling taut, capturing the dead wood tight. Both boys faces dropped, the eyes growing wide, the lone voice echoing in the woods. “I did it, Jarrod!!! I did it!!”