Two hearts, beating…scratch that…pounding, in unison. A huge crowd sits in anticipation, they never know what to expect: every year these rodeo folks throw something new at them. The speakers shout a message from the announcer’s booth, “Ladies and gentlemen, please stand and remove cover as Miss Orscheln Outlaw, Amy Gillum, carries in our flag for the singing of the National Anthem.” For one moment during this whole crazy, Outlaw show, everyone was quiet, and all eyes were on us.
As a little girl, I always wanted to be a part of the rodeo; I wanted to have a job, to fit in. I was looking for something to set me apart, not that I needed much help, being Gillum’s daughter and all; I had too many big brothers to do anything too crazy for attention. Even with all of my motivation, I never could quite find my calling, I’d tried roping, barrel racing, and working down at the timed event chutes, but, ultimately, I wanted to be on a horse. Instead, finally, my calling found me. “Hey Amers, Lance got a new paint that he wants you to try out, maybe carry the flag or something? Sounds like a good job for you…”
Fast forward about 4 years. My best friend, Whitley, my mom, and myself had just pulled into the spillway area of Cannon Dam, in Perry, MO. This is about to be the scene of the biggest rodeo event in Missouri. The Mark Twain Lake rodeo has won award after award in several rodeo associations. It has always been something people look forward to months ahead of time. Mark Twain Lake truly is the most exciting time of the rodeo season, “Cowboy Christmas,” as we affectionately call the fourth of July. Everyone parties until the sun comes up and there are always plenty of stories to tell from the night before. As soon as we stepped out of the car, we can feel this energy in the air. Time to rock, we’re all ready to go.
Saturday night, the big night. My horse, Spot, and I cautiously approach the center gate. The smell of sweat, both his and mine, and other “rodeo smells” are slightly overpowering. My heart is in my throat, though I’m an old pro at what I do, never can get rid of that butterfly feeling. Searchingly, I look around, there’s Mom up in the announcer stand, Whitley below that talking to some bull rider she just met….typical, Dad running around taking care of last minute details, Jake getting his bronc saddle ready, complete organized chaos. I hear the announcer say my name, and I take that as my cue to go into the lion’s den. We start at a walking pace, or at least attempting to walk, my horse starts prancing a little, but nothing I can’t handle. I am pretty sure he can feel the same energy that’s making the hair on my arms stand on end. I hear the last line of our song coming up, my victory lap, I kick Spot to his fastest…”Let’s go big feller, we’ll show ‘em how we do it at these Outlaw deals!” My finger finds the small red button on the flag pole and sparks explode out of the top. At the same time, the crowd blasts into a white noise of cheers, applause, and “yee-haws.” Pretty sure I even caught some “oohs” and “aahs.” That is definitely the best part.
So, at last the little outlaw girl found her niche, and everyone knows it. She would never let them forget it! As an only child she’s used to this amount of attention, she virtually thrives on it. She does a good job and loves it. After several years, she still gets the same old feelings. This must be love.
