Fast updates are fast for once haha! I feel a little bad for neglecting other stories, since many are a WIP and would be really simple to finish, but this is so fun! And we're back into the actual events, not just family and relationship drama.

I'll probably update Cockroach Cabaret next, since that's nearly done, but maybe after that I'll come back to this.

...

Michael's euphoria at winning not only the saddle bronc, but the bareback bronc too, had not subsided over the night, and as he sat in the stand ready to watch his cousin finish competing in the bareback bronc herself, he was still giddy and more than a little smug. First in both events? That was something to be proud of indeed! And now he was winning overall too, beating not only Cooper, but the other eight as well, and certainly living up to his brothers' reputations- his whole family's, for that matter. Still, there were three events to go, only two he'd actually be competing in, and so much could go wrong, slightly less than in the roughstock events, but he could still make a careless mistake and didn't want to throw the party before he'd received the exam results, so to say.

He now had 25 points overall, with Oscar at 23 and the rest nowhere near close. The only person he really needed to worry about was the Australian, but right now he didn't even care about him. All that mattered was that he'd done well and Matt was proud of him.

He would have time to be smug later, if all went to plan.

Matt was seated next to him, beer in a hand ready to cheer on Sam just like old times- in Alberta's rodeos where he'd been legally able to drink from 18- and the brothers hadn't had a single argument since Mike's fight and that polava. Things were hopeful, and as well as hinging a lot of hope on his brother to return home, Michael couldn't let the possibility of his brother taking up rodeo again go. Yes, he'd been firm about it, and Mike for one wasn't going to bring up the conversation for a good while, but he knew. He knew Matthew loved competing as much as he did, that that itch must still be there, slowly emerging now he was surrounded by others moving forward and continuing with their passion for the sport. Even Sam's news that she and Arthur- who had left for the airport earlier this morning- would soon be touring full time must've stirred some feelings of jealousy within the man.

Maybe even Sam's performance now was having the same effect.

Then again, the amount of complaining he'd done since yesterday might've put the older brother off again. He couldn't help it though! Bareback bronc was by far the worst thing he had to go through here and as much as he loved the high, the come down after was rough. He was lucky nothing had been pulled or torn this time, and all he had to deal with was some sore muscles and a bruised bottom. Everything ached though, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't somewhat looking forward to going home and spending the rest of the summer holidays resting in the garden with Daisy, his flowers and a nice, cold drink of whatever alcohol-free cocktail he had the imagination for.

Mike leaned forward, observing Sam as she climbed onto her horse for the last time. She looked exhausted, but on top of the world. He knew the feeling: fear, lust, adrenaline pulsing through his body when there was nothing else left inside to sustain him. Each bruise, each cut, it was worth the thrill of those eight seconds.

Next to Matt was Natalya once again, looking rather bored as usual. She wasn't happy here, even through his own problems he could see that. He doubted she was even getting the closure she was after here.

At his feet, Daisy yawned before shifting in her half-sleep. He leaned down to stroke her head, thankful for her presence. Daisy was a comfort to him, and had been ever since he'd picked her up that day in the petting zoo. Something about a sleeping animal, breathing slowly against him was soothing, and without Daisy he'd probably be even more irritable by now. So thanks, Matt, for that one.

Sam gave the signal and the horse was released, leaping into the arena and kicking out in all directions. Her arm was in the air, wild and waving to her adoring fans, other hand gripping the rigging like a vice. She and the bronc danced across the dust as spectators whooped and cheered and gasped. Sam dipped down as the bronc kicked out its hind legs, swooping back up with a flourish before disappearing again.

All too soon, the time was up as assistants guided her horse to a halt and she slipped off, bounding across the arena with a grin he could see from the stands. She climbed the railing and soon joined her fellow competitors, minus Hunapo, who was making their way over to the box for their last go.

The board flashed the results to the whole stadium; 81 points from the judges. Third place overall, not bad at all. Sam seemed happy with that, at least, but when he turned to Matt, he found the guy frowning, lips thin and pulled.

"What now?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

"Her footwork was a little sloppy," Matt explained, "not awful, just not fantastic either. And she's just too much like Alfred in the sense that she reeks of arrogance. Too busy looking the part only before and after she's on the damn horse. Which is fine, if you're keen to pave the way for silly mistakes and a trip to the hospital."

Mike scoffed. Of course 'Bareback Matt' would have a problem with how everyone else competed. Even Mike himself hadn't been spared a monologue of constructive criticism that he hated being thankful for. "Think you could do a better job?"

"Naturally." His eyes twinkled.

"Well get that skinny sonovabitch ass down there and prove it," he mumbled, arms folded and sulking.

…

Oscar's arm still stung at the thought of bareback bronc.

He hated bronc events, not only were they the cause of his mother's death- which in his eyes was the reason things ended up like this and every problem the family had could be traced back to that single event- but last year he'd broken his arm competing in this very event and gotten himself kicked out of the competition.

His scar from the steer wrestling lay just above where the fracture had been, and as he rubbed the thing, he was just thankful that incident hadn't damaged his arm again. That had been his main fear, as he lay kneeling in the dirt that day, that he'd be sent home again for a fracture, but thankfully the pain had been nowhere near as excruciating as it had been that time and he lived to compete another day.

And for some reason, he'd managed to place third. Yes, Mike had now drawn ahead, but it was still all to play for, and he was just thankful he was able to sit in the stand and watch Hunapo with nothing to show for his effort but a cut on his cheek, a scabby knee and third place winnings.

Charlie slouched next to him, a tray of nachos balanced on her lap, and he envied how much she'd eaten over these few weeks, shovelling anything remotely appetizing into her face, losing the weight she'd gained competing in any event aimed at children. Oscar wonder how she hoped to fit all her medals and rosettes in her luggage, along with all the souveneers brought with her room in New Zealand in mind. Both his and her rooms had belonged to Hunapo's little sisters and still didn't have much of a personal touch yet, as cosy as they were.

Still, a nice big winning trophy would certainly help with his own room dilemma.

It wasn't just the scar and break that were worrying him though; his other arm felt like it had been wrenched from its socket, and judging by the power of that horse he was on, it might very nearly have been. Oscar honestly didn't know how much more of this he could take. He wasn't built for these sports and it was sheer dumb luck and Hunapo's training that had gotten him this far. He just wanted to win the damn thing, win back Logan's reputation, then go back to figuring out what he wanted to do with his life because it damn well wouldn't be this.

Or would it? Oscar had to admit his time here was fun. Exhausting, terrifying, but strangely fun, and the money wasn't so bad since he was winning. Plus, it would mean spending time with his remaining family, earning his keep, and travelling like he was used to. He could get better, become a professional. Maybe just enter into the timed events though, and not attempt any world championships again. Unless he lost to that little Jones boy, then he'd have to come back next year, and every year until he won.

And Michael was supposed to be the obsessive one here.

He watched Hunapo climb onto their horse, face etched with grim determination underneath their hat, clutching the rigging with all the strength in their tiny body. The horse underneath them looked more than a little angry, and Oscar for one was glad he'd not drawn that particular beast, nicknamed 'Widowmaker' by the contestants.

It was probably weird to be proud of parental figures like he was the parent here, but Oscar's chest swelled at the thought that Hunapo was first, despite fears from all sides and nearly safely finished. They had made it with flying colours and that was certainly a cause for celebration. Haka Huna's kryptonite was this event, and they too had broken an arm in a fall in their youth, the first time they'd competed against Logan, funny enough.

Still, Oscar was worried for them. Hunapo wasn't one for stupid risks, but this event was dangerous and as the gate to the chute was thrown open, he gripped the back of Charlie's chair as brother and sister leaned forward to watch closer.

The bronc lept forward, carrying the mess of chaps, padded vest and a cowboy hat that was Hunapo. Leather and tassels flapped and flew as they moved their legs back and forth, giving the horse what appeared to be wings. With one arm raised above their head, Hunapo was on their back for most of it all, simply focusing on their legwork.

Even from where he was sitting, Oscar could see their fear, mouth pulled into a silent wail with eyes of glass, how they seemed too petrified to do little else but hold on but before his brain could come to the conclusion that they were trapped in a traumatic memory, they'd already been thrown.

Hunapo flew through the air like a ragdoll tossed aside in a tantrum. The bronc had kicked up and the force threw them to the other side of the arena. They didn't even have time to react before they hit the floor legs-first with a crack that resounded through the Cooper children, and crumpled into a heap with a scream.

...

Watch me not update this for months now that I've left it on a cliffhanger. Just kidding, though I hope to update something else now. This fic is just too fun though! I can't stop writing and plotting for it! I wonder if anyone can guess how it'll end.

Also, for some absurd reason, whenever I picture Hunapo being thrown from their horse, 'hurt feelings' by Flight of the Conchords plays in my head.

So, will Hunapo be okay? Or are they about to join their fiancé in the afterlife? Find out whenever the hell I get round to updating this. Which should hopefully be soon. Or not.