Feature: Rodeo readying

Clad in a weathered gold T-shirt and jeans, her appearance is that of any other fresh-faced teen as she brushes and prepares her favorite sidekick -- Bucky the horse -- for an evening of riding.

Minutes later there's a transformation, though -- not with Bucky, but with Ayze (pronounced I-zee) -- and the 16-year-old re-appears from inside her family's white truck clad in an electric-blue button-down shirt tucked into her jeans and a giant silver buckle peeking out from her waist. Then, of course, she tops off the ensemble with the requisite black cowboy hat.

She slips a similar hat onto the tousled head of her younger sister, 9-year-old Nauthkee, and the two share a giggle as Ayze jumps effortlessly atop her mount and the two ride off into the sunset.

It's a usual Monday night in Immokalee for the Henry cowgirls as the two mosey on over to the arena where they will practice for the next hour or so for an upcoming rodeo.

"Practice makes perfect," Ayze says, smiling a warm, but guarded grin that matches the setting sun. And off she goes into the ring on Bucky and Nauthkee on Boo.

After months of renovations, the Seminole Tribe of Florida will reopen this rodeo arena and dedicate it to the memory of fellow tribal member and working cowboy John Jimmie on Saturday. Jimmie, who worked ranches all over Florida, died in 1989.

The newly named John Jimmie Memorial Arena will hold an admission-free rodeo beginning at 5 p.m. Events start with mutton busting (sheep riding), steer riding, and continue with a special dedication ceremony. The Eastern Indian Rodeo will also perform several events, including bull riding.

"Here come the cowgirls," yells an excited Robert Anzualda, Jr. as he watches the Henry sisters practice from the edge of the red-fenced arena.

"Our dad works here," the 8-year-old says with a grin that shows he's quite happy about that fact.

He, too, spends most Monday nights here, watching the riders on this stretch of land on the south side of Immokalee along with his 12-year-old sister, Rosalinda, and cousins Denise and Daviro Anzualda.

Robert takes it upon himself to point out the particulars. There's the "Seminole Tribe Welcomes You" sign in white lettering on the opposite side of the arena. Then there's the kitchen, which is set back away from the arena but ready whenever one might need a burger or another snack. His sister, Rosalinda, helps out there, he notes.

What to watch out for? Well that's easy, according to Robert. It's the manure -- to be specific, a lot from both cows and horses -- and the bugs, as he slaps at the mosquitoes on cue with the tenacity of one 10 times as tall as he is.

"Here comes car smoke," Robert says then announces, bouncing about like the Pokemon character on his T-shirt. He's talking about the dirt that the horses kick up when running about the arena. But the aroma is not at all exhaust, it's as potent as potting soil, but drier.

"I used to ride Boo, but it's hers," he says. Boo is the horse that Nauthkee is riding, bouncing about on, across the arena at a rather speedy rate.

After a few minutes the girls take a rest and the large rusty barrels they've been racing around are removed. Ayze is visibly winded, but her face is lit as bright under the stadium-type lights.

When told she looks good with the horse, she's gracious. "He's real responsive," she says, taking a breath. "I've been working a lot with him." Her sister chuckles. "My horse has an attitude," she says and then mocks a frown. But Boo seems to ignore the jab.

The two ride off once again and give the adults a chance.

"These young'ns do a lot," says Curtis Weeks, who rides up on his horse readying for his own practice. Weeks is the arena manager and has been here about six years.

"Everybody's got their own thing," he says in his soft southern drawl. His thing definitely has to do with horses.

It's been a natural progression, though. He's fifth generation Floridian. His family settled in the area about 1860.

"Most folks don't realize it was the '70s when Naples grew out," he says. Weeks also looks the part of the cowboy, looking dapper in denim. There are two dead giveaways that he's a modern-day cowboy, though -- that's the baseball cap on his head, rather than a cowboy one -- and the cell phone at his hip, rather than a holster.

He points around at the arena and says it too will be changing with the times. Somewhere in the not so distant future there will be a hotel built close by, along with an indoor rodeo arena.

	IF YOU GO
	Seminole Tribe of Florida Rodeo When: 5 p.m. Saturday Where: John Jimmie Memorial Arena on State Road 29 on the south side of Immokalee, just past the Circle K Cost: Free Information: 657-6567

That's when the men come out into the arena along with the cows -- or rather steers. There's chasing and roping and a lot of laughter.

Rosalinda and her cousin Denise make a dash around the arena and up to a wooden observation deck. "This is the best view," Rosalinda says, her long dark hair blowing in the evening breeze. Her tiny gold hoop earrings sparkle from the light of the rodeo arena below.

She and her cousin have one eye peering down on the cowboys and the other on each other. They discuss all sorts of issues -- social as well as political.

"You know, everyone's equal," Rosalinda says and tosses back her long locks. She talks about troubles with teachers at school, things she's learned and girls that haven't treated her kindly just because she had a different background.

She's philosophical about it all, even mentioning history and Hitler and the fact that his hatred lead to the death of millions.

All this happens among the cows and cowboys, the roping and the riding. And one realizes this rodeo arena is about more than practicing a past way of life. It's meshing many different ways of life -- old and new.

Back at the kitchen area, a few mothers are seated at a picnic table discussing their kids, the upcoming rodeo, and their role in this outdoor way of life.

"I have a husband who's an addict," Judy Weeks says of her cowboy husband, Curtis. She smiles and says roping is "worse than alcohol." The ladies laugh and their happiness is infectious.

Although most of the kids and moms will be leaving soon, things won't break down until about midnight for the diehards, Weeks says. And then the life of the cowboys and cowgirls will start all over come Saturday.