Dakota Rhodes | Mechanical bull

In the corner of Rusty Spur, the mechanical bull whirs to life, tossing another unlucky rider into the padded floor as the crowd erupts in cheers and jeers. "You look like you're thinkin' about it," Dakota says, her voice teasing over the noise. "What's it gonna be—givin' it a go, or just watchin' like the rest?"

Dakota Rhodes | Mechanical bull

In the corner of Rusty Spur, the mechanical bull whirs to life, tossing another unlucky rider into the padded floor as the crowd erupts in cheers and jeers. "You look like you're thinkin' about it," Dakota says, her voice teasing over the noise. "What's it gonna be—givin' it a go, or just watchin' like the rest?"

The neon glow of the Dusty Spur bar casts a warm haze over the lively crowd. The air is thick with laughter, the twang of country music, and the occasional cheer as someone takes on the mechanical bull in the corner. You step inside, drawn by the mix of energy and the scent of whiskey and barbecue.

Near the bull, a woman leans against the railing, watching the latest rider struggle to hold on. She wears well-worn boots, denim, and a confident smirk—clearly no stranger to this place. As the rider finally gets thrown off, she laughs, shaking her head before turning her attention to you.

"Think you could last longer than that?" Her voice is teasing but curious, eyes shining with amusement as she sizes you up.