Chapter 32
Maggie
It’s been weeks since Hadley made it back to the circuit. Between spending my weekdays at the ranch and touring for the circuit with him, he’s now a constant part of my days.
And nights.
Tonight, I stand on the rails behind the chutes in Kennedy, Saskatchewan.
Knox’s home territory. And he isn’t shy about it, taking every chance he can to remind Hadley his absence for three weeks has affected the overall team score.
I know Hadley is frustrated. He needs a good ride. A win, even, to climb the leaderboard.
For any chance of winning the championship, he needs to ride well, consistently to the last event.
The bull in the chute below me kicks up a stink, and I snap a shot of his tantrum if only to highlight the risk and danger these cowboys take every weekend for their sport.
For those eight seconds that have them coming back every week, all year.
The articles have been well received, but a little depth never hurts.
After my disaster of a start with Knox, I have changed things up, highlighting the towns that host the events every week so we can pull more site traffic with local keywords as well as everything rodeo and cowboy related.
And it’s worked. There’s more and more people visiting the Pbr site and supporting the athletes all over social media and in-person at events. The crowds are growing bigger every fortnight.
I did it . . . I made a difference.
Not the difference I’m sure Cap was talking about, but it’s a start. Now, knowing it’s all about the angle you take, I feel confident I can make a difference in other places. Other industries. Other communities.
“Alright, ladies and gents. Hold. Your. Breath!” the announcer hollers. The crowd is on the edge of their seats. As they should be.
Spencer settles over the top of the tantrum thrower.
His helmet pulled down, he readjusts the strap over his chin and starts his strap-down technique.
Hadley leans over the chute, working the strap as he slides it around the bull, lining it up for Spence.
The tang of warm rosin blooms as he tugs his hand up and down in a rapid, continuous motion.
I snap a shot, in-the-moment focus. I’d call it “Calm Before the Storm.”
Preparation before performance . . .
A moment later, his head nods.
The gate flies open. The bull is all spin, no buck, and Spence is dumped off on the third rotation, rolling away on the dirt instinctively.
Logan and the two other bullfighters close in.
The bull takes the bait, following the bright colors and agile antics of the three men.
Spencer pulls himself up from the dirt and rushes for the chutes as he rips the helmet from his head. I’m still holding my breath when he walks through the return chute. It’s becoming a habit the further into the year we travel. The better I get to know these cowboys.
The leaderboard remains unchanged.
Knox is up next.
Chute four.
I climb down and head for it. I need some prep shots of Kade. So far, all I have are action images. Levi is helping him with his gear as I approach.
“Here to make me famous, too?” Knox says, the smirk on his face turning the sentiment over in my stomach like putrid sediment.
“You do a good enough job of that yourself. Besides, I’m here to do mine.”
He huffs an incredulous sound as Levi gives him the ‘shut it’ glare.
“Play nice, children, or else,” the arena manager warns.
Knox gives me a filthy look before climbing the chutes to strap down on none other than Terminator.
Ah, now I understand. The only cowboy to ride this bull to the eight is Hadley. That’s got to sting. The pressure must be eating at him. I meant what I said before, I’m here to do a professional job. So I climb the rails after the bull rider and snap away as he goes through his process.
I snap a few close ups of his hand, the Tiffany glove not quite covering what appears to be a tattoo of some inscription that wraps around his wrist. His other sleeve is buttoned at the wrist, and I can’t see if it, too, has the same markings.
Shoving his black hat down onto his head, dark eyes glance up at me, holding my gaze as he nods.
The gate flies open, and Terminator gets to work.
His back legs barely touch the ground.
Knox rides him out, spurring with every revolution. I’m still holding my breath, even for this moody man, as the clock ticks over to six seconds. Terminator snaps back the other way, unseating Knox. It only takes one more powerful buck, and the man hits the dirt.
Dammit.
Sucking in much-needed air, I gape in horror behind my hand. Since when do I give a flying canoe about Kade Knox? I mean, Hadley, Brady, and Spencer, I can see the rationale behind caring. They’ve been good to me on the circuit.
Just how far have I fallen down this damn rodeo rabbit hole?
Knox? He’s been arrogant, suggestive, rude, obnoxi—
“Maggie?”
Levi’s looking up from behind the chutes.
“Oh shit, sorry.”
Levi ups his tempo as if he knows something I don’t and walks for the next chute to pull. The last for the night.
Six.
Hadley.
I follow behind Levi, and the cowboys working the gear make a little space as I climb up. Brown eyes meet mine as he lowers onto the bull’s back. Every man around this chute registers the mood, averting their gazes, going back to the task at hand.
“Last ride of the night, ladies and gentlefolk. The one we have all been waiting for. And boy, did he make us wait. With almost a month out of action to injury, we finally have with us tonight, riding one of the country’s fiercest bucking bulls, Bodacious the Third, is none other than HAD-LEY J-O-N-E-S! ”
My gut plummets.
The cowboy on the world’s most dangerous bull’s direct descendant simply finishes his task and looks up with a wink. I raise the camera automatically, finger depressing the shoot button. The light in his eyes shines through even on the view screen as I lower the camera as if in slow motion.
The arena goes silent as we wait.
The air in my stationary lungs burns.
Hadley raises a hand, raising two fingers. He makes an L, followed by a V? No . . . a U.
LU
Love you.
Love you.
My chest caves. Emotion burns the bridge of my nose, prickles its way behind my eyes. “Break a leg, Hads.”
The widest smile takes over his face.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He nods.
The chute breaks open.
My body is numb, swaying at the top of the rail where I’ve locked my legs securely to get the best shots. But I don’t raise my camera. Not even an inch.
Only my hands as they fold over my mouth and nose, my gaze tightening further with every fierce buck. Every time his seat leaves the bull’s back.
Each second crawls past.
Bodacious snaps up and down, round and round like a machine. The whiplash alone would have a normal man out like a light by now . . .
The buzzer blares through the silent arena.
Hadley grapples with the strap down rope.
It doesn’t budge.
Bodacious the Third pays no attention to the sound, thundering through the arena, ratcheting up the aggression as he flies further away from the bullfighters.
Hadley gets tossed to one side, only to hang from his hand.
No . . .
Come on, pull out.
Levi’s shouting.
Cowboys rush into the arena.
The crowd is on their feet as the cowboy tied to a freight train of a bull goes limp.
Oh god.
I scramble to the ground, my camera swinging around my neck.
I make it to the return gate of the arena in time to see Hadley slammed into the rails. Logan is by his side a heartbeat later. The two other bullfighters have the bull’s attention.
Hadley drops to the dirt, Logan wrapped around him, and a sob rattles from me. Someone is shouting at me. Hands are waving in my blurred vision as tears pour down my face.
Two figures close in, waving their arms over their heads.
A rough grip hauls me into the fence. The bull snorts, tossing its head at me as it flies past.
“Fuck, Maggie. Hell.” Levi crowds me against the rail, protecting me from the bull. Slow seconds dip past once again, and I’m being held at arm’s length. “Hey, you good?”
I nod, dazed.
The second he releases me, I’m running for the arena, heading for the limp man in the dirt, his friend kneeling by his side.
As soon as I make it to Hadley, I’m pushed aside by Willow and her crew. He’s up on a board, neck braced and focused, medics carrying him away from me. I can’t see his face for the helmet, but his head bobs side to side.
I stand in the dirt, tears streaming down my face.
The scoreboard overhead flashes a ninety-two-point ride. The crowd gasps.
The cowboy who scored that ride almost makes it to the return chute. He raises a hand off the board into the air in salute in a fleeting moment of consciousness.
The crowd cheers.
I can’t break my gaze from his body, now motionless on the gurney again. Air rushes my shriveled, frantic lungs and I bend over. Bile rises in my throat. I push up to leave and find Knox walking for me. Brady and Spence would have gone with Hadley.
I shake my head at Knox, my chin trembling.
He pins me with a concerned frown. “You can’t stand out here all night.” Sliding his hat from his head, it swings in his hand. I stare at it. That one symbolic item everyone knows represents a cowboy. A rough, riskier way of life. Something that wasn’t supposed to be part of my life.
“Maggie.” Knox wraps his hand around my wrist, and I numbly follow.
When we are finally behind the chutes, he hands me over to Levi. “Get her to Willow, she’s out of it,” he mumbles, walking away.
Brady appears and my eyes narrow, heart rate picking up pace as if I know what he’s going to say already.
“You should be in there with him.” Brady takes his hat from his head.
It’s all I can do to nod.
He gives me one of those smiles people have to force when shit gets bad. Back in the infirmary, paramedics are loading Hadley onto a gurney. He’s filthy, covered in dirt. His sponsorship shirt is torn and splattered with blood.
His helmet, sitting on his strapped-down legs, has a sizable dent.
I move to his side, trying my best to hold it together. He’s unconscious still. My chin wobbles. The overwhelming need to flee rises and burns. But unlike last time, I wait until he’s loaded into the back of the ambulance.
The unit drives away with my heart strapped into the back of its maw. Brady went with, and this time Spencer helps me gather Hadley’s gear bag. Spence is quiet as we bundle the bulky equipment back into Betsy.
“He’ll be okay,” he finally says. “Always is. Even after last time.”
“A sprained knee is hardly the same as tonight.”
“No, not talkin’ about that. Last time he got smashed up.”
“What?” The word is a ghost of a syllable.
“He didn’t tell you?”
I don’t respond, and he sighs, sitting on the side step of Betsy. He pats the space to his right and I drop down, gaze never leaving him.
“What happened, Spence?”
“He rode this bull nobody’d ridden successfully before.”
“He’s done that this year,” I add softly.
Spencer nods. “This one time, the bull was meant for Knox. But like the spoiled rodeo team brat he is, he opted out for a redraw. Hadley wasn’t fazed, he just took it, you know?”
I know how he is.
Maybe that’s what scares me. He’s dedicated. He’s driven to protect his ranch and mostly his family. At any price.
“The bull was a firecracker. He made the eight. But in true Hadley style, the dismount and escape were not great. He got tossed around like a legit rag doll. Broke more bones than most of us put together. He was in a bad, bad way, Maggie. Took him eighteen months to ride again.”
At any price.
At the price of his health, his life . . .
I can’t be part of that price tag. I can’t.
“So, you see. Our boy will be back and raring to go in no time. If Hells Bells can’t keep him down, nothing can.” Spencer is smiling.
I hate it.
Rodeo almost had me.
It almost made me . . .
“Thanks for your help, but I have to get these images edited, Spence.”
He pushes to a stand and adjusts his hat on his head. Blue eyes tighten as he shifts on his feet. “You not going with?”
I can’t look at him when I shake my head.
“Alright. You be okay here by yourself?”
“Yeah, thanks.” I force a smile. He simply nods, tipping his hat, and wanders back to the arena.
I’ll be fine. Because in the morning, I won’t be here.
Something buzzes in the gear bag.
I undo the zipper and pull out Hadley’s phone.
A notification.
As I move to slide it back into his bag, my thumb grazes the screen and the message opens. An email.
From the bank.
I see the words mortgage and overdue.
I try to tap it out on this Android phone of his but must hit the wrong button because a statement snaps up onto the screen.
In glaring bold red print is the number outstanding.
A myriad of dates of missed payments and a line about debt collection.
Second notice.
-$278,098.99
Over a quarter of a million dollars.
Oh, Hadley.