Prologue #2
My height wasn’t so out of place, because riders in general weren’t too tall. They were usually 6’1, like Branch, or under, and I was tall for a girl.
“Next up we have a local boy. Branch Watson. We gotta watch this kid, Earl, because if I’ve ever seen a contender for goin’ pro, it’s Branch,” the announcer said over the PA.
“I agree, Tom. This boy has been riding bulls since he was in diapers. What he doesn't know about riding bulls probably ain’t worth knowin’,” Earl fired back.
They’d say that shit about me too, if I had a dick.
People bustled around the chute, there were at least four at all times, as Branch settled in. I had to watch, stepping out of my darkened corner for a second, seeing Branch sitting atop that ball of muscle and meanness.
He slammed his hat down on his head a bit better, and nodded to the latch guy. The bull bursts out of the gate in a twirling, twister of fury.
“Vickery,” someone yells, but I don’t take my eyes off Branch as he rides the bull like he's on the coin slot pony in front of the grocery store. So much damn natural talent. Fuck, I hated him.
“Vickery,” someone yells again, and my eyes snap back to the Chute Boss when I realize he’s calling for me. I’m Mickey Vickery, for today at least.
I raise my hand and the overweight and obviously stressed man waves me over.
“Your bull has been stalled. Get your rope on him.”
I’d fixed my rope already. The joy of being the daughter of a stock contractor was that I knew these bulls, these athletes on four legs, just as good, if not better than anyone.
When girls were going crazy over the cowboys, I was always judging and appreciating the performance of the bull.
Black Hurricane was one of ours, sired by Dark Storm .
I’d watched him be trained, knew his moves, knew how he liked to spin, and what direction he liked to do it in.
I had this.
I tilted my hat lower as I stepped up to the chutes and a grizzled old cowboy helped me secure my rope over Black Hurricane’s shoulders, pulling it tight. Hurricane didn’t mind. He knew it wasn’t time yet. He’d been around long enough to know he had to save it for the arena.
The crowd was going wild and I thanked the cowboy for his help. I saw Branch walking back, a grin on his too pretty face that gave him dimples as deep as wells.
I hid behind the chutes unashamedly. The bulls got corralled through into their chutes and my heart started to thud hard against my ribs.
This was it. A small, sane part of my subconscious told me that it wasn’t too late to back out now. No one knew it was me. I wouldn’t lose face.
Instead of running away, I squared my shoulders and slammed my helmet down on my head, obscuring my face. I tugged my vest, checking that it was strapped on tight.
I headed to chute one, my turn was coming up. My destiny fucking awaited, and I was going to take it with both hands and my head held high.
I climbed up on the chute, running my foot over Hurricane’s back to let him know I was coming. I settled in, and a hand behind me grabbed my vest.
I didn’t look over my shoulder at them. I knew they were there to grab me up in case the bull did something crazy.
They’d yank me out of there before I got crushed, if they needed to.
As if he knew the direction of my thoughts, Hurricane kicked around in the chute, testing the metal.
Hands dragged me up until I could get my feet back on the rails.
Hurricane settled back down and I slid back on, running my hand over the rope to warm the rosin.
I did the loop and nodded to the rope guy to pull tight.
He did, and I made the mistake of looking up to thank him. I met a pair of familiar warm whiskey eyes. Beau, Branch’s long time best friend. My friend. Fuck.
He reared back in shock as recognition rocked through him, and I knew if he opened his mouth, I was fucked.
“Go!” I yelled at the gate man, and then it was eight seconds to fly or fall.
Hurricane burst out of the chutes, twisting to the left.
I leaned into the movement, trying not to get sucked into the well.
But Daddy bred his bulls well, and the strain on my arm was insane as I struggled to get my seat.
I knew in another two rotations, Hurricane would stop and try and throw me forward.
But Hurricane decided to fucking adlib today, rapidly changing direction and throwing me off the side.
I hit the ground with a thud, the wind getting knocked out of me even as hooves flew around my head.
I scrambled to my feet, but Hurricane decided he was being ornery and had me in his sights.
He ran after me, ignoring the bullfighters and charging after me.
His giant head caught me in the ass and he flipped me like a rag doll.
I knew how to fall, but I would never forget the faces of the crowd as I shot six feet in the air over the back of an enraged bull.
I even saw Beau and Branch’s faces on the way down, the horrified expressions would have been comical if I wasn’t about to be severely injured.
Leaving my body loose, I still felt a pain in my shoulder as I landed hard on it in the sand. The clowns corralled Hurricane back through the gate, and then Branch and Beau were over the fence, running toward me.
I just laid there, staring at the sky. I’d done it. I’d fucking done it.
When the faces of Beau and Branch crowded out the sky, I tuned back into the roar of the crowd and their voices.
“Fucking hell, Nugget. Are you okay?” Beau yelled over the sound. Branch grabbed my helmet and pulled it off.
When he saw my huge shit eating grin, his face morphed from concern to anger. “Are you fucking insane, Tessa May? You could have died,” he roared, and I had no problem hearing him over the crowd.
I sat up, still grinning. “Yep, so could you. How long did I stick it for?”
Beau’s lips twitched. He wasn’t as big of an asshole as Branch. “Five-three. It was a good ride.”
Branch slapped him on the back of the head then stood, reaching down to haul me to my feet. He frogmarched me out of the ring and I hoped none of the crowd could see I was a girl. I didn’t want it to detract from my ride. I’d stuck it for five seconds.
The rodeo medic was there when I walked out of the arena, and his face as he recognized me was hilarious. I’d known the doc since I was an infant. “Tessa May, what are you doing?” he gasped, and I knew that in exactly two minutes, word would get back to Daddy.
“I was flyin’, Doc,” I grinned.
He shook his head in bemused worry. “Let’s see if that fall knocked any sense into that head of yours, shall we?”
Branch stormed off, but Beau stood beside me as the Doc checked me over. When the door opened and closed, Beau’s face went pale and I knew who stood there. Uh oh.
“Tessa May!” The roar rattled the windows, and I looked over my shoulder at my father, and I smiled softly.
“Did you see me ride? Did you see?” I whispered, and his face melted. He loved me. He loved me more than anything in the world. He wouldn’t stay mad at me, but he would ground me for life for this.
He shook his head. “I saw. Get in the damn car. We are going home.”
Thirty minutes later, I was sitting in the front seat of my Daddy’s truck with an icepack pressed to my shoulder. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face, despite the absolutely thunderous expression on my father’s face.
“Why Nugget? Why the hell do you test me like this? Have I not been a good father?”
I rolled my eyes at his theatrics. “You’re the best, and you know it. I want to ride. I don’t think it's fair that I can’t because I'm a girl.”
Daddy shook his head. This was an argument we’d had a million times. “That's not the only reason Nugget, and you know it.”
I made a rude noise. “If I was your son and not your daughter, you’d be proud as hell of me right now.”
Daddy grunted. “It’d make no difference.
I am proud of you, Nugget. So damn proud.
But it scares the shit out of me that one wrong kick and you’d be taken from me too.
” His voice cracked, and I knew he was thinking of Mama.
She died when I was a baby. Brain aneurysm.
Daddy had come home from work one day, found me sound asleep in my bassinet and Mama dead on the couch, a smile on her face.
But it had devastated him, and a little guilt ate away at my happiness. “I’m sorry. But it's what I want to do. I’ll wear all the protective gear. I’ll bail early. But Daddy, on the back of that bull? I felt more alive than I’ve ever felt in my life.”
Daddy shook his head, but a small smile tilted his lips. “So damn headstrong. Alright, Nugge-”
Whatever he was going to say died in his throat. A car crossed into our lane, and Daddy yanked the car to the right. I screamed as the car plowed into our truck. As it flipped end over end, I thought how much this looked like coming off that bull only an hour earlier.
Eight seconds to fly or die.