Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
The ride had not gone well.
Balta limped to the back, his rope dragging, the bell scraping on the concrete floor. Joa did not ride for at least a half hour, so he could hide before he had to pull rope.
Sam Bell walked by, gave him a blink and a head tilt. “Shit, man. What truck hit your ass?”
“I think it was half Brahma, huh?” His foot throbbed, his hip aching.
“You need a hand or you got it?”
“I could use some help.” His boot was never going to come off, and he needed to wrap the ankle.
“‘kay. I done fell off already, and Beau’s got Packer to pull rope. Come on. I got you.”
“Obrigado, Sam.” Sam Bell was a good man, one a rider could always count on. Balta gave him a smile. “Do you think Joa would be upset if Eduardo pulled his rope?”
“Nah. He’s a good kid.” Balta wasn’t sure if Sam meant Joa or Eduardo. He shot one hand out, caught one of the younger riders. “Kid, run up and let Ferreira know that Ed’s fixin’ to pull rope.”
“Yes, sir.”
The boy ran off, and Balta laughed. “They all think you are so scary, sim? It must be the eyes.”
“Nah. It’s the vicious fucking temper and the bar fights.” Sam winked at him.
“That, too.” Sam, Beau, and Jason Scott had once completely destroyed a club in Tampa. Right down to knocking the bar over. Ace and Sandy had been…less than happy. In fact, Balta had never seen Ace turn that color of purple. It was something to strive toward.
“How is your shoulder?” He knew Sam’s shoulder was more than a little tender. Like his leg.
“Shit, I keep threatening to cut it off. We’re almost there, man.”
“Thank you.” If he could just sit down. Yes, that would be much better.
Sam nodded and reached for his boot. “No hollerin’. If you do, Doc’ll be in here.”
“No, no. I just need the boot off.” Turning his head, Balta clenched his jaw, determined not to let a sound out.
Sam moved, quick as a viper, yanking the boot off and steadying his ankle.
“Fuck!” The very English word was satisfying sometimes. Like right now, when he could feel his foot swelling.
“Man, you need to see Jonesy, at least. You want ice?”
“Ice, yes. Jonesy, no.” Not yet. Maybe once Joa had ridden. His good day was going bad so fast. “Did you see my ride? My rope just popped right out.”
“Nah, man. I was in the back throwing a fit.” Sam winked. “You gonna make it to the short go?”
“No.” That was all right. He had a good feeling about the next event, one that was not part of a Joa high.
“That sucks.” Sam’d been shut out. Some days the man couldn’t ride for…what did Andy Baxter say? Love or money? Hot or cold, but never both.
“Sim.” He smiled and grinned. “We are a pair, huh?”
“Yeah, you know it.” Sam shook his head. “You got a beer in that cooler? I’ll go fetch ice and we can each have one, if so.”
“I do.” That was so good of Sam, it really was. Of course, the way Beau was riding, maybe Sam needed someone to talk to, as well.
“Cool.” Sam headed out, leaving him in the back with his throbbing foot, Joa’s cooler, and the distant roar of the crowd.
Balta sat back, contemplating his toes. They were turning black. This was two events in a row now that his lower leg had taken a beating. Bones could only take so much pressure.
“Silva.” Doc was standing there, hands on his hips. Pra caralho. That man was everywhere.
“Bom dia, Doc.” Balta tried not to roll his eyes. He certainly couldn’t run.
“Howdy. Sports medicine has a spot waiting for you.”
“No, no. I don’t need to take up a cot, huh? I’ll just put ice on it. Sam Bell is helping.” He didn’t want to go sit with people who were bleeding.
“Is it broken?”
“Hmm.” He didn’t think it was bad enough to keep him out of the next round, even, but it was probably a hairline.
“Look. Will you wear the soft cast, asshole? At least on the drive?”
Doc stopped, frowned as Jonesy went flying by.
“Sim, sim. Go see what’s bad. I will keep, huh?”
“I’ll have Shaun bring you a cast, old man.”
Doc disappeared and Sam showed, a bag of ice in hand.
Old man. Well, he was, wasn’t he? There were only two other riders on tour who were close.
Then there was Coke, who everyone called Gramps. Balta wasn’t sure, but he didn’t think the bullfighter was that much older than him.
Balta grinned at Sam. “Coke is the old one, huh? Doc, too. I am strong as steel.”
“You’re a force of Brazilian fucking nature, cowboy.” Sam grinned at him, tossed him the bag of ice. “Hand me a beer.”
“Here.” He gave Sam one of the good ones, not the lite beer he kept for the rookies. “So, Beau is looking good.”
“He’s on a fucking roll, man. A roll. It’s good for him.” Sim, but maybe not so good for Sam.
“Yeah. So was Jason, huh?” Early points leader Jason Scott had taken the kind of fall they all dreaded and was out for the rest of the season. “I pray for your Beau.”
“Yeah. He’s got lots of folks on his side.” Sam shrugged. “Coke’s been to see Jase a couple times at AJ’s place. I keep thinking me and Beau ought to go see.”
“Yeah?” He wondered if Jason would approve. He seemed to want to be alone, or at least alone with Andy Baxter. “Well, if you do I will send a box.”
“That’d be nice. I gotta check with Beau and Aje first.” Sam sighed, ducking as one of the cameras came by the window of the door.
“Come sit with me.” They could lean. Maybe nap. Sam was a champion napper.
“Yeah?” He got this crooked smile and a nod. “Thanks, man.”
“Nao problema.” Balta squinted at his toes. “Doc will never let me hear the end of this. I’ll have to find my size bigger boot.”
“You need to get the lace ups. They go around the ACE wraps real good.” Sammy settled beside him, sighing.
“I like my cayman.” Balta leaned on Sam’s shoulder, just to show it was okay.
“Spoiled Brazilian.” The words were not filled with anger, like they would be with another.
“I am.” His sponsor had bought the boots for him. For Joa, too, and for the new man up from Sao Paolo, whose name escaped him right now.
“Still, a pair of lace-ups might be good. For emergencies.”
“They might.” He would think about it. Maybe get Joa to go shopping with him. “You should come to my ranch, huh? Take a few days on the next break. I have a pool now.”
“Yeah? Is there decent hunting out there?”
“There is. Deer, javelina. Quail.” Balta wasn’t fond of bird hunting, though.
“Javelina, huh? You got a pit to smoke one in?” Sammy’s leg started to bounce.
“Please, I am from Brazil. I know how to do barbecue, yeah?” He rolled his eyes, grinning hugely.
“Yeah. Yeah, well, I’ll talk to Beau, but I’ll be there, one way or the other, I think. Come hang out with you.”
“That sounds good.” Poor Sam. He could have been champion of the world a hundred times over if he could have stayed healthy one whole season.
“It does. We’ll see if you remember what I taught you about poker.”
“Oh, ho. I will make you play volleyball.” Watching American cowboys play volleyball was hilarious.
“So long as you don’t make my ass play soccer, man.”
“No, no. And it is football.” They had this argument many times, the Americans insisting on calling their sport football, even though only one man used his feet.
“Nope. Football has helmet, pads, quarterbacks, tailgate parties.”
“Ai.” This time he did roll his eyes. “Is there more beer?” His foot throbbed like it needed to come off.
“It’s your cooler, man.” Still, Sammy leaned over, got them both another and readjusted the ice on his ankle.
“Ah. Thank you.” They could sit for a while, wait for Doc to come back with the cast. If Doc remembered.
Of course, if Doc didn’t, Sammy would.
Balta believed it.
He rode.
He rode so well he won the short go and he had a check and moved into the top ten.
Beau Lafitte took the event, but Beau was a champion, like Balta, so that was good. There was no shame in losing to that cowboy.
None.
Joa headed down to the locker room, whistling under his breath. There were a group of guys around one door, whispering and chuckling.
Oh, Deus. Someone was being evil to someone.
Someone, he thought it was Eduardo, was taking pictures with his phone, and someone else was telling Kynan to shut his mouth. Beau poked Joa on the shoulder from behind. “What was, Joa?”
“Nao sei.” He stretched, staring. “Ah. Balta and Sam. Uh. Napping.”
Together. And drooling. A lot.
Beau had to push through to see. He was not so tall. Then he laughed, the sound hearty and happy. “Lookit that, man.”
Joa shook his head, chuckling under his breath. Bell’s eyes popped open, the bright green bloodshot and wide.
Balta jerked awake, too, one hand coming up to wipe his mouth. “Oi. We fell asleep, huh?”
“Yeah. We’re old fucks, Brazilian.”
“No shit.” Laughing, Balta stared at everyone, dark brown eyes bright with humor. “Come on! Stop staring, huh? Get your shit and go.”
Eduardo starting laughing and Joa shook his head, heading in to get water from his cooler.
Balta gave him a smile that seemed warmer, kinder. “Look at my toes, Joa.”
“Did you break something?” He glanced down, wincing at the dark, bruised thing. “Did you get Jonesy?”
“Doc stopped by.” Balta waved a hand like it was nothing. “Sam brought me ice.”
“Hrm.” Balta lied, Joa could tell. “I’ll go see if they’re waiting for you.”
“No, no. Just ask Jonesy to get me the cast Doc promised.”
Sam nodded, yawning. “Who got hurt?”
“Packer. Shoulder.”
They all winced.
Poor Packer. He had bad shoulder troubles. Balta sighed. “Remind me to send him a care package, huh?”
“Sim.” He waved and jogged down the hall to sports medicine. Doc was in there, dealing with the last things. “Doc? A cast? For Balta?”
“Huh? Oh, shit. No, get his ass in here so I can do it up right.” Doc was awful grumpy. There would be no arguing with him.
“Okay. Sure. Yeah. I’ll be back.” Jogging back and forth counted as cardio.
The crowd had dissipated, leaving Balta, Beau and Sam. “Doc wants you, Balta. I can help.”
“Oh, damn it. Why isn’t he busy?” Sam helped him lever Balta to his feet, though, and they all started down to sports medicine.
Doc and Jonesy were standing there. Staring. Waiting.
“Ta-da. Balta.”
Beau chuckled. “See, Doc? We follow orders. He gonna be able to go to supper? I’m buying.”
“I don’t see why not. He’ll just need a soft cast. He’s broke it enough to know what that feels like.”
“Well, there you go.” Beau clapped Joa on the back, looking on top of the world.
Joa blinked over, nodded. Poor Balta. That foot was awful swole. The next rides would be hard.
Balta was smiling, though, and the lines around his mouth were not so deep, thanks to his nap, Joa would bet. He looked fine.
Joa shook his head and headed to gather his gear and Balta’s and load it into the truck. He had a check. He had gas and hotel fees for them and some for the bank. Beau was going to buy supper.
Life was good.