Secrets and Spurs
Prologue
COLTON
“Eight seconds, Colton,” Sam, my coach, reminds me as he pulls my rope and watches me get settled onto the back of Diesel, the large, old bull I pulled for today’s ride. “You just need eight fucking seconds and then you’re the six-time world champion.”
“Really, I must have forgotten,” I mumble under my breath, pulling the rope tighter around my hand.
“Nobody needs your attitude,” Sam says, smiling as he looks down at me. “Now go out there and show these rookies how it’s done.”
Diesel grunts and snorts beneath me, rattling the sides of the chute, but I ignore him, refusing to focus on anything except staying on his back for the next eight seconds.
But whether I want to think about it or not, it doesn’t change the fact that Sam is right.
If I nail this ride, I’ll finish out this season on top and get a nice paycheck before spending the next few months getting recharged for next season.
Sam motions for me to make sure I’m set, and after taking a deep breath, I nod at the gateman before letting the world slip away as the gate swings open.
Diesel immediately takes off into the open arena, and I focus on shifting my hips with every buck of the bull beneath me.
He’s strong, but I worry he’s not bucking hard enough to give me the points I need.
Just as I have the thought, Diesel spins hard to the right, and I dig my spurs in, focusing on keeping my balance as he throws one of the hardest bucks I’ve ever felt in my life.
I stay on as he thrashes and writhes beneath me just as the buzzer goes off, signaling the end of the ride.
I resist the urge to let out a whoop because I know I just fucking won the damn thing, reminding myself I still need to get off this damn bull before I go too crazy.
I lean back, preparing to throw myself off the side just like every other time I’ve ridden, as Diesel throws a sharp turn to the left.
Fuck. I think, preparing to hit the ground hard. But instead, the tough rope tangles in my legs, trapping me, and I’m left dangling upside down from an angry bull.
Shit.
I tug at the rope, feeling panic set in as I swing closer to the body of the bull as he rears up on his back hoofs before the ground rushes back to me.
If I can just get loose…
I continue to tug, but I’m out of time. A hoof rushes toward my face, and the world goes dark.
“Are you going to tell him he can’t ever ride again, or are you gonna make that my fucking problem too?” I hear Sam yell as I struggle back to consciousness. “I mean the kids in the prime of his career, and you mean to tell me it’s gone just like that?”
Cracking my eyes open, I look around, quickly piecing together the fact that I’m in a hospital.
The monitors beep loudly around me, drowning out the voices in the hallway for a moment as I try to piece together everything that happened.
One minute I was riding, and the next I wasn’t.
After a moment, I focus back on the conversation outside, as a voice I don’t recognize tries to calm Sam, and I feel myself fighting a smile despite the fact that my head hurts like hell.
Sam’s never been anything close to even-tempered, and I can tell that whoever he’s talking to doesn’t have a clue how to handle him.
I close my eyes, desperate to stop the splitting headache, just as Sam’s words hit me. “Can’t ever ride again,” he said. Everyone in this damn hospital has to know he’s talking about me. Blowing out a breath, I try to decide how I feel about it, just as a doctor walks into my room.
“Oh, look, you’re up. I guess, even with all you’ve got going on, you can’t sleep through the racket your friend was causing in the hall.”
“Yeah, he likes to make sure everyone can hear him,” I say with a small laugh, grimacing as my head feels like it’s been split open. “How long was I out for?”
“Around three hours,” the doctor says, making his way into my room.
“But, Mr. Harris, I’m gonna be honest. I don’t know how you’re still alive.
From what we were told happened to you, you’re lucky that bull didn’t trample you,” the old doctor says, sitting back in the chair beside my bed and rubbing his eyes.
“But after looking at your scans, it looks like you’ve had a pretty significant brain bleed.
We’re closely monitoring it, and for now, it looks like you won’t need surgery.
But I’m afraid to tell you that your bull riding days are over.
After a traumatic brain injury, your risk of reinjury is significantly higher.
There’s also a good chance that your reflexes and coordination will be impacted.
And next time, you might not be lucky enough to walk away from it. ”
The doctor finishes speaking, and I take a deep breath, trying to keep up with everything he’s saying.
Every time I’ve gotten on the back of the bull, a little part of me has known it could be my last ride.
I always knew I wouldn’t be able to ride forever, but the finality of this moment still stings a lot more than I thought it would.
When I turned thirty-six earlier this year, I tried to start preparing myself for the day I couldn’t ride anymore.
But I’m fairly certain that nothing could prepare me for the rush of emotion I’m feeling right now.
I open my mouth to argue, before I think about the fact that he’s right.
I’ve seen many of my friends push this dream of ours until they had injuries they’d never recover from, and I always promised myself that if I were in that situation, I’d know it’s time to hang it up.
A lone tear threatens to well up in my eye, but I blink it away before nodding.
“I understand,” I tell him honestly. “So what’s the treatment look like from here?”
“Right now, we’re just monitoring you closely. You have a broken arm from where you were dragged, and I’m afraid it’ll need surgery in the next day or two. But as long as there aren’t bumps in the road, you should be able to be discharged before the end of the week.”
I nod, now vaguely aware of the pain in my right arm. “Can’t wait. Thanks, Doc.”
The doctor nods before turning to leave, and as the door closes, I shut my eyes and take a long, deep breath.
Fighting the wave of emotion I’m feeling at my career coming to such an abrupt halt, I blink back tears for the first time in years. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. But, like the doctor said, I know I need to be thankful that I’m able to walk away from this one at all.
I’ll spend the next few days getting checked over by the doctors, and then after that, I guess it’s time to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life.