Chapter 3
Notice Of Intent To Foreclosure.
The letter I found this morning hidden in the mail replays over and over in my mind like a death knell tolling. Fuck. The foreclosure price of the ranch, my family’s home, is only a few dollars off from the prize money for today’s winnings.
I don’t hear the announcer as one of the other riders urges me to move toward the arena. My intro song plays throughout the speakers and I do as I’m told, but this time I’m too distracted to put on a show, too distracted to do anything besides get out there and get this shit done.
Before today, I’d been riding the high of last year’s big win. Taking home the bag at every competition since, and putting myself on a fast track for round two at PAbrA. But no pressure, right?
If I outperform everyone today, I can earn my parents another few months to turn shit around.
To start making money instead of only losing it.
To gain their bearings after losing more than half our cattle and crops last year to the drought and the fire it caused.
I wish they had said something, instead of just pretending everything was fine.
The ranch has been in our family for generations, it’s all we’ve known.
I can’t imagine they would let it slip through their fingers so easily, but maybe they hadn’t realized it until it was too late.
Right now, I’d do anything to help my parents.
I’d take back all the trips I took to Vegas, covering all my friend’s tabs, and I’d take back all the dumb shit I bought.
Surely, I didn’t need a collection of Stetsons or a whole set of boots to match.
Had it been a nice, new truck, I could have sold it.
Hell, I wouldn’t have thought twice. Had I known, I could have stopped spending money like an idiot.
I know at twenty-three it’s not my job to take care of them, but I should have, at least, realized they needed some damn help.
Rolling my shoulders, I try and fail to clear the disappointment I have with myself and my previous actions. I nearly trip on nothing, causing the crowd to laugh.
Fuck. Get your shit together.
I know no good has ever come from distractions, and today is the worst time to be pressing my luck. I need everything to go right.
Not realizing it, I’m nearly at the gate and I don’t even know what bull I got.
The announcer sputters off something about how amazing I am, and the fans lose their shit, a compliment I normally eat right up, but there isn’t an ounce of satisfaction to be found within me.
Not today. Today is different. For the first time ever, I’m distracted and my head isn’t in the game.
Each step I take closer to the chute feels heavier, harder.
Like my feet are trudging through quicksand and my destination keeps moving farther away.
Every step I take pushes me further out of touch, focused solely on my family and not this ride.
The announcer’s voice raises an octave and draws me out of the stupor I find myself in.
The only thing I hear, which resounds through my mind like a broken record, is a single word.
Helfire.
Motherfucker this is not my day. My shoulders slump and the weight of my disappointment feels just as physical as it does mental.
I usually amp up the crowd when they announce my bull, give the ladies a little extra love with a wink or blown kiss, but instead I keep my eyes down, biting my bottom lip in frustration.
“You’ve got this, Rhett,” I hear Dad scream from the stands.
A greater pressure settles on me as his words reverberate through me.
His voice is just a simple reminder that my whole family is here watching in the hopes I’ll win.
Ma and Dad, probably more so than Duke, because if I do, this could fix everything.
I tap the side of my leg to the beat of the music, trying to distract myself in the least obvious way possible.
This ride is no different than any other. I’ve beat him before, I’ll just beat him again.
I reach the rusty red gate. Shimmying my body, I try to loosen up the tension coiled tight within me before climbing the bars, hoping to find any other bull within its walls. Disappointment settles over me when I make eye contact with the animal within this cell. Sure as fuck, it’s Helfire.
Of course, it is.
We haven’t met since last year, and he’s been out for blood with every rider since. I try to play it cool. The last thing I need is for this fucker to feel that I’m tense.
Climbing atop of him, I slide my hand into place, my fingers crushing together as I tighten the strap, making me and the beast I ride no longer two separate units but together as one.
At least until the performance is done. Sweat drips down my skin like rain, a reminder of the storm that’s just about to come.
I pull off my hat, running my forearm across my forehead and then return it to its place, knowing that my time in this chute is coming to an end.
Letting out a deep breath, I close my eyes, trying to fight off the unyielding pressure that rests on my shoulders.
Before this morning, I’ve always ridden for the sheer sport of it, the joy and the exhilaration.
Crazy how one piece of mail, sent with a single stamp, can change all of that in the blink of an eye.
Hellfire moves beneath me, reminding me there is no backing out, and the only direction I can move now is forward. Rolling my neck, I sharpen my resolve. I can do this. I have to do this. It’s either ride and win or watch my parents lose everything.
I can’t let that happen.
I won’t let that happen.
I open my eyes, nodding permission to release the bull from his cage, wishing that the same nod could release me from the prison of thoughts I’m having now. And, I guess, in a sense, it’s about to.
The bull bounds into the arena and the crowd roars when his front hooves hit the sandy rodeo cake.
His first revolution sends me forward. Clenching my knees right behind his shoulders, I do my best to keep my body’s rhythm in tune with his.
Thrashing to the left, my body lurches back then forward again, each of my muscles tensing and releasing sporadically as I do my best to keep my balance.
I ready myself for him to continue his next turn to the left, my mother’s tears now on my mind as the sweat continues to bead down my forehead.
He quickly shifts the other direction, and this time I adjust my body short of his speed.
Shit. Bounding back to the right, I try to hide my blunder, but it’s too late.
He’s too fast. Without a doubt, he felt my error.
Whipping back to the left, I hold on tight, gripping with every damn muscle in my body as I try to correct my mistake.
One it unfortunately took him no time at all to lean into.
I brace myself for his next spin, my hand and arm screaming for relief with every vicious movement, but there’s no use, I can’t save this.
My defeat hangs in the air before it happens.
The grip I had on the rope feels like butter as it slips through my hand, and his next spin sends me off his back.
Time stands still. A sense of weightlessness consumes me as I’m flung from my seat.
I hold my breath, waiting for the impact that inevitably will follow.
Ma screams from the crowd as dirt flies up around me.
My head hits the ground first, a sharp pain radiating down my spine.
I do my best not to panic, searching for Helfire and where his body is about to land next.
His hoof hits the sand beside my cheek and I roll away from it.
More screams come from the crowd, and I find myself trying to dodge another hoof that scrapes my torso.
Pain sears through me, but I know if I don’t move, I’m fucked.
My entire body aches and I can’t tell if I’m okay or if the adrenaline that races through me is my only moving force.
He and I make eye contact, and the feeling is nothing short of staring down the barrel of a loaded gun.
Except this gun has a mind of its own and right now I’m its sole focus.
He stomps his foot again, just missing my neck as I roll onto my belly, driving my hands forward, lifting myself up from the sand and away from him.
The beast digs his hoof into the ground, setting himself for another charge.
One of the rodeo clowns taunts him, pulling his attention away from me long enough that I can flee toward the gate, a moment that usually creates rapid praise from the crowd.
But today there is only silence. Just before I reach my salvation, I hit the sand.
And this time I’m greeted with darkness.