14. 14
14
Honey
9 YEARS EARLIER…
‘ T here’s so many cute cowboys here!’ Ellie-May took a slurp of her slushie we’d just gotten. The generators of the food vans hummed through the chattering crowd and announcer’s voice. The people working inside them were sweating like pigs, the poor things. ‘I gotta come to these things more often!’
Normally I’d laugh, maybe roll my eyes or give her a playful bump but I was too preoccupied in my stress to react. Instead, I kept shouldering my way through the crowd, wondering why I bothered to buy my blue slushie when my stomach was in knots. Then again, the icy drink was doing its job of cooling me down just by being clutched in my hand. It was early November but the sun was belting down as if it were mid-January. Finally, we reached the arena railing where Riley had kept watch of our camp chairs, now intently focused on some game on his phone.
The crowds were growing dense, with the broncs and bulls always pulling a big crowd. I fell into my fold-out chair next to Ellie-May, slotted my slushie in its holder and pulled out my phone which now had a decent crack across the screen thanks to a tumble over Misty’s shoulder.
Me: Remember—I need you to be the best out there. I love you.
I knew Colton’s phone would be switched off in the depths of his gear bag, but it was something I’d always done and he was yet to have a major fall. Rodeo riders were superstitious about those things. I already made Colton nervous by coming to watch him ride—a superstition no-no in rodeo world.
‘There he is.’ My eyes followed to where Riley’s sausage-like finger pointed. Colton was behind the chutes, now wearing his vest and chaps doing his stretches. ‘Don’t worry, Honey. He’s gonna be fine—just like every other time.’
‘It’s bound to happen sometime.’ My stomach lurched and twisted. I sipped my slushie which didn’t help the nausea but provided me with some sort of distraction.
I still couldn’t explain why I’d never feared Colton riding broncs like I did bulls. Maybe because I understood horses. Clyde had taught me the same amount of knowledge as Colton and Beau for me to understand what went through their brains. Why they did what they did. Bulls however … The most experience I had with a bull was when I’d been riding with Colton to put some hours on two youngsters his dad and Beau had trained. Our decision to investigate one of Double Q Ranch’s broken boundary fences had quickly provided its explanation shortly after. Our horses had run like the wind with their neighbour’s curly-faced bull charging behind us.
Bulls were angry and unpredictable. How could I ever be okay with watching my boyfriend cling to one all for a shiny buckle and measly amount of prize money? Still, it paid more than broncs, and Colton said he was putting it away for a future he wanted to share with me.
But that money wasn’t going to help me if he were dead.
The bronc events ticked by agonisingly slow and too fast at the same time. Horses bucked and twisted. Cowboys fell. The announcer boomed loudly, making sure to rush through a sponsorship announcement before the next rider. Ellie-May and Riley watched on in awe, whooping along with the crowd when the time called. As for myself, I remained glued to my chair stiff as a rock. They were here for a good time and to support their friend. Their hearts weren’t on the line.
The arena was dragged after the final bronc had been hunted into the pens out the back. The atmosphere amongst the crowd charged with excitement. I wanted to scream at them all. For finding glory in watching my boyfriend risk his life when they didn’t have the balls to climb aboard a raging steak factory themselves. But I didn’t. Instead, I focused on my breathing when the tractor drove out from the arena. The flag girls did their show of galloping around on their horses; one with the Australian flag, one with the American flag and the other with the National Rodeo Association emblem. Everyone’s eyes moved to the chutes where the bulls were now being ran down. They bellowed and threw their bodies against the railing.
There were three riders before Colton. Two fell to be crushed by the bull’s hooves not long after bursting from the chute. The third jumped from the beast’s back to do a cocky bow after eight seconds before scampering to the fence and diving over when the bull set his sights on him.
‘Now it’s time for our local boy!’ The announcer’s voice was loud. So loud. Too loud.
The crowd erupted into loud cheers. I was fighting back tears, wanting to block my ears and rock myself in a tight ball.
‘Riding Dundee, it’s Colton Hayes!’
Everything faded away until all I could see was Colton lower himself into the chute, like a spotlight had been thrust upon him. I willed him to look at me, to find me in the crowd and send me a message that everything was going to be okay as I did every event. But his Stetson was pulled low on his brow, his chin tucked into his padded vest. I knew he wouldn’t—and never would. He couldn’t afford to worry about me when he had to focus himself. It wasn’t like an AFL player blowing a kiss to his wife in the grandstand before the first quarter began. For bull riders, focus was life or death.
The fear pulsing throughout my body with each beat of my heart made me shake. My legs wanted to tear away until I got back home safely. But I had to support Colton. Ellie-May gripped my hand tightly. The entire crowd seemed to hold their breath. Colton gave the nod. I pinched my eyes shut.
It was only the sounds of the arena which indicated how his ride was going. I could hear grains of sand fling against the rails, the snorts of the bull and the stomping of its hooves. But it was the crowd that told me everything. It was silent, which meant he was still on. They were too entranced to make a move or sound. It was always like this. Silence. Then in eight seconds the crowd would go wild. I would open my eyes to see Colton pump a fist into the air and throw his hat to the crowd. Then as my heartrate descended to a normal level, his eyes would find mine and that smile reminded me why I was crazy enough to love him.
But none of that ever came.
Not this time.