37. 37
37
Colton
E verything was the same, but it was different too. The bulls still bellowed from their holding pens. The announcer was still ridiculously dramatic. The crowd was still loud and electric. Country rock music still thumped around the stadium. So why did it feel different?
Maybe I was different. In the few months I’d been in Gumtree Valley, I’d grown accustomed to the peace and quiet, the low and slow attitude to life. I just had to adapt again. That’s all it was. The same image of Honey I saw in my dreams, running through a paddock and turning to wave a coaxing finger at me, flashed through my mind. I shook my head like a fly was buzzing around my ears. Focus .
I moved through my stretches like usual as one of the other riders was lowered into the chutes. A few minutes later the bull exploded from the gate, sending the crowd into a frenzy. I hooked my boot into one of the rails, stretching for my toes in my padded vest and chaps. The feeling of something being abnormal settled itself inside of me. I’d been amongst these riders for years. My routine was the same. The bulls were the same. But I felt like a rookie trying to claw his way to the top again, or a kid at school who was always the outsider of their group, missing the punchline of the joke when everyone else was laughing. Maybe I was subconsciously waiting for that phone to ring again. Someone to call and tell me something had happened on the ranch to Beau or Dad.
I shook off the feeling, chastising myself for letting my absence feed the nerves. I met a pair of pink-rimmed eyes through the railings of the race and felt a chill creep down my spine. Of course I’d drawn The Bounty Hunter on my first ride back. The bull gave an agitated snort, bashing his horns against the rails. I rolled out my neck. Jumped on the spot. One of the stewards gave me a nod. With my ropes over my shoulder, I made my way up the stairs to stand above The Bounty Hunter, now in the chute. And he wasn’t happy about it. The announcer blared my name, asking the crowd if I could get back to where I’d been four months ago.
I blocked it all out, until there was only the thumping of my heart, me and the bull. My ropes were around him. The steward was gripping the back of my vest, ready to yank me from danger if The Bounty Hunter got too pissed off. Which he did—three times. The bull was smart. He’d been in the job long enough to learn the more a rider had to be reset, their focus slipped away. Of how the nerves started to consume us. The crowd hushed as I was lowered in for a fourth time. There was no time to gather my thoughts, no breath holding wait for the gate to swing open. They would want the bull out before I was killed in the chute.
The gate flew open. I held my hand up high, leaning against the bull’s back as much as I could. My feet were forward, my chin tucked. Just like I’d taught to the rodeo school kids. I knew we weren’t far from the gate. The Bounty Hunter was doing his signature move. Going around and around. Disorientating his prey. The stadium blurred in colour and noise. I focused on meeting the bull’s jarring movements.
Just hang on.
The buzzer rang out. The crowd screamed. I’d made it. I’d fucking beaten my nemesis. But I was still on the bull. And The Bounty Hunter hadn’t forgotten. In my shocked state, I’d somehow managed to do the part all riders looked forward to. Jumping the hell off.
Big mistake.
The Bounty Hunter gave me a sudden and whopping buck. The rope slipped from my grasp, my gloved hand reaching for it desperately, trying to righten myself so I could dismount properly, but it was to no avail. I felt my body flying through the air, sensing the railing dangerously close. The crowd gave a scream when I made contact with it, my body falling helplessly to the thick sand below. I grimaced and writhed in pain. My chest was winded, I’d fallen awkwardly on my wrist and I could feel blood trickling from my head. I could hear people screaming at me to get up but I was in a daze. I dragged myself into a sitting position. My hat was a short distance away and I reached for it, only to have my attention diverted by a bellowing bull heading straight for me.
***
‘Colton?’ Honey’s voice rang through my ears, sweet but urgent. I saw her looking over me, whiteness around her with worry creasing her features. ‘Open your eyes, kid!’
Kid?
I blinked awake, balking at the fat Texan head peering down at me, the remnants of his lunch stuck in his handlebar moustache. My hospital room was around me. I groaned. Still here. Still being monitored for injuries I’d suffered before.
‘Who in the god damn hell is Honey?’ Glenn leant away from me so I could move my bed into a sitting position. ‘You want some honey and toast? We can getcha some of that! Ay! Nurse! Someone ‘round here organise me boy some toast! With honey!’
I pressed the heel of my good hand against my throbbing head and sent Glenn a glower. ‘I don’t want bloody toast.’
‘Well I do.’ Glenn’s huge body barely fit in the visitor chair.
I rolled my eyes. ‘Thanks for coming to see me.’
‘So what’s this thing so important you had to drag me in here for? I’ve told ya before, kid, I can’t go visiting my riders every time they fall. Favouritism.’ Glenn hoed into the toast a scowling nurse thrust to him without thanking her.
I gave a grunt. ‘The only reason you avoid hospitals is because you know the nurses will look at you like their next meal and run all sorts of tests on you. I’ve seen you eat ten doughnuts in one sitting.’
‘Did you invite me here to discuss my life choices?’
‘No.’ I pinched my eyes against the bright room. ‘I’m quitting—retiring—however they’ll word it in the press.’
I’d never seen Glenn put down a plate with food remaining on it, but in this moment he did just that. ‘Whoa, whoa, whoa! So you had a bad fall your first ride back? So what! You made the eight seconds, you scored the points!’
I stared up at the white ceiling and bright lights. Maybe the fall did have something to do with it, but it was only giving me the push towards finally making a decision. I’d come back to the States, to try and resume my old life. But I just couldn’t gel. My trailer had never felt so claustrophobic. I hid in the shadows so that media reporters and buckle bunnies couldn’t bother me. My hearing had become sensitive to just how loud the arena got during shows. I’d lost my edge. Instead of celebrating that I’d beat The Bounty Hunter despite getting wrecked, all I could think about was the wreck. Of the regrets I’d be going to Hell with if the clowns hadn’t managed to drag me away before the bull’s horns had pierced my skin after he’d battered me with those hooves. Of not returning home, of not doing what made me happy despite the controversy.
‘It’s not that. I haven’t been feeling right for a while. It’s time I take notice of that. Tonight proves how dangerous it can be when riders can’t get their head in the game.’ My words were filled with determination. Confidence.
‘Kid! What happened to those big dreams of yours? Getting to the top? The Aussie showing the yanks who does it better?’
Honey’s face flashed into my head, smiling, cantering alongside me on horseback. ‘I got bigger dreams.’
‘What am I gonna tell your sponsors? We haven’t even discussed a press release yet! What about my commissions?’ Glenn was scrambling and I was glad we were in a hospital when he was turning a purplish red.
I grimaced, feeling the damage of the sport I’d chosen more than ever, as I shuffled myself higher in bed. ‘I’ll make sure you get what was owed. As for the other stuff, that’s what I hired you to do, Glenn. I’m just the rider.’
I flicked on the TV without another word, eventually allowing the morphine to send me off to sleep again. I dreamed of Glenn, his face morphed with The Bounty Hunter’s as he angrily chewed toast beside me.