Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
mikey
The temperature in southern Utah was unseasonably warm, and sweat dripped down the back of my neck.
The rodeo wouldn’t start for another hour or so, and instead of making Juniper sit in the stands until it started, I was giving her a tour of the arena.
I’d offered to let her stand behind the chutes during my ride, but she said she preferred to sit in the stands with Ellison.
We’d said goodbye to Isabelle in Houston, but she’d be back in Montana for the Bucking Horse Sale. Juniper probably just didn’t want to make Ellison sit alone. She would have been fine, but I understood the sentiment.
“These are the bucking chutes.” I gestured to the four chutes next to us that led out into the arena. “Back here are the stock pens where animals are held before the events. On the other side of the arena are the timed event boxes and roping chute as well as the alleyway for barrel racing.”
“They’re a lot smaller than I would have expected.” Juniper’s head was turned, her attention focused on the chutes. “Doesn’t seem like a lot of room for the bull.”
“Gotta be able to contain the bull somehow. If the chute is too big, there’s a greater chance of it escaping or trying to turn around before an athlete mounts,” I explained. “Also protects the crew that’s working back here and ensures a fair start for everyone.”
“What would be considered an unfair start?” she asked.
“There’s something called a re-ride in roughstock events.
It’s pretty self-explanatory, but there’s certain criteria that must be met to be granted a re-ride.
If a bull’s performance isn’t up to par you could get a re-ride, or if there’s an unfair advantage for the bull, like if it hits the chute or stumbles, you could also get a re-ride.
But it’s all up to the judges’ discretion.
So something that grants you a re-ride for one judge, might not be the same for another. ”
Juniper hummed. “Interesting. Do you know any of the competitors here?”
“A few. I’m not super close with many of them, though.”
Outside of Colter, Reid, Jake, and Hayden, I tended to keep to myself. Sometimes it was easier that way. I was less likely to be disappointed later if I didn’t open up too much. And the media would have less material if there were less people to talk to them about me.
Clearly, that hadn’t worked out in the grand scheme of things with the women I’d been with in the past, but there was only so much I could do to control that.
“This was cool. I’m glad you showed me all of this.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come behind the chutes? I don’t know that you’ll have another opportunity given that the other rodeos we go to are bigger.”
I also tried to ignore the fact that this would probably be the last rodeo she’d come to with me.
The event she needed me to go to was in late May over Memorial Day and none of us competed in the Bucking Horse Sale.
Once we got back home, we’d have a break between now and the summer run starting in June.
A small part of me hoped that we’d still be together when our next travel stint started, but a more rational part of me reminded me once again that this whole thing was pretend.
A flush creeped into her cheeks, and she shook her head. “No, that’s all right. I think I’m okay not being so up close. If that’s okay?”
As much as I wanted her close, I didn’t want to pressure her into something she wasn’t comfortable with. I also selfishly didn’t want there to be any distractions during my ride. After a no score in Arizona, it was important to perform well tonight.
I planted a kiss on her temple. “Of course, that’s okay. I’m just happy to have you here with me.”
“There’s a storm rolling in,” one of the other bull riders to my left muttered, looking up at the sky. “I can feel it in my joints.”
“Looks like a big one.” The one to my right nodded.
A few menacing clouds covered the sky in the distance, but I hoped we’d be out of here by the time the rain started.
“Rain or shine, boys.” I patted them on the backs.
The loudspeaker in the arena crackled as the announcer began talking. “Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like we might run into some inclement weather, but it hasn’t hit yet! We’ve still got a night full of rodeo ahead of us! Let’s kick it off with the bareback riding.”
Bull riding was generally always the last event of the night. I understood why they did it; bull riding was the event that people got most excited for, but sometimes I just wanted to get the ride out of the way so I couldn’t get too deep in my head.
Thankfully, this rodeo didn’t have a lot of media presence, either. But there were always a few people in attendance who would post videos of rides on social media later. On good days, the praise and response from fans energized me, but on bad ones, I avoided the Internet as much as possible.
Unfortunately for me, the attention hadn’t fizzled out after Houston. Juniper and I had thrown gasoline on the flames that the media had started in the beginning, and it had turned into a whole inferno. I had to have been tagged in at least fifteen posts a day since the end of the rodeo.
By the time the breakaway roping started, thunder rolled in the distance. There hadn’t been any sight of lightning, so it was looking like we’d ride out the storm.
Colter and Reid had roped a good enough time to win the buckles tonight, and Jake had performed well, too. My turn was coming up soon, whether I was ready or not.
Rain poured over the arena as I climbed onto the side of the bucking chute. The bull I’d drawn tonight was named Down on Your Luck, and I prayed to God that wasn’t an omen for my ride.
“This one’s a mean motherfucker.” I couldn’t tell if the man helping pull my rope was muttering at me or to himself.
I still replied confidently, holding my chin high. “Good. I like ’em mean.”
Taking a few deep breaths, I kneeled down on the bull’s back, then I dropped my legs so I was sitting.
I corrected my seat a bit, getting in a comfortable position, then adjusted the bull rope to my liking.
After rosining the rope and adjusting my grip, I let the helper know he was good to pull it tighter.
A few seconds later, my free hand was in the air and I was nodding the signal to open the gate.
“Here’s Mikey Tucker!” The announcer’s voice boomed throughout the arena, even louder than the thunder.
The sound of raindrops falling and hooves hitting the dirt created a symphony with the cheers of the crowd and the rock music backdrop. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, and I could hear my own breathing.
My teeth ground together as I rocked my body back and forth with the bull. Spit flew from its mouth, and I imagined steam blowing out of its nostrils.
They were right. This bull was mean.
Its muscles coiled with tension underneath me as it unleashed its fury in a series of spins and kicks. My own muscles screamed at me as I attempted to become one with the beast, like lightning coursing through my veins, each movement jarring my bones.
The eight-second buzzer went off, the sharp noise reverberating through the arena. I thrusted myself off the back of the bull, hitting the muddy ground with the thud.
Get up!
Get up!
Get up!
My brain screamed at me as the bull pawed the ground with its giant hooves. Its horns—although filed down—seemed to shine in the arena lighting, the steady drops of rain sparkling as they fell.
I scrambled backward on my palms and feet like a crab as the bullfighters stepped in front of me. The bull dipped its head and hunched its shoulders, ready to charge.
My heart pounded in my chest as fear rushed through me for the first time in a long time.
When the bull was distracted, I rolled over onto my knees and used my arms to push myself up to run to safety.
“Look out!” someone yelled from the sidelines, and I looked over my shoulder, darting out of the way just as the bull came barreling toward me.
A rush of air knocked me further to the side, and I sprinted like a bat out of hell.
Mud caked my jeans and covered my hands, and I did my best not to slip before jumping onto the fence as the bull turned around and came running back.
When the bull was out of the arena and I was able to catch my breath, I put a hand over my heart, feeling the erratic rhythm. Then I climbed over the fence, and collapsed onto the ground, sitting with my eyes closed.
“Damn, Tucker, that was a close one. But it damn sure paid off.”
I looked up just as the announcer called out my score. “Eighty-six points!”
Thank fuck.