Chapter 14
Ty and Renato were moving along the catwalk.
Well, the concrete aisle that served as one in this particular arena.
It put us high enough to get into the cattle chutes and was narrow enough the fans could be blocked off from this side, although I had a feeling this usually led to normal seating when the Pbr wasn't here.
And right now, it was full. Riders stood with their helmets hanging loosely from their fingers and their ropes slung haphazardly over their shoulders. Heads were bent close enough that hats nearly collided. Most of these guys were camped out, making the pair moving even more obvious.
"What's your ranking today?" Jake asked, pointing at the air as if he was counting chutes.
"Still thirteen," I admitted. "Somehow, I moved neither up nor down."
He grunted at that and kept guiding me forward a bit more, then turned me to a chute. "Ok, this one's going to be yours. If Don comes back here - er, Mr. Merrill, I mean - then just ignore him for a bit, ok?"
I gave him a suspicious look. "Why?"
"Because he has it in for you," Jake said, "and I don't want this to fall apart before it even gets started. Now be a good girl. I have to make sure everything's a go."
I scoffed. "No."
"My kind of good?" he teased, winking at me before wandering away. And no, he didn't give me a chance to respond.
All I could do was shake my head and chuckle. Yeah, Jake was interesting. I felt like every time I was sure I understood him, he did something to confuse me again. Never in a bad way, but just enough to make me curious.
And yet I trusted him. I couldn't even explain why, but I felt safe when he was around.
Protected, but not smothered. It was nice, but mostly because he honestly treated me like a friend and an equal.
Not like I was something new and shocking the way Ty had.
Not like he was supporting my cause or something.
No, Jake just treated me like I belonged, and that was definitely a feeling worth fighting for, even if my fighting might not look like the sort these guys did.
Eventually, the group of girls riding around the arena with flags headed out.
Immediately, Cletus, our clown, stepped up.
He cracked a few jokes, and the riders to my right began moving.
Ropes were passed over. Chute attendants climbed across the railings to strap the bulls in, and this show was officially on the road.
"Cody." I looked up as Gustavo fell in beside me, watching the next chute up. "You in on this too?" he asked.
"Yep. You?"
And a grin split his face. "Oh yeah. Brazil's gonna show you Americans how to party."
A laugh slipped out. "Is that what we're calling it now?"
"It's what we're calling it," he assured me. "So try to keep up. I bet I can get more gasps than you can."
"Shit," I drawled. "I doubt that."
"Got some secret weapon or something?" He flashed that smile at me again, making it clear he was so full of shit.
But I lifted my rope, showing the neon pink color of it. "Yep, I - " And metal clanked down the row. Intense music began to play. All of it made us both turn to see the rider exploding out of the chute on top of his bull as I finished, "...do."
That was the Jason-guy Ty had been talking to earlier.
The fucker! He was screwing this all up, and now our message wouldn't be as clear!
What the fuck was he thinking? Granted, I knew the answer to that.
His big plan was to get a few easy points when no one else would, hopefully moving up a few spots.
But the bullfighters were hovering too close to his bull. It was almost like they were trying to figure out what exactly they were supposed to do. Yet when the bull turned, it saw the guy in white. Still bucking, the monster of an animal swung his head sideways, catching the bullfighter's hip.
Jason rocked on the beast's back at the shift of its weight.
One of his legs came up, and the bullfighter in white rolled, doing his best to get out of the way.
I honestly had no idea if that would qualify as a re-ride or not, and didn't really care.
Still, I didn't see any flags flying - and Jason was tilting much too far.
The bull felt it and doubled back. That was more than the new guy could take. He slipped, the bull swung his head again, and helmet met horns. For one big, forward buck, Jason's rope held, even as his legs were both over the animal's side, and then everything let go.
The rider hit the dirt. The bull turned to shove his head into the man.
The bullfighters shifted, moving the wrong way initially, then doubling back to chase the bull instead of direct it.
One buck over Jason's body. Two. That massive animal was pounding the rookie into the dirt, and the packed stands were filled with people on their feet.
Cheering.
But back here, I swore all of us were holding our breath.
I watched that bull kick out, knocking the man in blue off his feet, but there was one single person down there with a brain.
The outrider rushed in. His horse's ears were pinned, and he had a massive loop on that lasso he was swinging over his head.
Even from the stands, I could hear him yelling.
"Ha! Get him turned to the gate!"
And the bullfighters somehow managed. Green tapped the bull's nose.
White tossed his hands into the air behind the bull's ass, encouraging it to move away.
Blue pushed in, adding a little more pressure, and the bull went.
Bucking at first, but when the bullfighters didn't follow, it simply trotted away as the gatemen gave it an escape.
And Jason's scream cut through the air.
I exhaled, pushing out all the air I'd been holding, and beside me, Gustavo groaned in relief.
Screaming meant he was still alive. Screaming meant that no matter how badly he was hurt, Jason was still well enough to do that, and we all knew it.
Slowly, the murmurs of conversation returned around me, but Sports Medicine was already hurrying over to help him.
"Fucking idiot," Gustavo grumbled.
"Yep," I agreed. "There's a reason we're doing this tonight."
He nodded slowly. "Yeah." Then he paused, looking out at the arena. "Fuck, that's not good."
I turned in time to see Jason trying to get to his feet, but one leg wasn't working. When he put weight on it, he crashed back down - and the bullfighters weren't in there helping. Nope, they'd pulled back and grouped up, clearly discussing something they thought was more important.
But Doc and Anthony made it to him. For a little too long, they hovered over the guy, and more assistants came out to help. It was the first ride of the night, and we were already off to a very bad start.
Then Ty came over, pausing between me and Gustavo. "That," he growled, doing nothing to hide his frustration, "was their second chance and second failure."
"Shit," Gustavo said. "They're far past two."
"He means to stop a major accident," I clarified. "At this event."
"Ah." Gustavo scoffed. "Because they fucked up even more back in Boise." Then he looked at Ty. "So you make sure no more Americans ride."
"Not sure they'll listen to me," Ty countered.
"Then make Jake help!" I snapped. "Ty, it is time for you to step the fuck up, so do it. No one else rides, do you hear me?"
The man reached up and tipped his hat at me, but the corner of his mouth was curled slightly. "Yes, ma'am. Although I'm starting to think Jake isn't the one who should be helping me."
And he headed away, unaware of how he'd just mimicked Jake's point earlier. Still, I was a rookie! I hadn't even been on this tour a full season! I was one of the new guys, so why would anyone listen to me?
But Jackson did. The other Jaxon and his buddy Kaleb had been lately. Tim Moore was pretty cool with me, as were a few of the other middle-of-the-rankings riders. Wes was one I'd even consider a friend. So maybe I hadn't been giving myself enough credit either.
And that thought added just a little more weight to the pressure already piling up on my shoulders.
No one had put it there but me, yet I felt it.
This was my fault. This was my responsibility to fix.
This was one thing I was suited to handle which they weren't, and now these guys were starting to make me feel like they actually respected me?
I wanted to reject that, simply because no one had ever respected me before.
I'd been the laughingstock, but I'd pushed through it.
I knew how to ignore the laughing, the taunts, and the harassment.
I'd learned how to "man up" when things got hard, and how to knuckle down when everyone else expected me to quit, but this?
This felt big.
Eventually, Jason was helped off the dirt. He could only limp, held between Doc and Anthony, but that was a good sign. It meant he would recover. I didn't know if he'd ever ride a bull again, but he'd live, and lately that wasn't a guarantee.
And when the next bull came out of its chute, it didn't have a rider.
Nor the one after. At first, the crowd gasped to see a bull on the loose, but by the first break, they were bored of it. When the second set of animals were released the same way, someone in the upper level booed at us.
Beside me, Gustavo flipped them off. No, they couldn't see, but it didn't matter. His little gesture of defiance was noticed by the men around us. They chuckled, but the sound felt like the resolve we all needed. Four more bulls went out riderless, then four more
Then the cattle began to file into my chute again. It was our turn.
"Rope!" the man before me demanded.
I passed over my pink thing. "Tie it off," I commanded.
He grunted. "Do you kids realize what this is going to do to the bull scores?"
"Do you think we care about that right now?" I shot back.
But Gustavo had heard. "Maybe the stock contractors should be a little more worried about how poorly we're riding. That's not helping the bull scores either!"
"Yeah, good point," the man said. Then, "Call it when you're ready, Cody."
"Open the gate!" I yelled at the man working the latch.
I heard the clank. I saw as my bull began to swing that way, knowing his job as well as the rest of us did, but I also spotted the head-gate that blocked him from the bull before him. On impulse, I pushed forward and stepped onto it, putting me just a bit higher than the men around me.
Then I lifted my hand into the air in a fist.
Across the arena, I saw when the cameraman found me. I could almost feel the murmur of confusion rushing through the packed stands. And from over at the side, J.D. and Tanner both jumped to their feet, matching my pose.
"Cody..." Gustavo breathed.
"It's time for a revolution," I told him. "This is me starting it."
"Then I'm stealing your move," he said as they turned my bull for the gate, sending him back to his pen. "If nothing else, because it'll take some of the heat off you."
So I climbed down, patting the man's shoulder as I moved behind him. "Owe you one, my friend."
"No," he assured me. "You don't. Go get your rope, bull rider."
That put just a little extra spring in my step. It let me lift my chin as I headed down the middle of the catwalk, but when a few other guys reached over to pat my shoulder or slap my back? Yeah, I didn't expect that, and yet I needed it.
Because I was going to pick a fight. A big one, and while it might be subtle, I was pretty sure there was no going back after this. Tonight, I might be killing my career as a bull rider, but the Pbr hadn't left me any other option.