Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dawson didn't like the look of the setup with the arena this time.
This was weekend number three in California, and the powers that be had set up in an arena where they had blocked off part of one end, not wanting to mess up whatever sports ball thing they played there. It just made the arena too small.
Brad Hollister came riding up on Butterscotch, shaking his head, the safety man’s mouth drawn down in a hard line. “I don’t love this, Dawes. It’s short.”
Dawson nodded and sighed. “No one’s happy about it.”
Brad’s horse wasn’t safely able to get away from a bull who was feeling his oats. The bulls knew their jobs and got damn grumpy when things were off.
“At least there’s an easy way to get to the gate, huh?” Brad rolled his eyes, and Butterscotch stamped like he was agreeing, laughing at them.
“Uh-huh. But the fuckers have easier targets in a place this size. I love that for us.”
At least in a bigger arena, the bull had a good chance of losing interest if the cowboy was running for the fence. In a small one like this, the critter would follow a guy right up the rail, trying to help him learn to fly.
“Go jog, man. Do an extra round for good luck.” Brad gave him a wink. “Where’s the clown?”
Dawson shrugged, grabbed one ankle and stretched out his quad. “Not his keeper; don’t pay his salary.”
Brad rolled his eyes, the wicked grin appearing like magic. “Shit, Dawson, you couldn’t afford him for ten minutes.” There was a pregnant pause. “Now your man…”
“Shut up, you dick.”
He shook his head and took off. Davi coming up as they made a circuit around the arena, both of them trying to jog a full circuit and measure the space.
“We’re gon’ have to watch behind the shark tank, boss. Leave it for Brad.” Davi shook his head, and Dawes got it.
There wasn’t enough room for them, a cowboy, a horse, and a bull.
“You know it, bud. It’s almost as wide as we’re used to, though. The guys only got a few steps to get to the fence.”
Deuce joined them. “This one’s going to be a challenge, huh boss? I mean, damn. Aren’t there rules about size? The bulls are going to be on us in a hot second.”
“The rules are ‘the men who have the money make the rules’, kid. Go pace off from side to side for me.” He watched Deuce jog off. “This is no bueno, Davi,” he murmured. “I don’t like the look of this at all.”
“No, sir. No, I don’t either.” Davi took his hat off and wiped his face. “I think we be tight.”
“Yeah. Stay in front of the shark tank and watch the corners. There’s gonna be hard shit tonight.” He could feel it in the air.
“Yeah, you and me feel this, huh?” Davi clapped him on the shoulder.
Dawson nodded, rolling his shoulders back. He hated it when he had this bad feeling, and this gave him a right-down evil sense of wrongness.
But he didn’t have time to worry too much about it now. He needed to get warmed up because things were going to accelerate quickly once the show got rolling.
Seamus was coming in with his father in a bit—the car was picking Hugo up from the airport.
Dawes was way less nervous about meeting him than he had been about meeting Kat.
From everyone’s stories. Hugo was super easy to get to know and deal with.
Seamus didn’t seem to be worried about it in the least.
He wasn’t too worried about Seamus or anything right now. Sterling had everything handled, and what he didn’t, the league did.
They wanted Seamus to be a bullriding fan. They wanted to capitalize on it.
Seamus said it was no big deal. That was one of the things about the job. Somebody was always trying to make money on his name.
Dawson guessed that was right, but he also guessed he didn’t have to like it if he didn’t want to.
Regardless, he had no doubt Seamus was going to be fine, so he didn’t have to think about it too hard.
Deuce came up to him frowning a little bit, the corner of the kid’s mouth turned down.
“What you need, kid?”
“Just feels weird tonight. I don’t love it.”
Good instincts. “No? I hear you. It’s gonna be a good day.”
Deuce met his eyes, one eyebrow arched, and he shrugged and winked at the kid.
“Well, at least we get to work. A lot.”
And work they did.
By the time the first section had ridden, they’d already had two hard wrecks. And they still had five more to go. Forty more riders, not including re-rides.
Thank God this wasn’t Sunday when they had to deal with a short go, too.
He caught sight of Seamus during one of the commercial breaks and got a smile, then he saw Seamus’s father. He was fascinated.
Hugo looked exactly like his son, except that he was dark-headed and sloe-eyed. It was wild and made him smile.
Seamus waved to him, and Hugo offered him a grin.
Dawson tipped his hat and grinned because he was super glad to have Seamus in the stands waiting for them and rooting for the cowboys. He just hoped it didn’t all go to shit.
He, Davi, and Deuce met in the center of the arena finally and pulled them in like Coke used to do with Nate and Coop, like Sterling used to do with him and Ollie.
They leaned on each other, hands on each other’s shoulders, heads together, as they said a quick prayer to whatever forces of the universe they believed in.
Then they broke apart and headed for the back where they would get ready to be introduced.
After all those big pyrotechnics and spotlights and name-calling, they were out on the arena floor with the lights up. Bulls getting loaded in the chutes, cowboys doing calisthenics as they got ready to ride.
The energy was always high at the beginning of the event. Everybody was keyed up, including the bullfighters.
He jogged over to Mike, eyeing the microphone, and Mike turned it off.
“S’up?”
“Stay up on the shark tank as much as you can. There’s just not enough room. Somebody’s gonna get hurt.”
Mike nodded to him. “Yeah, I hear you. I won’t be in the way.”
They all remembered what had happened with Dillon Walsh back in the day, about how he’d gotten his legs caught between the tank and one of the Taggart boys’ ropes.
It had been brutal, and there had been hell to pay on the bullfighter’s side.
Mike was smarter than Dillon on that front. He had a much finer developed sense of self-preservation, and Dawes appreciated that in an entertainer.
The first two sections went pretty easy.
Then the trouble started.
McKinley went down first. Then Winchester got kicked in the chutes.
They kept going down one after another—Caiden, Eduardo, Mikhail, Shaun.
Out of eight rides in the third section, there were eight buck-offs and two injuries.
Kerry Gardner was up next, and Dawes liked the kid. He was too damn big to be a bullrider, no question, but God knew his daddy had been too, and that had never stopped that stupid son of a bitch from trying.
He couldn’t believe how much the kid looked like AJ. Everyone knew the Gardner family.
Hell, the funeral when little Benji had passed had been huge and the procession had locked down the highway for three and a half hours.
“Davi! Man, somebody get the two-by-four? This old bastard is crouching in the chute.” Kerry’s voice was laced with frustration.
Davi tracked over and got the two-by-four and shoved it down between the gate and the bull, forcing it to stand up and lean the other way so Kerry could get into place.
It was a real common procedure, but today it seemed to be going one step forward and two steps back. That big-ass old bull seemed determined to lean and crouch and not do his job.
Dawson moved over real quick and grabbed the bull’s horn and turned his head. “Behave your damn self.”
The bull’s gaze fastened onto Dawson with one eye, and Dawson stared right back. “Don’t fuck with me, big boy. I’m the biggest, baddest motherfucker in the valley, and I carry a big goddamn stick.”
“Okay, he’s up. Let’s go,” Davi snapped as he backed off. Dawson leapt out of the way as Kerry nodded, and there they went.
Damn him, Kerry was holding on. Hell, the kid was even getting a little bit of a rhythm going and making it work.
Dawes was proud because Kerry had a terrible length of leg for a bullrider, but he was spurring to beat the band and getting it done, making the most of it.
Once the buzzer sounded, the kid got himself off the bull and started toward the gate. Just about that time, Pitch-Slapped spun and got Kerry right in his sights.
“Oh, come on now, you don’t want to do that.” Dawes zipped in, waving his arms and hollering. “Come on, buddy, over here, over here, over here, over here!”
The bull turned, pawed the ground once, and lowered his head. He popped his hat off his head and swatted the bastard in the butt as he went by.
That got Davi out of the way, with Deuce pushing Kerry up onto the fence.
“Come on buddy, go on, get to the gate.” The entrance to the chutes was open, and really he needed Pitch-Slapped to get his ass moving.
The bull went for him one more time, and he swatted it out of the way, heading toward the gate so the bull could figure out where to go, and if he was chasing Dawes, well, that was fine.
He could hop up on the fence.
He got most of the way to the gate when the bull changed directions so fast that he almost didn’t see it. It was like the critter had seen a fly or something, and he spun around and was suddenly right there, so fucking close.
It didn’t even make any sense how anything could have moved that fast, but it had, and there was the crowd and Kerry and Deuce.
Dawes was over by the gate, and there wasn’t a goddamn thing he could do about it.
“Deuce! Move!”
Deuce swiveled his head, shoved Kerry up and over the top into the crowd, and spun just in time to get slammed against the rail so hard the fucking arena seemed like it was shuddering.
Dawson was convinced the whole fucking fence was going to go down because it didn’t seem like it was very sturdy, but it didn’t.
Instead, he heard a terrible crunching noise and a sharp cry from Deuce before the bull turned like he had nothing else to do and headed for the gate, leaving Deuce crumpled on the arena floor.
Dawson took off running, sliding into the dirt next to Deuce on his knees. “Don’t move, kiddo. Don’t move, they’re gonna bring the backboard, okay?” He knew from the way Deuce’s body was vibrating that something was really, really wrong.
Deuce’s lips moved, but no sound came out, and he stared at Dawson, his eyes wide. He wasn’t unconscious. He was just hurt bad.
“They’re gonna take you to the hospital. Sterling will go with you, okay? Once I get done working tonight, I’ll come see you. I bet Sterling will call your daddy, too.”
Deuce’s eyes went cloudy, and Dawes could tell he was going to try to shake his head, but Dawson touched his chin. “Don’t. Don’t move your head.”
Dr. Mandy came flying in like a runner coming around third base, chugging right along, along with two of her trainers.
She took one look at Deuce and started barking orders.
“I need the backboard. I need a neck brace. I need the ambulance to pull up as close as they can to the end of the loading dock. Now, dammit. Right fucking now.”
People scrambled to do Doc’s bidding, and Davi stood there with his hat in his hand, his head bowed, rocking from foot to foot as he prayed. Got it. That was what they did. They prayed that everybody made it out alive and that nobody was hurt so bad they wouldn’t recover.
Deuce was so damn young.
The EMTs came with the backboard, Doc’s people strapping Deuce into a neck brace and then putting him on the board. They got him out the gate before they put him on the stretcher, which would take him out to the ambulance.
Dawson didn’t have to look into the stands to know that Sterling was on the move already. One of the bullfighters always had to be there if somebody went to the hospital, and in this case, it would be one of the retired bullfighters.
The announcers set up a cheer for Deuce, and they got a bunch of distraction techniques going, while Ranger came jogging out to warm up with them before they started the show again. The fucking show had to go on after all.
Dawson pushed the sick feeling down in his stomach because they still had a good half of the rides to do tonight, and that meant he was still at work.
As worried as he was about Deuce, he had a ton of cowboys to protect, and two other bullfighters who were counting on him, as well as the safety man. But he was sure as shit going to rain all over the fucking league’s parade about this truncated arena and how dangerous it was.
Davi and Ranger came over once Ranger was warmed up, joining hands with them, staring at each other, waiting.
Dawson swallowed hard and nodded. “All right boys, we gotta get through this night and we’ve gotta do this for Deuce. And then we’ll go see him.”
“Yes, sir,” Ranger said. “For Deuce.”
The crowd was trying to get into it, cheering for them, but after an injury like that, they were always incredibly silent, and it was eerie. He thought maybe it was even harder when it was one of the bullfighters because everybody thought of them as being indestructible.
Jesus, Deuce was so fucking young.
They loaded up the next batch of bulls, and the gate came open when the cowboy nodded, and they were back at work.
He couldn’t afford to think about what might be happening until after his job was done for the night.