“I didn’t know that about April.”
“Jenkins stepped up as her guardian.”
“What an incredible big brother.”
“He is,” Rhett says.
“Sorry, I interrupted you.”
Rhett offers a warm smile. “Every day I woke up and stepped into my career. I traveled to different cities to make a name for myself. When I started on the circuit, I met this young guy, Dawson Fulton. He was as driven and as hungry as I was. We had similar backgrounds, so we immediately bonded like brothers. His thing was bull riding… and, by God, he mastered his craft. There wasn’t an angry bull that could scare him. Don’t get me wrong. There were numerous accidents, but Dawson dusted himself off, got up, saluted the crowd, and knew he’dhave another chance. Another competition. Until one day, he didn’t get back up—” Rhett chokes.
I squeeze his thigh for comfort.
“It’s still so hard for me to talk about.”
“You don’t have to,” I say.
“It’s part of my life now. I need to make peace with it.” I’m not sure what he means, so I remain silent. Several beats later, he speaks. “A little over six months ago, he was riding Rage––”
“That doesn’t sound like a friendly name.”
“The name fits the bull. I was always hesitant around that beast and most guys were. Rage was a menacing motherfucker… and strong, too. There was a mean streak in him a mile wide. You could see it in his eyes. Well, the rest of us could. Dawson saw him as nothing more than a baby calf.”
I’m incredulous. “Rage? A baby calf?”
Rhett lets out a small chuckle, but his smile never reaches his eyes. “It wasn’t Dawson’s first time riding Rage. And he always came out a winner. As soon as the eight-second buzzer sounded, he’d hit the dirt, proud like a peacock. On that tragic day, Rage wasn’t going to keel.
“Oh, gosh.”
“After everything happened, a lot of the guys working in the background said when Dawson was waiting in the bucking chute, Rage was already out of control.”
“Couldn’t Dawson back out?”
“He figured it would be a great show for the crowd.” Rhett runs a hand through his hair. “When it came to his turn, I don’t even know if he lasted three seconds. Rage bucked his hind legs real hard, sending Dawson flying in the air. We all expected him to get back up, but he didn’t…” The brokenness in Rhett’s voice brings tears to my eyes.
“Dear God.” I grab his arm and give it a squeeze. It’s a feeble attempt at comforting him, but that’s all I have right now.
“Rage was already zeroed in on Dawson and was ready to charge towards him. I was watching from the sidelines, and jumped into the ring to get Dawson out of danger––”
“But the bull could’ve attacked you.”
“The bullfighters—they protect riders who get thrown from the bull, as well as provide comic relief between events—tried to stop me, but I ignored them. I had to save my friend.”
Such bravery.
He runs a hand through his hair and exhales a long breath. “Thinking back… fuck, that was scary, but at the time, all that mattered, was saving my friend. I called for Rage’s attention. Sure enough, he turned his anger towards me. When a bull kicks dirt, it usually means the animal is about to charge. It’s like I was facing eminent death.”
“All that anger was directed at you?”
“God had mercy on me on that day. The crowd started making a ruckus, waving t-shirts, and hats over their heads, while hollering. I was no longer Rage’s target. The diversion allowed a bunch of bullfightersto corner and rope the out-of-control animal into submission. I ran to Dawson, followed by another group of bullfighters and the medics.” He folds his lips between his teeth as if holding back his emotions. “It was… too late.”
My hands fly to my mouth in horror.
The pain in Rhett’s eyes takes my breath away.
“When I grabbed him in my arms, he was already dead.” His voice breaks again, a lonely tear rolling down his face. He wipes it away with the back of his hand. “I was devastated and heartbroken.” His jaw works. “After the medical examination, we found out the real cause of death.”
“It wasn’t because the crazy bull attacked him?”
