Leaning back in my seat, I stared at that saddle while the others talked about something or another. Adobe deserved to have the best I could give him. He’d fit right in at the ranch after a small skirmish with Boone, my brother’s horse. Just a little pecking order thing that they settled with a couple of nips to each other’s asses. Now they were friends. Much like me and Jesse, minus any ass-nipping. I would never get over having to sell him. I’d let him down just as I had Jesse. Seemed I’d let a lot of people—and horses—down so now I had to make it up to them. That saddle was a good start. It would take a lot longer to make amends to my brother.
“I’m going to see if I can ride that bull and get that saddle,” I announced, pulling the attention of my dinner mates from the discussion of the next town budget committee hearing next week. “Prepare to be amazed.”
And that right there was probably my downfall. Anytime I got cocky Fate liked to slide on in and wallop me in the face.
“Oh! I want to try! Can I go first?” I peered down at my little boyfriend who leapt to his feet to throw open the gate and charge into the pen, bouncing on the cushions while tittering madly. “It’s much bigger up close.”
“That’s what he said!” Jesse hollered. The other patrons chuckled. Maybe my brother had had one too many mugs of beer.
I looked over at Howie. He gave me a nod as I hurried into the ring to help Aubrey up onto the back of the mechanical bull.
“Can I wear your hat?” he asked. I handed it over. It slid down to rest on the tops of his ears. He was far too cute. “Look at me! I’m a cowboy! This bull is red and white. I shall call him Tuttles.”
“Baby, I think that fourth wine cooler has made you silly,” I said, folding my arms.
“It’s the bubbles. They make me fizzy. Okay, Cowpoke, give me some tips.” Patrons began to sit up and focus on the little man astride the big fake bull.
“Okay, well first you have to know that this contraption is nothing like a real bull between your legs.”
“That’s what he said!” I turned to glower at Jesse. Yep, he’d had too much beer. Lucas was trying to stuff an order of onion rings into him while shrugging at me.
“He’s so funny. I love your brother. I love you, Jesseeeeeee!”
“Love you too in a guy-who’s-dating-my-brother way!”
Good grief. These two were goofy. Aubrey patted the leather side of the bull. “Okay, so hints. Tips me, big man.”
“Right.” I had to smile a little. “Get this on.” I looped one of the lanyards hanging on the wall to his wrist. “This is a dead-man switch. You get bucked the bull stops instantly.”
“I wish you had a magnet to stop that bull that hurt you.”
“I do too, sugar. Listen up now. Keep your back straight, knees clamped. Tight core. Keep your free arm out to the side for balance. This machine will only spin then buck a bit up and back. Dig your heels in, don’t let your feet go behind you. That’ll throw you off balance. Hold onto the rope tight. Left hand. Palm up. Like this. No, Aubrey, stop trying to pat my cheek. Put your hand here. Right. Good. Hold tight but if you feel yourself going off let go quick.”
“Okay. I got it. Hit it old man behind the bar!” Aubrey shouted so loudly I winced. Unsure if I should stay or go, I eased out of the ring, closed the gate, but kept my hand on it should I need to rush in. There was a short countdown of three, two, one then the bull flew into motion. A clock on the wall ticked off eight seconds while Aubrey bounced back and forth, my hat flying off but his skinny ass staying glued to the saddle. The buzzer sounded. Everyone in the bar hooted and clapped. Aubrey, red-cheeked with his bowtie askew, slid off the bull to the thick padding then shot up, hands over his head.
Howie arrived, clapped my man on the back, and handed him a T-shirt that readIrode the bull at Saddle Up Saloon for 8 Seconds and all I got was this lousy t-shirt, which he immediately pulled over his head. After helping fish his glasses out of his tee, I got him outside the fence then turned to Howie.
“My turn,” I said with all the conviction of a man with something to prove. To whom remained to be seen. Myself? This town? My brother? My boyfriend? The ghost of Abel Knox? I plucked my hat from the floor then settled it on my head.
Climbing up into the saddle, something felt off. Not sure what or why. I’d ridden these mechanical bulls dozens of timesfor practice for the real thing. They were lacking but it was a way to keep in form. How to sit, how to clench my thighs, how to grip the rope was second nature. Like breathing.
With a nod to Howie, the countdown took place, my heels gouging into the sides of the bull as it made its first spin, throwing me forward in a move I should have anticipated but didn’t. Fighting to regain my balance I overcompensated, tossing myself far, far over to the right. Falling off the bull to land among a bundle of foam didn’t hurt, even though my left shoulder clipped the fence. It was the moment I looked up, hat gone, and saw Satan’s Tornado rearing up over me. Something inside my head short-circuited. I no longer was at the Saddle Up, I was back in Austin, sucking in dust, watching a ton of irate animal about to fuck me up with a gleam in his eye. Things went black for a moment, just a blink of an eye, but that was enough to shoot my anxiety into the stratosphere.
There I laid, gasping for breath, holding up my right arm to try to ward off the impact and rolling that haunted my dreams one night out of seven. I could have yelled. Maybe I did as my boyfriend and brother dove over the fence.
“Hoyt, your shoulder!” Aubrey gasped, all traces of giddiness now gone as he ran hands over me to check for broken bones. “Oh my gods, are you okay?”
“Hoyt, hey, you okay?” Jesse asked as well.
I was having trouble catching my breath but I did hold up a hand to indicate I was fine. Which was a fat, fucking lie. Physically I was okay. Nothing but a bruised ego. But inside I was a motherfucking mess.
Nothing spelled the end of a bull rider’s career faster than four short but ugly letters.
F.E.A.R.
Nothing endsa night on the town like having a PTSD flashback while folks are trying to eat their mozzarella sticks.
Fuck. I sucked.
