Page 64 of The Cowboy and the Stray

Gray handed me a pair of what looked like garden shears and pointed at the bull’s backside. “You get the cord, and I’ll spray the wound.”

“What if I pass out?”

He grinned. “It’s soft dirt. You’ll bounce.”

I leaned in, close enough to smell the sweat and mud and ugh, bull poop. The bull’s tail lashed sideways and slapped me across the face, which actually made it easier, because it knocked the fear out of my head and replaced it with irritation.

Gray knelt down and showed me where to make the cut. “You wanna get under the cord, not through it. If you cut the cord, he’ll bleed out and Calder’ll kill you.”

“Noted,” I said, and tried to sound calm.

I reached in and gripped the tool. The bull grunted and stomped, but the gate held. I put the blades around the cord and squeezed.

It was worse than I thought. The texture, the snap, the way the bull jerked and bellowed. I got it done, but as soon as I pulled away, my stomach lurched up to my throat.

“Spray,” Gray said, like we were at a drive thru. He hit the wound with blue antiseptic and stepped back.

I looked down at my gloves. They were dripping.

Eli whooped again. “She didn’t puke! You owe me five bucks!”

I staggered back, dizzy. The smell hit me all at once. I made it behind the trailer before I lost the contents of my breakfast into the weeds. I thought it would stop after one heave, but it kept coming. At least I was out of sight. Too bad, Eli was gonna have to cough up his five bucks.

After, I leaned against the side of the truck and tried to decide if I was the weakest person in the world or just the most honest.

A shadow fell over me, and I turned to see Noah standing there. I hadn’t even heard him approach. He held a little cellophane packet in his hand.

“Peppermint?” he said, like it was a normal thing to offer someone who’d just watched a bull lose his manhood.

I took it. “Thanks.”

He didn’t leave. Just stood there, watching me with those weird, too-grownup eyes.

“Do I look that bad?” I asked.

He shrugged. “You look like you need a mint.”

I laughed weakly. “Smartass.”

He smiled, which made him look like a regular eight-year-old for a second. Then he just walked away, back toward the barn. I watched him go, wondering if anything scared that kid at all.

I wiped my face with the hem of my shirt and sucked the peppermint until my mouth went numb. When I came back, Gray was lining up the next bull, and Eli was giving a play-by-play for the other hands.

Calder caught my eye and gave a little tilt of his head. I got the message. If you’re coming back, come all the way back.

So I did.

The next one was easier, or maybe I was just numb. I focused on the job, didn’t think about what was happening or what it meant. Gray was patient, showing me how to grip and snip, how to avoid the blood vessels, how to move fast so the animal didn’t panic more than it already was. By the third bull, I could do it without flinching. By the fourth, I was making small talk with Gray. It was almost as normal as doing the dishes or dusting. No big deal.

When we took a break for lunch, I found a spot under the shade of the hay barn and collapsed. Eli tossed me a bottle of water, and I drank it in two gulps, even though it was warm.

Calder came over after a while. He didn’t sit, just leaned against the wall, arms crossed. I tried to guess if he was disappointed or just tired, but his face gave nothing away.

“You did good,” he said quietly.

“I puked,” I reminded him.

“So did I the first time.” He looked out at the pen, where Gray and Eli were pretending to sword fight with cattle prods. “You came back. That’s the important part.”