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"And another dream will come," he promised. "I got you. Maybe your next dream is to settle down with some rich cowboy on a hell of a lot of land. Don't know, don't care. There's always something else, Cody. But for right now, this is it, so this is what you're gonna put your all into."
I nodded, finally feeling a little better. "Yeah, I can do that."
"Good." Then he groaned. "And that's another man down."
I turned to see Wes getting stomped by his bull. Shit, if that was Wes, it meant we were close to my turn. Grabbing my gear, I tried my hardest not to watch the wreck playing out on the dirt down there. I actually liked Wes. I really didn't want to see him heading to the hospital tonight.
"My bull should be coming in," I told Dad.
He grabbed my rope with one hand and gestured with the other. "Lead on, cowgirl."
We headed across the catwalk to the other set of chutes on the far side. There, the bulls were moving in, and Disco Breakout was easy to spot with his white hide covered in black splotches. His downward-facing horns meant they wouldn't end up in my face, at least.
When we reached the right chute, I paused. The bulls moved again, putting them where they were supposed to be and the chute attendants moved in. I nodded my head, and Dad offered up my rope.
"This is for Cody," he said. "Right-handed."
A split second later, someone slapped my back, right between my shoulders. "You're still planning on doing this?" I turned to see Jake.
"Yep," I said.
He simply held out his hand. "Ok, then give me your glove."
"What?" That didn't make any sense.
So he snatched it from my helmet and held it out so I could shove my hand in. "Cody, I hurt my wrist last year. Couldn't pull shit. I know how hard the stupid parts suddenly become, so I'm here to help."
"Thanks." And I shoved my hand into the waiting glove.
Jake held it good, too. I had to wiggle my fingers a bit to get them in the right place, but he was right. I couldn't do this with my bad arm. Then, once my hand was in, he took my tape and started securing my glove over my shirt.
"The helmet's going to be a bitch too," he warned.
"Lucky for me, I have a gentleman here to buckle it on, right?" I teased.
He glanced up, those grey eyes of his prettier than I remembered. "Yeah, that's me. Mr. Nice Guy."
I rolled my eyes at him, and couldn't hold in the chuckle. "Just know when I come off, I won't be able to climb the panels."
"We'll haul you over," he promised. "Ty's down on the left. Tanner and the bullfighters are on the right. The Brazilians are around the other set of chutes, so no matter where you run, we'll have guys there to get you out."
"Why?" I asked.
He smiled and tore the tape, patting the end into place. "Because having a cowgirl say thank you makes us feel like real tough men." Then he pulled another glove out from his back pocket. "Dean? This is for you."
"Thanks, boy," Dad said.
I just tossed up my hands in defeat. "I'm not sure I like being pampered like this."
"Spoiled," Dad corrected. "Now let the man put your helmet on you. Make sure it's good, Cody. We're gonna get your bull strapped in right."
"Hat?" Jake asked.
I passed that over, then offered up my helmet. Jake carefully eased that onto my head, letting me twist it into place. Then, holding my eyes, he secured the buckles that held it in place. I was good to go - or as good as it got.
"They want you gone, Cody," he said, his voice low enough it wasn't easy to hear over the clamoring back here. "Don't let them win. If you quit, you're gonna leave a mess behind, and those men of yours don't deserve that."
My head snapped up, but Jake just smiled. I wanted to ask what he meant, but I couldn't figure out how to phrase it without giving away the relationship between J.D. and Tanner. I wanted to demand he explain, but right now, I was supposed to be thinking about just this bull. Just this night.
