“Glad I could help. You’re already juggling a lot of hats over here, getting the bulls and the riders ready.” Likewise, Cord had been putting out one fire after another, running all over the arena, wherever his cell phone beckoned him. Though he hadn’t had a minute to rest, he also hadn’t had time to get nervous about his upcoming bull ride. “I appreciate you making sure all the i’s are dotted and the t’s are crossed.”
Mason took off his cowboy hat and rubbed his forehead before slapping it back in place. “Speaking of dotting i’s, you haven’t signed your health affidavit.”
“What’s it for?”
“Takes the place of a signed health clearance from a physician. States that your doctor cleared you to compete. All you have to do is sign it.” Mason dug inside an accordion folder tucked against a wall and retrieved a sheet of paper. He handed Cord the form, along with a pen.
“Do all the competitors sign a form like this?” Cord tugged at his shirt collar, which was suddenly two sizes too small. “Even if they haven’t been injured?”
“If you haven’t been injured, you just check box A. But I already checked box B for you and filled out the top. Just need your signature.” Mason turned around. “Here. You can use my back to sign it.”
Cord laid the paper on Mason’s back and set the point of the pen on the signature line. But he couldn’t make his hand move.
“What if someone signs this paper, but the doctor hasn’t really given them a clean bill of health?”
Mason slowly turned back around, his eyes narrowing. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying? Your doctor didn’t clear you to ride?”
“I think he’s being overly cautious,” Cord said, toying with the pen in his hand.
Mason folded his arms over his chest, scowling like an angry school principal. “I thought you just had some bruises and sprains, but nothing was broken.”
Cord pointed to his joint. “This shoulder got dislocated. It feels fine now, but I couldn’t get the doctor to believe me.”
“You said you strained it. You never said a word about dislocating the joint.” Mason mumbled something under his breath as he snatched the page from Cord’s fingers. “You’re not riding tonight.”
“Wait a minute.” Cord grabbed for the paper, but Mason ripped it to pieces before his eyes.
“Don’t be an idiot, Cord.”
“You may not believe this, but I’m as tough as any guy out here.” Cord jutted his jaw forward. “All I have is a separated shoulder. You told me you’d even ridden with broken bones before.”
“That’s true.” Mason gestured wildly like he was conducting an orchestra. “But I was nineteen and thought I was invincible. I wasn’t. I found out the hard way. You’re my age, Cord. You should know better.”
“Are you telling me you wouldn’t ride tonight if you’d dislocated your shoulder four weeks ago?”
The toe of Mason’s boot tapped an impatient rhythm on the dirt. “Last time I dislocated my shoulder, I was out the rest of the season. Missed ten rodeos.”
As his words sunk in, Cord felt about an inch tall. As embarrassed as he was to be called out by Mason, he was even more mortified that his boss had flown from New York, just to watch him ride. “I guess I’ll get out of your hair, then.”
“Not so fast.” Mason caught his arm. “If you’re as tough as you say you are, you can be my fence-sitter.”
“What’s a fence-sitter?”
“You sit on the arena fence during the bull rides. If those two young bullfighters get in trouble, you jump down and help them.”
Cord’s heart thumped so hard and fast, he could hear it inside his head. “Don’t I need a doctor’s clearance to be a fence-sitter?”
He sincerely hoped so. During his weekend bull riding course, his practice attempt at bullfighting had been terrifying. His teacher had laughingly commended him for drawing the bull away from the rider by running a hundred-yard-dash in a fifty-yard-dash time. He then attempted to convince Cord that his courage would rise to the occasion if he were actually saving a bull rider from a bull instead of merely enticing a bull to chase him. Cord’s current panic attack said otherwise.
“You don’t need a doctor’s clearance, because it’s not an official job. But those guys are pretty green, and I prefer to have backup. You won’t be alone, most of the time. I’ll be up there with you as much as I can be,” said Mason. “Don’t worry. Your only injury is likely to be the fence making your butt sore.”
Mason’s laughter was drowned out by the crowd, as the next event was announced… barrel racing. Cord didn’t have time to make it up to the grandstands.
“Afraid you’re going to miss your girlfriend’s race?” Mason gave a knowing smile. Cord was about to protest when Mason pointed to his left. “Go into the empty bucking chute and watch through the gate. I’ll join you in a second.”
Still feeling a little miffed that Jess hadn’t trusted him to ride a bull without getting hurt again, despite the fact he was now excluded from the competition, Cord was surprised to find his fingers shaking as he waited for her race. When he saw her behind the starting gate, the fourth to compete, his heart rate skyrocketed and beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. His hands gripped the metal so tightly, his knuckles blanched. As she rode, her body moving in fluid coordination with Shadow’s as if the two were one, a huge sense of pride welled in his chest. She posted a 14.5-second time, the best by a 2-second margin.
Cord cheered and whistled, desperately wishing she could hear his voice over the crowd. As it was, she had no idea he was rooting for her. Mason arrived at his side just as she finished, but let out a celebratory whoop.