“I wasn’t thrilled at first, but the idea’s growing on me.” He looked pointedly at Parker. “It could be worse.”
Jess grinned at her brother and stood up. “Where is he?”
“He’s hanging around at the bull chutes in case there’s an emergency.”
She was already bounding down the stairs when Nick yelled, “They may stop you if you try to go back there.”
Without a pause, she shouted back, “They can try!”
Cord’s adrenaline surged as Mason settled onto the back of the bull, who did his best to buck him off while still inside the chute.
“Save it for the show, Dynamite,” Mason mumbled, jamming his right hand under the bull rope.
Mason seemed thrilled to draw Dynamite Mojo for his ride. The 1800-pound bull had a reputation for being really tough to ride, but that meant a better score… if the rider could stay on for the full eight seconds. In bull riding competitions, both the rider and the bull were given performance scores, up to fifty points each, so a perfect ride would score 100.
As Cord had watched the first four riders, he’d gradually become more appreciative that he’d been disqualified from the competition. Neither of the practice bulls at his weekend school had been as challenging as the gentlest of the bulls at the rodeo.
During two of four rides, Mason had sat atop the fence with Cord, watching the competition. Mason had jokingly nicknamed the bullfighters Red and Green. “They’re both pretty green,” Mason explained, “but Sam has red hair.”
Thankfully, Red and Green had done their jobs, and Cord hadn’t had to leave his perch.
But the night’s not over, his jittery brain reminded him.
Dynamite surged against the gate, the cla
ng of metal making Cord jump out of his skin. But Mason calmly lifted his left hand in the air. He nodded his head, and the gate burst open.
Dynamite erupted from the gate straight into a series of bucking rotations, spinning in a circle so fast that Cord got dizzy watching. Abruptly, the bull shifted the other direction. Then he jumped in the air, twisting his body, and spreading his legs in the air. Cord held his breath, certain Mason was about to fall, but the cowboy stuck to the bull like Velcro. Dynamite started clockwise rotations again, but Mason stayed centered, his left hand high in the air, his feet kicking forward and back, in rhythm with the bucking bull. Seemingly more furious that Mason was still clinging to his back, Dynamite rocked forward and kicked his rear legs so high that Mason had to lean back to stay on, his body almost vertical.
Then the buzzer sounded! Mason had made the eight seconds. He had only to jump off to his right and escape the bull’s fury.
But before Mason could dismount, Dynamite rocked up on his back feet and reared his head, impacting Mason’s helmet. Then the bull kicked his rear feet high in the air, and Mason went forward on his belly, his feet flying above the bull’s haunches. When his legs came down, he was off the bull… on the wrong side.
He’s hung up!
“Get the tail,” Cord yelled at the bullfighters, though they surely didn’t need his advice. Meanwhile, Dynamite continued to buck and twist in a circle, giving the young men no chance to dart in and grab the rope from his right side. Dazed and stumbling, Mason could barely keep his footing enough to avoid the bull’s hooves and horns, much less jump on top and free his hand.
Before Cord realized what he was doing, he was off the fence, running toward the bull. Red leapt in front of Dynamite, waving his hands in an effort to get the bull’s attention and stop the mad rotations, while Green tried to maneuver where he could grab the tail of the rope and free Mason’s hand.
Just as Cord got close, the bull reversed his rotations, and Mason stumbled, hanging by his tethered hand, his legs sliding under the bull. For a split second, Cord saw an opening. He dashed behind the bull’s thrashing horns and grabbed Mason under his arms, hoisting him up. By some miracle, Green got through and flung himself at the bull from the other side, leaping up to yank the rope tail, which released Mason’s hand from the twisted bull rope.
His arm fell free.
Supporting most of his friend’s weight, Cord backed away from Dynamite, watching his every move. In the back of his mind he heard Manuel Lopez drilling rule number one into his head, “Never take your eyes off the bull.”
Meanwhile Red and Green did their best to chase or lure the bull out of the arena. But Dynamite balked at the gate and turned, barreling straight for Cord and Mason, with Red and Green chasing behind him. Cord let Mason slide to the ground and jogged to the side, waving his hands to attract the bull. Ignoring his efforts, the bull aimed toward Mason, who now lay helpless on the ground. Cord had no choice. He screamed at the top of his lungs and flapped his arms as he ran directly toward the charging bull…
No one stopped Jess when she weaved her way between the bull pens toward the chutes. She spotted Cord, balanced on top of the horizontal-slatted fence, intent on the bull rider who had the audience cheering with excitement. Now that she was here, how was she going to do this? A private conversation would be impossible, unless he was willing to abandon his post.
Or… I could just climb up and sit on the fence with him.
A roar went up from the grandstands, providing the perfect cover for her to sneak up on him. As she tiptoed closer, she grinned, imagining his surprise when she appeared beside him. He would be so shocked he might forget all about being upset with her.
I might even get up the courage to use the L-word.
Just as her hand touched the fence, she felt a movement, and Cord jumped off into the arena.
Something must’ve happened!