Page 75 of Eight Seconds to Fly

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In the end, the doctors kept me in until Saturday night. I made Dylan and Branch leave to head to Vegas, because they were both in contention for the gold buckle and I was fine. Beau and Frankie stayed behind, mostly because Beau argued that I wouldn’t be allowed to drive anytime soon and Frankie only had one good arm.

I couldn’t argue with that logic, though Frankie tried. Still, by Friday I was chomping at the bit to be out of the hospital and on the road to Vegas. We were loaded up with pain pills and follow up instructions. I had an appointment for a MRI in a week to make sure everything was good with my brain, and I all but sprinted out of the hospital. Well, I would have if the damn nurse didn’t make me sit in the wheelchair.

We were almost to my truck when a cop came running up to us. “Miss Moore!”

Ah shit. What now? My heart raced in my chest, and I didn’t know why. Beau gripped my fingers and I held on tight. “Sorry to grab you like this, but I understand you’ll be heading out of State over to the World Championships tonight. Not to ride, I hope?” I smiled at the cop, he must have been in his late fifties, and had the eyes of a person who’d just seen too damn much in his career.

“Purely as a spectator, Officer.”

He gave me a broad smile. “That's good. I just wanted to let you know that Mitchell McLachlan confessed to receiving a payout from Stanley Wilfred Senior to unstitch your rope, and he in turn paid the rope man to overlook it. Both have been charged with reckless endangerment, and Stanley Wilfred has gotten a conspiracy to murder added to his list of charges. We’ve offered them plea bargains to ensure that their testimonies are heard. He can’t wiggle out of this one, Miss Moore. He will definitely see the inside of a jail cell.”

Thank god. It was over.

I shook the officer’s hand and he gave me his card and said he’d be in touch if he needed a statement or anything from me regarding the charging of Mitch McLachlan. When I climbed into the back seat of my truck, I let out the tension that had been sitting across my shoulders like a yoke since the incident in the bathroom with Junior. It was finally over.

“You okay Nugget?” Beau said as he started the truck. “Your head okay?”

I met his pretty whiskey eyes in the rear view mirror. “I’m fine, Beau. Relieved. Anxious to be with the other guys. Happy?”

I saw the smile in his eyes. “Us too, Beautiful. Us too.”

It was weird,standing on the sidelines of the arena, watching the other riders while I was in my civilian clothes and cheering. I’d called Branch last night, and talked to him and Dylan. They’d both come off their bulls, and I know they were both nervous for today. I wanted to be out the back with them, talking strategy and generally just being with them, but I knew my nervous energy would only infect them, and I’d be a distraction. So I sat in the bleachers with Frankie and Beau, and nervously watched on. The crowd was packed, and I spotted Vanessa in the sponsors box. I waved and she waved back at me, mouthing that we’d catch up afterwards. The lawyers had approved everything, and this was the first event where both Dylan and Branch were riding in Team VANT, their vests now with big VANT patches across the back.

They called up Dylan, who was ridingGhostmaker.He was a good bull, but he wouldn’t give him the points he needed unless he pulled something truly spectacular.

“Ladies and Gentleman, next up we have Dylan Montaigne, and AJ I got a good feeling about this kid. Despite that nasty wreck in the middle of the season putting him out for a couple of weeks, he’s clawed his way back up into the top ten and you have to respect that.”

“That’s right, Earl. And with new sponsorship for both him and Branch Watson, you have to give it to VANT Enterprises for plucking these kids out of the group and making them into a winning team. I have no doubt that if he hadn't had that bad head injury in the middle of the year, he and Branch Watson would be fighting it out for one and two right now.”

I watched Dylan climb into the chute and fix his ropes. I made him promise last night to check his rope properly before handing it to anyone, and he swore it. I’d check my rope myself everytime now, even though Senior was behind bars. That wasn’t a mistake I was eager to repeat.

Dylan gave the cowboy nod and his bull burst from the chutes. He was a good kicker but didn't do any spinning, although he was known to get vertical from time to time, which apparently is what he was going to do today. Dylan leaned back and rode him for the eight and I cheered, jumping from my seat.

Dylan ripped off his helmet and punched the air, and the crowd went nuts. He saw me from the otherside of the arena and he pointed, blowing me a kiss.

“And there we see Dylan blowing a kiss to his girlfriend and fellow rider, T.M. Moore. T.M. is a rookie but shows some seriously great potential and she's got that cowboy grit, getting up from that horrendous wreck offPiledriverlast weekend.”

I waved as Dylan ran through the exit. He rode an 85.5 and that was a pretty damn good ride. It’d be tough to beat today.

Dylan promised he’d come and sit with us once he’d changed, so I settled back down in my seat. The bull riders were chatting to people in the crowd as they racked up their next lot of bulls. I turned to talk to Frankie when a small figure appeared in front of me. A little girl, dressed entirely in pink except for her boots and hat, stood there holding a poster. Her mother hovered a few feet away. “Excuse me, Ma’am. I was just wonderin’ if I could have your autograph?”

I smiled. “Of course you can. What’s your name?”

“Helen.”

“That’s a really pretty name,” I said as I wrote on her poster. “You like bull riding, Helen?”

She nodded eagerly. “Yes’m. I’m going to be a bull rider like you when I grow up.”

My smile was so wide my face almost cracked. “Is that right? I bet you will too. You look like you have all the right stuff to become a bull rider.”

I wrote “Can’t wait to see you in the arena one day, Love T.M. Moore”on the poster, and handed it back.

“Is Dylan Montaigne your boyfriend?”

I blushed, but nodded. “Yes he is.”

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