Page 24 of Dirty Cowboys
When the buzzer sounds, Wyatt dismounts cleanly and jogs toward the fence, grinning from ear to ear.
“That was amazing!” I call out as he approaches our section of the fence line.
“Thanks! That was just the warmup bull,” he pants, still catching his breath. “Sarah Beth, did you get that on video?”
“Sure did,” she says, holding up her phone. “Your form looked solid.”
We spend the next hour watching other riders take their turns, with Wyatt giving commentary for my benefit. In that hour, I learn more about bull riding than I ever thought I’d need to know, but there’s something infectious about their passion for the sport.
“Alright, one more round on the beast,” the trainer calls out. “Wyatt, you game?”
“Absolutely,” Wyatt replies, already hustling back toward the chutes.
This time, there’s a distinct energy as he prepares. I can see his nerves, and the other riders have gathered closer to watch. I sense this ride means something more than I understand.
As Wyatt settles onto the bull’s back, I position myself for the best angle. The anticipation builds as he adjusts his grip and nods to the gate operator.
“Alright, Wyatt,” the trainer shouts. “Show us what you and Mercy can do.”
My phone slips in my hands. The world seems to tilt as that single word echoes in my mind.Mercy.The safe word they gave me. The word that would stop everything, that would bring me back to safety if things went too far.Mercy.
The gate opens, and the bull explodes into the arena.
All I can think about is last night. The rope around my throat, and the moment I could have said that word and stayed silent. How close I came to needing it.
The sounds of the arena fade; Sarah Beth is saying something beside me, but I can’t focus. All I can hear is my own heartbeat, and that word repeated over and over.
Mercy.
The coincidence is too much—too specific.In a town this small, with these men, and everything that’s happened, it can’t be random. It can’t be.
“Indie? Are you okay?” Sarah Beth’s voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater. I shift abruptly, nearly losing my balance on the fence rail.
“I need to go. I’m sorry, I just?—”
“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
But I’m already climbing down from the fence. I need to get out of here and figure out what this means. I stumble toward my car, barely registering the concerned appeals from behind me. My hands are trembling so badly it takes several tries to get the key in the ignition. When the engine finally starts, I pull out of the parking area faster than I should, gravel spraying behind me.
I’m halfway back to town when I realize I’m crying. Hot tears stream down my face as the implications crash over me. Wyatt is a kid. If the town finds out, they will all hate me. He may not look like a child, butfuck, he’s only just turned eighteen.
I’m so distracted by my spiraling thoughts I don’t see the figure walking out of the feed store until I nearly run him down. I slam on the brakes, my car skidding to a stop inches from Duke. He approaches my driver’s side window, and though I roll it down, I’m unable to meet his eyes.
“Indie, what the hell happened? You nearly ran me over.”
“I’m sorry, I...” The words get stuck in my throat. How do I explain without revealing everything?
“You’re crying. What’s wrong?”
I look up at him, tears blurring my vision. “Wyatt’s bull,” I whisper. “It’s called Mercy.”
“And?” he asks.
Fresh tears spill over. “I messed up,” I sob out. “I’ve messed everything up.”
Before he can respond, and I have to explain what I can’t possibly explain, I put the car in drive and speed away. I leave Duke standing in the middle of the street, watching me disappear.
I don’t stop driving until I reach the farmhouse, and even then, I sit in my car for a long time, staring at the place that was beginning to feel like my new home.
