Page 57 of The Hearts We've Broken
“Gotta be able to contain the bull somehow. If the chute is too big, there’s a greater chance of it escaping or trying to turn around before an athlete mounts,” I explained. “Also protects the crew that’s working back here and ensures a fair start for everyone.”
“What would be considered an unfair start?” she asked.
“There’s something called a re-ride in roughstock events. It’s pretty self-explanatory, but there’s certain criteria that must be met to be granted a re-ride. If a bull’s performance isn’t up to par you could get a re-ride, or if there’s an unfair advantage for the bull, like if it hits the chute or stumbles, you could also get a re-ride. But it’s all up to the judges’ discretion. So something that grants you a re-ride for one judge, might not be the same for another.”
Juniper hummed. “Interesting. Do you know any of the competitors here?”
“A few. I’m not super close with many of them, though.”
Outside of Colter, Reid, Jake, and Hayden, I tended to keep to myself. Sometimes it was easier that way. I was less likely to be disappointed later if I didn’t open up too much. And the media would have less material if there were less people to talk to them about me.
Clearly, that hadn’t worked out in the grand scheme of things with the women I’d been with in the past, but there was only so much I could do to control that.
“This was cool. I’m glad you showed me all of this.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come behind the chutes? I don’t know that you’ll have another opportunity given that the other rodeos we go to are bigger.”
I also tried to ignore the fact that this would probably be the last rodeo she’d come to with me. The event she needed me to go to was in late May over Memorial Dayand none of us competed in the Bucking Horse Sale. Once we got back home, we’d have a break between now and the summer run starting in June.
A small part of me hoped that we’d still be together when our next travel stint started, but a more rational part of me reminded me once again that this whole thing was pretend.
A flush creeped into her cheeks, and she shook her head. “No, that’s all right. I think I’m okay not being so up close. If that’s okay?”
As much as I wanted her close, I didn’t want to pressure her into something she wasn’t comfortable with. I also selfishly didn’t want there to be any distractions during my ride. After a no score in Arizona, it was important to perform well tonight.
I planted a kiss on her temple. “Of course, that’s okay. I’m just happy to have you here with me.”
“There’s a storm rolling in,” one of the other bull riders to my left muttered, looking up at the sky. “I can feel it in my joints.”
“Looks like a big one.” The one to my right nodded.
A few menacing clouds covered the sky in the distance, but I hoped we’d be out of here by the time the rain started.
“Rain or shine, boys.” I patted them on the backs.
The loudspeaker in the arena crackled as the announcer began talking. “Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like we might run into some inclement weather, but ithasn’t hit yet! We’ve still got a night full of rodeo ahead of us! Let’s kick it off with the bareback riding.”
Bull riding was generally always the last event of the night. I understood why they did it; bull riding was the event that people got most excited for, but sometimes I just wanted to get the ride out of the way so I couldn’t get too deep in my head.
Thankfully, this rodeo didn’t have a lot of media presence, either. But there were always a few people in attendance who would post videos of rides on social media later. On good days, the praise and response from fans energized me, but on bad ones, I avoided the Internet as much as possible.
Unfortunately for me, the attention hadn’t fizzled out after Houston. Juniper and I had thrown gasoline on the flames that the media had started in the beginning, and it had turned into a whole inferno. I had to have been tagged in at least fifteen posts a day since the end of the rodeo.
By the time the breakaway roping started, thunder rolled in the distance. There hadn’t been any sight of lightning, so it was looking like we’d ride out the storm.
Colter and Reid had roped a good enough time to win the buckles tonight, and Jake had performed well, too. My turn was coming up soon, whether I was ready or not.
Rain poured over the arena as I climbed onto the side of the bucking chute. The bull I’d drawn tonight was named Down on Your Luck, and I prayed to God that wasn’t an omen for my ride.
“This one’s a mean motherfucker.” I couldn’t tell if theman helping pull my rope was muttering at me or to himself.
I still replied confidently, holding my chin high. “Good. I like ’em mean.”
Taking a few deep breaths, I kneeled down on the bull’s back, then I dropped my legs so I was sitting. I corrected my seat a bit, getting in a comfortable position, then adjusted the bull rope to my liking. After rosining the rope and adjusting my grip, I let the helper know he was good to pull it tighter.
A few seconds later, my free hand was in the air and I was nodding the signal to open the gate.
“Here’s Mikey Tucker!” The announcer’s voice boomed throughout the arena, even louder than the thunder.
