Page 6 of Storm Warning
Climbing atop of him, I slide my hand into place, my fingers crushing together as I tighten the strap, making me and the beast I ride no longer two separate units but together as one. At least until the performance is done. Sweat drips down my skin like rain, a reminder of the storm that’s just about to come. I pull off my hat, running my forearm across my forehead and then return it to its place, knowing that my time in this chute is coming to an end.
Letting out a deep breath, I close my eyes, trying to fight off the unyielding pressure that rests on my shoulders. Before this morning, I’ve always ridden for the sheer sport of it, the joy and the exhilaration. Crazy how one piece of mail, sent with a single stamp, can change all of that in the blink of an eye.
Hellfire moves beneath me, reminding me there is no backing out, and the only direction I can move now is forward. Rolling my neck, I sharpen my resolve. I can do this. Ihaveto do this. It’s either ride and win or watch my parents lose everything.
I can’t let that happen.
I won’t let that happen.
I open my eyes, nodding permission to release the bull from his cage, wishing that the same nod could release me from the prison of thoughts I’m having now. And, I guess, in a sense, it’s about to.
The bull bounds into the arena and the crowd roars when his front hooves hit the sandy rodeo cake. His first revolution sends me forward. Clenching my knees right behind his shoulders, I do my best to keep my body’s rhythm in tune with his. Thrashing to the left, my body lurches back then forward again, each of my muscles tensing and releasing sporadically as I do my best to keep my balance. I ready myself for him to continue his next turn to the left, my mother’s tears now on my mind as the sweat continues to bead down my forehead.
He quickly shifts the other direction, and this time I adjust my body short of his speed.Shit.Bounding back to the right, I try to hide my blunder, but it’s too late. He’s too fast. Without a doubt, he felt my error. Whipping back to the left, I hold on tight, gripping with every damn muscle in my body as I try to correct my mistake. One it unfortunately took him no time at all to lean into. I brace myself for his next spin, my hand and arm screaming for relief with every vicious movement, butthere’s no use, I can’t save this. My defeat hangs in the air before it happens. The grip I had on the rope feels like butter as it slips through my hand, and his next spin sends me off his back. Time stands still. A sense of weightlessness consumes me as I’m flung from my seat. I hold my breath, waiting for the impact that inevitably will follow.
Ma screams from the crowd as dirt flies up around me. My head hits the ground first, a sharp pain radiating down my spine. I do my best not to panic, searching for Helfire and where his body is about to land next. His hoof hits the sand beside my cheek and I roll away from it. More screams come from the crowd, and I find myself trying to dodge another hoof that scrapes my torso. Pain sears through me, but I know if I don’t move, I’m fucked. My entire body aches and I can’t tell if I’m okay or if the adrenaline that races through me is my only moving force. He and I make eye contact, and the feeling is nothing short of staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. Except this gun has a mind of its own and right now I’m its sole focus. He stomps his foot again, just missing my neck as I roll onto my belly, driving my hands forward, lifting myself up from the sand and away from him.
The beast digs his hoof into the ground, setting himself for another charge. One of the rodeo clowns taunts him, pulling his attention away from me long enough that I can flee toward the gate, a moment that usually creates rapid praise from the crowd. But today there is only silence. Just before I reach my salvation, I hit the sand. And this time I’m greeted with darkness.
4
RHETT - MAY 3, 2004
Fuck.I should have left for work twenty minutes ago.
Jumping out of my bed, I grab yesterday’s pants, leaving on last night’s shirt, and run out the door past Ma.
“Honey—” she yells.
“Runnin’ late, I’ll call ya when I get there, Ma.”
Slamming my truck door, I speed down the road. Richy is always pissed at me for something, but arriving late for work is sure to land me in hot water. I drive on auto-pilot the entire way, passing as many cars as I can, hoping like hell I don’t pass a cop too.
Three hours goes by, and I pull into the parking lot of the site. Flipping my cell open, I call Ma once I shut the engine off. The phone rings and I think about my last ride, or I guess myaccident,as everyone keeps insisting on calling it. Waking up days after hitting the ground wasn’t on my bingo card. Ever. But neither was a major concussion or my family’s ranch being on the line. So here I am at a nine to five, putting in the time for a steady check. This isn’t me quitting bull riding, it’s just a detour. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.
I lean my head back on my seat and close my eyes as thephone rings another time and let out a disappointed breath when I open them, finding myself still here living a nightmare instead of living my dream.
This has to be the right thing to do. Isn’t it?
Funny how I, of all people, could go from a star to a nobody overnight. The only person I’ve ever known not to give up even once, now a blue-collared worker, tired as fuck, trying to save my family’s ranch. And I can’t do that if I die, though the simplicity of this shit may kill me anyway.
The line catches. “Hey, Sweetie, did you make it on time?”
“Ten minutes to spare, Ma.” The false cheerfulness in my voice makes me cringe.
“There isn’t a clock you can’t beat.” Her laugh is soft before she sighs, most likely regretting the phrase she chose. “Rhett, we can figure this all out on our own. The riding association said they would cover all of your medical bills from your accident, and now we just have to focus on the ranch. It will all work out…” Ma’s worry is unmistakable, even through the phone. “Dad has a few meetings today with some friends who might lend us land cheap this year to regain our footing.” She sounds defeated, and I know she wants to convince me everything is okay, but she’s an awful liar.
I stifle a yawn, forcing a smile like she can see me through the phone. “It’ll be alright, Ma. I actually love construction work, and after what happened I don’t really want to ride a bull for a while, anyways. I just want to help fix things.”
Love it?Good God, why did I tell her I love this shit? I should have just said I needed a change or some time to heal. Anything actually believable would have done. Clearly the blow to my head made my decision making worse, not better.
Love it… Right. The only thing I love is torture, apparently.
A soft sigh escapes her.
I hope she believes me, but I have a feeling she doesn’t.
“I don’t want you to give up on your dreams just because you want to help us. We don’t need that from you, honey. We love you no matter what you do. This is our mess, not yours.”
