Page 74 of Bulls and Their Boy

We saw Joel’s head give a nod to the men minding the gate and once it was opened, the bull tore out of the chute and right toward us. Of course, he wasn’t exactly running, he was leaping into the air and trying to buck Joel off his back, but Joel held strong, and in the center of the ring, the bull did a twist, and I was sure it would catch Joel off guard.

Not a chance. Our boy held on, twisting his body to match the bull’s and another twist had the crowd gasping and hollering, but still, Joel held on with one hand, the other stiff in the air.

The buzzer rang out and it took a second for Joel to get off the bull, and I sucked in a lungful of air, thinking he’d been “hung up.” Not a chance, he slid off and landed on his feet, running to the fence with a couple fast glances over his shoulder at the bull.

The bullfighters were remarkable, keeping the bull from charging his nemesis and then back into the pen. We were on our feet as the crowd went wild for him, and he climbed up the fencing, helmet gone and hat in hand, waving to the crowd.

“Can you believe that’s the same man that wouldn’t look us in the eye for months?”

“Yeah. Barely, but that’s the same guy.”

His score beat out seven of the other ten riders, so he was definitely in the finals. He bounced up to us later, toothy grin on his handsome face, sitting with a sigh. “That bull was a tough’un.”

“Worse than the other?”

“Yeah. He jerked the hell out o’ me.”

I wanted to rub his shoulders, something, but refrained until we got back to the room a couple hours later.

Until then, we walked around the grounds, where an old-fashioned carnival was going on besides the rodeo, and we ate our weight in grilled meats, snow cones and street tacos. I had five, squirting the lime over them and feeling it run down my hand. It was heaven.

After another good massage, Joel took up the extra bed and Damon and I spooned on the other, listening to him snore. It was a magical night, and though he still had one more ride, we were at peace at last with it.

Chapter Eighteen

There weren’t twenty competing in the last event, only fifteen, as two of the riders were hurt, and two had other commitments. With those odds, Joel was optimistic he’d win.

Damon and I, well, we were assholes. The entire time Joel was being upbeat, we were trying to tell him to be wary, that he could lose and that would be okay too. Sure, we didn’t want him to get hurt, but I guess we still hadn’t let it hit us how good he truly was.

So, when he walked away from that competition with first prize, we were standing stunned in the middle of a crowd of onlookers, all of them cheering to beat hell and I knew then. It wasn’t that we didn’t believe in him. We worried that if he won, he’d want to keep going.

Like I said, we were huge assholes, but we never let on about it, as when Joel came up to us after he won, we celebrated with him. “Can y’all believe it? I did it! I fuckin’ did it!”

Damon boasted, “Of course, you did!”

I felt like hitting Damon, but I did the same thing, lying through my teeth. “We never had a doubt.”

Then, just like that, he put our fears to rest. “What’s better ‘an goin’ out on top?”

He proudly showed us the belt buckle and check, which we were shocked to see was nearly twelve thousand dollars. “Joel! That’s a lot of money!”

Damon argued, “Not if you’re trampled.”

“Damon…”

“That’s all over with now,” Damon chirped, and took the buckle from Joel. “This is going on the wall in the living room, and we’ll have some of the pictures they took of the event framed and hung around it. Anyone coming to the house, I want them to see them first thing.”

“Really? Well, that’s jus’ nice as hell.”

We were extremely proud of him, but more relieved it was over, and he was safe from it. Then, we forgot about bull riding altogether as Joel told us, “Meet ya back at the room.”

“Where are you going?” I asked, but all I got was that hard wink of his.

Damon leaned over and nodded in the direction of the horse corral. “I think I know.”

Two cowboys were staring at Joel as he made his way around the arena. Both were around Joel’s age, maybe a bit older, one blond haired, tall, and muscled, the other slight in build and ginger. I watched Joel head right over to them with his after-win swagger and I got the picture quickly. “Holy fuck.”

“Ain’t gonna be nothin’ holy ‘bout it,” Damon said in a perfect Joel imitation.

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