Page 23 of Bull Riders Don't Swoon

It’s been a great night for the bull riders so far.

Impressive rides and scores have gone up, much to the delight of the fans. It’s a big money event, with top-notch bulls and riders. I wasn’t kidding earlier when I told Jamieson something big was going to happen for him tonight. He’s due for a massive score, and when Polaris stared me down, I knew it would be tonight.

It would be a perfect start to our short road-trip vacation if we could celebrate a massive win for him.

“Hey, Griff!”

Another bullfighter I know, Carson, jogs over. “Three more to go tonight. You doing okay? It’s been a rough one.”

The rodeo clown performs his skit while we get a break with some water on thisveryhot, early August evening. Carson hands me a bottle of water, and I chug it down before passing it back through the fence to the staff.

“Yeah, I’m okay. But…Polaris…be on your toes.”

Carson quirks an eyebrow. He knows about my predictions and, like Jamieson, he listens. “He rank tonight?”

“I don’t know. He’s unpredictable, so be careful. It’s just a feeling.”

He nods and pats me on the shoulder, a silent understanding that he trusts me, and jogs back to his side of the ring.

The clown exits, and the music for the riders begins again. The first rider is on a bull I’ve seen many times. A real spinner and Carson signals with a twirling finger that he remembers, too.

Once it’s out of the chute, the rider does well, and Carson and I work together to shove the cowboy out of the ring while the third bullfighter leads the bull to the exit.

There’s a commotion in the chutes, and all heads swivel to find out what’s happening. A familiar form leaps up off the bull as it thrashes in the chute.

“Stay calm, Jamie,” I mutter as I watch from the side. Jamieson is always cool. Nerves never get to him when a bull acts up before it even leaves the chute. Thankfully, that seems to still be the case as he remounts and goes through his motions.

I wasn’t lying when I told Jamieson earlier that this bull will give him his biggest ride. Something big is about to happen. I can feel it as sure as the clothes on my back.

Finally, Jamieson’s head nods, and the chute opens in a furious flash of bull and rider. One buck slams the bull’s feet into the fence before it lurches forward, angrier than it was when it started.

With every move the bull uses to throw him off, Jamieson remains relaxed. He’s perfect up there, and when the buzzer sounds, my heart swells with pride. There’s nobody better than him.

Jamieson tries to dismount with the help of a pickup man but can’t, so he opts to dismount with them close by instead. Normally, a safe thing to do, and he’s done it dozens of times. Except the bull doesn’t keep bucking and head off to the exit like it does 9 times out of 10.

Polaris stops and turns, zeroing in on Jamieson’s back as he stumbles through the sand towards me and the safety of the gates. My gut clenches with a flash of what happened to us, to me, specifically the last time a bull went off plan.

Time stands still.

Jamieson’s face registers fear when he sees me launch towards him.

“Get to the fence, Jamie!”

He won’t make it. It’s a roar of white noise as Carson runs on the other side of the bull to distract him, and the pickup men try to lasso it. Polaris barely notices.

The lasso lands around the bull’s neck just as I dive between it and Jamieson. The thud of the bull’s head on my arm sends meflying backwards, and it’s Jamieson who scoops me up and drags me out of danger.

With the bull roped and the two pickup men barely keeping the bull under control, the rodeo announcer distracts the crowd with Jamieson’s score–97 points. Almost perfect.

“I told you this would be your best ride!”

“Griff, you need to get to the hospital.”

“What? I’m fine.”

Jamieson’s mouth opens and closes with no words, and it’s not until Carson walks up that I finally notice what everyone is staring at.

“Shit. I don’t think arms are supposed to go like that.” I puff a harsh laugh, but the sight of my left arm no longer straight and pointing at a weird angle sends a roll of nausea through me. “Well, fuck.”

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