Page 34 of Buck This
A deafening smattering of pops echoed through the cavernous arena and the bull ripped out of him, and the man who could quiet her mind was just…gone.
Torrey’s heart pounded harder as she rolled to her side and watched the enormous beast approach her slowly. He was so much bigger than she had realized. He was dark chocolate brown, with white on his chest, and that crooked, sawed-down horn on his left side. The scar translated to his animal form. It was long and jagged down his ribs, and the fur had never grown back there.
“You won’t hurt me,” she whispered, sitting up. She pulled her clothes over her chest protectively. “You won’t. You said you won’t.” Her talking aloud was more for her sake than his. Up close he was huge and utterly intimidating.
Buck This Storme came to a stop in front of her. He stood tall and proud, ears erect as he blew out a big breath. Slowly, Torrey reached forward and held her palm out, just inches from his face. Her hand shook, and she tried to steady it.
He took another step and pressed his massive head against her hand, and just…existed here with her, connected by the touch of her hand.
And then with a snort, he startled and trotted away. She yelped and then laughed as she felt silly. She watched him trot around the edge of the arena, looking for something.
Heart hammering against her sternum, she scrambled for her purse and pulled out her phone.
She opened the text thread with Quickdraw Slow Burn and messaged him simply,He’s ready. Send.
Buck This Storme was going to do it tonight.
He was going to have a good buck.
She just felt it in her heart that now was his time.
Chapter Eight
“Get back!” Quickdraw yelled out his open window.
It wasn’t Torrey he was directing this time though, like when they’d loaded up Buck This Storme into a huge livestock trailer. This time, his direction was for the men scurrying around the alleyways where Quickdraw had just backed the trailer.
“Who is this one?” one of the guys yelled.
“Buck This Storme,” Dead of Winter barked as he stood with Torrey and Raven to the side of the trailer, guiding Quickdraw to ease the trailer back to an open gate.
“Shit. He’s Changed? We’ll get more help,” the guy said as he started to jog off.
“We’re his handlers today,” Quickdraw called out, eyes on Dead’s hands in the sideview mirror.
He stopped the trailer the second Dead yelled, “Yep!”
“We can’t do that,” the cowboy said. “You haven’t signed insurance waivers.”
Quickdraw hopped out of his truck, his eyes burning with intensity. “I’ll have my mate send you a sign-off.”
“It’s too late for that—”
“Buddy Harris, I’ve known you for how long?” Quickdraw gritted out.
“Uh, probably around ten years by now.”
“And in those ten years, have you ever seen me sue anyone for the dumb decisions I myself have made?”
The cowboy looked back at the gathering group of handlers, then to Quickdraw. “No.”
“Sweet. Fight me or get out of my way. Buck This Storme is with my herd tonight.”
The older cowboy clenched his jaw, then frowned at the handlers. “Back up. Everyone stay away from the chutes until he’s loaded.”
“Who drew him?” Two Shots down asked.
“Rawling Cummings.”
