Page 75 of Mountain Time
The bull blows up in the air, his front feet are three feet off the ground when he reaches the full extent of his kick. Trey is riding him perfectly as the bull turns back to the right. He might win this Extreme Bulls. Then, just like that, it takes a turn for the worst.
That’s the thing about bull riding. One minute you’re winning—you feel on top of the world and invincible—but the next minute, you’re bucking off, beat up and busted, losing your only source of income. It’s a never-ending roller coaster.
The bull blows up again and Trey’s hand pops out of his handle, but he still has his tail and he’s still trying to make it to the whistle. One thing about Trey is he’ll never quit until he hits the dirt. He slides down the bull’s back as it rears, then when the bull transitions into the kick, Trey is sitting on the bull’s ass.
The worst position to be in.
Trey does a complete backflip flying into the air and comes down directly on his head. He’s out cold on impact.
Fuck.
I climb over the chute and jump into the arena. The bull fighters step in to try and get the bull’s attention so he doesn’t come back to maul Trey’s lifeless-looking body, but the bull ignores them. He has Trey in his sights and runs at him. Dropping his head, he pushes and stomps all over Trey. The crowd collectively gasps. The pickup men ride in on horseback and get a rope around the bull’s horns, dragging him away from Trey and out of the arena.
I’m the first to reach him, but I can see Sports Medicine running over. His vest is held on by one shoulder strap, the rest is all torn up.
I poke him in the side of the face through the cage of his helmet. “Trey. Trey, wake up.”
The crowd has gone silent; you could hear a pin drop. Or in my case, I can literally hear Trey snoring.
I poke him again and say, “They’re bringing the backboard.” If there’s one thing a cowboy hates, it’s leaving the arena strapped to a backboard. We’ll be bleeding everywhere with a broken leg and still crawl out of the arena and drive ourselves to the hospital. Most of us don’t have insurance and there are no programs willing to help with medical bills.
Trey’s eyes slowly open. “No backboard,” he grunts. “I’ll take a pillow though, kinda sleepy.”
I’m immediately relieved to hear him joke. “You just took a nap, does anything hurt?”
He takes a sharp breath. “More like ‘what doesn’t hurt?’ What happened?”
“You got knocked out, then got camped on before anyone could help.”
Sports Med reaches us when Trey answers me. “Yep, should’ve gone with the dry rosin. Help me up.”
Travis, the head of Sports Med, kneels next to Trey and asks, “Was he unconscious?”
Trey tries to get up and an EMT scolds him. “Hold still. We need to assess your neck before you can get up.”
“Knox?” Travis turns back to me, waiting for the answer.
I clear my throat. “Yeah, he woke up quick though and cracked a joke.”
Travis huffs out a laugh. “Sounds like Trey.”
I stand and step back, letting them check his neck and spine for any signs of damage. I can hear the announcer finishing ashort prayer before he tells the crowd Trey is awake and moving. You can hear a collective sigh of relief.
After a minute, Trey has caught his breath and gets fed up. He pushes up on his elbows, looking at me.
As rodeo cowboys, we get hurt all the time. We’re used to it, and we know when it’s serious and when it’s not. We also have extremely high pain tolerances. Those who don’t, don’t make it very long on the rough stock side of the arena.
I bend and grip his elbow, pulling him up, both of us ignoring the EMTs’ protests. The Sports Med team knows cowboys better, they don’t say a word as I loop one arm around Trey’s back, and he throws his arm over my shoulders. The crowd cheers, happy to see him on his feet. He takes a couple breaths that cause him to grit his teeth before Travis grabs onto the back of his chaps, and we help him out of the arena.
Kacey
How’s he feeling today? Have you seen the doctor yet? What did they say?
Kacey has been checking in on Trey every hour. She made me give him the phone last night so she could talk to him herself. I like that she cares about my friend enough to check in.
Knox
Just three broken ribs. He’ll need to take a few weeks off but he’s good.
