by T. S. Joyce
Fury took over Josephine’s pretty features. “When my dad hears about this—”
“My name is spelled C-H-E-Y-A-N-N-E. He’ll know who I am just fine. Good luck with your bull-hunting tonight.”
Cheyenne didn’t wait for the three girls’ reactions. Just turned for the fences and climbed up them and out of the way. The onlookers were starting to filter out of here, thank goodness. She felt like she could breathe again.
Boom!
Two Shots rammed the gate and bent a few of the railings with his head.
“Shhhhhhh, Two Shots. Save it for the buck.” Then he began trotting, pacing like a caged lion, his muscles flexing with every stride.
She hated to see him angry like this before an event.
They let Quickdraw Slow Burn out into the alleyway first, and then the handlers nodded for Dead of Winter’s release when Quickdraw was safely in his changing room.
Two Shots Down was last to be released. Head erect, ears perked, massive hump on his back bouncing with every powerful step, he disappeared down the alleyway.
She was sitting on the top of the fence, staring after where he’d disappeared when Hal handed her a piece of paper.
Quickdraw Slow Burn – Roddy Brander
Two Shots Down – Hatchet Wilder
Dead of Winter – Jack Tethers
“Thank you! I’ll let the boys know.”
“Let them know they’re gonna drop ranks?” Hatchet called from a group of riders standing near the drawing area.
“Yeah, Hatchet, that’s what I’m going to do. I wouldn’t look so cocky about getting Two Shots. He’s ready. Are you? First time riding him, I would be nervous.”
“It ain’t your first time riding a bull, Cheyenne,” he said, walking closer. His dark hair was all mussed and his grin looked downright cruel as the next words left his lips. “You been riding Two Shots for a while now, the way I hear it.” He mimed bucking on a bull, pelvic thrusting with the motion.
Mortification heated her cheeks. How dare he? How dare he and all the riders behind him that were laughing at her? They were making fun of something so personal. Turning something special between her and Two Shots into something gross. Hal was yelling something at them, but she couldn’t understand his words. The roaring in her ears was too loud.
“’Scuse me,” she murmured, making her way past them.
“Oh, come on, Cheyenne! This is how it is back here. We give each other shit. Everyone knows you switched from repping riders so you could fuck a bull. You’re a bull-fucker. Just own it!” Hatchet called after her. “Look at you pouting! You gonna cry? It only hurts because it’s true.”
The jokes and laughter echoed after her, and she bit her lip hard to deter any of the tears that were burning her eyes from traveling to her cheeks. No traveling. You better suck back up in my eyeballs, tears. Those boys didn’t deserve to see they’d hurt her.
She should go tell the boys which riders had drawn them, but it wouldn’t hurt to take a few minutes to herself before she went to find them. They could use some time to change back, too.
So she sent their rider lineups in the group text. It was impersonal, but better than nothing.
And then she pulled open the door to the women’s bathroom and prayed to God that no one was in there so she could pep talk herself in the mirror, buck up, and get her legs back under her before the rodeo tonight.
Because tonight wasn’t about her.
It was about the boys and their success. Because if they succeeded, it meant she was helping, and she needed to help. Needed to.
It was about Two Shots’ success. He was barely hanging onto that number three spot, and he had a rookie bull coming up fast with his eyes on taking it. First Time Train Wreck was going to be a problem. He’d done a smaller event mid-week and slayed it. She had to come out of this bathroom like a warrior, backing her boys and keeping their focus on their task tonight. And what was that task?
Buck the riders. Their asses needed to hit arena dirt, and Two Shots, Dead, and Quickdraw needed to be the monsters to put them there.
In front of the bathroom mirror, she locked her arms against the sink and glared at her reflection.
No time for falling apart.
She and the team had much to accomplish tonight.
Chapter Fifteen
Two Shots frowned at the text on his phone. It was a simple message through the team text about which riders had drawn them. Cheyenne was supposed to come back and tell them in person. She’d called a meeting right after their changes so they could go about and do their routines before they bucked tonight. The message was impersonal and off.
You good? Send.
Oh, yeah, I’m great. I’m always great. Tonight will be great.
He narrowed his eyes at her strange text and moved to call her, but there was a knock on his changing room door. This arena was even nicer than the last, and the changing rooms had plenty of space for the bulls to shift back and forth. Nobody usually bothered them around a change, though. That was the rules. Privacy.
“What?” he barked out.
The door opened, and he stood to light someone up, but it was Quickdraw who came in.
“What are you doing here?” Two Shots asked.
Quickdraw hovered at the door, eyes on the floor. “I ain’t here to fight.”
“Bullshit, you start a fight before every buck. You wanna fight me this week? Fine, I’m game.” Two Shots sauntered over to him, fists clenched.
“Throw a punch, and I won’t be able to stop,” Quickdraw ground out. “I told you I ain’t here for that.”
“Then what the hell, man? We don’t do this. Bulls stay clear of each other before a buck. I want to change back already and knock you through the wall. You’re messing with my head, and it ain’t gonna work. Leave!”
“Something’s wrong.”
“What?” Two Shots asked. “With Cheyenne? Where is she?” He headed for the door, but Quickdraw blocked him from leaving.
“Not with Cheyenne. She’s fine. She’s in the ladies’ room in the back. I heard the riders were ribbing her pretty good.”
“About what?”
“About being a bull-fucker.” Quickdraw lifted his black eyes to Two Shots, but there wasn’t anger there. Just uncertainty.
“I’m gonna kill them,” Two Shots promised.
“No, you aren’t. You’re gonna buck them. Use the anger. That’s what Cheyenne would ask you to do. Why do you think she’s hiding out before she sees us? I bet my horns she’s in there slowing down her heartbeat, replacing them tears with a fake smile to give us.”
Fury boiled through his blood, and Two Shots growled out, “Move.”
“You can’t be starting a fight with the riders right now. Someone else needs you.”
“What?”
“Something’s wrong with Dead.”
Two Shots’ heart pounded even faster. “What do you mean?”
“I heard him groaning when he changed back. He has the room next to me. And he wouldn’t open the door when I tried to check on him. It’s locked. I could break it open easy, but I figured I would see what you want to do.”
“You think he’s hurt bad?” Two Shots asked low. The other bulls didn’t need to hear even a whisper of this conversation. Weakness would get a bull attacked by the others. It was in their nature. They couldn’t help themselves.
“I’m not used to this,” Quickdraw murmured.
“Used to caring?”
He nodded once. “A week ago, I would’ve celebrated a top bull going down. But now…”
“Now it’s Dead. I’m not used to it either.” He twitched his head toward the door. “Let’s go check together. Fight me, and I’ll fuckin’ lay you out, Quickdraw. If this is a trick, you’ll be the one fighting an injury, you hear me?”
Quickdraw threw a middle finger over his shoulder as he led the way out. Down the dirt hallway, people were bustling this way and that, preparing for the big event. Dragging coolers and carts of supplies.
Two riders were heading this way, talking low, their ropes hanging limply over their shoulders. They gave him and Quickdraw glares as they passed.
“You want to die today?” Two Shots asked.
The riders, apparently being smart about survival, turned back around and went on their way.
Two Shots shook his head and knocked on Dead’s door. “Hey man, open up.”
“There’s rules in place for a reason. Piss off.” Dead’s voice was strained.
Two Shots gave a quick glance around before he kicked the door open, snapping the heavy metal lock. If the humans around here had any idea of how powerful they really were, those riders would keep their dirty looks to themselves and live to see another season.
After the door banked against the wall, he and Quickdraw rushed into the room and then shut it behind them quietly.
Dead was sitting under hot running shower water, holding his shoulder. His arm didn’t look like it was working.
“Shhhhit,” Two Shots murmured, rushing to him. He knelt beside him and gently touched the odd-looking shoulder, but Dead winced and slammed his head against the cinderblock wall.
“Is it out of the socket?” Quickdraw whispered.
“Why are you whispering, man?” Dead growled. His eyes were so dark right now, and red had crept up his neck and colored his face. His expression looked wild with pain.
“Because if those assholes out there find out you’re hurt, they’ll be relentless on knocking you out of this circuit completely. Bulls and riders. You’ll have no allies out there.”
“That’s the name of the game, Two. No allies. Every bull for himself.”
“This is gonna hurt,” Two Shots murmured.
“It already fuckin’ hu—aaah!” Dead yelped as Two Shots straightened his arm and positioned it to pop back into its socket.
“Shhhhut up,” Quickdraw hissed. He yanked off his belt and folded it in half, shoved it in Dead’s mouth. “Bite down if you want, but don’t you utter a noise. Buck up.”
Buck up. That’s what bulls said to each other if they were being weak. Dead’s nostrils flared with his labored breath, his chest heaving, his eyes full of fire as he looked from Two Shots to Quickdraw and back to Two. He clamped his teeth down and nodded fast, then closed his eyes and inhaled sharply as Two Shots pushed and twisted.
He could feel it pop back into place. Dead fell over, holding his shoulder, the shower water streaming over him.
“It’s gonna be really sore tonight,” Two Shots murmured to Quickdraw.
Quickdraw nodded. “I have one of those pulse machines that will help dull the nerves.”
“For real?” Two asked.
“Yeah, but that won’t be enough. He needs ice for the swelling, maybe a shot. When you hit him this morning, I think you did some major damage in there with tendons and ligaments. And Changing back and forth isn’t helping it. That shoulder will pop back out when he bucks, but if we can get him through tonight, we have two weeks before the next event. We can doctor it, take it easy on training him. Strengthen it over the long hiatus. He’s just gotta keep top three.”
“Congrats,” Dead rumbled. “Now you have a chance to take my spot, Two Shots.”
“I had a chance before you got hurt, jackhole. You think that’s how I want to take your place? Where is the honor in that? You went after Cheyenne, I hit you in the shoulder, and now you’re dealing with some pain. But Quickdraw’s right. Buck up. You ain’t out until you’re out. Any bull worth his weight in salt knows that.”
Dead’s eyebrows drew down before he sat up with a grunt, searching their faces. “Why are you helping me?”
Two Shots pulled his phone out of his back pocket and shrugged. “Because I don’t hate you anymore.”
He connected the call.
“I still hate you plenty,” Quickdraw assured Dead.
Dead snorted and winced as he held his shoulder. At least he was making a fist fine now. “Who ya gonna call?”
“Ghostbusters,” Two Shots deadpanned, pacing away from him as the phone rang. “I’m calling someone who can help.” He didn’t know how he knew that she would be prepared for something like this happening, but in this moment, Two Shots realized he had utter faith in Cheyenne to come through in the clutch at any given time. She was that good.
She picked up on the third ring. “Hiiii,” she sang in an overly happy voice.
“Cut the crap, sexy lady. I know the riders were giving you hell. I’ll deal with them later, but we gotta problem.”
The false note dropped from her voice as she murmured, “What happened?”
“Dead’s hurt. We need pain relief.”
He could hear the bathroom door slam behind her and her hurried footsteps clacking against the wooden floorboards. Ooooh, Boss Lady was comin’. “I’ll be there in five. I have to grab a bag out of my truck.”
Then the line went dead. Two Shots smiled at the screen. Sexy woman always ready for whatever got thrown at her. His phone lit up, and it was a text from Cheyenne just to him. The entire message was just a red heart emoji. He sent one back and hoped she understood what it meant. He’d never sent a heart ever.
She put a heart reaction on his heart almost immediately, and he knew. She loved him, and he loved her. They were just dancing around the words.
Two Shots turned to the boys, both looking expectantly at him.
With utter confidence, he assured Dead, “Cheyenne’s gonna fix it.”
Chapter Sixteen
She’d done all she could do.
Dead had held still while she’d doctored him. Hell, yeah, she’d prepared for injuries. She’d hired a farm vet to show her in two months everything she could learn about fixing up bulls. But while she was confident in what she was doing to get him through the night, she kept imagining Dead landing wrong on that shoulder and snapping it back out.
Just the thought made her stomach turn.
Two Shots and Quickdraw hadn’t left them. They’d done everything she’d asked to help, and now Quickdraw was sitting right beside Dead, upping the intensity on the pulse machine. Dead’s massive shoulder, bicep, and upper back twitched in rhythm. Dead was using his arm, stretching it, testing it.
They wouldn’t be able to see the damage of his next change until right before his buck. Please God, let his shoulder stay in its socket during his change! Thank goodness for that fast bull shifter healing, but this was a rough injury to rehab right before a huge ride.
The announcer’s voice was echoing through the changing room by the time she was packing up the medical supplies. She snapped a first-aid ice pack and shook it, waited for the cold to penetrate before she handed it to Dead. “Don’t leave this room until I come get you to change. Okay? Don’t let anyone see you.”
Dead nodded and swallowed hard. “I won’t.”
“Two and Quickdraw, y’all need to go do your prep routines before you buck. You only have about twenty minutes left before you need to head to your chutes.”
“I’m fine.” Quickdraw leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I’m just going to hang here until you call us.”
“You aren’t Changing in my territory,” Dead muttered.
“Oh, fuck off, I’ll go in my room to change.”
“I don’t need a babysitter, Quickdraw. Make like a cow and moooooove.”
“Fine,” Quickdraw growled. He stood and left the room, slammed the door behind him, and about two seconds later, the sound of his own slamming door rattled the room.
“What’s his problem?” Dead asked.
“Don’t think he was trying to be your babysitter, Dead,” Two Shots said. “Think he was trying to be your friend.”
Two Shots grabbed Cheyenne’s hand and shouldered her medical bag. “Come on. I need a few minutes to settle down.”
“Thank you,” Dead muttered so low Cheyenne almost missed it.
She turned and gave him a smile. “Anytime. You’re part of the team. You matter, Dead.”
Dead hung his head and fidgeted with his thumbs. “Quickdraw, if you can hear me…thank you.”
Two Shots opened the door and turned to him. “Don’t split us up, man.”
“Why would I split you two up. I told you I don’t care if you’re fucking.”
“Not me and Cheyenne. I mean, don’t split the team up. Don’t drop under three. You get out there and drop that rider in the dirt. You hear?”
Dead nodded.
Cheyenne pulled his favorite energy drink from her bag and tossed it to him. He caught it easy and grinned, his arm still twitching with the pulse machine. “I have room in my score,” he bragged. “Two Shots, you’re the one who should be getting a pep talk. First Time Train Wreck is right on your tail.” He jacked his voice up to sound feminine and whiny. “Don’t split us up.”
“Shut up, man,” Two Shots down muttered, but when they got outside Dead’s bathroom, Cheyenne didn’t miss the slight smile on his face.
“That’s my favorite one,” she said on a breath.
“Favorite what?”
“That’s my favorite smile. It’s the real one you give when you don’t think anyone is looking. I think you look so handsome when you smile like that.”
His smile turned all crooked and charming. “You wanna give me a hand job before I buck?”
“Two Shots,” she whispered, mortified.
He looked around at the people bustling around them. “None of these people can hear us.”
A group of bull riders was heading their way, and she recognized some of them from earlier. She wilted and slid her hand out of Two Shots’ grasp.
He wouldn’t have it, though. He leaned down and grabbed her hand again, intertwined their fingers. “Who cares what they think?” he said, plenty loud enough for the riders to hear.
They were all watching, whispering, snickering over something Roddy said.
It bothered her because they used to respect her. She used to be an agent for bull riders, and they’d had manners when she was. But now?
“Is this how they treat you all the time?” she asked.
Two Shots shrugged. “It’s how we treat each other. There will always be a rivalry, but that’s a good thing, Cheyenne.” He pulled her into his room and shut the door behind them. “Friendships soften you.”