The feeling lasted about as long as it took to get to the casino arena.
Three separate groups of young men approached just to mess with her, as she was an obvious target for torment in her full riding gear.
“You’re kinda small for a bull rider.”
“Maybe they’re all tiny, like jockeys!”
While this was met with uproarious laughter, the first group let her step around them and continue on her way without further hassle. The second bunch wasn’t so magnanimous.
“Not so fast, shorty!” A stumbling man with a half-full yardstick daiquiri shouted. “You look like a woman to us. We’re not letting you leave til we see your dick!” He reached out to grab Lil by the shoulder at the same time as he spoke.
She tilted her body to give him a small karate chop in the elbow, forcing him to bend his arm and let go of her shoulder.
“I am. Cut it out and use your manners when you’re talking to a lady.”
His buddy whispered loudly, “She’s a ninja, Bret. Let’s go.”
Bret’s eyes widened and he took a step back, then turned all the way around to walk away from the big scary ninja.
Lil offered a mental thanks to the dumb drunk who thought small and black equaled ninja. He’d saved her some trouble.
Like her life was a fairy tale, the third group was the worst: a bachelorette party.
“Oh my god! Female cross-dressing, I love it. So empowering! Tell me where your show is. I absolutely have to know.” The woman’s eyes were a bit glassy, but the fervor in her voice and the badge on her purple spaghetti strap midi dress that read CERTIFIED MAID OF HONOR told Lil she was the organizer behind the madness.
Lil raised her hands, palms up. “Sorry, ma’am. That isn’t my performance.”
A redhead in a bright green dress of the same style narrowed her emerald eyes and said, “Then tell her what your performance is.” She wore a white sash diagonally across her chest that read BRIDE—not that Lil needed the label. The few weddings they’d hosted at the ranch before abandoning that idea were enough for Lil to recognize the particular tone a woman got when a day was all about her.
The rest of the group watched, a complete rainbow of dresses, sharing the same intensity in their same glassy glares, an intensity that had nothing to do with interest and everything to do with immense hunger—for drama, for a perfect moment to capture, for a memory to talk about for ever after, every time this night came up.
Just what I need, Lil thought. She spoke slowly and clearly, “I’m with the rodeo.”
Yellow, a gorgeously tan brunette, squealed, “Oh my god! She has an accent!”
“A female rodeo cowboy? Oh my god!” Blue, a sunny blonde, also tan, covered the O of her mouth with her hand to emphasize her point.
“Oh my god, you’re so brave!” This came from Red, who was milky pale, black haired, and blue eyed.
Orange, a hazel-eyed girl next-door type, asked, “Is it scary?” in a sweet, trembly, voice.
Purple silenced the rest with a hand. “Can you get us tickets?”
“Uh. I don’t know. I’d have to ask.”
“Will you ask?” This from the bride. Her pout had an edge to it, like a shank carved out of a bar of soap.
“I’d love to ask for you—” Lil started, but stopped as each of the women’s mouths dropped open into perfect little circles. They looked like a nest of baby birds, but vacant instead of hungry.
Lil turned slowly, knowing what she’d find.
AJ stood behind her, enormously tall and muscled, turned out to a T in his navy button-up, cream cowboy hat, and crisp blue jeans. His boots were brown, soft and supple, and his freshly shaved face looked like smooth silk in the flashing lights of the casino floor.
“My friend and I can certainly assist you lovely ladies. Why don’t you come along with me?” He laid the drawl on heavy at the end and the women melted in front of him.
The bride squealed and the whole crew joined in with whistles and heys, and Lil tried to steady her heart. Each and every one of these women wanted him. Hell, the bride even let out a tiny sigh following behind him while she twirled her engagement ring.
Not a single one looked back at Lil. She hadn’t moved. He’d saved her, but the price was watching him walk away surrounded by a sea of adoring women. She would have rather saved herself.
With that certainty dragging through what was left of her peace, she made it the rest of the way to the draw platform unmolested.
AJ was already there. A quick glance around the gates revealed that AJ had installed the rainbow crew where buckle bunnies typically parked, which, honestly, seemed fitting. They’d certainly have something to talk about for years to come. A few of them might even walk away with cowboy memories of a more personal nature.
Hank jogged up the four stairs to the platform last, a bit out of breath, after she’d selected one of the positions around the draw bowl—a big silver thing that was way too large for the three note cards folded and tossed in its center.
The arena was packed, but hushed, and it was a strange sensation, being surrounded by thousands of people holding their breath. Everyone’s attention was on the bowl, the jumbotron cameras zoomed in on its future-changing contents.
Everything was about the bulls tonight.
Shadow Haint was the lightweight of the bunch. He’d killed just once, and never otherwise maimed. Cortes came in second: he’d killed once, and broken many a cowboy’s legs, collarbones, and arms. Sweet Suzy had killed twice and been responsible for paralyzing four additional men. His stompings were legendary.
The announcer built the drama until the audience was gasping and it was time to draw a card. AJ went first, then Hank, and Lil took what was left.
Her hand shook slightly as she unfolded her card. She nearly jumped as she first saw the large black C of Cortes. The sweet spot. No draw turned out to be just a fine draw after all.
She looked over to AJ to see what he’d drawn and couldn’t read his face. Then he smiled and raised his card high in the air.
“Sweet Suzy!”
Lil’s stomach sank. AJ got the most dangerous bull.
The bulls determined the order for the event. She was up first on the mighty Cortes, AJ up next on Sweet Suzy, and then Hank would take on Shadow Haint. But Sweet Suzy was one of the deadliest bulls in PBRA history.
She couldn’t focus on that. Not when she was about to take on a man killer herself. AJ was the best of the three of them. He was the best suited to take on Sweet Suzy.
An announcer gave a five-minute-start warning over the PA system and Lil’s heart thundered, her mind spinning images of bad falls and gaggles of women in rainbow dresses hanging all over AJ.
The arena seated forty thousand and was supposedly sold out. That many people were watching her.
A large warm hand clamped down on her shoulder. He stayed behind her, but leaned down to whisper in her ear: “You’ve got this.”
She tried to turn and face him, but his firm grip on her shoulder wouldn’t let her, and then he was passing her, down the stairs in a few steps, and enveloped by a rainbow sea.
She vowed to wear black for the rest of her life.
Just as soon as she found her calm place.
Gran’s last words to her back at the ranch sprang into her mind unbidden.
Gran was always working some long-range plan, meddling in people’s lives. Granddad said they would’ve been rich if she’d spent half that energy on making money.
Lil had laughed. She wasn’t laughing now. Then it was her granddad’s voice she heard in her head, less a memory than a transmission: Pour it into the ride.
A calm settled over her. The fear, the confusion, AJ, her father—it was all going into the ride. The resolution settled in her chest like an anchor and she stepped onto the platform sure.
The
arena erupted, thousands of girls pinning their hopes on her.
The knowledge was a burden, but she welcomed the pressure, she bore it repeating her mantra, even as she lowered her body on the back of an angry man killer.
Pour it into the ride.
37
Clinging to a rock in a river of lava. That was what Cortes felt like. He was tall and broad and creamy, and so full of rage that the whites of his eyes were tinged pink. His was a focused and controlled emotion, so primal and timeless that the small braided bull rope seemed about as useful as a wad of floss in the face of it.
But that couldn’t matter, because it was time to go.
She wrapped the rope around her right hand, weaving it through her finger to shore up her grip. She’d sacrifice the hand to keep her grip.
She lifted her arm, fear rising in her gorge along with it, but she poured it into the ride.
Whatever she had, this bull could handle it, and when it was all poured out, all she would be left with would be her calm center. There’d never been a bull that could beat that yet.
She took a final breath, deep and slow, then nodded. The gate sprang open and she and Cortes exploded into the arena.
He was the biggest thing she’d ever ridden. She gave her body over to his power, releasing resistance wherever it arose. His bucks and turns were hard enough to break her neck. Her hand screamed, but she held.
Cortes leaped, thrashing his head and tail in opposite directions as he did it, violently whipping her from side to side, but he couldn’t shake her. Not when she’d found it.
Her center. The thing that let her stand on the ball.
The ball had been Granddad’s idea, and just like then, he was there with her now, lending his weight to her seat through his beaded vest. The faint weight was his hand, holding her to the bull, every single bead a piece of training and advice and love, tiny reminders of his gifts to her, assuring her that like each and every one of those who’d come before her, she’d been given everything she’d ever need.
Cortes spun like the devil but Lil held her center. Spotting was useless, impossible on a spinning bull in a sea of people. You had to ground in something deeper than that. Something inside that wasn’t twirling around like a windmill.
When spinning didn’t work, the bull began a punishing seesaw of kicks and jumps. Lil willed her body to be as fluid as possible, to flow in time with the bull’s harsh switchbacks like a river through a canyon.
And then the buzzer sounded. Catchers and clowns rushed out and soon after she cracked open her fist and slid onto a horse in front of a cowboy in a green button-up.
Her score lit up the jumbotron: 98. The highest score possible on Cortes.
The arena erupted in enormous sound.
Lil Sorrow had beaten an unbeaten man killer and gotten a perfect score doing it.
Not only that, but for the moment, she held first place. AJ was up next, though, and like the producers had somehow rigged the draw, AJ had picked the one bull with the power to beat her.
If he beat Sweet Suzy, he’d gain enough points to trump Lil, perfect score or not.
She felt a strange sense of peace at the thought. Either way, the whole thing would be settled, once and for all, in about eight seconds. AJ was already on top of Sweet Suzy when she returned to the platform. He didn’t look in her direction, but she sensed he knew she was watching him.
He was beautiful. His eyebrows were thick and dark and drawn together in concentration. His five-o’clock shadow suited him, highlighting the hard lined architecture of his face that was so often obscured by his wicked dimple.
His hat was cream and looked like it’d been made specifically for him. It probably had.
He was a rich cowboy and he looked it.
Sweet Suzy was tawny and even more massive than Cortes. AJ didn’t look small in comparison, though. He looked powerful and controlled, like he had it in him to beat the bull with muscle alone. She didn’t doubt that he did.
And then he nodded.
The gate opened. He and Sweet Suzy were through it not a breath later. Lil’d never seen a bull so fast in her life.
But Sweet Suzy wasn’t just fast. He was monstrously strong—the kind of bull they used as a model for posters about the ills of overbreeding. And he was wild.
Whereas Cortes had slowed as he transitioned from one move to another, Sweet Suzy moved fluidly from bucking to kicking, to spinning, and back around to bucking.
Lil held her breath. AJ held on.
Until he didn’t.
Time slowed as Sweet Suzy’s spinning flung AJ off his back. AJ landed in the soft dirt of the arena floor with a thud that echoed in an arena that’d gone quiet in its collective gasp.
Clowns ran out, but Sweet Suzy spared them no attention. Instead, he faced AJ, who still lay in the dirt about a hundred yards away.
Sweet Suzy stomped, bowed his huge head, and snorted.
He was going to charge.
He was going to charge and stomp.
And after that, nothing would matter.
Lil leaped over the platform. Landing was a painful shock to her knees, but she ignored it. She brought her thumb and forefinger to her mouth to let out a shrill whistle, infusing the sound with every nasty thought she’d ever had about a bull.
Whether or not the thoughts had anything to do with it, the combination worked. Sweet Suzy turned his giant skull in her direction and flared his nostrils, scenting her.
The bull roared and charged. The whole thing happening faster than Lil would have ever thought possible.
She held her ground, conquering every instinct that screamed at her to run. It was too late for that. To run was to get trampled. The bull neared and she held still and someone in the audience screamed.
When Sweet Suzy was nearly upon her, she jumped back, spinning her upper body out of the way of his horns along the way, but either her timing was off, or Sweet Suzy was even faster than she’d given him credit for. The sharp tip of one of his horns caught in the flesh of her shoulder, ripping through the leather of her granddad’s vest to her skin like butter. Seed beads flew everywhere, but she didn’t pay attention to them, maintaining the spinning motion through the pain, and through her granddad’s vest being pulled off her body, the leather of it still caught on the bull’s horn.
She was free, and the bull was momentarily distracted by the vest on his head and the crowd was cheering.
She looked over at AJ just as the crowd went silent again. AJ was unharmed, so that didn’t explain the crowd’s reaction.
Then she noticed the mounted catchers pressing themselves against the outer edges of the arena, staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed behind her. She motioned for them to ride to AJ, but they didn’t move. Then she realized why.
AJ shouted her name. “Lilian!”
Sweet Suzy wasn’t distracted anymore. He was charging her. And this time she wasn’t going to be able to just dance away. His charge was too close and direct, and Lil’s weight was on the wrong foot. There was only one option.
She leaped.
Weightlessness was the primary sensation she noted. She felt as if the air had simply accepted that she was sailing through it. Sweet Suzy did his part, lowering his horns as he sensed the threat from above, giving Lil’s palms the perfect flat surface to land on and spring forth from again, twirling her body and twisting to land on her feet, behind the bull.
The arena erupted like Krakatoa.
Lil was frozen. Stuck, knees bent, boots buried in soft dirt, heart stopped. She knew she needed to move, that Sweet Suzy would turn around and she’d be in the exact same spot and she’d probably die, but she didn’t have any more in her.
But she didn’t need any more because AJ snatched her up, leaning over the side of a horse to hook an arm around her waist as he rode by like an ancient warrior snatching
a maiden. Lil didn’t think to wonder where he’d gotten the horse from until after the clowns had ushered them through the gate and closed it behind them.
They were immediately encircled by a mass of people. Greenies, medical staff, and reporters were the most persistent, but AJ handled them by simply refusing to dismount.
The horse, high on adrenaline from being in the same pen as Sweet Suzy, was more than happy to oblige him, stomping out a perimeter of space around them.
“Back off,” AJ said. “She’s hurt. Medics first!”
A man and a woman hurried forward, both wearing crisp white shirts and black slacks, and helped Lil dismount.
She thanked them and a reporter took it as a go sign, asking, “What did you think when AJ was thrown?”
AJ held up a hand. “Quiet.” The man went silent.
The medics cleaned Lil’s wound where she stood, putting a wide bandage over it.
Despite the commotion, the unforgettable drama, and the upset—Sierra said over the loudspeaker—the show wasn’t over yet. Hank was up next on Shadow Haint.
Lil stayed where she was, beginning to shiver as the adrenaline wore off and the fact that she was standing around in full gear with a ripped-up shirt sans vest started to make itself known.
She didn’t need to watch Hank. Whether or not he had a good ride didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if she won the Closed Circuit or if AJ did or Sierra did. It didn’t matter that she had indisputably shown the world that girls had try, or proven that her granddad’s way was a good way. In the end, it didn’t even really matter if they kept the ranch.
Gran mattered. Piper and Tommy mattered. AJ mattered.
The people she loved mattered, those who were still alive and real and present—far more than anything else she could prove or preserve.
A sea of people swirling around her, she looked at AJ and she knew what her grandmother had meant.
The Wildest Ride--A Novel Page 33