“Yeah, that’s a little steep for my blood, too,” Ben says as he digs around in his pockets.
“Fine.” Tyler sighs. “Whatever’s in your pockets then.”
Ben puts down sixty. I put in what I’ve got.
“Twenty-two bucks?” Tyler laughs. “I almost feel bad taking this from you, Tate. Almost.”
He dusts off an old horseshoe and places it on top of the money. “Your winning streak is over,” he says, as he brushes past me to put on his gear.
Ben slaps me on the back. “Just like old times, huh, Tate?”
“Something like that.” I force myself to smile. Tyler might have the custom-made chaps, the best training money can buy, but we’re not playing for points here. What I lack in style, I make up for in heart. And all I have to do is hang on the longest. I’m good at hanging on to things.
I watch Ali leaning up against the fence, talking to the bull, trying to soothe it, and I know she’s innocent in all this. I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect her.
Tammy comes out of the brush with three blades of onion grass. We draw to decide the order. It’s Ben, then Tyler, then me.
As Ben’s pacing next to the chute, trying to psych himself up, I’m thinking I lucked out. They don’t call him Big Ben for nothing. Hopefully, he’ll tire Diablo out a bit so I can get a decent ride.
Ben climbs onto the bull and gives the signal—at least I think it’s a signal. Either that or he’s changed his mind and he’s trying to get off.
Tyler opens the chute.
The bull spins hard to the left, does a belly roll, and that’s all she wrote. Ben lasts all of 1.4 seconds before he’s thrown off. He’s scrambling over the side of the ring to throw up before we even have a chance to jump in and distract the bull.
“Sexy,” Tammy mutters.
“Oh man!” Ben dusts off his jeans. “I swallowed my chew.”
Tyler’s up next.
Back when we used to do Junior Rodeo together, he had all sorts of weird little rituals he copied from the pros. He’d kiss the bull, take off his hat, and give thanks to God … anything for the attention. All show, no substance, but the judges loved that crap. I see things haven’t changed much. Tyler climbs onto the bull and makes a big show out of just putting on his gloves. He’s pounding his fist on the flat braided rope, which makes Diablo even more pissed. I wait for the signal. As soon as Tyler tips his hat, I open the gate. The bull bursts from the chute with a fury I feel underneath my skin. He’s spinning and bucking and sunfishing so hard, I’m shocked Tyler’s able to last the 4.2 seconds he does. Ben jumps in to distract the bull, but Diablo pays him no mind—he’s laser-focused on Tyler. The bull’s got his head low as he stamps his hoof in the dirt, his tail twitching violently.
“Tyler!” I shout as I climb up on the fence. “You need to get out of there.”
But Tyler just sits there in the dirt, staring at the bull, completely transfixed. He pulls a knife from the sheath in his boot and the bull rears back to charge.
The flash of silver. The snorting breath. Something snaps inside of me. I jump in the ring, diving in front of Tyler’s body.
I hear the grating sound of hooves skidding in the dirt. I shut my eyes, bracing for impact, but all I feel is the hot rancid breath of the bull breathing down on my neck. Tyler scrambles out from under me. I hear the others helping him over the side of the ring.
“No way,” Ben whispers behind me.
I open my eyes, and grasp onto Tyler’s knife lying next to me. Peering through the settling dust, I face the bull. He’s kneeling right in front of me, one of his horns pressed against my chest. All he has to do is lean in and it’ll go straight through my heart. As soon as I meet his gaze, something goes off inside of me, a lightning bolt of recognition.
This is the same bull from the breeding barn. The same bull my dad tried to kill that night. Suddenly, there’s no one else here. I don’t even see the ring. It’s just me and the bull.
He blinks his big dark eyes at me and in their reflection I see my dad’s final moments playing out before me. I want to turn away, but I can’t. Whatever truth I tried to bury that night wants to be heard, wants to come back to the surface.
I force myself to watch.
“I have sinned … against my own seed. I killed him. I thought it would stop all this. I thought I could protect you, but I was wrong.” His face contorts in agony. “I still feel it. Can you feel it? I have to stop the evil before it’s born. Please forgive me.”
He clasps his blood-slick hands around my throat, and squeezes with every ounce of strength left in his body. I’m struggling for breath, but I don’t try to fight. It could be madness or drugs, but he knows exactly what he’s doing in this moment. He knows it’s me.