She tsks. “Nah, not Knox. Have you seen that man? He’s jacked. You could throw him in a hurricane, and he’d walk out without a scratch.” She bumps my shoulder, trying to lighten the mood.
I chuckle and shoulder bump her back, but the conversation has sobered my mood. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve seen him shirtless. You’re not wrong.”
We make a drinking game of anyone who bucks off or misses their calf. Pretty soon, our cups are empty and they’re rolling the barrel out to start the bull riding. While the alcohol has relaxed me some, I’m still a ball of nerves. How do the other girlfriends and wives handle this? Knowing each night someone you love risks their life for a paycheck and sport they love? I don’t know if I can do this. But I’m not sure what scares me more, the danger of the sport or the thought of not being with Knox anymore. I feel stuck between a rock and a hard place.
“Looks like Trey will be before Knox tonight. He has his helmet on and looks ready to go.” I’m already sitting on the edge of my seat, bouncing my knee. If I thought I got nervous at home, this is ten times worse.
Jessie, however, is not nervous at all. She’s braiding a small lock of her hair, humming along to the music they’re playing over the loudspeakers. Now that I think about it, she might be the perfect bull rider’s girlfriend if she’d let herself. Her exposure to injuries, stressful childhood, and penchant for living a little on the wild side would have her fitting right in.
The first bull rider makes it to the corner when the bull starts to spin, but his inside foot comes up and he nearly hits the back of the bull’s head with his facemask. He’s able to block the hit with his free hand, but the bull's momentum sends the guy’s body twirling in a helicopter motion, while his hand is still caught in his rope.
I hold my breath, watching the bullfighters move in to help him.
Once there is enough G-force put on his arm, his hand pops out and he goes flying, landing in a heap on the dirt. He scurries to his feet and tries to limp back to the chutes as fast as he can,clearly in pain. The bull leaves the arena, then the bullfighters help him the rest of the way to safety.
All of a sudden, it sinks in. Knox could die. It doesn’t happen often, but bull riderscandie. His words play back in my head.
Danger is very real, but fear is a choice.
Knox knows how dangerous it is and chooses to do it, anyway. I don’t know if I can handle this, but I know I can’t lose what we have, so for now, I will shove my fear into a box and pray this gets easier with time.
Jessie taps me on the knee. “Here’s Trey.”
She sits up and leans forward so she can see through the fence better.
I can see Knox pulling Trey’s bull rope and saying something to him as he wraps his rope around his hand.
The announcer lists Trey’s wins and career highlights. “This man is on track for his second trip to the national finals rodeo in December. He’s proven time and time again he can ride the buckers. Show’em tonight, Trey.” They start playing a Score song and he nods his head.
The chute gate flies open and his bull kicks hard and stutter steps out two jumps. He turns back to the left, away from Trey’s hand, but it doesn’t affect him. He looks completely in control. The crowd grows louder and louder each round Trey makes on the bull. Knox is hollering from the back of the bucking chutes.
At seven seconds, he gets yanked to the outside but doesn’t let go. He has one foot under the bull and the other one coming across his back, but he hasn’t hit the ground yet. The whistle blows and he opens his hand right as the bull jumps forward, throwing Trey through the air. He tucks into a ball, doing a couple of somersaults before he pops up onto his feet like nothing happened. He throws his arms in the air, hyping up the crowd.
I can’t help but laugh. “Well, he clearly lives for the crowd’s attention.” I turn to Jessie.
She has her eyes locked on Trey, following him across the arena as he picks up his bull rope. “I have a feeling Trey lives for attention, period,” she replies.
Chapter 34
Knox
Ihear the eight-second whistle for Trey before I jump down off the chutes to go grab my gear. I’ve seen Trey’s legendary crowd hype performance before, and I have a feeling he’ll go all out with Jessie here tonight. I don’t know what was decided during their weird stare-down, but he was hyper-focused behind the chutes tonight.
The crowd roars as the announcer gets them to stomp their feet in the grandstands. I buckle my chaps, throw on my vest, and head for the alley. My bull is at the back, so I start getting my rope on him. I take extra time making sure I like how it’s set. The bull I have is one I can win on, but he’s also known to be mean. I refuse to ruin Kacey’s birthday by getting wrecked out. I’ll ride him, then make a good dismount, and hightail it to the barrel or nearest gate.
I’m trying not to read too much into the fact that Kacey didn’t tell me this was her birthday trip. Jessie clearly didn’t know it was a secret, so maybe Kacey just forgot to tell me. I plan to ropeJessie into helping me get her flowers and a gift, even if I can’t be there in person.
The longer this goes between us, the more I’m realizing just how much I’ve fallen for her. And I’m slowly trusting that she’s in this for the long haul. All the late-night phone calls after rodeos, and encouraging text messages, I’m pretty sure she hasn’t missed a single ride that’s been on TV. She might not be ready to verbalize her feelings for me, but she’s showing me every day.
I finish setting my rope and grab my helmet. Trey is back at his gear bag, stripping out of his vest and blue chaps. “I’ll be up to pull your rope. You have a birthday girl to impress.” He smirks at me. For all his joking around, I know he’s happy for me. Driving overnight to the ranch, offering to drive after rodeos just so I can put all my focus on her when we talk. He might be a shithead sometimes, but he’s a good friend.
I climb down in the chute, and Trey pulls my rope up so I can warm the rosin. I hear the announcer going over the bull’s stats and mine. The clown stands on his barrel, hyping up the crowd as I take my wrap. They play "Gladiator" by Zayde Wolf as I call for the black muley and the gate flies open.
He turns back into the gate to the right. I angle my hips and shoulders, then throw my free arm over my head as he kicks. He steps ahead and throws his head to the outside. I know if I make too big of a move, he’s going to well me. This bull might not have horns, but I know he has a reputation for clearing an arena.
I square up when I climb over his shoulders on the next rear, but he beats me around his next corner. I manage to catch up at the last second using core strength alone. One reason I workout so much isn’t just to keep from getting injured, it’s to buy myself a second chance to get back in the middle of a bull’s back when most guys would have gotten bucked off.
He makes two more rounds before he gets smart. He gives a big jump forward and I’m nearly too late setting my hips to my rope, then he turns back to the left. He thinks he’s smart, anyway. Joke’s on him—I love bulls that turn away from my hand. I keep my free arm low; he doesn’t feel welly this direction and I’m feeling confident in my seat. I pick up my outside foot and raise it as high as I can, then drop it back down at the exact moment his front feet hit the ground. This is known as spurring. It’s not meant to hurt the animal, piss him off, or to break his spirit. It’s to show the judges that I am in complete control.
