Beauty and the Bull Rider (Hotel Rodeo #3)(21)

Zac dismounted, lasso in hand. “Kinda looks that way. What’s he weigh? ’Bout eight hundred?”

“At least that much!” Delaney exclaimed.

“I was a decent bulldogger back in the day. Biggest steer I ever took down was probably six-fifty, but I was smaller then.” He gave the bull another assessing look. “I should be able to take this guy. Think you could manage the rope?”

“I don’t see why not,” she said. “I’ve handled one a few times. How are we going to do this?”

“I’m going to take him by the horns. If I can get him down, I need you to lasso his front legs and dally on the saddle horn.” He nodded to the gelding. “That horse’ll know what to do after that.”

“I think I can handle it.” Delaney accepted the rope with a nervous smile.

“What the hell happened to your hand?” he asked, noting her bloody glove.

“I stuck my thumb with some barbed wire. That’s how this all started,” she said.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. It’s no big deal, but I’ll probably need a tetanus shot.”

“You sure you’re all right to do this?” he asked.

“It’s only a scratch, Zac. I can handle the rope. Just tell me what to do.”

“You need to stand back and give me plenty of room. He can’t do too much with the back legs, but he’s probably going to thrash pretty wild with the front ones. Try to get both if you can. If not”—he shrugged—“one’ll just haveta do.”

“Are you sure about this, Zac? What about the wire?” she asked with a worried frown. “What if you get tangled up in it too?”

Zac darted her a sidelong look. “I guess that would really suck, wouldn’t it?”

“It’s not funny, Zac.”

“I ain’t laughin’,” he replied. “I’ll be careful. You just watch yourself. I need you to stay clear until his head and shoulder hit the ground. Once that happens, we’ve gotta move real fast.”

As instructed, Delaney stayed well back as Zac moved slowly toward the wary bull.

Romeo snorted and pawed in warning as Zac approached his shoulder. “Easy there, ol’ son,” he said in a low, soothing voice. “We only wanna help.”

The bull was trembling and smelled of blood, sweat, and manure. Zac held his breath, praying the animal wouldn’t hook him before he could take hold of the horns. As long as he stayed behind the shoulder, he was in the safety zone, but once he got in front, anything could happen. He was doubly thankful the animal was only half grown.

“Get ready,” he spoke a quiet warning to Delaney.

The next seconds were a blur of motion and adrenaline as Zac wrapped his arms around the bull’s horns, twisting until the animal’s slick nose met the crook of his elbow. The bull tossed his head with a snort as Zac threw his hip into the animal’s neck. Straining and grunting, he flipped the bull over his leg and onto its side. “Now, Delaney! Quick. Get his legs!”

While Zac lay on top of the struggling animal, she leaped into action, but failed to rope the legs. Letting loose one of the horns, Zac reached out to guide the lasso over a foreleg, but the bull jerked before he could catch it. On the third try, Delaney got them both. She gave a solid yank on the rope to tighten the loop and then turned to the horse, who stood ears pricked in readiness as she dallied the rope to the saddle horn.

“Got the cutters?” Zac called out.

“I got ’em,” a gravelly voice answered.

Zac looked over his shoulder to find Bart dropping from his horse.

“What the hell took you so long?” Zac growled.

“Traffic,” Bart snapped back sarcastically, and then knelt by the bull, wire cutters in hand.

Delaney joined him with another pair. The two went straight to work squeezing and snipping, cutting the wire away by sections. Zac’s stomach knotted with apprehension as blood coated the tools and their hands. Ten minutes later, the bull was freed of the barbed wire, but, weakened by blood loss, the animal had stopped struggling. It lay panting with its black tongue lolling. The bleeding by now had slowed, but it was impossible to assess the full extent of his injury.

Delaney looked anxiously to Zac, her brows knitted. “How bad is it?” she asked. “Will we have to put him down?”

“Hard to say,” Zac replied. Where the hell was the vet? “He’s lost a lot of blood, but I’ve seen animals bounce back from a lot worse. Bulls are tough and resilient.”

Zac was wondering if he’d have to use the shotgun when the sound of an engine broke the silence. A pickup appeared on the horizon. It was the vet, towing a stock trailer.

Delany waited, nervously chewing her lip. She rushed to the truck as soon as the engine cut off. “Thanks for coming so quickly, Kevin,” Delaney said.

“I’m sorry it took me as long as it did,” the vet said with an apologetic look. “I was literally up to my shoulder in a cow when your call came. I got here as soon as I could.” He moved quickly to evaluate the bull. “Glad you have him immobilized. That’s always half the battle.”

“I never could have done it without Zac,” she said.

The vet nodded, acknowledging Zac with an appraising look.