Rough Rider (Hot Cowboy Nights, #2)(39)

Without thought, he leaped over the fence to join the bull fighters, but the bull had already dragged Seth’s unconscious body half the width of the arena before anyone could get in close enough to cut Seth loose. The announcer and barrel man distracted the crowd with jokes and antics while half a dozen men fought to free the unconscious rider. Once they’d cut the cowboy loose, the bull fighters coaxed the enraged animal back through the cattle chute and into the pen while the medical team sprang into action, surrounding Seth’s inert, bloodied, and barely breathing body.

Dirk had seen plenty of bad wrecks before, but this one made his blood run cold. He stood helplessly looking on as the medical team swiftly transferred Seth onto a stretcher to carry him out to the waiting ambulance. As they passed, Seth’s eyes flickered open to stare directly into Dirk’s. Their gazes met for no more than a second but Dirk read the terror and helplessness before Seth’s expression went utterly blank. A long and shuddering breath followed. Then he went perfectly still. The efforts at revival were frantic and fruitless. Seth was gone. He’d slipped away before their very eyes.

Everyone would later say the kid died doing what he loved, but he shouldn’t have died at all. Seth Lawson should never have been on that bull. Dirk watched utterly numb as they carried him out. The smells, the sounds, and the look in Seth’s eyes were forever etched in his brain. A long moment of silence followed Seth’s exit, but then the announcer called the next rider. As always, the show must go on.

Minutes later, Dirk lowered himself onto his own bull, mechanically going through the motions, wrapping his fist in his rope and sidling his hips right up to his hand just as he had a hundred times before. Normally his heart would be pounding in anticipation and his blood fired to beat Grady, but everything had changed. He felt completely numb. The thrill was gone.

Fearing his head wasn’t in the game—a damned dangerous thing while forking an eighteen-hundred-pound bull—it took all his concentration to tune out the distractions and blank his mind to all but the bull.

When the gate swung open, the animal came to life beneath him, hurling himself into the air and transforming into a furiously bucking cyclone. He clung like a burr to the wildly pitching animal for the longest eight seconds of his life. When the buzzer finally sounded, he released his hand and threw his leg over for a clean dismount, landing on both feet. His boots had barely hit the dirt before the bull spun around to face him, dropping his shoulders as if to charge, shaking his head and spewing snot. While Dirk’s instincts told him to run for the panels, he just stood there, boots rooted in the dirt.

The bullfighters moved in shouting and waving their hats, but the silent showdown continued with bull and rider just staring one another down. Taken with a sudden crazy impulse, Dirk tipped his hat in salute. As if on cue, the animal gave a loud snort and turned away, trotting quietly back into the chutes. Dirk watched until the gate closed, then looked up to find Janice staring down at him, mouth agape. Their eyes met. He tipped his hat again and walked out of the arena.

*

Dirk found himself in the warm-up area behind the pens without even remembering how he got there. Hell, he hardly remembered the ride. It was as if he suddenly viewed himself through someone else’s eyes. While the other riders laughed and jawed, he wordlessly stripped off his vest and chaps, throwing them into his rigging bag.

“What the f*ck was that exit all about?” Grady demanded.

“I’m done,” Dirk said.

“Whadaya mean done?”

Dirk released one spur from his boot, and then the other. “Done as in retired.”

“Retired? Old men and pussies retire. You sayin’ one kid gets killed by a bull and you go all chickenshit? You know the risks. He did too. Hell, the danger is more than half the reason we do it.”

“It’s why you do it,” Dirk said. “I’m done now. I haven’t lost my nerve, I’ve just gained some sense. You might call it an epiphany.”

“An epiphany? What the f*ck’s an epiphany?”

“It’s a ‘shit, I finally get it’ moment.”

“Yeah and what do you get?”

“That it ain’t rodeo. There’s more I want to do with my life.”

“And what’s that?”

“Dunno yet. I’ll figure the rest out on the way.”

“On the way where? You goin’ some place, Pretty Boy?”

“Yeah.” Dirk stood. “I am. I got a hankering to see the ocean. I’m leaving tonight.”

“Did you hit your head again? You’re talking like you scrambled your f*cking brain.”

“Nope. I just need a change of scenery… Say good-bye to her for me.”

Grady smirked. “So it’s Janice? That’s what this is really about? You’re bowing out?”

Dirk threw the last of his gear in his bag. “Looks to me like she’s already made her choice. Might not be the best one, but what’s done is done. Just know that if you hurt her, I’ll tear you a new *.”

“Hurt her? Shit!” he scoffed. “I’ll treat her like a f*cking queen.”

“For how long?” Dirk demanded.

“Till death do us part… I intend to marry her.”

“Oh, yeah?” Dirk rose and slung his bag over his shoulder. “Then I just hope she has the good sense to refuse. You ain’t husband material, Grady.” He took a few steps and turned around. “I mean it, Grady. Treat her right.”