But there were only two left.
“That’s Logan!” Izzy happy-shouted, pointing to the big screen, seemingly unaffected by the horror she just witnessed. Or perhaps several minutes had lapsed since she had been able to hear anything outside the pounding of her own heart. “He’s next, Aunty Abbie!”
“Storm Warning,” her mom read off the board. “I want a job naming the bulls. I think I’d be pretty good at that, don’t you think so, Izzy?”
“You could name one Skittles!”
“Or Tsunami,” Mom suggested.
The two came up with an entire slew of names, but Abbie didn’t hear much of it. Her eyes were locked on Logan in the chute, dropping onto the bull. Storm Warning didn’t give him near as much grief as Tornado had the previous rider.
The gate opened, and quickly the nauseated feeling gave way to a hint of excitement. She found herself at the edge of her seat as the bull bucked and kicked up mud. Logan held on. He moved in sync with the bucking as easily as breathing, rocking forward when the bull reared onto his hind legs. Backward when Storm Warning dropped onto all fours.
He’d improved his technique since she’d last watched him. Everything was smoother.
Each movement seemed to play out in slow motion until the buzzer sounded and Logan jumped off the bull, running for the gate.
“He did it!” Izzy cheered.
“He sure did, Peanut!” For the first time in years, Abbie felt a sense of relief. Logan wasn’t ranked number one for nothing. He was born to do this, and from the smile on his face in the arena as he awaited his score, she knew he loved it. The familiar thrill she used to feel pulsed through her, and she wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that.
“Eighty-eight points!” Her mom clapped her hands.
“Is that good?” Izzy asked.
“It’s really good.”
She could never ask him to give this up before he was ready. This was his passion. If she wanted them to work, she had to accept it.
While they waited on the final rider, the announcer provided the crowd with an update on Chase Wilder, the rider beat up by Tornado, as well as the bull fighter who was stepped on. “We’re happy to tell you folks that both men will be okay.” The crowd cheered, but Abbie waited for thebut.
“It is believed that our fearless bull fighter has a broken shoulder and sprained ankle. Chase Wilder has a couple cracked ribs they think, but both are expected to make a full recovery.”
The excitement she felt only moments ago deflated with a pop. How could the announcers possibly promise the crowd the men would recover so easily? They said the same thing about Logan before the ambulance hauled him away.
Chapter 19
Logan
Parking his truck in his grandpa’s driveway, Logan braced himself for battle. They’d been playing a passive-aggressive game of phone tag all week, but he was tired of it. At one time, he and his grandpa were close. What he knew about cars, which admittedly was a whole lot less than he knew about riding bulls, he’d learned from Grandpa.
He saw that the yard had been revived and tamed. The grass was cut, weeds gone, fresh mulch down. Flowers that’d been suffocating and invisible on Monday now had room to breathe and blossom.
“What’s this?” Grandpa stomped onto the porch, waving a folded piece of paper at Logan before he even had a chance to close his truck door. “I told you I didn’t want your money. And where’s Gus?”
“Gus is fine. He’s with Abbie.”
“What right did you have?” He shoved the papers at Logan’s chest. Ah, so it was the notice from the bank for settling the debt.
He could shout right back, raise his voice about how he only ever meant to help, but arguing would get them nowhere. It never had. He nodded to the chairs on the front porch and took a seat in one himself. “You’re the reason I know how to change my own oil, Grandpa.”
The stern expression didn’t soften any, but his grandpa did sit. “Can’t imagine you have time for something as mundane as changing your own oil.”
He had plenty of time between events the last couple of years, when he found himself home alone in Albany instead of in Starlight with his family and friends. “I do most of them.”
This tidbit seemed to surprise Grandpa. Why hadn’t he started things out this way when he came by earlier this week?
“You’ve done so much over the years for me and Mom,” he continued now that he seemed to have Grandpa’s unbiased attention. “I know I’m not around like I used to be to help out. I’m going to change that,” he said. “Bought a house, actually.”
