He orders, "Get stretching and warm up."
I don't argue. I move over to where the other bull riders are, and we exchange hellos.
There are eight stretches Jax makes us do, just like the eight seconds we're on a bull. I hold each stretch for the eighty-eight seconds he requires, adding "Texas" after each number to ensure it's a full second. Then, I run eight laps around the outside of the bullpen before stopping to stand against the fence.
Jax steps beside me, challenging, "Are you sure you're ready for the next level?"
"Of course I am," I arrogantly declare. I can't say I'm good at most things, but I know bull riding is my talent. If I work hard, I know I can win the world championships someday.
Jax's lips press into a thin line as he continues to stare at me.
I cross my arms and lift my chin. "Don't tell me you're going to hold me back and not let me ride Snarlhide."
He shakes his head. "Didn't say that, but you better get rid of your cockiness before you get on that backbreaker." He points at the big black bull that's kicking dust around in a circle.
My stomach fills with butterflies. They're nervous but excited. I admit, "I've been waiting for this. And I'm ready."
Jax's rugged smirk lifts his wrinkled cheeks. He pats my shoulders. "All right, then. Let's see what you got. My bet is you're off in two seconds."
"No way," I scoff, sure I'll stay on for all eight. If not all eight, then at least six or seven. There's no way Snarlhide's tossing me off like a rookie.
He chuckles. "We'll see, son."
In the adjacent ring, a newer rider gets thrown off a level-one bull. Jax shouts, "You're not going to make it, son. There's no point coming back tomorrow."
The ranch hands quickly rope the bull to ensure he doesn't charge the rider.
The guy takes way too long to rise, coughing as he gets to his feet. When he finally catches his breath, he says to Jax, "I'll get it, I promise."
Jax shakes his head. "No. Don't come back, son. This isn't a career for you. If I let you ride a bull one more time, you're probably going to end up dead or paralyzed."
"I won't," he argues.
"Consider it a blessing. You tried hard. I'm proud of you. But it's best if you get off the ranch now," Jax tells the guy.
Disappointment fills the rider's face.
I swallow hard, feeling bad for him, but Jax is right. He may sound like an asshole, but bull riding isn't something you mess around with. Wrong moves in the pen can land you in a wheelchair for life or in a casket.
I tear my gaze off the other rider, and focus back on Snarlhide. He's still kicking up dirt, which isn't anything new. I've had my eye on him since I started.
"Get him ready," Jax calls to his team.
Bucky and Matrix lasso him and push him into the chute.
Anxiety builds within me, but it's good. It makes me feel alive. I'm ready to conquer this bull, prove to Jax that I can do it, and move on to the next bull. Plus, I have no room to fail.
School's never been my thing. College isn't an option. This is the only dream I've ever had, and it's my ticket to success. I'm so close, I can feel it.
Once I master riding Snarlhide, there's only a few more bulls to conquer. After that, Jax will give me a spot on his team. And that's where the money and success lie.
The bull gets locked into the chute, and I step up the staircase, assessing the beast, my pulse beating between my ears.
Jax warns, "This one's been pissed off all day. You sure you want to do this?"
I grunt. "Yep. I was born to do this. Get Hellhorn ready. I'm riding him tomorrow."
Jax shakes his head. "You're about to learn a lesson about cockiness, son."
