One Texan.
Two Texan.
Devil's Backbone thrusts his hips high into the air.
I almost go flying but catch myself, squeezing my thighs tighter.
Three Texan.
Four Texan.
Five Texan.
The bull tries to toss me again, jerking toward the right.
I hang on, bouncing up in the air, and I lose my hat. The hot air hits my sweat-soaked hair, but I stay on the beast.
Six Texan.
He thrusts harder, trying to toss me off. I keep my eyes on his horns.
Seven Texan.
Eight Texan.
The horn blows, and the cheers of the crowd fill the arena.
I did it!
The rodeo clowns barrel at me.
Devil's Backbone dips low to the left, and I release my grip from the rope and kick my legs free. I push off, avoiding his horns and hooves, and land hard on the ground, rolling in the dirt.
The rodeo clowns slide between me and the beast, trying to distract him.
I rise and run to safety, stepping through the gate.
Jax slaps my back, growling, "Hell yeah, kid! That's how you take the purse!"
The purse.
Goose bumps pop out on my skin.
I was the last rider.
The purse is mine.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
Jax chuckles.
The next half hour is a daze. The committee awards me a championship buckle and $30,000.
It's the most money I've ever had in my life. I stare at my check in disbelief.
"Wyatt!" The Cartwrights shout in excitement, circling me.
The next few moments are full of back slaps, hugs from the women, and me trying not to hold Willow too long or kiss her.
