I was feeling pretty good about how this had gone when I headed back toward the warm-up area to put my gear away. Sadly, I'd forgotten all about the press. A dumb move, but the moment they saw me, all those cameras turned my way.
"Jake Cunningham!" a man said. "Do you have any thoughts about this strike?"
"I think Casey's death was a tragedy," I said.
"Is that why you chose not to ride?" someone else asked.
"Yes, it is. One of our own paid the ultimate price for this sport. The best way to memorialize him is to make sure it never happens again. My heart goes out to his family in this difficult time, and I - like all the other riders - will bow my head tonight, saying a prayer for him."
Then I pushed through the lot, refusing to get trapped into saying too much. Yeah, if Cody wanted to tackle that, then good for her. If I tried, this shit would blow up. My father would thinkit was me acting out to get his attention and dismiss everyone else's damned good points.
So I was going to stay out of it.
I was getting good at that. Lately, it felt like all I did was try to keep my nose to the grindstone and not cause problems. Sure, I was making good money. I couldn't complain about that. I was also improving my rides, but for the first time, I was no longer sure I was doing the right thing.
When I got there, I wasn't surprised at all to see the warm-up area packed with people. Heading to my gear so I could put it away, I unconsciously scanned the crowd for a little lady in pink. Just when I was sure she'd already taken off, I caught a glimpse of the color only she would wear.
Ty was standing before her. Jackson - the Canadian one - was hovering at her side, looking like a proud little brother. Gustavo and Renato were with her, but so were about a half dozen others.
Clearly, she was the woman of the hour. I tossed my rope into its bag, then began stripping off my chaps. I'd just dropped those down with the rest of my stuff, and was working on my spurs when my father's voice cut through the room.
"What was that bullshit?!" Donald Merrill demanded.
Not surprisingly, it was Cody who answered. "That," she told him, "is us drawing the line."
He stormed right into her face, trying to push aside the men around her. I stood, ready to jump in, but I was too far away - and too slow. Ty, Renato, and Jackson moved to block him, making it clear Mr. Merrill would have to go through them to get to her, and Ty looked ready to kill the man.
"Manners," Ty growled.
"I could suspend all of you for this shit!" Mr. Merrill snarled.
"Do it," Renato said. "Then have fun explaining the deaths in Nashville."
"This is unbecoming conduct!" the man tried next. "All of you are here to ride bulls, right?" He turned to make it clear everyone in the room was included in that. "Then you need to actuallyridethem!"
"And you need to get us some real bullfighters," Cody said.
"Oh, because you're manipulating these men into helping your boyfriend?"
Someone at the side snorted as he tried to smother a laugh. A few others were shaking their heads, because that attack was far too obvious, and very pathetic.
"This," Ty said, pressing his hand into Mr. Merrill's chest and backing the man away from Cody, "is our line in the sand. This, Mr. Merrill, is a strike. Our terms are simple. We want the wolf pack back. So when Jorge, Isaac, and Tanner are working, we'll start riding."
"Tanner is suspended," Mr. Merrill shot back. "Jorge and Isaac can work any time they want.They'rethe ones who didn't want to be here."
"Because those men you have now are dangerous!" Cody yelled. "Don't you get that?"
I just leaned back against the panels. "He doesn't, Cody."
"You stay out of this," my father snapped at me.
I lifted my hands, making it clear I was done for now, so he turned to Cody again.
"Was this your doing?"
"Mine," Ty said.
"And mine," Renato added.
