“And you think riding Brutus would do that?”
“A legendary bull coming out of retirement for one final challenge? A rider willing to take him on when no one else will?” I spread my hands. “That’s not just a rodeo event. That’s a spectacle. That’s the kind of thing people talk about for years.”
Farmer Crawford is quiet, chewing over my words, his buddies whispering about how it might work.
“You know he could kill you,” Farmer Crawford says finally.
“I take that risk with any bull I ride.”
“He’s not like those practice bulls you’re used to. He’s got instincts honed from years of learning exactly how to destroy riders.”
I nod.
“And you still want to do this?”
I think about June’s worried face when she talked about the businesses that depend on the rodeo. I think about Seth, whose father built this circuit from nothing and is watching it slowly shrink in this town that used to be a huge earner for us. I thinkabout Carter, who rides to honor his dead brother and can’t afford to lose another piece of the life they shared.
“Yeah,” I say. “I do.”
Farmer Crawford stares at me for a long, measuring moment. Then he nods slowly. “All right. Give me a sec.”
Before I can even answer, he’s already stepping away from the edge of the table, phone out, turning his shoulder to the crowd, and lifts it to his ear.
I stay where I am, hands tucked behind my back so I don’t look like I’m hovering. Doesn’t stop the nervous energy from buzzing under my skin anyway.
I keep my eyes on Farmer Crawford, but I can’t hear a word he’s saying with the chatter around us.
He ends the call after a decent chat and looks at his screen for a beat, thumbs moving like he’s firing off a quick message. Then he turns back toward me, and this time he’s smiling like he’s been waiting to.
“Well,” he says, slipping the phone back into his pocket, “Pete’s in. Town committee will want the paperwork and some promotional materials, but that’s normal.” He reaches out his hand. “You got yourself a deal.”
Relief hits me so fast it’s almost dizzying. I shake his hand, grip firm. “Appreciate it.”
Farmer Crawford’s grin widens, a little boyish now that the hard part is done. “Will be good to see Brutus in the arena again.”
“That’s the idea,” I say, and it’s the easiest I’ve felt all day.
By the time I get back to the table, Carter’s still got his spot next to June like he’s claimed it in blood. Seth’s father is there now, sitting across from him, and the conversation looks like it could crack glass.
I hang back, not wanting to interrupt.
“…just remember when you were younger,” John is saying, his voice rough. “Back in Amarillo, with your mother. Everything felt perfect then. Like nothing could ruin what we had.”
Seth’s jaw is tight, but he doesn’t pull away when his father reaches across to grip his hand.
“I want that for you, son. That same chance to build something real. A family. A home.” John’s attention drifts to June, who’s watching the exchange carefully. “You can’t be a rodeo legend forever. Sometimes it’s best to leave when you’re on top; that’s what I’ve always said.”
“Is that what you’re telling me to do?” Seth’s voice is carefully neutral.
“I’m saying not to let the good things slip away while you’re chasing buckles and trophies.” John squeezes his hand once, then releases it. “The circuit will sort itself out. You focus on what you want in your future.”
A woman appears at John’s elbow, his new wife, Marlene. She’s maybe thirty-three, thirty-four, wearing a pretty sundress and heels that seem impractical for a BBQ joint. He’s in his late fifties. Her smile is bright and a little artificial as she touches his shoulder.
“Dear, come on. There’s someone I want to introduce you to, and you’ve been gone forever.” Her gaze flicks to Seth. “Oh, you did amazing today. I’m rooting for you.”
Seth nods, expression carefully blank. “Thanks, Marlene.”
John lets himself be led away, throwing one last look at his son over his shoulder, then he’s gone.
