“That’s it, Sammy! You got ‘im!” The bull spun, and suddenly he was right smack in the middle, leg throwing out to spur instinctively.
Just one ride. Come on. Come on, youbitch.
His teeth groaned in his head, and he whimpered, but he heard the buzzer, then heard Nate telling him to hop off. He tugged on the rope, fingers caught fast.
Fuck-a-duck. Adam Taggart’s face flashed by, set hard and intent, and he knew it was bad.
“Sammy! Git yer arse off, mate!” Mac’s voice cut across the air, the old Aussie running hard.
“Trying. Fuck.”
“Blast! Blast! Come on, fucker!” Nate was there, bopping the bull on the nose to get him out of the sickening spin. Maybe if the G-forces let go--
His hand popped out and he spun off, flying through the air. The bull’s horns were the thing he saw, about a half second before they connected with his vest and his body changed direction. Fuck-a-doodle.
“Shit!” He saw Fred go spinning away, and the dirt came up fast.
Sam had about enough time to remind himself to keep his fucking chin up so he didn’t break his neck again before the world went black.
When he came to, Beau was there, hovering over him, blue eyes worried as fuck. Doc’s voice was over past his left ear, and he could hear David Donaldson announcing his score. “Ninety-two and a half!”
“Keep your chin up.” He blinked, shook his head. “Sorry.”
“You know where you are, son?” Doc’s face appeared, too, and his chin was way more wobbly than Beau’s.
“In the dirt. In…uh…Boug? We in Illinois?”
“Yeah. Yeah, Poot.” Beau’s hands hovered over him, and he knew Doc had said not to touch him. “You hear that score? You’ll win the round, Raul doesn’t do something crazy on his ride.”
“How’s the neck, and you’re in Missouri, boys.”
“Okay. Not broke. Get me in the back, damn it.”
“Come on.” That was all Beau needed to elbow Doc out of the way and get an arm under him, lifting him. They got him on his feet, Jonesy there to help.
“I’m okay. I’m okay.” He shook his head a little, trying to clear it as he waved to the crowd.
The crowd roared, the air coming back into the arena. Whew. Go him. Thank God Beau’d already rode. Sam was considering tossing cookies.
They got him back to sports medicine, then there was lights in his eyes and Jonesy feeling up his skull. Gag.
“Gonna hurl.” He shoved Jonesy out of the way, stumbling for a toilet. He didn’t have to go far. One of the guys shoved a metal bucket at him, and that was good enough. Jesus.
Once that was done, it was better. Not great, and his head was like to split, but better. “Don’t none of y’all tell Doc.”
“Nope.” Beau eased him back down on the gurney. “Y’all let his bell stop ringing. Then you can check him some more.”
“Sorry. Them damn lights. I rode good, huh?”
“You did, Poot. You really did.” Beau was grinning to beat the band.
“Cool.” He nodded, then stopped as the room spun.
“Do you need to lie back?” Jonesy came with ice, putting it behind his neck, making the nausea ease right off.
“Jonesy, you’re a good man.” He’d rode that damned bull.
“I try. Here. No sleeping, now.” Jonesy got him as comfy as he could get before leaving him with Beau.
