Beau bumped chests with him a little, giving him that smile that he knew was saved just for him. Only he ever saw it.
They both watched that new little red-headed boy face-plant, then bounce up with a grin. Kid was gonna be somebody someday. Kynan went, then Reynaldo. Then Beau was up.
He started jabbering while Balta headed across to help pull rope. “You can do this, Boug. You got this. You keep your ass in the middle.”
He knew he had to keep Beau from thinking. They were opposites that way. He hated chatter, Beau needed it. Bad. Silva got it, nodding at him, letting him do his thing. Beau straightened his vest, pushed his hat down. Those pale eyes met his for the two seconds it took Balta to climb off the gate. Then Beau nodded.
“You got this.” The bull was rocking and rolling in the chute and he had to catch Beau twice before it settled.
“I do.” That was all he got before Beau settled back, pushed his damned hat down again, and nodded one more time.
The gate swung open and the ride began. Balta was hollering and Coke was hollering and Beau had his head down, chin tucked so far down the green sponsor shirt hid his mouth. Beau knew he’d be counting though—one, two, three, four.
“Come on, Boug! Ride that bastard!”
Beau started to slide when the bull turned back toward the damned chute, looking like he was gonna scrape Boug off on the rail. Beau held on, hell bent for leather.
“Six. Seven. Eight. You got it!” The crowd went wild and so did he, clapping and hooting. Fucking amazing cowboy.
Beau’s eyes met his for a half a second, fierce and proud. Then the whole thing went tits up.
Geronimo’s head went down, then up but good, and Beau flipped up and over, bouncing right off the big bastard’s ass and into the open chute. Beau hit the back, face-first, then slipped down on his knees, swaying.
“Boug!” He barked the word out and he’d be damned if that bull didn’t spin again, one horn knocking Nate flat on his ass. Those eyes weren’t on the bullfighter, though.
Or on him.
They were on Beau.
No fucking way.
Sam grabbed the top rung and dropped himself down, covering Beau’s body with his own, his bootheels hitting the dirt about a quarter of a second before Geronimo’s head hit him.
“Sammy! No!” That was Coke, but Sam didn’t have the breath to answer.
Beau was stunned, not moving behind him. That was okay. There was plenty in front of him, Geronimo maddened now by being trapped in the chute. Those heavy hooves went up and came down, Geronimo giving him the horns over and over.
He could hear all sorts of shit—screaming and hollering and banging. It didn’t matter much. He just held on, covering Beau for all he was worth.
The last thing he saw was Coke jump on the bull’s back, and Balta’s hat come flying down into Geronimo’s face. Then a horn smacked right into the side of his head, and he was out.
Just like someone had turned the lights off.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Beau woke up with Coke screaming somewhere about four feet to his right side. He could hear Balta, loud and scared, the Portuguese shrill like it only was when something was wrong. Real wrong. He tried to get up, but something was draped on his back, something warm and damp and limp as a wet rag. Too small to be a bull, though.
His hearing snapped back into real focus, where he could understand words, about two seconds later. No one was screaming his name.
They was screaming Sammy’s.
“Sammy! Damn it, Bell. You wake up! Nattie! Get Doc! Get himnow!” That was Coke. That was Coke and Coke wasscared.
Struggling up to his knees, Beau felt the heavy weight slide off him, and he stared up into Balta’s eyes. Balta was purely horrified. One of Balta’s hands reached down for him, and he reached up for it, looking down to get his feet under him.
Oh, fuck.
Fuck.
