Most kids would have run. Strangers on porches were generally to be avoided. But this kid just stared. He looked at Ryder’s leg. Then he looked at Ryder’s face.
He walked up the steps. One. Two. Three.
He stood at the top of the stairs, clutching his plastic bull.
"Are you the pirate?" the boy asked.
Ryder blinked. "The pirate?"
"Mom said a pirate lives in the guest room. She said he has a peg leg and I'm not allowed to talk to him."
Ryder laughed. It hurt his ribs, but it was worth it.Elena.Of course.
"I'm not a pirate," Ryder said. "I'm a cowboy. And it's not a peg leg. It's fiberglass."
"Oh." The boy looked disappointed. "Can you still walk the plank?"
"Not currently. Currently, I'm anchored."
The boy took a step closer. He held out the bull.
"It's Bodacious," the boy said solemnly. " The toughest bull ever."
Ryder looked at the toy. Bodacious. The bull that had broken Tuff Hedeman’s face. A legend.
"That's a serious bull," Ryder agreed. "But you're playing him wrong."
"Am not."
"Are too. You're making him spin flat. Bodacious didn't spin flat. He was a power jumper. He came out of the chute, took two jumps to test the rider,thenhe whipped his head back to break your nose."
The boy’s eyes went wide. "Really?"
"Really. I've seen the tapes."
"Show me," the boy challenged.
Ryder hesitated. He looked at the door. Elena wasn't due for another hour. Cole was in the field.
"Come here," Ryder said.
The boy walked over. He handed Ryder the plastic bull.
Ryder took it. His hand—large, scarred, calloused—engulfed the small toy. He felt a strange ping in his chest. He wasn't good with kids. He avoided them. Kids were sticky. Kids were loud. Kids were responsibility.
But this kid... this kid smelled like dirt and soap. He looked at Ryder with an intensity that felt familiar.
"Okay," Ryder said, setting the bull on the flat arm of the swing. "Here's the chute."
He used his hand to simulate the gate opening.
"When he comes out," Ryder explained, moving the toy, "he drops the shoulder. Boom. Then he lifts. High. See?"
The boy nodded, entranced.
"Then," Ryder continued, his voice dropping to a whisper, "he feels the rider shift. And he attacks."
Ryder whipped the toy bull backward.
