“Sure, Nutbutter.” Cotton clapped him on the back, riding glove already taped up. “You done good today.”
“No shit on that. I stuck like soft bubblegum.”
“You sure did.” Cotton bounced from foot to foot, chaps fringe swaying. “Do it again in the short-go and you’ll eat so good tonight.”
“You know it. Me. Sister. Hell, I can pay two years of taxes.” Two whole years on the house.
“Your house has taxes?” Cotton waggled those red eyebrows.
“Well, the land does and, leastways, I got me a house, not some trailer in the pasture.” He teased right back. Cotton and his girl was building a house on the family ranch, not wanting to kick Cotton’s momma and sister out.
“Yeah, yeah. Butthead.” The bull was loaded, and they got Cotton’s rope in place.
“This one, he spins left. You keep it in the middle, oui? Make money for your girl.” He yammered, grabbed the rope, and set his heels on the gate.
Cotton nodded, eyes on his hand, on the rope. Cotton didn’t need to answer. The man was in the zone.
“You and me, we go to the short-go together. We make us some money.”
“Hell, yes.” Cotton wrapped the rope around his hand for the last time, and Landon scrambled over the gate, out of the way.
Cotton nodded and the gate pulled open, that little red bull spinning like mad under Cotton’s butt. Cotton held on, and Landon chanted, “Four, five, six…”
Cotton started sliding into the well, and Landon held his breath. Lord have mercy. “Come on, Boll! Stick that bastard!”
The bull turned back on itself, Cotton popped into upright, and the buzzer went off half a second before Cotton went flying like a helicopter rotor.
Mr. Coke and Nate were right there, Sterling shoving Cotton to the fence, pushing hard.
Cotton climbed the rail and waved his hat, grinning ear to ear.
“Woo! You done it, boy!” Landon hooted.
Cotton nodded, giving him a high five. “You and me got to pick a bull, man. For the short go.”
“Hell yeah!” There was gonna be a party tonight. All they had to do was ride one more bull each. He glanced across the arena, noticing Adam watching him from horseback.
He couldn’t fight his smile. Damn, but his cowboy was the finest man in history.
“You all right, Nutbutter?” Cotton teased, punching his arm.
“I am fabulous. Amazing.” He was on cloud nine.
“Well, come on and let’s look at the bull pen.”
He knew Cotton’s dream was to stop riding, start breeding bucking bulls. Landon was all about the horses, wanting a set-up like Adam had. He hadn’t even known you could have that until he’d seen it with his own eyes.
Cotton was going on about some one-horned beast with a forelock that reminded Landon of a movie pirate. Landon squinted at the bull, pondering.
“What? He’s got a good track record.”
“Uh-huh. But he’s favoring his front right leg. You want me to go look?”
“I think you should. If he got a cut…”
“I’m on it.” He climbed over, the fence cool and smooth on his hands.
Cotton leaned on the rail, watching. One of Dillon’s silly basset hounds was down there under the bull’s belly, sniffing that hurt foot.
