Chapter Ten
The ride had not gone well.
Balta limped to the back, his rope dragging, the bell scraping on the concrete floor. Joa did not ride for at least a half hour, so he could hide before he had to pull rope.
Sam Bell walked by, gave him a blink and a head tilt. “Shit, man. What truck hit your ass?”
“I think it was half Brahma, huh?” His foot throbbed, his hip aching.
“You need a hand or you got it?”
“I could use some help.” His boot was never going to come off, and he needed to wrap the ankle.
“‘kay. I done fell off already, and Beau’s got Packer to pull rope. Come on. I got you.”
“Obrigado, Sam.” Sam Bell was a good man, one a rider could always count on. Balta gave him a smile. “Do you think Joa would be upset if Eduardo pulled his rope?”
“Nah. He’s a good kid.” Balta wasn’t sure if Sam meant Joa or Eduardo. He shot one hand out, caught one of the younger riders. “Kid, run up and let Ferreira know that Ed’s fixin’ to pull rope.”
“Yes, sir.”
The boy ran off, and Balta laughed. “They all think you are so scary,sim? It must be the eyes.”
“Nah. It’s the vicious fucking temper and the bar fights.” Sam winked at him.
“That, too.” Sam, Beau, and Jason Scott had once completely destroyed a club in Tampa. Right down to knocking the bar over. Ace and Sandy had been…less than happy. In fact, Balta had never seen Ace turn that color of purple. It was something to strive toward.
“How is your shoulder?” He knew Sam’s shoulder was more than a little tender. Like his leg.
“Shit, I keep threatening to cut it off. We’re almost there, man.”
“Thank you.” If he could just sit down. Yes, that would be much better.
Sam nodded and reached for his boot. “No hollerin’. If you do, Doc’ll be in here.”
“No, no. I just need the boot off.” Turning his head, Balta clenched his jaw, determined not to let a sound out.
Sam moved, quick as a viper, yanking the boot off and steadying his ankle.
“Fuck!” The very English word was satisfying sometimes. Like right now, when he could feel his foot swelling.
“Man, you need to see Jonesy, at least. You want ice?”
“Ice, yes. Jonesy, no.” Not yet. Maybe once Joa had ridden. His good day was going bad so fast. “Did you see my ride? My rope just popped right out.”
“Nah, man. I was in the back throwing a fit.” Sam winked. “You gonna make it to the short go?”
“No.” That was all right. He had a good feeling about the next event, one that was not part of a Joa high.
“That sucks.” Sam’d been shut out. Some days the man couldn’t ride for…what did Andy Baxter say? Love or money? Hot or cold, but never both.
“Sim.” He smiled and grinned. “We are a pair, huh?”
“Yeah, you know it.” Sam shook his head. “You got a beer in that cooler? I’ll go fetch ice and we can each have one, if so.”
“I do.” That was so good of Sam, it really was. Of course, the way Beau was riding, maybe Sam needed someone to talk to, as well.
“Cool.” Sam headed out, leaving him in the back with his throbbing foot, Joa’s cooler, and the distant roar of the crowd.
