Chapter 11
Maggie
Nervousness twists like wire in my gut. It’s completely out of place as I stand behind the chute Jones is slowly lowering into. Cowboys prep his rigging around a bull that looks set to explode.
“Grab as many shots here now as you can. Then the next bull he draws, I want you in the arena for action shots.” Levi is pointing out to the large dirt arena.
The danger zone.
“Um, okay. I didn’t think I was supposed to be out there?”
“Logan and his crew will cover you, but Jones needs this. This could be his last chance to make a team.”
Because he’s one of the oldest bull riders? Because he won’t cut it if he doesn’t make a team? I wish these cowboys would be more specific. I have no idea how literal he is or isn’t being, and it’s driving me crazy.
I don’t need your charity.
Hadley’s words fly into my mind.
People who say that are usually the ones who are in desperate need of help. Just too stubborn to admit it.
Pride is a ruinous thing.
I know I’ve asked him this before and he’s declined, but circuit photography is my job. It is also at my discretion who I shoot. Right now, the one cowboy I want everyone paying attention to is Hadley Jones.
Something tells me he’s had to fight for everything in this sport. It’s about time someone gave him a helping hand.
I take shots of him strapping down before getting a few of him testing the rope.
He nods his head furiously and the gate pulls.
It isn’t until copper bursts over my tongue that I realize I’m biting down on my lip, and my lungs burn. I can’t move from the spot. Feet on the second highest rail, I lean forward, my grip tightening around my camera.
The bull spins, taking Hadley with him.
Hadley lays into him with the spurs, arm held high as he moves in rhythm with the animal.
Spluttering through a strangled inhale, I raise the camera and shoot him in action from this high vantage point.
The clock ticks over.
Six seconds.
Seven seconds.
Eight!
The crowd, which has been so silent you could hear a twig snap, turns thunderous. Hadley disconnects from the bull and leaps off one side. The bull bucks on without him until Logan and his crew have him rustled back to the intake gate.
Hadley is climbing the rails over by the crowd. Reaching the top, he holds his hands in the air and the crowd roars. He squats, pushing off the rail, and backflips in the air.
He lands on both feet, punching the air before he tosses his hat into the crowd. A young boy rushes it back to him, sticking through the arena railing. Hadley kneels on one knee, talking tohim briefly before the little boy grins with a double thumbs-up and returns to his parents.
My face hurts from the ridiculous smile stretching it.
“. . . Maggie.”
Levi pulls me back to reality. I move along the chutes to the next rider, snapping images. Somehow, my mind is stuck replaying what happiness and triumph look like on Hadley Jones.
