Chapter 23
Maggie
The chute flies open.
My gut plummets.
Hadley moves with the bull. Each spin. Each buck. He rides it out.
My camera hangs around my neck, untouched. I glance at the clock, keeping it in my peripheral as it climbs through the numbers more slowly than usual.
“Gallagher, do your job!” Knox yells over the chutes.
I throw him a dirty look and regret it when Hadley’s tossed from the bull.
Not before the buzzer, though, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
I am acutely aware I’m right where I never wanted to ever be. Worrying over a rodeo man who gets on a death trap week after week. If this is anything like what Mom felt with my father... I don’t want it.
Steeling myself, I raise my camera and snap images of Hadley hauling himself from the dirt. Checking over his shoulder as he makes it to his feet.
Logan rushes past, his two comrades trailing behind as the bull turns back, heading for Hadley.
The bull connects with his hip, tossing him aside.
He lands at an odd angle as the three rodeo clowns swarm the bull. A moment later, the bull disappears through the return gate. Hadley doesn’t push to his feet.
“Oh, ladies and gents, we have a cowboy down!” the announcer entertaining the Falkland arena hollers.
Hadley . . .
He rolls a little to one side, his head up and looking around as his hand grabs his leg.
“Medics, you are needed in the arena,” the announcer adds.
Willow and her medics file out into the arena a beat later. The stretcher slides underneath Hadley on the ground, and he’s rolled onto his back. Then I see the angle his leg is at. The wrong angle.
Logan and the clowns help carry him out on the stretcher. All I can do is stand there. Hadley’s removing his helmet as they walk past me, those brown eyes finding mine.
And . . .
I can’t do this.
I cannotdo this.
Tamping back the sob clawing its way up my throat, I press a hand over my mouth. My eyes burn, and I look around the arena. The crowd is silent, all eyes on the cowboy being carried out.
Levi appears by my side, and I compose myself.
“You doin’ alright?” he asks softly.
“I—”
He gives me a knowing look and grips my shoulder. “He’ll be okay, Maggie. He’s in good hands.”
“Yep, I know.”
“Chute three’s about to blow, camera at the ready.” He leaves me to the action as he wanders back behind the chutes.
