Trent Reedy - Divided We Fall

I felt her arm around me and her hand rubbing my shoulder. “You’re going to be okay, Danny,” she whispered. “We’re your friends. We’re here to help.”

“You Danny Wright?” said a deep voice behind me.

I lifted my head and turned to face three guys, two in full cowboy getup, hats, boots, and all. The third, in a ratty T-shirt with a baseball cap on backward, stood with his arms cocked back a little and his fists at his sides. I’d been in enough fights to know this was trouble.

“Yeah,” I said. “What do you want?”

Baseball Cap elbowed the others. “See? Told you it was him.” He took a step closer to me. “Lot of people are dead ’cause of you.”

“You weren’t there.” There was a coldness churning somewhere deep inside me, and my heart began pounding. It was a lot like the feeling I had right when I first climbed up on a bull. “You don’t know shit.”

“Why don’t you guys leave us alone?” Becca asked.

The taller of the two cowboys stepped up. “Bitch, shut up and stay out of this.”

I threw my fist and cracked that bastard in the nose. Blood splattered everywhere, and my left hook sent him spinning to the ground. When Baseball Cap launched at me, Becca whipped the horse’s bit around by the reins, snapping him hard in the nuts. He groaned, grabbed his crotch, and dropped.

Short Cowboy connected with a hard right jab that put spots in my vision on my left side. Another shot crunched into my gut. My hat fell in the dirt. I could hardly breathe. I managed a little shove to get him off me. Tall Cowboy rose to his hands and knees, but I kicked the toe of my boot into his ribs.

“Think it’s fair to kick a man while he’s down?” Short Cowboy shoved me back into Lightning. The horse whinnied.

Becca swung the bit around over her head to hit Shorty’s face. Blood arced from his mouth as his head spun away from the impact. “Think it’s fair to gang up three to two?” she said.

I had most of my breath back now. “You done?” I asked as Shorty wiped the blood from his mouth. He put up his fists and took a step forward. I shook my head. “Guess not.”

I ran straight at him. My fist connected hard, sending tingles up my forearm. Shorty dropped to the ground, a bloody nose to go with his bloody mouth.

“Now you’re done,” I said as I picked up my hat, dusted it off, and curled the brim a little.

Baseball Cap held up his hand as he slowly stood, still bending over from the pain. He helped the other two up, and they walked off, but Baseball Cap stopped when they were about ten yards away. “This ain’t over, Wright.”

“I’m right here,” I said with a lot more guts than I felt right then. I put my lucky cowboy hat back on and put my hands on my hips. “You guys get a couple more of your friends together, then maybe you can give me and this girl a fair fight.”

“This girl?” Becca said when they’d walked off into the shadows. “You say that like you think it’s a bad thing.”

“You know I don’t think that way,” I said, rubbing the heat from my jaw where Shorty had punched me. “But those guys do. Or at least they did before you crushed that guy’s balls.”

“Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

“Oh, freshman year, Sweeney and me were nervous about starting high school, so we promised that no matter what happened, we would have each other’s back. Problem is ‘Sweeney’ sounds a lot like ‘weenie.’ Then, like an idiot, Eric decided that he’d fight anyone who called him that. So, of course, I’d have to join in. We were in so many fights that year — half the time with juniors and seniors, even.”

“I remember.” She laughed. “I thought you two were going to be expelled. Or killed.”

“We got our asses kicked plenty of times, but we won more than a few. People finally stopped messing with us sophomore year.”

By the time we finished cleaning up Lightning, it was time for the bull riding to start. I was fifth in the order. The first three riders were good. All of them made it eight seconds and had decent scores in the mid to high seventies. The fourth rider looked strong coming out of the chute, but his free hand hit the bull when it switched directions on him.

Then it was my chance. I slipped on my gloves and climbed up on the wooden fence around the chute.

“Next up, ridin’ a bull named Revolution, is one of our own, seventeen-year-old Daniel Wright.” As soon as he said my name, the bleachers erupted in cheers and boos. “He’s active not only in Idahayew rodeo, but also in the Idahayew Army National Guard.”

The hysteria in the stands was building. One man flipped me off. A bunch of people clapped. Rick Hayes didn’t seem to know what to say for once. A couple guys started shoving each other, almost getting into a fistfight until others broke it up. A bunch of people were running their comm cameras to record it all. I realized they were probably reporters who had snuck in. They were dressed a little too nice for rodeo. I sighed. Bull riding was hard enough at the best of times. All this chaos was the last thing I needed.

A horrible shriek of microphone feedback blasted out of the speakers. “Now listen up, folks,” Rick Hayes said. “Daniel Wright is a soldier who has promised to put his life on the line for our freedom, and part of that freedom is the right of innocence until proven guilty. What’s more, as cowboys, cowgirls, and fans and friends of rodeo, we may love a rough sport, but we are, at heart, ladies and gentlemen. If yer not gonna act that way, I’m gonna ask you to leave.”

Gradually, people sat back down on the bleachers.

“That’s better,” Hayes said. “Now more than ever, we have to remember that we are all Americans, all proud of our home, and proud to take part in Idahayew rodeo! So let’s get that cowboy ready and ridin’.”

I started to climb down onto the bull, but Short Cowboy came up on the fence right next to me. “I been slapping this bull around. Poking at him. Pissing him off. You’re gonna get bucked and then stomped. This bull’s gonna kill you, Wright.”

I flicked the guy in the nose where I’d punched him before. He winced and backed up. “You got a little swelling there,” I said. “You’re gonna wanna ice that.”

Then I pushed my lucky hat down secure and dropped onto the bull, grabbing the bull rope. Revolution breathed deep beneath me, shifting the tension in his huge packs of muscle. I gripped the rope hard with my right hand and held my left up as my free hand. This was what it was all about. Eight seconds in an eternity of intensity. This was rodeo.

When the chute opened I watched Revolution’s head. He was looking straight ahead. He’d buck straight. He lunged forward, landing on his front hooves before throwing his hind legs up in the air. I stayed centered over my riding hand. Revolution jumped up with all four legs off the ground, his back twisting in midair. He landed hard and I clamped his sides even tighter with my legs. He puffed out through his nostrils. He was pissed. He spun to the right, and I shifted an inch. Not good. I tried to recenter myself, but my hand slipped on the rope. Revolution bucked one more time, his front legs high in the air, and I could feel the heat of the friction as my glove slid along the rope. I flew off, crashing hard to the dirt and scrambling to my feet to get clear. His hooves stomped down a few feet away, and he seemed to glare at me, his big black eyes zeroing in with rage.

Then the clown came, shouting and distracting Revolution to drive him away from me. I grabbed my cowboy hat from the dirt and ran for the edge of the ring.

“So close. About seven and a half seconds. Let’s have a hand fer Danny Wright, ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer called out.