D. Graham - Rank

“Wouldn’t you make an exception for the right girl?”

I shrugged noncommittally. It wasn’t likely. I couldn’t imagine myself being interested in dating anyone, especially someone who didn’t live in the same city as I did. Shae-Lynn stopped asking questions and we sat quietly for a long time. The colours of the sky changed and deepened as the sun got lower. I watched the spectators file out of the grandstand. Shae-Lynn seemed to be staring at her fingernails, thinking.

She sighed. “You sure don’t talk all that much since what happened to your dad.”

That change in topic came out of nowhere, and it caught me off guard since everyone else on the circuit acted as if they would rather cut out their tongue than talk to Cole or me about our dad. “I’m talking to you right now, ain’t I?”

“Sort of. Not really.” She swung her feet back and forth. “Do you think it might help if you talked about what happened?”

“Help what?”

“You.”

“I don’t need help,” I said, but it came out less convincing than I meant it to.

“You haven’t ridden since it happened.”

Uncomfortable with the fact that she could obviously see right through me, I spit on the grass and opened another beer to ignore her statement.

She watched me for a while, then said, “The sooner you get back on a bull, the better.”

I exhaled and scratched the back of my neck. I’d been thinking about officially leaving rodeo, but hadn’t even told Cole yet. Since she was hell bent on talking about my issues, I decided to practice telling her to test how Cole might react. “I’m thinking about retiring.”

“What? Why? You’re ranked number one.” She nearly shrieked — confirmation that Cole was going to lose his shit when I told him.

“I don’t want to still be doing this when I’m fifty years old. I’d rather get out now and finish university while I’m still young.”

“You can do both. The season doesn’t interfere with classes.”

“I also have to work and take care of my mom.”

She nodded as if she understood that part. She also frowned because she knew as well as I did that I was grasping for excuses. Unfortunately, instead of letting it go, she pressed on, “That’s nice of you to take care of your mom, but you don’t need to stop riding. You shouldn’t quit because your dad’s wreck spooked you.”

Frustrated that she was forcing me to go to an emotional place I didn’t want to visit, I threw the empties in the cooler. “I’m not spooked. I just don’t want to waste my life touring around shit-hole towns with a bunch of hicks abusing my body and killing my liver just to end up dead in the ring one day.”

“What happened to your dad was a fluke accident. The best way to get over the fear is to get back on.”

“Listen, Shae-Lynn, I ain’t scared. And I ain’t interested in talking about it with you.”

Not impressed with my harsh tone, she hopped off the tailgate and glared at me. “You don’t have to be an asshole about it. And how many times do I have to ask you to call me Shae? You know I don’t like it when you add the Lynn.”

“It’s your name.”

“It makes me sound hick.”

I mimicked her sweeping arm gesture to present to her the grass parking lot in the middle of nowhere that was filled with campers and horse trailers. “I hate to break it to you, but this is about as hick as it gets.”

“I’m not hick. Call me Shae.” She took two strides, then turned and pointed at me as she walked backwards. “And, by the way, if you decide that you want Tawnie Lang to date you, you should probably know that chewing tobacco is repulsive and ain’t isn’t a word. Quitting the rodeo isn’t going to make you any less hick, Billy Ray Ryan.” She spun back around and stormed off towards her family’s motorhome.

Tyson Wiese, my brother’s best friend, stole a beer out of the cooler. He grinned at Shae-Lynn’s feistiness as he watched her go. He had a shiner from knocking the bull’s behind when he got thrown, so he squinted at me with one open eye. “I came over to get you. Cole just took a crazy bet.”

“What?” Not again. “For how much?”

“Double or nothing on his prize money.”

“God damn it. What’s he planning on doing?”

Tyson chuckled as if he didn’t quite believe it himself. “Ride Freight Train for eight.”

Damn it. That’s crazy. “When?”

“Right now. Before it gets dark.”

I hopped off the tailgate and jogged to the chutes cursing Cole under my breath the entire way. The grandstand was empty and there were only a few people still lingering around the edge of the arena fence. The bull named Freight Train was already loaded into a chute and Cole was taping his riding glove around his wrist. I shoved his shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Ron Miller is going to pay me two thousand dollars to ride one bull.”

“You mean you’re going to pay Ron Miller two thousand dollars to get tossed off one bull. I already told Mom you won.”

“I got this. Don’t worry about it.” He put his black mouthguard in, then smiled with the excessive confidence he always had right before he did something stupid.

“Freight Train is rank. He ain’t never been ridden. He put four guys in the hospital.”

Cole slapped my shoulder, undeterred. “You worry too much. Besides, I already shook the man’s hand. Let’s go make some money.”

The only thing harder than getting Cole to do something he didn’t want to do was stopping him from doing something he did want to do. It was usually easier to just let him do whatever he wanted and clean up the pieces afterwards. I gave up trying to argue sense into him, shook my head in frustration, and followed him. We both climbed the chute. It was already loaded with the black hairy mass of bovine muscle that was trying to shoulder its way through the metal rails. “Where are the bullfighters?” I asked.

“This is between me and the bull,” Cole said, believing the delusion that he was invincible.

“Jesus, you’re going to get killed.”

Without even pausing to let it the danger sink in, Cole eased himself down onto Freight Train’s back. “Just pull my rope.”

“Cole, come on. This is crazy.”

He looked at me with a wild expression in his eyes and smiled. “You’ll be thanking me later.”

“I doubt it.” I relented and pushed my boot against Freight Train’s shoulder to get him to move over. Then I pulled the rope as tight as I could. For some reason, what Shae-Lynn had said hadn’t left my head. It was bugging me. “Hey, does it sound hick when I say ain’t ?”

Cole looked at me and laughed at the random question. “Yeah, you sound hick. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing. I don’t know. Never mind. Just don’t get yourself killed.”

When Cole finished weaving the loose end of the rope through his fingers, I slapped him three times on his back. He tucked his chin and nodded.

It was that fast — no time to think about it meant no time to change his mind. That was how Cole did everything. Tyson opened the gate to the chute, Ron pulled the flank strap, and Freight Train exploded straight up in the air. His back hoof just missed catching my face and instead, sprayed me with a sloppy mix of dirt and manure.

“Whoo!” Tyson hollered. “Hold on, Cole. Yeah, baby.”

I glanced at the clock then back at my brother. It started out as a good ride. Then Freight Train sucked back and rolled his belly. Cole slid off balance. Since all he had to do was hold on, it didn’t matter that it wasn’t pretty.

When the buzzer rang at eight seconds, I exhaled and turned to smile smugly at Ron Miller. He threw down his hat in frustration, but his expression immediately changed. Without hesitating, he leapt over the fence into the arena. I spun around to see what he was doing.