Candace Schuler - The Cowboy Way

“Yeah, well.” Clay took a sip of his beer to avoid saying any more. Rooster was right. There was no disgrace in watching and learning from a competitor’s tapes; it was standard practice for professional athletes in every sport. But, hell, there was just something about the young bull rider currently strutting his stuff on the TV screen that rubbed Clay the wrong way. The kid was too cocky by half, for one thing. And he wasn’t near as good as he thought he was—a fact that would be amply illustrated when Clay was healed up enough to return to the circuit.

“Judgin’ by the way he’s movin’ up in the rankings, he appears to be learnin’ right well,” Rooster said.

“That’ll slow down some when he gets some real competition.”

“Meanin’ what?”

“Meaning the two top contenders for the last four years running aren’t competing this year due to injuries and—”

“That’d be you and Marty Bates.”

“That’s right. Me and Marty Bates. Plus Bud Taggart’s been slowed down considerably by his bad back, so his scores aren’t near as high as they should be. It’s probably his last year on the circuit, if his wife doesn’t nag him into quitting before the season’s over.” He could feel the tension ratchet up inside him as he spoke, all out of proportion to the subject at hand, and had to make a concerted effort to keep his tone even. “But Marty will be out of his cast in another couple of weeks, and I’ll be back on the circuit next year. Then we’ll see how fast that Taylor kid moves up the rankings.”

“I thought the doctors told you not to plan on goin’ back on the circuit,” Rooster said.

The sudden wave of anger and anxiety that washed over Clay at his friend’s words took him by complete surprise. He had to clamp down hard—physically and emotionally—to keep from showing it.

“What the hell do doctors know?” he said, waving a hand dismissively. Casually. He had to be casual. “They told me I wouldn’t be back after that wreck in Abilene six years ago when I cracked those two bones in my back, either. Or the time I got kicked in the head and was unconscious for three days. They were wrong then. They’re wrong now.”

But Rooster wouldn’t let it go. “You were a lot younger then. Broken bones and broken heads heal faster when you’re young.”

“All that means is it’ll just take me a little longer to heal this time. It doesn’t mean I won’t go back.”

“It means you shouldn’t, though.”

“Leave it alone, Rooster.”

“I’m only just sayin’—”

“Leave it alone,” Clay said, more sharply than he had intended.

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