LITMIR.BIZ

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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.

      Cole was hung up.

      He was dangling by one arm and Freight Train was slamming him against the fence. I couldn’t move. My mouth went dry and my knees felt as if they were going to give out on me. The image of my dad being hung up flashed. Then I blinked and saw Cole again.

      Adrenaline flooded into my veins and snapped me out of my paralysis. I jumped into the arena and ran across the thick soft dirt to the other side, but Freight Train changed directions before I got there. Ron and Tyson headed him off and made him veer away from the fence. Cole was still hung up bad and his legs were getting trampled.

      Three more cowboys jumped into the arena, but none of us had experience bullfighting. Tyson was able to release the flank strap. All that did was stop Freight Train from kicking. He was still sprinting around and ramming Cole against the rails. Freight Train came straight at me, so I waved my arms to slow him down. He dropped his head and tried to horn me. I lunged to the left, but he got close enough to brush me. I wasn’t wearing a protective vest, so he tore right through my shirt. When he circled around, I jumped on his shoulder and tried to free Cole’s bull rope. It wasn’t possible to get a good hold of it because the bull jerked in the other direction and took Cole with him, knocking me on my ass.

      Before I had a chance to stand up, a palomino horse blew by me at full speed. It was Shae-Lynn riding bareback on her barrel horse, Harley. She raced around the arena to catch up with Freight Train. It took her a few attempts before she was able to manoeuvre her horse to nudge the bull off the rails and pull in alongside. She tried to lift Cole by his Kevlar vest, but she wasn’t strong enough to carry his weight. Cole attempted to kick his leg up onto Harley. His arm hung like it was made of string, though, and he couldn’t get enough momentum. When his legs dropped back down, they got stomped by Harley’s hind hoof.

      “Free the rope,” I yelled.

      Shae-Lynn leaned over and tugged at the rope, but Freight Train turned into Harley and the jolt almost threw her over the front. Tyson stepped into the sight of the bull to redirect him back. Shae-Lynn repositioned, then tugged at the rope one more time.

      Cole fell to the ground.

      “Get up,” I shouted as I ran towards where he was lying in the dirt. “Get up!”

      Freight Train spun around to face Cole. He snorted air out of his nostrils and hoofed the dirt getting ready to charge. Cole scrambled to his feet and hurried to the fence with his right arm flopping around. I ran between Cole and Freight Train. My plan was to distract him long enough to let Cole get to the fence — I distracted him all right — he forgot all about Cole and stampeded full speed at me before ramming his massive rock hard head into my ribcage.

      He lifted his snout and launched me into the air.

      After what seemed like eight seconds, gravity kicked in and the ground finally collided with my body, crushing all the air out of my lungs. My throat made a horrible sucking sound, but

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