Unridden: A Studs in Spurs novel (17 page)

“Are you nuts?” Mustang hissed as Slade passed.

He paused, mid step. “Sorry, did you want him?”

Mustang frowned. “Hell no!” Then Mustang was called up to the platform and the announcer’s banter for the crowd continued.

His choice made, Slade had nothing left to do now but wait for the remaining riders to choose. Oh, yeah, and he had to ride Ballbreaker to the buzzer.
Piece of cake.

Slade walked past the riders at the end of the line, including Chase. He paused at what he saw. “You’ve got lipstick on your face.”

The rookie didn’t even have the sense to look ashamed. Instead, Chase wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned at Slade. “Thanks.”

Slade grunted his response to the kid’s thanks, but he was pretty sure what came out sounded more like a growl.

Chapter Eighteen

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

Slade frowned at Mustang. “What are you talking about?”

“Ballbreaker! What the hell, Slade? What about One-Night Stand? He was in the draft for the short round, you’ve already ridden him, and you got a ninety point score on him.”

Some days there was just no making Mustang happy. Slade sighed. “Yeah, well, you should be happy, because I didn’t pick him in the draft, you could. So now you have him and you can get the high score.”

Mustang shook his head. “I don’t know what you are out to prove.”

The announcer’s voice captured Slade’s attention. “Chase Reese, up for Rookie of the Year, aboard Good Night Ladies.”

Slade frowned, all of his concentration focused on the rookie climbing up onto the bucking chute. “I’m not out to prove nothing. Now shut up. I’m trying to watch.”

Mustang followed the direction of Slade’s gaze. “This is about Chase? Are you freaking crazy?”

Far more interested in watching the bastard who had been kissing Jenna ride, Slade didn’t answer, but instead jumped up on the rail to get a better look.

Finally, thankfully, off of the topic of Slade’s choice of bulls for a second, Mustang climbed up next to him as the gate opened and bull and rider took off. “Chase better dress that ride up a bit if he wants anything higher than an eighty the way that bull is bucking tonight.”

“Maybe he should have chosen a better bull.” Slade raised a brow and shot a look at Mustang.

Mustang snorted. “You mean like Ballbreaker?”

Slade shrugged.

“The score doesn’t matter anyway. If he covers the ride, he wins the rookie buckle,” Mustang pointed out.

Focused on the action in the arena, Slade tuned out Mustang as the bull continued to spin into Chase’s hand.

Getting into the kid’s ride, Mustang started a running commentary next to Slade. He started out soft enough but ended up shouting, annoying Slade even more. “The bull’s slowing down. Spur him, Chase! Yeah, that’s it.” Mustang slapped Slade in the arm. “Chase looks great! The kid’s doing everything right.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Slade’s competitive side kicked in as Chase maintained textbook form, spurring the bull with his outside leg to keep him rounding to the right, intentionally showing a little daylight between his leg and the bull to dress up the ride. The rookie looked perfect, right until the buzzer when he jumped down, landing on his feet with a grin.

Yup, Chase was the kind who always landed on his feet. Slade hated that.

“Eighty-eight point five!” the arena announcer told the crowd.

“Ooo wee! That’s a good score.”

“Yeah,” Slade grumbled. “Considering it was the easiest bull in the draft.” And the damn kid didn’t even have to get dirty to earn it.

“No bulls in the short round are easy. You know that. Good Night Ladies was just having a bad night, but Chase pulled it off. You have to hand it to him.”

Slade turned away from the arena while next to him Mustang kept rambling about Chase. Slade ignored him mostly until Mustang raised an arm and waved. “Hey, Slade. Jenna’s waving at us.”

Jenna. Great. She was probably waving at Chase. “Yeah. So?”

“Since we don’t have time to say hello to her before we ride, it might be nice if you waved back.” Mustang frowned at him.

Slade climbed down from the rail, pointedly not looking in Jenna’s direction. “I’m going to stretch.”

Mustang climbed down next to him, shaking his head. “I seriously hope that Ballbreaker bucks this bad mood out you.”

As Slade spotted Chase running over to Jenna’s seat in the stands and saw her jump up to hug him he decided even Ballbreaker wasn’t up to that monumental task.

The short round in the finals always went fast. Being the top fifteen riders, riding the top bulls of the season, there was no messing around in the chutes. Everyone, man and beast, just jumped in and got right down to business.

In what felt like mere minutes, the thirteen other riders, including Mustang, had ridden, and it was Slade’s turn in the chute.

“Well folks, Slade Bower started out the season wearing a number nine on his back after placing ninth in the world last season. He’s ridden his way up to begin this championship series in the number three position for the season and the number two spot this championship, and if he can get a qualified ride in the short round tonight, it could earn him a number one on his vest when we come back next year. But standing in his way is Ballbreaker. Unridden after eighteen times out, this bull bested Slade’s good friend, Mustang Jackson, in Kansas City last week.”

Slade worked to tune out his surroundings, both the echoing voice of the announcer and the fact that Jenna, whose lipstick had been smeared all over Chase Reese’s mouth, was seated not far from him, directly behind the chutes.

As Slade climbed up onto the rails of the bucking chute, Mustang was right there next to him.

Still wearing his dust-covered vest from jumping off One-Night Stand at the buzzer after a successful ride, Mustang continued reviewing everything he’d already battered into Slade’s brain since the moment Slade had picked Ballbreaker in the draft. “Remember, this bull keeps changing it up. He’ll go right first, but then he’ll reverse and go left, then he bucks straight out. That’s what you have to worry about. The way he snaps his back…”

Slade nodded. “Okay, Mustang, I got it! I heard you the first two times you told me.”

Head down, Slade pulled his rope and wrapped it tightly around his glove. He pushed his hat lower onto his head with his free hand, clamped his legs against the bull’s sides and nodded. The gate swung open and away they went.

Heels in, toes out, Slade braced for Ballbreaker’s first reversal. Bearing down, he stayed on through the bull’s powerful snaps and twists. As the eight seconds stretched out to feel more like eight minutes while Slade made one correction to his position after another, he finally heard the buzzer just as Ballbreaker snapped his butt so hard into the air, he flipped Slade up and over his horns.

Caught up in his rope good and tight, Slade dangled like a rag doll by one hand. He was aware of the bullfighters moving in as he tried to free his hand from the rope. He knew he had to stay on his feet even while Ballbreaker continued to buck and spin, dragging Slade with him.

He felt hands trying to free him from the rope as Ballbreaker hopped, throwing Slade into the air and off his feet. When he landed in the dirt on his ass, his hand still caught, Slade saw hooves and horns coming at him.

He turned his head and for the first time in a long time, prayed.

With everything a blur, it seemed to Slade that one moment his arm was being pulled out of its socket, then the next he was laying in the dirt flat on his back, staring up at the glare of the arena lights with no idea how he’d gotten in that position. Slade felt something warm trickling into his eye and then gauze was pressed against his head.

The sports medicine team surrounded him, asking questions, but it seemed beyond Slade to answer them at the moment.

“Can you tell me where it hurts?”

Where doesn’t it hurt?
Slade started to chuckle, then he realized it hurt too much to do that.

When he didn’t answer, the doctor asked again, and this time Slade answered. “Everywhere.”

At that vague answer, the doctor switched tactics and got more specific. “Can you move your feet?”

God! Do they think I’m paralyzed?
Horrified at that thought, Slade concentrated and moved first one leg, bending it at the knee, then the other. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Good. Does your neck hurt?&rdquo

Slade slowly shook his head no, which made his head feel like a screwdriver was being jammed behind his eyes, but at least his neck didn’t hurt…not too much, anyway.

That small movement seemed to make them all happy. The doctor moved on to quizzing Slade with thought provoking questions now that the physical tests seemed done. Meanwhile, all Slade really wanted to do was close his eyes for just a little bit. The dirt was soft and cool and really didn’t make a bad bed in a pinch. If only they’d leave him alone for a bit so he could rest.

“Can you tell me your name?” Slade heard the question from somewhere off in the distance.

When he didn’t answer right away, his cheek was slapped lightly. Frowning, Slade opened his eyes again and answered, “Slade Bower.”

“What city are we in?”

“Kansas…no, Tulsa.” That was a hard question on a good day the way they moved around. Hoping that correct answer meant they’d finally stop with the questions, Slade was disappointed when the doctor continued.

“What bull were you on tonight, Slade.”

That one was easy. “Ballbreaker.”

The doctor laughed lightly. “He was that, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah.” Slade let out a short laugh, realizing it was a mistake immediately when it made everything hurt. “What was my score?”

The doctor laughed again. “When they start worrying about their score, I know they’re all right. We’ll find that out for you in a second, Slade. Do you want to try sitting up or do you want the stretcher?”

Stubborn to the core, Slade said, “No stretcher.” But that meant he needed to sit up, and as countless hands began to pull him up from the dirt he realized his riding arm, dangling painfully, was useless. “My arm...”

“Yeah, it’s dislocated. We’ll get it fixed up in the back.”

Great. That was always fun.

Sitting up brought to light a new pain. Slade hissed in a painful breath of air. “I think my ribs are broke.”

The doctor nodded. “Yeah, I’m not surprised. You got trampled on pretty good. You may need stitches on that head wound and my bet is you’ve got yourself a nice concussion too.”

Slade let out a laugh followed by a groan. “Ow. I guess it’s a good thing I’ve got a few months off then, isn’t it?”

The doctor grinned. “Because if this wasn’t the last ride of the season you’d be on a bull again next week, wouldn’t you?”

Slade grinned back at him. “Hell yeah.”

Shaking his head, the doctor wrapped one arm around Slade’s waist, supporting him as the crowd in the arena, which Slade realized had been eerily silent up until then, erupted in cheers.

Mustang was there next to Slade as soon as they got behind the chutes, heading down the long, seemingly never-ending hallway to the room full of beds and half filled with bull riders nursing various degrees of injury.

Mustang took one look around the room. “Looks like the docs have been busy tonight.”

Helping Slade up onto an available bed, the doctor nodded, grinning. “I can always count on you boys to keep me busy. Good thing too. The missus has her eye on a new car. I’m going to give you some muscle relaxers, Slade, then we’ll get that shoulder popped back in.”

As the doctor moved off, Mustang raised a brow at Slade. “Good ride.”

Slade laughed, then held his ribs. “Yeah, until the end.”

Mustang’s eyes cut to the television monitor set up in the corner. “Looks like you finished in second place.”

“Second!” Slade pouted.

Mustang nodded. “Yeah. Jorge did really well too. He held onto the number one spot, even with your ninety point five score in the short go.”

Slade smiled. “Ninety point five! Told you Ballbreaker wasn’t the wrong choice.”

Stepping back out of the way so the doctor could tend to Slade, Mustang said, “We’ll see if you still feel that way after the doc here snaps your shoulder back in the socket.”

Slade went to shrug then realized he couldn’t. “Won’t be the first time.”

Mustang grinned. “Nor the last, God willing.”

“God willing,” Slade agreed, with a quick, silent word of thanks that he’d been blessed with walking away one more time.

Chapter Nineteen

Jenna pushed past the knees of the people in her row, tripping over someone’s feet in her struggle to get down to where they had just carried Slade barely a minute before. Yeah, he’d been on his feet when they took him out, but only because of the two men supporting him on either side as he clutched one arm while blood soaked through the cloth a third man held against Slade’s head.

Tears blurring her eyes and her heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the noise of the crowd, Jenna ran head on into Chase.

He grabbed both of her arms. “Jenna. What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Hadn’t Chase seen Slade getting dragged around underneath the bull? Hadn’t he seen him laying there motionless after the animal pounced on him? “I have to get to Slade.”

“He’s in with the sports medicine team.” Chase didn’t release her arms, but held her even as she struggled to push past him to go find Slade. Then Chase’s eyes opened wide as he stared at her face. “Oh my God. You’re with Slade?”

Not worrying about the details, Jenna managed to nod.

She could see as all the pieces started to fall together in Chase’s brain. “That’s why you’re in the VIP seats. That’s why you said at the bar you weren’t really available.”

Chase dropped his grip on her arms and ran one hand over his face.

“Holy crap! I kissed you. Shit! I kissed Slade Bower’s girl.” Chase paced in a tight circle. “Jenna! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s more complicated than you can even imagine.” Jenna let out a frustrated breath. “Listen. Can you get me back there to him?”

“No wonder he looked so pissed during the draft after I kissed you. I’m lucky he didn’t beat the crap out of me.”