Bull Rider by Marilyn Halvorson

Author:Marilyn Halvorson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUV000000
Publisher: Orca Book Publishers
Published: 2003-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

I watched as Chase picked out the bull he wanted. I didn’t understand the choice he made. It was a pretty good-sized bull for its age all right, big boned and well muscled. But from its red and white color and mellow disposition I’d have bet this bull had more Hereford than Brahma in him.

I climbed up on the fence beside Chase. “I’ve ridden him before,” I said. “He’s not much of a bull.”

Chase swept a cold glance in my direction. “Well, ride him again,” he said. Something in his voice told me not to argue.

We got the rigging on the bull and I slid on. Chase leaned over me, making adjustments and giving advice. He pulled my rope snug for me and I started to weave it in and out of my fingers like I always did. Suddenly Chase’s hand clamped onto my wrist like an eagle’s claw would grab a rabbit. “What do you think you’re doin’?” he asked in a voice as hard as his grip.

I just stared at him, stunned. “What do you mean?” I asked.

He still didn’t let go of my wrist. “Don’t you know any better than to use a suicide wrap?”

“Suicide wrap?” I repeated.

Chase nodded grimly. “Yeah. That’s what it’s called and that’s what it is. You fall off wrong with your hand tied in like that and you’re dead. Whoever taught you that should be shot. Who was it, anyhow?” he demanded, his eyes burning into me.

I looked back at him defiantly. “My dad,” I said.

There was a silence. Then Chase nodded. “It figures,” he said wearily.

I almost shot back an angry reply. I didn’t know what that comment was supposed to mean, but I didn’t like it. Nobody put my dad down when I was around. But then the truth began to sink in. Dad had always ridden with a “suicide wrap” — and now Dad was dead. In all the years since the accident I’d never really put it together.

Chase’s soft voice interrupted my thoughts. “Yeah,” he said. “Some guys figure that the extra grip it gives you is worth the risk. But as long as you’re workin’ with me you ain’t gonna be one of them.” Before I could argue he was rearranging the rope, running it through my gloved hand. Then he folded the tail of the rope back over — but without weaving it between my fingers.

I flexed my hand. It felt funny that way. I gave Chase an angry look. He ignored it. “Ready?” he asked. I nodded. He climbed down and a second later the chute gate was flung open.

The bull plunged out of the chute and I was in trouble from the first jump. It wasn’t because he was bucking all that great. When I rode him before I didn’t have any trouble staying on. No, the bull wasn’t the problem. I was. I was all out of rhythm with him. It was all wrong. He gave a jump and a twist in the opposite direction .

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