Bullheaded

immediately settled into a predictable spin with kicks and jumps. Another routine ride for Juca. The buzzer went and Juca yanked on the tail of his rope. At that moment, the bull chose to jump and twist in the air, slamming Juca to the ground under his feet. Chris Bellow rushed in to haul the stunned rider to safety.
    Johnny saw the disaster coming before it happened and leaped to his feet, straining forward over the rails as if he could somehow get down there in time to avert injury.
    Chris found himself backed up near the fence. Vern hustled Juca away to the side while Reese tried to lure the bull away from the trapped bullfighter. The bull swung his head around irritably at the same moment Chris turned his in the opposite direction, just in time to catch a horn under his chin. His head snapped back and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Instantly, Reese jumped in front of him, and Vern yelled to distract the bull. The arena usher on horseback threw a rope over the bull’s horns and forced him to the gate.
    “I’ve got to get down there,” Johnny said tensely.
    Davis agreed. “Go ahead, son.”
    He barely heard Val’s words. “Please be careful, Johnny. Take care of yourself.”

    V ERN practically grabbed him by the hair and hauled him to the locker room. Reese already had his bag open and was pulling his gear out.
    “I knew this was gonna happen,” Vern muttered.
    At any other time it would have alarmed Johnny to contemplate being undressed by his bullfighting team, but now it amused him, even as he welcomed the help. “Hope Chris is okay.”
    “Only a slight concussion and probably a gash on his chin. He’ll need a few stitches to close it up,” Vern said. “I seen enough injuries in the ring I can diagnose them practically as well as the doc.”
    “Hurry it up, skinny-bones,” Reese said. “I think Jinks is running out of steam. He already told that joke twice tonight. If we don’t get out there soon, the crowd’ll massacre him.”
    “His jokes aren’t that bad,” Vern said.
    “Yes, they are.” Johnny laughed that he and Reese said it at the same time.
    The ring announcer mercifully took over from Jinks, but Johnny would rather have listened to all the bad jokes Jinks knew than what he had to say about Cody.
    “It’s either money or mud for Cody Grainger. That boy sure loves to take chances. And they don’t always pay off for him, but he knows how to get the audience behind him. It all depends on how much he wants to put that gold buckle on his belt.
    “He’s coming up next on The Remedy: Good For What Ails You, out of Beaver Pond Farms. The Remedy is a great big tough old bull. So far this year he’s been ridden only twice out of sixteen outs, both times by Cody Grainger, but that was back when he was riding at the top of his form. This bull can spin either way, but the way Cody’s been riding, he might not be able to ride him even using both hands.”
    Johnny didn’t realize he’d made a noise, but Reese said, “Quit growling. The man has to fill up time ’til we get out there. You can kick his butt later.”
    “Okay, I’m ready.” Johnny tucked his braid up and jammed his hat down over it.
    “Let’s rock and roll,” Vern said.

    R IGHT out of the gate, Cody knew he was going down. The Remedy caught his horn on the gate and staggered forward, going to his knees for a second. Cody almost went off over his head, but then the bull made a kind of swooping recovery, lurching to the right before he jumped straight up. Cody managed to catch his spur in the rope, knowing it would be his only anchor. Once again the bull staggered on landing and took off down the ring, charging forward but then stopping and pushing back, almost sending Cody off over his head. The drag on his hand was almost unbearable. The Remedy never settled into a spin, jump, and kick and Cody couldn’t get situated. They were so far down the ring, he couldn’t tell if any red flags had gone down either.
    The whistle blew and Cody slid off the back of the bull, only to find himself on his back. A yank pulled him along as he realized his spur was caught in the rope. The bull kicked and flipped Cody over and dragged him along facedown in the dust. A heavy weight landed on Cody’s back, and then someone was tugging desperately at his boot. He recognized Johnny’s voice above him yelling some direction to him. In spite of the dust going up his nose and in his mouth, Cody couldn’t help but enjoy the