Bullheaded

world.
    “Every one of these men has the ability to take the title, but despite faltering for several months, Cody Grainger is still out ahead of the pack in points. A spot he is used to being in, but does that buckoff streak signal a weakness? If so, the other men here are circling like sharks, ready to exploit any failure on his part.
    “Let’s get to the action. First up is Zane Winslow on Snake Whiskey. Let’s see how he does.”
    Later the action would be just a blur to Cody, sitting up behind the chutes, watching nine riders get ready before him, and witnessing their rides. To his surprise, Bobby Blue hadn’t made it into the final round, but Zane had. Cody was fighting the urge to pat himself on the back. Two men out of his first class had made it to the finals in the Top Cut, and that was on him. And Travis, RJ, and Johnny, he added hastily. He was beginning to realize one man couldn’t do it all on his own.
    Sitting in tenth place, Zane was the first to ride. He lost control of the ride at five seconds, his hand popped out of the rope at 7.2, but he managed to keep hold of the tail of the rope while hanging off the bull’s side ’til the whistle for an average score.
    Cody stood up to applaud, yelling with the rest of the crowd. He felt oddly proud of the kid, almost as if he were watching his own son ride. He felt surprised when he saw Johnny return the rope to Zane and give him a half hug and a thump on the back. He hadn’t realized they were friends, but this looked like more than just a bullfighter congratulating a random rider. Vern and Reese both tapped Zane on the back as he ran to the gate, but there seemed to be more of a connection between him and Johnny. Cody wondered if while they were broken up Johnny had—but he wasn’t going there. Johnny had ultimately chosen him, not Zane. It didn’t matter anymore, especially now. Nothing was going to make him doubt himself now.
    Juca Matos made his ride to moderate applause. It was his usual mid-80s score, a ride no one would remember, Cody thought. Especially if Juca didn’t win, and he was here to make sure Juca didn’t. Too damn bad Juca managed to ride more bulls than anyone else each year.
    Cody came off his Leader of the Pack perch on the rail to help Dub get ready. Dub was mounted on a bull that generally stood quiet in the chute, but Cody kept a hand on his vest anyway.
    “Any last-minute advice?” Dub asked, his gaze focused on his wrap.
    “Don’t fall off.”
    “Painfully obvious, but true.”
    “You’re a great rider, Dub, you know what to do. Ride what the bull gives you. Luck.”
    The startled look Dub gave him made Cody feel bad. He’d always appreciated Dub’s ability, but apparently hadn’t found time to tell him so. He groped for words. “You’re one of the best, Dub. Show that bull some misery.”
    “Thanks, I will.” Dub gave the nod, and then he was gone.
    The smell of kicked-up dust curled into Cody’s nostrils as he watched Dub make the most brilliant ride of his life.
    The bull made an impossibly tight corner and flung his feet sideways in a frantic effort to get rid of the burden on his back, but Dub timed his counter moves perfectly, riding like a maniac.
    Cody was on his feet cheering and being jostled in the mix of riders, staff, and old-timers crowded behind the rails. The cheering was deafening when the whistle went and Dub bailed. The bull gave one last desperate jump, his rump meeting Dub’s in midair and spinning him in a somersault to land triumphantly on his feet.
    The bullfighters rushed in, but for once Cody was watching his friend instead, laughing as Dub roared his triumph out loud and beat his chest with both fists before raising them. When he ran back to the fence, Cody reached down and grabbed Dub’s wrist with his good hand and hauled him up and over to pound his back.
    “92 fucking points!” he yelled.
    Dub turned to peer through the confetti and past the girls with the 90-point club signs. “92.25! Man, that was a ride! I loved every second!”
    “You were great, Dub. Really great! That direction change was as good as anyone could ever hope to do it!”
    “Technical praise from the champ!”
    “I always knew you had it in you!”
    “You did?”
    Again, the look of surprise cut Cody. “Absolutely. Hell, you might even beat me yet.”
    Dub laughed. “That’s the cocky Cody I know and love.”
    “The judges robbed you,” Cody declared. “I’d have given you 94,