Bullheaded

up.
    “That’ll have to be a secret between Johnny-boy and me,” Cody said.
    Despite Cody’s attempt at sucking up, Johnny wasn’t going to play. His boots made a little puff with each step as he stomped through the dust to get his gear on. The joke would be on Cody if he was too pissed to ride well and let the bull dump him on the ground. Besides, no one was guaranteed to stay on top of Dementia for a full eight seconds except Cody. He didn’t know why Cody had chosen him and this bull for his demo when there was no guarantee he could ride Dementia. But then his natural male pride reared its ugly head. No way was he going to fail in front of Bobby Blue and the others. They already thought Cody’s shit didn’t stink. Johnny suspected Bobby Blue still wasn’t convinced that he fought bulls because he preferred it, and Cody kept making him ride bulls as if all his skill at bullfighting wasn’t enough.
    And calling him Johnny-boy all of a sudden! Did this have anything to do with Bobby Blue? Like everyone had to have double names now to rate? And what got him even more was the subtle undermining Cody was doing whenever he tried to say anything, like whatever a bullfighter had to say didn’t count. He knew he was being unreasonable, but so what.
    Only when his hand touched the cloud ladder symbol tooled into his chaps was he able to calm himself. No point getting a broken leg because he was pissed. This was man and beast in a contest of wills. Neither would die and both would walk away at the end of it feeling as if he had won. A smile softened Johnny’s grim expression. He suspected the bull probably always thought he won; they learned the man on their back would go away after the bell sounded, but they didn’t care about the bell. To them it was still a win. They always left the ring free and riderless.
    He forgot about Bobby Blue and the other boys; he even forgot about Cody. It was his job to steal the strength from the bull and make it his own, even if only for a short time. He closed his eyes and muttered a short prayer to Brother Coyote to help him trick both gravity and the bull.
    He approached the chute from outside the ring, not wanting the sight of Cody winking or smirking to distract him from his hard-won place of calm. As always, Dementia stood placidly within the box. Johnny knew he would have no trouble getting his seat or wrapping the rope. Dementia didn’t bother trying to get rid of a rider until he was in the ring. He was a fair bull that way.
    When Johnny was set, he gave a quick nod. He felt RJ let go of his vest and caught the swing of the gate in his peripheral vision, but kept his gaze fixed firmly on the bull’s shoulders.
    And then someone set off a bomb under him. There was no way to be prepared for Dementia, but the talisman of his symbol and the prayer seemed to have woven a magic spell around him. Dementia bucked high but then dipped into one of his swooping, nausea-inducing turns before kicking out with his hind legs. Never one to settle into a predictable pattern, Dementia lurched in the other direction, again swaying almost to his knees before popping his midsection up and stretching out in the air.
    When Dementia landed head down, Johnny had to catch himself to avoid a slap or getting pulled off over the bull’s head. Then he broke hard at the hips as the bull reared onto his hind legs. He used his free arm to keep his body turning with the bull when they went down like a roller coaster for another dizzying spin. It was almost as if he knew what the bull was going to do next and was always right where his weight needed to be to match the animal’s movements. Dimly he heard the bell signifying the end of eight seconds, and tugged at his rope. This time when he dismounted, he missed his footing and rolled in the dust several yards, ending up on his stomach. He recognized the red swirls embossed on Travis’s boots as the man pounded by him to distract the bull.
    This time he didn’t bother to get up to handle the bull himself. He didn’t even assess their performance as RJ and Travis eventually harried Dementia to the exit gate, flapping their ropes and shouting while he stood up and followed behind them, lost in his adrenaline high.
    Behind him, he could vaguely hear Cody sounding off in triumph, but it didn’t matter anymore. He didn’t care if the boys were impressed. He needed a moment to enjoy his achievement by himself. He took a drink of water and leaned his