Bullheaded

forehead against the cool steel of the rail.
    “What do you think the bull is doing while you’re trying to stay on?” he heard Cody bellow. “He feels what you’re doing and thinks about how he can scrape you off. That, gentlemen, was a perfect ride. A rank bull bested by a great rider. Johnny kept making the corrections he needed to. The forward movement gets you leaning back. You gotta stay up over your rope. Keep your chin down. When they go up, you might get forced back, but you have to beat them back over the front end. You don’t have to be the best rider in the world if you keep hustling and don’t ever give up!”
    Johnny’s head snapped up. So now he wasn’t the best rider in the world, even after he beat Dementia? The strength that had flowed to him from the bull seemed to drain out his boots into the sand as anger boiled within him. He suddenly realized why Cody was so intent on making him ride bulls in front of these boys. Because Cody knew they didn’t give a fuck about how good a bullfighter he was. They didn’t understand his job or value it any more than Cody did. Only being a good rider had any value in their world, a world he stood outside of. Johnny began to strip off his helmet, chaps, and vest, as if he couldn’t lose the outward symbols of being a rider fast enough.
    “I can’t believe you rode him so well!” Cody called out. “Come on out here and tell these greenhorns what the ride was like.”
    Without glancing at Cody, Johnny stalked into the center of the ring. “Don’t plan it out, just be ready. You gotta stay in the moment and feel what the bull’s doing. Don’t try to do too much.”
    “That’s it?” Bobby Blue looked superior.
    “I think Cody said it all.” Johnny had to grind the words out. “He’s the bull rider and he’s been telling you the same thing six different ways every day. You don’t need it to hear it from me. Balance and timing. Everything else is just technical.”
    He could sense Cody was taken aback by his curtness, but like the showman he was, he snatched the reins back into his own hands to give the kids the big finale.
    “Okay, what Johnny’s saying is absolutely correct. You got to stay in the moment, feel what the bull is doing. Don’t wait for the bull to get something going. You start it yourself, then you can control it.”
    Zane spoke up, interjecting one of his infrequent requests. “We’ve seen Johnny ride twice now. We’ve all learned how to get out of the chute. We’re going to be leaving tomorrow. Can we get to see you ride now?”
    Cody gave Johnny a private little grin before turning finger guns onto Zane. “You got it. Just remember, anything you can do, I can do better. RJ! Bring out Heartbreak Hotel for me!”
    And that went for him too, Johnny thought. He stuck his hair up under his hat and got ready to be a bullfighter again, only half listening to Cody telling the kids about the promising two-year-old, and how he hoped to get some of his bulls contracted out that year to the touring division.
    “So you’ll probably end up riding one of my bulls at some point,” Cody said jovially. “Just remember to show them off for me and make me look good.”
    Travis brought out Cody’s gear and stood by while he suited up in the ring, still flapping his gums the whole time.
    Johnny got up on the fence to have a look at the bull. He didn’t like how RJ had to tug on the halter to move the animal along. Obviously Heartbreak Hotel was having an off day, plodding into the chute like a tired old cow instead of a contender.
    That meant it was going to be up to him to do something about it.
    Maybe he was slow, but Johnny was starting to get it. Despite his years of experience riding, Cody still didn’t have a clue what a bullfighter did in the ring.
    Learning from the best, which was what Vern and Reese were in his opinion, Johnny knew how to read a bull better than any rider. Evidently, today Heartbreak Hotel didn’t have its heart into breaking much of anything.
    It was important to Cody to show off for these boys. Probably they’d all seen him ride on TV, seeing as they wanted to do the same thing, so they’d witnessed him both winning and falling off. But Johnny was pretty certain Cody preferred they leave the ranch with a vision of him triumphing over the bull, rather than groaning in the dust with an injury. His limp had been getting better since they were home, and Johnny knew how tough Cody was. Stupid tough,