Bullheaded

the crunch of the shards of china under her boots. “Maybe you should ask Johnny what he wants.”
    “What if I ask and he turns me down?”
    “Then you’ll know for sure, won’t you?”
    “Really comforting, Mom. Do you think he’ll tell me to fuck off?”
    “No.”
    The stark, single-word answer gave Cody a feeling of hope. “I hope like hell you’re right.”
    “Get some rest, dear. And sweep up those broken dishes before you go to bed,” Val ordered.
    “Yes, ma’am,” Cody said.

    T HE unbelievably loud sound of the phone ringing brought Cody out of his fog. Groaning, he rolled over to answer it. “Yeah.”
    “Good afternoon, Cody. Sam Wells stopped by to talk to you.”
    “Tell him I’ll see him tomorrow, Mom.”
    “You get your ass out of bed right now, Cody! Sam’s a busy man and he’s not going to hang around here waiting for you to dry out.”
    He winced at the sharp click of the phone and lay back against the pillows, his eyes closing. He must have dozed for a moment because he woke again with a jerk. Screwing up his eyes, he seemed to remember some phone call….
    Then he threw off the covers and ran for the shower.
    His hair was still wet when he went to the kitchen door to answer the knock, but at least he was fully dressed. Embarrassed, he ran his fingers over his scruff and smiled apologetically at Sam. “Sorry, Sam, just a little under the weather.”
    Sam looked him up and down, and Cody had a feeling he wasn’t fooling the older man. “Slump hangover. Been there. Your mother sent this down for you.”
    Cody took the glass from Sam. “What is it?”
    “Hair of the dog,” Sam said. “Got any coffee?”
    “I’ll make some.”
    Going through the motions of making the coffee, Cody didn’t try to talk. He was pretty sure he couldn’t do two things at once, and right now he was fighting to stand upright. When the coffee was done, he poured out two cups and set one in front of Sam. He sat down heavily.
    “Sugar?”
    “Sorry.” Heaving himself out of his chair, Cody labored across the room to the sugar canister and brought the whole thing to the table. At Sam’s quizzical look, he went to a drawer for a spoon. When Sam nodded, he sat down and took a swig of the Bloody Mary. Oddly enough, the mixture of spice and alcohol did seem to settle things down a bit.
    “Heard you got a bone to pick with me.”
    “Dub?”
    “He didn’t rat on you. You gotta realize when you’re in this game, there’s cameras and microphones all over the place. You never know who will hear what.”
    Apprehensively, Cody studied the older man. As always, the weather-beaten face showed humor, patience, and intelligence. “I heard you said I was on the downward slope of my career.”
    Sam chuckled. “Most professional bull riders average out at eight years, so the middle of their career comes at four years. You’ve already been at this over ten years. How long you planning to ride?”
    “As long as I can,” Cody gritted out.
    “There’s no senior championship tour like in golf, son. Maybe you could find a bunch of geriatric bulls to put old riders on, but I’m thinking it won’t be much of a draw for the fans. They really don’t like seeing injuries.”
    “Why does everyone want me to retire? I’m not old!”
    “Comes a time in every man’s life where he needs to learn to compromise,” Sam said.
    “I don’t want to compromise! It sounds so—lame!”
    “Take it from me, after forty years in the sport, there’s other ways to get the rush.”
    “Yeah? Like what?”
    “You might not think so ’til you feel it, but it’s a great thrill watching your bull go out there and raise Cain.”
    “It doesn’t sound the same.”
    “Never said it was the same. There’s more than one kind of thrill.” Sam paused for a sip of coffee. “Sounds like you never noticed us stockmen taking buckles for their bulls when they win.”
    Cody perked up. “No, can’t say I ever did.”
    “Got fifteen gold ones for my bulls in the finals. First, second, or third, you still go home with a buckle when you’re the owner of the bull.”
    “Good thing to know.”
    “Easier on the old bones too. Injuries add up. Don’t get hurt much just leading your bull to the chute,” Sam reflected. “I understand where you’re coming from. I was just like you when I was a young buck.”
    “You?” Cody realized that was hardly flattering. “I mean—”
    “Your dad was too. Cockiest rider I ever did see.