Bullheaded

decent run for my money.”
    “You think I’m one of the greats?” Cody was honestly astonished.
    “You don’t listen much, do you? I think so, the NBR thinks so, the sports media thinks so. They’ve been reviewing your stats. You’re in the 70 percent bracket if you don’t blow it. You don’t ride safe and tame on bulls you know you can top. You take chances and give the fans an exciting ride. You sell tickets. When you retire, you’ll be in the ring of honor before ten years is up, you wait and see.”
    “Ring of honor.” Cody’s eyes glazed over.
    “If you don’t keep fucking up. The way you’re pushing, you’re gonna get hurt.”
    “I’ll keep doing it ’til I get out of this slump,” Cody gritted from between clenched teeth.
    “You keep riding like you have been and that’s all anyone’ll remember. Regard this as a friendly pep talk.”
    For the first time, Cody recognized how much Dub cared, and it touched him that, as a competitor, Dub was still in his corner enough to try to talk him up.
    “Thanks, Dub, I appreciate it.”
    “’Course, if you win, I’m gonna have to kick your butt, but then you can go out as the first back-to-back national winner ever.”
    After a pause, Cody said, “Yeah. I hope so. Thanks for the talk.” He turned and walked away. Without Johnny, did it really matter if he won? Or maybe he should try harder and show Johnny what he was missing out on. His own words came back to haunt him: can’t ride from fear. There’s got to be joy in it.
    That was it. When Johnny walked out, both times, all the joy went away. Riding didn’t matter as much to Cody, even while his failures gnawed on his pride. All summer he’d been riding against youngsters he’d taught himself, and they were now scoring points while he was rolling donuts. It was humiliating.

    “H EY , Z—Zane. Good luck out there.” It still felt embarrassing to Johnny to be backstage in street clothes, but he was glad to see Zane.
    “Johnny! Why aren’t you dressed?”
    “Chris Bellow is back. I’m just standing by.” He felt a little comforted by Zane’s eye roll at Chris’s name. “Congratulations on moving up to Top Cut. Where’s Aubrey and Tommy?”
    “Tommy broke his leg in Redding and Aubrey strained a groin muscle in Big Sky,” Zane answered. “Bobby Blue’s here, though.”
    “Yeah, I saw him. Hope you do well out there.”
    “Thanks.”
    They knocked knuckles, and Johnny looked away from the sympathy in Zane’s eyes. He really didn’t need it. And besides, he had to get out of here and find his seat in the nosebleed section. Vern had done his best, but the venue was close to capacity. They always attracted more fans in the last weeks before finals.
    Johnny was anxious to go. If he’d run into Zane backstage, he could just as easily run into Cody, and he wasn’t ready to face him after screwing up their date.
    Rounding the corner in a hurry, he almost walked into Rex Durham as the TV reporter interviewed a cowboy.
    A loud, rather boisterous voice was boasting, “Yeah, Cody Grainger may have trained me, but I can outride him. It’s my first year riding professional and I’ve already made it to the Top Cut.”
    A sudden sting made Johnny realize he was digging his nails into his palms. He glared at Bobby Blue’s back, realizing he was eavesdropping, but the man was giving an interview on camera, for fuck’s sake! And lying! And Johnny also felt a twinge of guilt. Ever since he heard about Cody’s slump, it had been gnawing at him; he felt as if some of the responsibility for it was his. While he couldn’t make Cody ride better, he could terrify Bobby Blue into being less of an irritant. Or at least try.
    Rex said, “Cody Grainger has been in a monster buckoff streak. Does it make you doubt any advice he may have given you?”
    “Not really. I mean, he was a pretty good rider in his day. He still knows one end of a bull from another.”
    “Cody’s been in slumps before and come out of it. If he were to outscore you tonight, what would you have to say to him?”
    “I’ll beat you next time, old man. And congratulations.”
    Rex turned off the mic and nodded to the cameraman. “Thanks, Bobby Blue. Good luck out there.”
    “Will I be on TV tonight?” Bobby Blue asked eagerly.
    “I just ask the questions, I’m not the editor. But if you win or you fall off, I’d say you have a good chance to see it air,” Rex said in a friendly but impersonal way. He shook