Extreme Bull

impotently. Damn that Clay! He couldn’t just drive off like that! Jeff’s sense of humor revived enough to taunt him: Clay had done just that , and if he wanted to kick Clay’s ass, he better get his own in gear and start the drive for Virginia, or wherever the hell they were going.

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    JEFF pulled into the Richmond fairgrounds and cruised the lot, looking for Clay’s trailer. When he found it, he drove his to the opposite end of the lot, parking as far from Clay as he could. During the drive he decided he needed to keep his mind on his job and his dick in his pants, at least if there weren’t a woman in the room. Clay was obviously trying some new psychological strategy to unnerve him so he could take the season, and Jeff wasn’t going to simply cave and hand it all over to him.
    If he just stayed away from Clay everything would be fine. And he probably shouldn’t drink either. If he recalled correctly, there had been beer involved that one night. He definitely remembered the hangover, even if he was a little fuzzy about just how everything had come about.
    He decided that he would shadow Sam, and that would keep things under wraps. Clay wouldn’t dare pull anything in front of Sam.
    The next morning, Jeff caught up with Sam on the way to the ring. “You know which bull I drew, Sam?”
    “Yeah, Twister, and he earned his name honest.”
    “Heard of him. He jumps off the ground and twists in the air, doesn’t he?”

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    Sam shook his head over the excited glow in Jeff’s eyes.
    “Puts a cowboy on the rack. Most bulls are jumpin’ straight up, maybe do a little belly roll in the air and twist when they land, but this devil puts a lot of torque into his roll. And he’s a snap-spinner. You’ll think he’s goin’ left, pure and simple, but his front end’ll go northeast while his back end is headin’ for Texas.”
    “Sounds like my kind of bull,” Jeff said with a laugh.
    Sam stopped walking. “Listen, Jeff, don’t get hurt. You pick up an injury, and the tour’s over for you. All you gotta do is qualify for the final forty-five. Don’t put it all on one bull.”
    “Isn’t that the only way to do it?” Jeff recognized the concern in Sam’s face and tried to explain himself better.
    “You told me Doug Morgan rode that way. I’m not saying I’m in his league, but I can’t ride the next bull till after I get off this one. And while I’m up there, I aim to give it my all.” A reluctant smile made laugh wrinkles dig into Sam’s leathery cheeks. “You do what you have to, boy.” Jeff touched his hat in salute and walked jauntily to the ring, joining BJ at the fence.
    Sam looked after him and murmured, “Not sure you’re not as good as you think you are, kid.” BJ pulled his hat down lower over his eyes when Jeff walked up. “Maybe you were right.” Extreme Bull | Catt Ford
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    “I don’t think I caught that.” Jeff put his hand behind his ear and leaned closer to shout, “Can you repeat it?” BJ closed his eyes in pain. “When I woke up this morning, the sun was drilling a hole in my skull. I don’t need you adding to it. Shut the fuck up.”
    “How much did you have last night?”
    “The usual. I think maybe you were right about just heading out, but you didn’t say anything about drinking when you got there.”
    “You okay to ride, BJ?” Jeff thought he was looking a bit green.
    “I can ride even if I’m unconscious; it’s just gonna hurt more later when I stop.”
    “What bull did you draw?”
    “Horny Houdini. At least I got something going my way.”
    “Yeah, you could just as well throw a leg over a hamburger from Wendy’s,” Jeff said.
    “Yeah, he ain’t worth much. Low-point ride.”
    “I guess you got to decide, do you want to live or score high?”
    “I think I’ll settle for living, thank you. You got stuck with Twister. Sam give you the scoop about him?” Extreme Bull | Catt Ford
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    “Yeah.”
    “Break a leg.”
    “That’s show business, BJ. It’s not exactly comforting to hear that at a rodeo,” Jeff observed dryly.
    “What do you think this is if it isn’t show biz?” BJ
    laughed and then groaned in pain. “Listen, you ride that bull and show him who’s boss. If anyone can, it’s you, and I mean it.”
    “Will do.” Jeff tipped his hat, touched that BJ would even say that, before he sauntered toward the chute where his bull was penned, hearing the snorting and