Page 42 of Ride Me Cowboy (Coyote Creek Ranch #1)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Cole

“ I KNOW YOU’RE UPSET.”

“Upset?” I stare at Beth like she’s just told me the earth is flat. “I’m not upset. I’m furious. Beau is the most stubborn jackass in the whole goddamn world. What the hell is he thinking?”

I look toward the window above Beth’s desk, glancing out at Ash’s truck. She’s still in the house, having it out with Beau…who fights like he lives. Relaxed, easy going, charming. Everything she says, he has an answer for. Something flippant and humorous, accompanied by his trademark grin.

Like this is all some big fucking joke, when his life hangs in the balance.

“I get that you don’t want him to do this, but he’s a big boy, Cole. It’s his life. Don’t you think he has a right to decide how he’s going to spend it?”

“Not when it comes to this.” I draw in a deep breath. “If someone you loved was determined to hurt themselves, wouldn’t you step in?”

“I’d want to,” she admits. “And I’d probably do my best to change their mind, but at the end of the day, this is Beau’s choice.”

I clench my jaw real tight. “That’s just not how we do it.”

“How who does it?” She crosses her arms over her chest, looking at me with obvious skepticism. “You? Your dad?”

“Damn straight.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why can’t you let Beau make up his own mind?”

I turn away from her, striding to my desk and opening the laptop. “Come and see this.” I click into the folder I never go near, hovering on a file I haven’t looked at for years, because of how it makes me feel.

“Look.” I step back as it starts to play, but the volume is muted. You need to really hear it, as well as see it, so I reach across, pressing the button, and the sound of the rodeo fills the room.

Packed stands, people cheering, the sound of the bell as the chute opens and one of the meanest bulls on the circuit comes bounding out like he’s got the devil at his heels.

Beau on top, stable at first, one hand on the animal, one out to his side, like he’s surfing a big, fat wave.

Then there’s another noise in the crowd, the ringing of a bell, as the fans get excited. To them, this is just great sport.

Beau’s like a rag doll on this thing’s back, and the electronic clock only reads 3.42 seconds. Let me tell you, time never goes so slow as when someone you care about is on the back of a bull, trying to hit their mark.

Beside me, Beth takes a step closer to the screen. She’s mesmerized. She lifts her hands to her lips, holding them there, but she doesn’t look away, and in that moment, I feel a bolt of admiration for her, because this is damn near one of the hardest things you can see.

It’s clear Beau’s going to be thrown, even from here.

His ass can’t stay on the saddle, the rhythm of the beast is all over the place.

It’s like the bull’s feet are landing in lava, every time they hit the ground.

Beau’s free hand almost touches the saddle, and I know what that must mean.

Beau’s never done that before. Never come close.

He’s been riding horses, then bulls, since he could walk, just about.

The clock hits seven seconds and I hold my breath, staring at the screen and doing the same thing I do every time I watch this damned footage—I pray. Pray to God that this time, he’ll be okay. This time, it’ll be different. Like I can somehow change something that happened years ago.

I can’t, though.

Right after seven seconds, the bull bucks, drops, bucks the other way, throws his big old head back, like he’s rearing up, and Beau’s thrown. The doctor’s said he probably suffered a mid-air concussion, from the impact of the bull’s movements and the way his head jerked around.

His left-hand flops off the reins and the next movement the bull makes, Beau’s bucked high in the air.

His body is limp, like a piece of cloth, but when he lands, red rodeo dust flies up around him.

The bull is incensed. The Rodeo clown is trying to draw him away, but this thing’s gotten personal; the bull runs at Beau.

Beth gasps and now she squeezes her eyes shut a second. I pause it at the moment the bull drops his head and uses his horns to toss Beau, one last time, for good measure.

The video freezes with him a few feet in the air.

“Seen enough?” I ask, voice grim.

She just stares at the screen, trying to process it, then reaches down and hits the space bar, so the video starts playing again.

It takes three rodeo guys to rope the bull and get him back from Beau.

The crowd is eerily hushed. Beau doesn’t move.

Medics come onto the field, holding a stretcher. Beau’s lifeless.

Even when they start to check him out, he’s frozen still. He’s rolled onto the stretcher after about ten minutes, and carried off the field. The crowd cheers for him, but I hear their worry. No one comes here to see a kid get killed. It’s gladiatorial, but that’s not the point of it.

The video freezes on a black screen.

Beth turns to face me.

“I get it,” she whispers, eyes round in her pretty face. “That’s horrific.”

“One of the worst accidents I’ve ever seen,” I confirm. “Strike that: the worst. That bull shoulda never been on the circuit. Damn thing was beyond vicious.”

Her throat shifts as she swallows. “Oh, Cole,” she presses a hand to my chest. “I get why you don’t want him to go back.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

She sighs heavily. “Beau knows the risks. As scary as it is for you guys, he has every right to meet those risks head on.”

“Jesus, Beth, did you not just see?—,”

“I saw,” she whispers. “And I hated every second of that footage. I’ve never known time to move so slowly,” she says, echoing my thought with a shudder.

“But what are you going to do? Cut him off? Never see him again? Somehow force him to stay here, not doing what he loves, so he gets more and more resentful of you every single day? Who does that serve?”

I clench my jaw.

“He’s determined to get back on the circuit. You can tell him how you feel, tell him you hate the thought of it, but at the end of the day, you can’t do anything but support him. Make sure he knows he’s loved, that he can come back anytime. And just cross your fingers he loses interest.”

I grunt. It’s the last thing I want to hear. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“Why not?” She asks, and there’s something in the tone of her voice that makes me wonder what she’s getting at.

My eyes roam her face, thoughtfully. “Have you ever watched someone you love die?”

She shakes her head slowly. “Closest I’ve come is Christopher, and he was already gone by the time I got to the hospital.”

I hate that her mind takes her there, to that bastard, but I nod anyway.

“I’ve done it. I was eight years old, with my mom.

It was just her and me, alone in the kitchen.

She was peeling potatoes, and I was talking to her, like I used to do back then, after school.

Then all of a sudden, she dropped a potato, heavy in the sink, I can still remember the sound it made.

She looked at me, opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out.

Then she just went over. Crumpled to the floor, like a sack of flour.

Her head hit the counter as she went down, then the floor.

I just stood there, staring at her. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

” I drag a hand over my jaw, surprised, in the back of my mind, that I’m telling Beth all this, because it’s not something I ever talk about.

“I didn’t have a clue what to do to help her. I was useless. Worse than useless. But ever since then, I’ve wondered if I could have done something different. Maybe there were signs I missed. Maybe if I’d acted faster, caught her before she fell.”

Beth makes a soft sound, shakes her head. “No, Cole, of course you couldn’t have.”

“With respect, you don’t know that.”

Her eyes shut on a wave of understanding. “And ever since then,” she says, quietly, “you’ve felt like you have to look after everyone you love. Keep them out of harm’s way.”

I tilt my head, a silent agreement. “Something wrong with that?”

Her features show anguish. “It’s a very natural way to feel,” she says, slowly, choosing her words with care.

“But the only thing you’ll ever be able to control is right here,” she says, drawing a circle on my chest. “Your life, your choices. Not Beau, not Austin, Nash or Mack, not Caleb, or anyone else you care about. You have to absolve yourself of blame for this. Of guilt. Beau is his own person, and he’s going to do whatever he wants, whether you support him or not. ”

I know she’s right. I damn well know it. The same is true of all my siblings, but Beau in particular is more stubborn than a mule.

“It’s a mistake.”

“I don’t disagree.” She leans closer then wraps her arms around my waist. “But it’s his mistake to make.”

“Jesus, Beth,” I groan, dropping my head and pressing a kiss against her brow, wishing she was wrong.

Wishing we could keep arguing this point, that there’s some way I could bring her around to my perspective, when I know she’s right.

The only thing I’m going to achieve if I keep having this old fight with Beau is pushing him away. That’s the last thing I want.

“He’s signing his own death warrant.”

“Maybe,” she says, eyes meeting mine. “But apparently, it’s what he wants to do. You’ve gotta let him go.”

I grunt my acceptance of that, as I wrap my arms around Beth and hold her tight.

Beth

Three weeks later, Beau leaves for the circuit, and everyone puts a pretty good face on it, even when they—we—all hate it.

Ash Callahan is the exception. I haven’t seen her around here since their blow up.

Their arrangement seems to have come to an end, and I can’t say I blame her.

While they might be casual, she obviously still cares enough about Beau to hate the thought of him riding bulls week in, week out.