Bulldozed (12 page)

The strain on his hand and shoulder started drops of sweat rolling down his face, but Trey fought his way forward and forced himself to stay loose so he could bend at the hips when they landed. This bull was some kind of gymnast. Either that or it had wings on its hooves. With the next giant leap, the bull twisted its rump, almost working into a backflip. On landing, its hind legs collapsed almost to the ground, and as Buck Nekkid scrambled to its feet, Trey was thrown back again. The bull finally took a vicious left turn, bucking and kicking violently with every foothold.

Unlike most riders, Trey actually felt he rode better when the bull was going away from his hand. He started his outside leg spurring for extra points, raising his foot almost as high as the bull’s neck.

The sound of the whistle startled him out of his concentration, and he was yanked forward, slapping the bull’s neck hard with his free hand. He lost his balance and felt himself sliding off the bull without a chance to release his hand, and knew he was hung up. Grimly, he fought to stay on his feet next to the bull as the bullfighters closed in around him. Every jump felt almost like flying, except for the painful drag on his shoulder, but each time the bull touched down Trey managed to hit the ground running. One of the bullfighters leaped up onto the bull’s back and grabbed for the rope. Suddenly the strain on his shoulder was gone, and Trey fell flat on his face in the dirt. Thank God for the face mask and helmet.

“That bull did everything but pull a knife to get Trey off his back, but he couldn’t throw him!” The excitement in Jordan Lee’s voice had the crowd on their feet cheering. “Trey Stuart made the whistle looking damn good. And the judges look to be just as excited with that trip. If there’s any justice in rodeo, Trey should be the first member of the 90-Point Club this weekend. And when the first rider of the go-round sets the bar that high for the rest of the field, we should see some pretty exciting rides. A good first out always gets the momentum going.”

Trey could barely hear what Jordan was saying, the crowd was in such a frenzy of excitement, hooting and hollering. Once on his feet, Trey spotted a group of bears in plaid shirts on their feet doing the wave for him. He pointed at them and applauded. Thrilled, the bears pointed back at him and yelled his name, even though he had to read their lips for all the shouting. Falling confetti stuck to his sweaty face, and the Rainbow Drag Queens were out parading around the fence, holding the 90-Point Club signs high, even though the judges hadn’t seen fit to post his score yet.

Overcome with the thrill of the ride, Trey beat both fists on his chest and threw back his head, howling in triumph. Then he remembered that Dolly was up soon and he’d promised to help her in the chute. Besides, he was hogging the ring and there were more riders to follow.

As he jogged toward the gate, the bullfighters all filed by and popped him on the rump. The last man handed him his rope. “Fucking stellar ride, Trey!”

Trey ran to the gate, climbed up the rails, and vaulted over the chute, landing on the runway behind. The other riders gathered around him to slap him on the back. “Good ride!” “Great ride, Trey.”

“Thanks!” Trey couldn’t stop grinning as he set his helmet down and found his hat. After the beautiful sentiment expressed by Smoke earlier, Trey couldn’t help hoping that no one would take this moment away from him. Not even Smoke. A ninety-point ride didn’t come along for him every day, and it just felt too damn good.

Miss Demeanor’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “I suppose late ejaculation is better than premature, but what the devil are the judges doing, Jordan? When are we going to see Trey’s score?”

Jordan laughed. “They’re not rushing into any commitment. It’s my guess they’re looking at the replay to check that slap at the end. I’m betting Trey has hair under his nails, but that slap came way after the whistle. I’m pretty sure we’re going to see a high score.”

“Those damn judges are always looking to score,” Miss Demeanor complained. “Maybe what they’re really doing is reviewing how well both those boys danced yesterday. And the question for the day is, does a sequined bra with tassels trump a bare-assed chaps dance?”

“Smoke still has a chance to make a better score, but he’ll have his work cut out. Trey Stuart is firmly in the lead with a score of 91.25!” Jordan kept talking, but he was drowned out by the cheers of the crowd.

Trey couldn’t stop grinning. “I knew I felt lucky this weekend,” he said softly.

An old-timer named Virgil passed by and slapped him on the back. “Great ride, Trey. That was a clinic on how to ride a bull away from your hand.”

“Thanks a lot, Virg!”

Virgil nodded and kept walking. Someone grabbed Trey from behind. He looked down and recognized Smoke’s hands clasped around his waist. Smoke’s breath tickled his ear.

“Great ride, babe! You’re making it hard for the rest of us to beat you.”

“Glad I could be the one.” Trey laughed.

“Always knew you were a great rider. Time to prove it to yourself.” Smoke gave Trey a final squeeze and released him. “How the hell am I supposed to top that?”

Trey turned to face him. “Better hope you have a damn good bull under you.”

“He’s Bucking Fantastic,” Smoke said.

“Well, you got it in the bag, then. He
is
a damn good bull.” Trey looked up at the monitor. “Gotta help Dolly get ready.”

“Don’t go missing when it’s my turn. At least you owe me that.”

As if.
“I never forget.”

“Later, babe.” The promise in Smoke’s voice made Trey’s knees wobble, but he had a date to keep with Dolly.

He recognized Dolly by the red suspenders over her plaid lumberjack shirt. To his surprise, when he reached her, she grabbed him and lifted him off his feet for a moment.

“91.25, Trey! That was a great ride. I couldn’t believe how high that bull jumped! You did good.”

“You’ll do good too, Dolls, you’ll see.”

“Hey, I showed that mechanical bull what for last night. Bring on the real deal.”

“You’re gonna do even better today, Dolly. I’m betting on you.”

“Yeah, I know.” She said it with confidence.

Trey thought Dolly’s eyes looked a little damp, but that couldn’t be. Dolly never cried. He followed her behind the chute, waiting with her while the riders ahead of her got ready. Smoke was his biggest competition, but he was surprised to see three good riders in a row buck off. Maybe his luck would hold yet.

Finally it was Dolly’s turn. Trey bent over the rails to help her. Her bull was a little feisty in the chute, and he held her steady when the bull lunged forward and rocked back under her.

“Thanks.” She went back to perfecting her wrap, her voice betraying no hint of nerves.

Deliberate and methodical, Dolly swept her glove up and down her rope. She wiggled forward, closer to the bull’s hump, and then gave the nod. Trey let go of her vest when the gate swung open, and she was gone.

Right away Trey knew he had nothing to worry about. His lesson had stuck. The old Dolly would have been riding stiff and bucked off quickly when the bull jumped and went into a spin, but the new, confident Dolly broke forward at the hips to match the bull’s movements. She used her free arm with control, keeping it level with her chest instead of letting it flail behind her and twist her body out of her seat.

After the initial jump, the bull settled into a predictable spin. Its back stayed flat even through the bucking and kicking. The bull’s lack of energy would make for an equally flat score, but Dolly needed the confidence that came with making the whistle more than she needed the points. Trey kept his fingers crossed for her.

And she made it. The whistle blew, and even behind the mask of her helmet, Trey could tell she was grinning with delight. She yanked the tail of her rope and was flipped off the back of the bull to land hard on her hands and knees. The bull instantly fixated on her and started to charge. One bullfighter reached out to touch the bull’s face while the second ran between Dolly and the bull, successfully distracting it from hooking her. The third bullfighter pulled Dolly to her feet and ran her to the rails.

Once the bull was out of the arena, Dolly jumped down off the fence, tossed her helmet in the air, threw back her head, and let out a shrill howl of victory. The crowd responded exuberantly.

The loudspeaker crackled as Miss Demeanor yelled, “Let’s hear it for all the bull-riding gals. Sisterhood is powerful!”

The women in the stands were on their feet, pumping their fists in the air. The Rainbow Drag Queen Cheer Squad quick-stepped across the arena and hoisted Dolly up onto their shoulders. They carried her to the gate, where she clung to the rail and pulled away from them. Alex was up on the rail on the other side, pumping her fist and screaming. Dolly pulled her into a giant hug, and they rocked back and forth, laughing and kissing.

Jordan Lee yelled into the mic to be heard over the celebration. “And that was a history-making ride for Dolly Miller! The first woman to cover a bull in the men’s division, not only in the gay rodeo, but also in the RRA. She put out more effort than the bull, but that was a ride she can be proud of. Here’s the score of 71.5, and Dolly Miller is
on
the leaderboard.”

Trey stepped over the chute to the outside rail and dropped into the ring. He picked up Dolly’s helmet and rope and jogged over to the gate to return them to her.

“You did it!” Trey felt as jubilant as if he’d won the finals.

With one arm still around Alex, Dolly slapped the hand he held up to her. “Yeah, took all I had not to switch places and put that bull on my shoulders and give
him
a ride,” she bragged.

“He was a little flat,” Trey admitted.

“I’m no dummy. I knew he was coasting, but what the heck, I got my first ride under my belt.” Dolly stood on tiptoes and kissed Trey on the cheek. “Thanks to you.”

Alex kissed his other cheek and squeezed his arm. “Thanks, Trey.” Her voice was soft, as if she didn’t want Dolly to hear.

Trey shook his head. “Naw, Dolly, you always had it in you. I just gave you a little push in the right direction.”

“We’re going out to dinner tonight on me. You and your boyfriend, and me and Alex. I feel like a fucking champion!” She grabbed her helmet and pumped it in the air for the crowd.

From the glow in her eyes, she clearly wasn’t thinking about him anymore. And this wasn’t the time to deny that Smoke was his. A little ache caught him by surprise, but that was his problem. “Catch you later, Dolls. Great ride.”

She had already forgotten about him, so he went to find Smoke in a purely professional capacity. He’d promised to help Smoke in the chute, and he would. When he found him, Trey leaned on the rails next to Smoke to watch the riders yet to ride. As usual, Smoke had drawn last place. Everyone always expected Smoke to blow all the other riders out of contention. And he just might do it. Smoke was one fabulous rider, one of the best Trey had ever seen.

The letdown hit him like a rock. Only a half an hour remained for Trey to gloat over his score before Smoke topped him. Again. Smoke was capable of a ride that scored bigger than his, and Trey knew Smoke’s competitive streak only too well.

On the other hand, any chance to watch Smoke ride was a good thing. He was an exciting rider. A flash from last night’s fuck made Trey sweat. To watch those slim hips sway and that fine ass spread on the back of the beast, to know what lurked under the tight, worn jeans….

Two more riders made the whistle, but they scored in the low 80s. Nowhere near enough to knock Trey off the top of the leaderboard.

Jordan Lee worked up the crowd’s excitement. “If you could rope it and make it stand still long enough for Smoke Carter to mount it, that cowboy could ride a tornado. He is just that good. But Trey Stuart is the only rider here to cover two bulls so far. He may just be able to hang on to first place yet. We’ll have to wait and see.”

Obviously Jordan Lee was expecting Smoke to blow Trey’s chances. Nice.

Now they were bringing Smoke’s bull up. Bucking Fantastic did not seem to be in a good mood. It lowered its head and lunged at the padded bars in the front of the chute. Then the bull reared up and tried to jump out of the chute, managing to throw its front feet over the rails. The stock handler pushed it back down, and the chute man strung a rope through the rails.

The bull’s rambunctious behavior seemed to make no difference to Smoke. No matter how much a bull acted up, Smoke was noted for getting in and out of the chute quickly. He lowered himself onto the bull’s back, keeping his legs curled up. Instantly the bull smashed into the inside wall in a vain attempt to crush its rider’s leg. The chute man worked the padded bar down the fence and shoved the bull to center.

After working his rope to warm the rosin, Smoke nodded for the gateman to pull the rope up for him. Then he started his wrap, hammering his riding hand shut. He worked his legs down the sides of the bull and wiggled around to find his seat. Then he nodded.

When the gate opened, Trey let go of Smoke’s vest. The bull blew out of the chute and settled into a wicked right-hand spin. Looked as if Smoke was handling it just fine. Then the bull did an odd little stutter step and turned to the left, burning a trench in the dust. Even with the stumble and change of direction, Smoke made it look as if he was sitting in a comfortable chair at home with his feet up, but Trey knew it wasn’t as easy as it looked.

Showing its mean side, the bull tried to jerk Smoke down in front, and threw its back up at the same time in an attempt to bash his head, but Smoke was too good to fall for that trick. He leaned forward when the bull yanked but matched the swooping turn with his torso. Using his free arm to turn his shoulders in time with the bull, Smoke relaxed into the spin. Then the bull faded sideways, sucking Smoke down into the well. Instantly, Smoke tightened up and clamped down.

Trey understood the impulse. With under two seconds to go, the temptation to try to salvage the ride instead of going for it was hard to resist. The bull jumped high in the air and swiveled its back end to deliver a giant kick with immense force. The power of the belly roll twisted Smoke’s hips to the outside, pulling him farther into the well. His hand popped out of the rope, and he fought to keep his balance. But without a hold on the rope, the effort was useless, although valiant. When he hit the dirt, Smoke rolled backward and up onto his feet in one smooth move. Then he ran for the fence while the bullfighters stepped in to handle the irate animal.