Leroy Watches Jr. & the Badass Bull (Bloodsong Series) (9 page)

It
bucked
, spinning and bucking harder than any bull they’d seen. The bull spun to the left faster than Austin thought an animal that big could move.

The rider began slipping to the right. He was leaning way over, obviously not going to make the eight seconds. He put a foot on the ground. His left leg remained stretched over the bull. He could have let go and run away, but he couldn’t release his hand from the rigging around the bull’s belly.

The instant the cowboy’s foot hit the ground, the bull swung to his right, stomping the man’s foot and running its giant, cloven hooves down his shin. Bright red blossomed through his jeans. The bull swung its head like a battering ram, striking the cowboy’s upper body. The rider’s head flew back. He looked like he was unconscious.

The rigging finally let go and the rider dropped to the arena floor. The bull went after the fallen cowboy with his horns. The horns had been cut off square so they were maybe six inches long. They looked like handlebars on each side of the massive head––the thing was a hammerhead shark stuck on land. Cutting those horns didn’t do one thing to make the bull less dangerous.

Leroy Watches Sr. dashed to the bull and shook the huge green and yellow pants of his clown outfit and the bull raised its head, then stared. Leroy took his hat off and waved it.

Watches lured the bull away from the rider with his hat, and then distracted the slobbering beast by waving a big handkerchief in its face. He kept waving that little bit of cloth and backing away from the fallen rider. He acted like a matador. They crossed the arena, ending up in front Austin and the kids. The bull watched the clown like he wanted to eat him. Austin couldn’t get over Watches’ skill. He had the bull mesmerized. The performance was more amazing given Watches’ age. He was old: his head was covered with fuzzy white hair.

The action was continuous. Austin filmed it all. Watches lured the bull away as medics quickly loaded the injured bull rider onto a stretcher. Riders came up, keeping the bull away from the stretcher. Austin got all that and then went back to filming the action with the bull and clown. Once the injured rider was out of the arena, a half dozen horsemen charged the bull, trying to drive it away by hitting it with coiled lariats. But Leroy Watches’ battle wasn’t over. Every time one of the horsemen closed on the bull, it spun, threatened the newcomer, and turned back to Leroy like he was the only thing a bull could love.

“Oh, my God!” Austin shouted, along with everyone else in the stadium. Watches tripped and fell backwards. The bull was on him. He tossed the old man in the air like he didn’t weigh anything, high above his head. A couple of riders crowded close and beat the animal with their lariats. All it did was make the bull mad. It began shoving one side of its head and then the other into the old man. Austin set the lens so he could capture the details, everything. He got the senior Leroy’s expression as he tried to scramble away. And when he passed out.

People moaned and cried, horrified by the still body. The man was dead, anyone could see that.

10

KEEP YOUR EYE ON THE BULL

Leroy stood just outside the arena. This was the first time he’d been able to lounge around and watch the show. One of the main gates was in front of him. It was a double gate; it opened wide enough to let a drill team, or anything else, enter.

Over the top of the gate, Leroy could see guys in Stetson hats cruising by on their horses. They were supposed to help protect the cowboys after the bulls tossed them. They could
help protect
only: the bulls were too massive and powerful to be run off by a man on horseback. A bull could toss a horse and rider out of the ring. The bullfighters were the ones who distracted the bulls and saved lives. Just men in funny outfits, on foot, armed with nothing.

To his right, Leroy could see a bull’s head through the metal bars of the chutes. The animal’s eye rolled, as if to say what he thought of the place. Down the line, bulls slammed their hooves and mammoth bodies against the chute walls, preparing to maim. One was giving the cowboy trying to settle on him a hell of a time, bucking like to kill him, even in the tight stall.

Leroy was waiting for the bull riding to be over so he could collect his pop and get out of there. Funny, the Thomas & Mack felt like home even though he’d only been there a few days. The arena footing was soft and sandy, well-groomed by a tractor and drag, and seasoned with a topping of horse shit and cow drizzle. The rodeo was almost over. Bull riding was always the last event.

He looked up. The size of the place took his breath away. The stadium could be a universe in itself, if it were in a sci-fi movie. Three months too late for the National Finals, this was supposed to be third class rodeo that promoters put on, trying to hustle the few bucks in town looking for a Western fling. He had expected the stadium to be almost empty. The place was packed. The announcer said it was because of his pop. Would that many people show up to honor a rodeo bullfighter? He didn’t know that all these people loved his dad. He didn’t know a lot about his dad.

A couple of cowboys in pastel-colored, bat-winged chaps stood by the gate, eyeing him. Bronc riders. Leroy didn’t like being eyed. He glared at one and he looked away. They must have seen him ride. He’d cleaned himself up and didn’t have his number on his back. Leroy thought that would make him invisible in the crowd’s eyes, but he was hard to hide.

Leroy looked over the gate again. His father moved easily, arthritis tamed. Pop had done a good job yesterday, separating fallen cowboys from the bulls who wanted to send them to hell. Leroy kept his attention focused on his old man all the time he was in the arena. He was healing him constantly.

Those guys were still eyeing him. “You want somethin?” he fired at them. They came over.

“Is it true that you rode wild horses that you trained in three days? And you won the bulldogging and tie-down roping on them?”

“What if it is?” Leroy narrowed his eyes at the strangers.

“Those wild horses worked like they’d done it all their lives.”

The number two cowpoke kept up his questioning. “Both of ‘em in just in hackamores––no bits in their mouths?”

“Course they weren’t wearin’ bits. I didn’t have time to train them into it,” Leroy snapped. “I just started trainin’ them on Wednesday. I was lucky to get them to stop and turn so nice.”

Their slack jaws might have been funny if Leroy had been in a mood to laugh.

“Where have you been on the rodeo circuit? You could go to the National Finals if you worked at it a little.”

They were fans, not enemies, looking at him like he was the horse trainer in that book. Total bullshit. Anybody with a feel for livestock could do what that book said. Doing what Leroy did took real talent. More’n’ that; it took magic.

“I don’ want to go to the Finals. I don’ like crowds.” They laughed. “I like bein’ at my ranch where it’s quiet an’ nobody bothers me.” They didn’t take the hint and leave.

“What are you? Six foot eight?”

“An’ a half.” He looked through the bars of the gate in front of him. His daddy was out in the arena in his green and yellow clown outfit, walking just fine. The healing he was giving him was working.

“I’m real glad I can go to your father’s party tonight. I’ve admired him all my life.  You look just like him, ‘cept you don’t have white hair,” one of his new sidekicks observed.

The chute’s gate flew open and another cowboy spun, one hand holding on to the rigging strapped around his bull like it meant his life.

A commotion caused Leroy to look behind him. A bunch of people were approaching from the dirt concourse that ran around the arena. That was a doughnut covered with the same stuff the arena was. It ran under the stadium outside the main ring. It was made for moving cattle, cowboys, and cowgirls to and from the barns without entering the arena. The people who were approaching didn’t have horses or chaps. They weren’t in the rodeo. Leroy didn’t know how they got that far with the tight security. The crowd made its way to the arena’s entrance where Leroy stood.

The interlopers waved signs that said, “Animal abuse!” “Cruelty isn’t a sport!”

“Oh, let’s see how they spur the bulls,” some rattle-brained girlie shouted, jumping forward and sticking her face between the slats next to the bull chutes. The cowboy on the other side was just settling on his bull. The creature reared up at the girl’s onslaught and hit the rider in the face with back of his horns. The kid surged back, mouth open to show blood and missing teeth, then he fell forward, passed out over the animal’s shoulders. The other boys scrambled to get him out of there while the bull kept jumping up and down.

 Blood––cowboy blood––splattered the young woman.

“Ooh. Did it do that because of me?” She looked at Leroy, horrified.

“Yes, he did, ma’am. Y’ cost that boy some money in dentistry an’ now he don’t have a chance at the purse to pay for it. You don’ need to spur bulls, by the way. They’ll kill you just for nuthin.’ Why don’t you and your friends go demonstrate where you can’t get anyone hurt? Like at a shopping mall?”

Leroy’s deep voice and size were enough to back off anyone, but one of the other demonstrators came forward.

“I saw you!” he pointed at Leroy. “You jumped off a horse and twisted a cow’s neck until it almost broke. You won a bunch of money for doing it.” He stuck his face closer to Leroy, his mouth hard.

Leroy swung toward the kid, taking in his tight jeans and bleach-faded shirt, and the specially molded, hip-cowboy hat that no cowboy would be seen wearing.

“Yeah, I won. I needed to win. You know what I’m going to do with my winnings?”

Bleached shirt shook his head, backing away. Leroy’s size had registered.

“I’m gonna go visit my grandpa. Winnin’ that purse was the only way I could afford a airplane ticket. I gotta get down there fast.”

“You twisted a cow’s neck until it almost broke so you could see your
grandfather
?”

“No, I didn’t. It was a
steer
, not a cow. An’ I twisted
two
steers’ necks to win. I did
one
yesterday to qualify, and
one
today for the championship. An’ you should know I roped a couple of calves and won for that, too.” The cowboys who’d been talking to him laughed.

“You think that’s funny?” Leroy whirled on them. “How ‘bout I twist your neck? See how that feels? How ‘bout I put a bucking strap around your skinny ass and spur you all up to make you buck?

“There ain’t a thing you do in that arena that looks
anything
like what we do on the ranch. An’ I never seen a hand show up at our place wearing pink and green chaps like yours.”

Leroy clenched his fists and stepped toward the two Stetson-hatted rodeo cowboys. “Those kids ‘re stupid and couldn’t fight their way out of a pay toilet, but they’re right! Rodeo is cruel. That’s why I’ve never done it before. I’m here because I needed the money.”

Leroy jolted like something had struck him. The stadium seemed to roll under his feet. Leroy reeled backward and went silent. He stumbled into the wall, barely able to stand. Grandfather’s image floated before him, surrounded by fuzzy light. He radiated joy, smiling as he always did. He gave Leroy a message, imparting it in a wordless burst of meaning, which took a fraction of a second to impart.

When the vision of Grandfather disappeared, Leroy felt like the anvil had fallen from the barn roof onto his head.

“Oh, God,” he put his hands over his face. This was the worst possible news. His grandfather had been very insistent that he attend at the Meeting. Leroy thought the vision had appeared to chastise him for missing the two previous retreats. That wasn’t it. His grandfather wanted him because he was dying. Soon, maybe that week. 

Grandpa was dying.
The man who had raised him and saved him. His father and mother and holy man. The one who was always there. His message said that not many people knew about his impending death. He should keep it quiet. The shaman didn’t want the hysteria that followed his heart attack.

“Come my son. Spend time with this old man,” the vision had said.
Come, because I’ll soon be gone and you won’t be able to see me again
. Leroy’s chest heaved. A sob escaped. Tears ran down his face.

Leroy looked up. Not only were the animal rights protestors staring at him, the cowboys were, too. He didn’t care.

He glanced toward the arena’s gate and saw his daddy floating in the air, a red bull’s head and horns suspended beneath him. It was his fault; his attention had strayed.

Leroy charged to the fence and clambered into the arena. His father lay motionless on the turf. The bull rammed a horn into his fallen body. It pulled back, and then rammed Leroy Sr.  with the other horn.

Leroy sprinted toward them. His father moved only in response to the bull’s assaults. He seemed dead.