ride him?” Harper’s voice was a little louder than Dusty was comfortable with, but Diablo didn’t react.
“Shh,” she said again. “Yes, but only if he’s ready. He may not be. And that’s okay. He’ll let me eventually.”
“But you don’t have any gear on.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. You’re crazy. You at least need a glove. How are you going to hold the rope?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Here.” Harper strode toward her hesitantly, holding out a leather work glove. “It’s not the best but it’ll at least keep you from cutting your pretty hand.”
“Slowly, Harper,” Dusty warned.
He obeyed, and she took the glove. He was right. She did need it.
“You don’t have chaps. Or a helmet.”
“I’m fine.”
“Damn, Dusty, I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“He won’t hurt me.”
“He hurt Chad McCray pretty badly a year ago.”
“I’m not Chad McCray.”
“No, you’re not.” Harper kept his voice low and melodic, despite what he was saying. “That’s my point.”
“Shh.” The soft whisper of her quieting command seemed to relax Diablo. “I’m going to sit up now and try to get him to stand.”
“Dusty.”
“Shh.” She slowly lifted her body until she was sitting perpendicular to the bull. She willed her pulse to stay steady as she sat for a few moments. Then she gently squeezed her thighs together, and Diablo stood.
“I’ll be goddamned,” Harper said under his breath. “This is impossible. Damned impossible.”
“No, it’s not. You’re witnessing it. How’s his strap look?”
“Looks fine to me, but—”
“No buts.” She stroked the bull’s back. “Give me a few minutes. Then I want you to open the gate.”
“No.”
“Please, Harper.”
“I can’t.”
“Please. I need this.”
“Dusty…”
“Does your watch have a second hand?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re my timer. Zach will trust you if you say I rode him longer than eight seconds.”
“So you’ve done this before?”
“Of course.” Her voice was tranquil and harmonious. “Many times. Just not with this bull.”
“Oh, God.”
“It’ll be all right.” Dusty quietly toyed with Diablo’s braided rope, tightly fastening it to her right hand. She was vaguely aware of more onlookers surrounding the practice ring, speaking in hushed voices. “That’s a good boy. Such a good, big boy.” She looked at Harper. “I’m ready. Unlatch the gate, and then get outside the ring. As soon as I tug on his rope he’ll get mad, but I can handle him, I promise.”
“Good Lord…”
“And don’t forget to check the time on your watch as you unlatch.”
Dusty shut her eyes and tried to reach Diablo mentally as she heard Harper unlatch the gate and swing it open. In a flash, Dusty opened her eyes and gave Diablo’s rope a good yank. The bull bounded out into the ring, bucking and spinning.
So far, so good. Dusty could handle this. She continued talking to Diablo, hoping her voice would gentle him. Diablo knew his role well. He twisted. He spun. He bucked. He reared. Dusty felt every jolt, every ripple of his strong muscle. She reacted, matching him move for move, trying to make herself an extension of him and not a foreign object.
God, this animal was strong.
Come on, boy, she thought, trying to reach him mentally, emotionally. We can do this. Yes, we can do this.
She found his rhythm. She had reached him. What an adrenaline rush! She concentrated, holding him with her thighs, grasping the rope in her gloved hand. Yes, it was good. They were together. Completely.
But Diablo whisked away from her in a millisecond with a tremendous jerk. Caught off guard, Dusty flew through the air and stopped, her head striking the hard dirt of the ring.
She lifted her head, her vision cloudy, and attempted to move. Diablo stood several feet away from her, snorting and shuffling his hoof on the ground. The spell had broken. He no longer recognized her. Something had forced them
“Shh,” she said again. “Yes, but only if he’s ready. He may not be. And that’s okay. He’ll let me eventually.”
“But you don’t have any gear on.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. You’re crazy. You at least need a glove. How are you going to hold the rope?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Here.” Harper strode toward her hesitantly, holding out a leather work glove. “It’s not the best but it’ll at least keep you from cutting your pretty hand.”
“Slowly, Harper,” Dusty warned.
He obeyed, and she took the glove. He was right. She did need it.
“You don’t have chaps. Or a helmet.”
“I’m fine.”
“Damn, Dusty, I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“He won’t hurt me.”
“He hurt Chad McCray pretty badly a year ago.”
“I’m not Chad McCray.”
“No, you’re not.” Harper kept his voice low and melodic, despite what he was saying. “That’s my point.”
“Shh.” The soft whisper of her quieting command seemed to relax Diablo. “I’m going to sit up now and try to get him to stand.”
“Dusty.”
“Shh.” She slowly lifted her body until she was sitting perpendicular to the bull. She willed her pulse to stay steady as she sat for a few moments. Then she gently squeezed her thighs together, and Diablo stood.
“I’ll be goddamned,” Harper said under his breath. “This is impossible. Damned impossible.”
“No, it’s not. You’re witnessing it. How’s his strap look?”
“Looks fine to me, but—”
“No buts.” She stroked the bull’s back. “Give me a few minutes. Then I want you to open the gate.”
“No.”
“Please, Harper.”
“I can’t.”
“Please. I need this.”
“Dusty…”
“Does your watch have a second hand?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re my timer. Zach will trust you if you say I rode him longer than eight seconds.”
“So you’ve done this before?”
“Of course.” Her voice was tranquil and harmonious. “Many times. Just not with this bull.”
“Oh, God.”
“It’ll be all right.” Dusty quietly toyed with Diablo’s braided rope, tightly fastening it to her right hand. She was vaguely aware of more onlookers surrounding the practice ring, speaking in hushed voices. “That’s a good boy. Such a good, big boy.” She looked at Harper. “I’m ready. Unlatch the gate, and then get outside the ring. As soon as I tug on his rope he’ll get mad, but I can handle him, I promise.”
“Good Lord…”
“And don’t forget to check the time on your watch as you unlatch.”
Dusty shut her eyes and tried to reach Diablo mentally as she heard Harper unlatch the gate and swing it open. In a flash, Dusty opened her eyes and gave Diablo’s rope a good yank. The bull bounded out into the ring, bucking and spinning.
So far, so good. Dusty could handle this. She continued talking to Diablo, hoping her voice would gentle him. Diablo knew his role well. He twisted. He spun. He bucked. He reared. Dusty felt every jolt, every ripple of his strong muscle. She reacted, matching him move for move, trying to make herself an extension of him and not a foreign object.
God, this animal was strong.
Come on, boy, she thought, trying to reach him mentally, emotionally. We can do this. Yes, we can do this.
She found his rhythm. She had reached him. What an adrenaline rush! She concentrated, holding him with her thighs, grasping the rope in her gloved hand. Yes, it was good. They were together. Completely.
But Diablo whisked away from her in a millisecond with a tremendous jerk. Caught off guard, Dusty flew through the air and stopped, her head striking the hard dirt of the ring.
She lifted her head, her vision cloudy, and attempted to move. Diablo stood several feet away from her, snorting and shuffling his hoof on the ground. The spell had broken. He no longer recognized her. Something had forced them
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