Rodeo Standoff. Susan Sleeman

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СКАЧАТЬ come to the arena for some quiet time—a moment to think and prepare for the upcoming event. Instead, she found herself alone with an animal that shouldn’t have even been there, and she had no experience handling a crazed bull. None!

       Don’t panic. Keep calm. Don’t set him off.

      She shot a look around the open-air rodeo arena, searching for an answer. Law enforcement had prepared her for many situations, but her deputy training never covered facing down an angry bull. Even after participating as a barrel racer in hundreds of rodeos, she knew very little about bulls, other than that they were fast when they charged. She couldn’t outrun this creature to reach the safety of the spectator stands. No human could. If she was foolish enough to try, he’d ram his horns into her body before she got to the wall. And she’d never turn her back on him, anyway. No way, when his reaction time was much faster than hers.

      Then what?

       Please, please show me a way out of this.

      She shifted her feet. Just a few inches. Felt the gun in her ankle holster that she always carried off duty.

      Slowly, she bent down, her fingers creeping along her leg. She inched her pant leg up to her knee. In one swift motion, she grabbed the gun and rose.

      The bull huffed and pawed. Rubbed his head in the dirt, a sign of extreme distress.

      Dumb move, Tessa. Totally the wrong choice. Her sudden change in position had spooked the huge animal. Continued movement could cause him to charge. He would slam that hard head into her body. His tipped horns still deadly, he’d toss her into the air like a rag doll as she’d seen happen in countless rodeos. Cause internal bruising at the very least, organ damage likely. Death at the worst.

      She lifted the gun. Aimed. Regretted having to use it, but knew she’d have to fire if it came down to her life or the bull’s.

      “Rrrrrumph. Rrrummph,” he grumbled, then started tossing his head.

      He was claiming his territory, getting angrier. His charge was imminent. She sighted the gun. Dropped her finger to the trigger.

      “Hey, bull,” a deep male voice called from the stands.

      Tessa’s gaze shot to the far end of the arena, shocked to find a cowboy climbing a gate when no one was supposed to be there. He was silhouetted against the rising sun, his hat pulled low, his shoulders broad.

      The bull swung his head toward the sound. The cowboy vaulted over the railing and dropped onto the sandy rodeo soil. “No need to use your weapon on the bull. I’ve got this.” He removed his hat and waved it at the bull. “Hey, bull, over here.”

      She searched his face to see if she recognized him, but he was half a football field away, and she couldn’t make out his identity. She opened her mouth to call out to him. To tell him to get back in the stands, but something about his confident stride told her he knew what he was doing. Besides, shouting would just draw the bull’s gaze back to her.

      The beast turned, his big lumbering body spinning faster than she would’ve imagined a nearly one-ton creature could move. He planted his hooves with a solid thump. She’d seen many a cowboy trampled by similar hooves and knew the severe damage they caused.

      “When I get him over here,” the cowboy called out, his tone calm as if on a pleasant outing instead of facing a monstrous animal, “I want you to head for the stands. Slowly, so you don’t draw his attention again. Don’t speak. Just give a single nod if you understand.”

      She tipped her head in the briefest of nods.

      The bull pawed at the ground and growled, his tone low—a warning.

      “Hey, bull. C’mon. Let’s get you moving.” Waving his arms again, the cowboy backed toward the return gate where bucking bulls and broncs exited an arena after the competition ride ended. Tessa knew from watching bull riding that breeders trained rodeo bulls on basic behavior, so the bull should recognize the gate once he got close and would know he could safely leave through it.

      The bull started moving. Trotting at first. Then picking up speed, his head low and ready to connect with the man’s fit body.

      “Go now,” the cowboy called out to her.

      She backed toward the stands, keeping her eyes pinned on the grumbling animal.

      One foot, then another, she told herself to keep her fear from taking hold and making her bolt for the stands.

      Inch by inch, she moved, making sure she didn’t add even a smidge of extra movement.

      The powerful cowboy stood tall. Her rescuer. Confident. Brave. Her hero.

      The bull reached full speed. Hooves thundered over the soil. Rapid. Racing.

      God, please, she begged as she continued to back away. If You’re there, please keep this cowboy safe.

      * * *

      Braden kept waving his arms to make himself a target. He had to. The bull could turn on a dime and still charge the woman. She was inching toward the wall just as he’d instructed. Thankfully, she didn’t bolt like a frightened calf. If she did, he couldn’t do anything to stop this monster from chasing her down.

      Once she was safe, he fully intended to question her about her reason for being here with a bucking bull. Just as important, the law enforcement officer in him wanted to know why she was armed for a visit to a public arena.

      “C’mon now!” Adrenaline he hadn’t felt since leaving professional bull riding raced through his body.

      The bull charged closer, his hooves kicking up dirt.

      Twenty feet. Fifteen. The urge to run grew with each step, but Braden stayed firmly planted in place to keep the bull moving forward. At the last second, he would climb the gate to get out of harm’s way.

      Timing was everything.

      Ten feet. Five feet.

      Just a little longer. Hold steady.

       One second. Two. Three.

      He jumped up. Clasped the steel railing. His heels hooked onto metal rails and held fast. The bull continued his course. Plowing closer. Pummeling the ground.

      Five seconds to impact. Braden held his breath. The bull swerved right and charged through the return gate as his training dictated.

      Braden blew out a breath. Jumped down and swung the gate closed. He secured the latch. The bull peered over his shoulder, his gaze still menacing.

      “I’m not sorry to ruin your fun, fella.” Braden let out another long breath, the adrenaline riding out on a wave of air.

      Footsteps pounded on concrete, heading toward him. He spun. Saw the woman running along the lower-level spectator fence. How she hadn’t collapsed in a puddle of relief, he had no idea. Most people would have fallen apart after narrowly escaping a run-in with a bull. But, on the other hand, most people would have had the sense to avoid that kind of showdown in the first place.

      Braden crossed the grounds to СКАЧАТЬ