said you’re fine to ride.”
“I think I know if my eye is too messed up to ride better than she does.”
His posture collapsed into phase two of his pressure tactic, which was whining. “Come on, Billy. Don’t be a buzz kill. What are you going to do around here until September?”
“Work and take care of Mom,” I said for likely the millionth time since I told him I was retiring.
“We can hire a nurse for Mom. You’ll make more money on the circuit than what you make at the bar.” Logic. Phase three.
“Hank Pollert needs a ranch hand. I told him I could help out during the week, so I’ll be making two incomes.”
“You don’t want to be stuck here all summer doing that.”
“You’re going to be stuck here all summer doing that, too. Your shoulder is still too messed up to ride.”
“What are you talking about?” He patted his arm roughly to prove its sturdiness. “It’s as good as new.”
“You haven’t even been on a bull in seven months.”
“I’ve been training.”
“On saddle Broncs and mechanical barrels. It’s not the same. You’ll go one go on a bull and be done for the season.”
“Come with me just this weekend. If I get tossed, you can come home. If I win, we go on tour.”
Bargaining. That was an angle he hadn’t tried before. He must have been getting desperate. Not interested, I strummed the strings of my guitar. “No thanks.”
“You weren’t really serious about quitting, were you?”
“I didn’t quit. I retired.”
“You can’t retire. You’re twenty years old.”
“Well, I did.”
“Fine. You can be retired from bull riding and still come with me as my manager.”
“No.”
“I got a surprise for you. Look out the window.” He held the curtain back and pointed like a hyper kid.
When it became obvious that he wasn’t going to leave unless I looked, I rested my guitar on the bed and walked over to the window. Attached to the back of his pickup was a silver camper.
“Do you like it? It’s got a kitchen and a shower.” He went on to list a bunch of top of the line features like a salesman.
“I don’t care if it’s got a porch and an attic. I’m not going.” I sat on the edge of the bed and unfolded the paperwork from the University of Saskatchewan that I needed to fill out in order to reapply. “I have responsibilities. I can’t dick around on the circuit anymore.”
“I promise not to get killed.”
The image of Dad getting stomped flashed through my mind and made my muscles flinch involuntarily. “Yeah, well, that could happen whether I go with you or not.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
I looked up and stared at him for a while. I hated being he reason for the disappointed look on his face, but I had to stand my ground. “I don’t want to go.”
“I need to do this, Billy. I can’t end my career like that, and I need you there or I won’t be able to get back up on a bull.”
And, the guilt trip. Final phase. “Nobody cares if you quit.”
“I do, and Dad would have.”
I scoffed. “Look where that attitude got him.”
Cole wandered across the room and stared out the window at the trailer for a while. Honouring Dad’s memory was not an angle that was going to work on me and Cole obviously realized it because he sat on the edge of my desk and tried another approach. “Rodeo is all I know. It’s the only place I feel like myself.”
“I’m not stopping you from going. I just don’t want to go.”
“Who’s going to make sure I take my medications?”
I shook my head, not buying his useless act.
“Who’s going to remind me to fill out my forms?”
I propped the guitar back on my lap and practiced my picking, hoping he would eventually run out of arguments and go.
“Who’s going to drag me out of bed and make me scrambled eggs every morning?”
“You can learn to do all that for yourself.”
He pushed his hat back and propped his hands on his knees. He thought for a while then he said, “Mom will worry herself sick if you aren’t there watching over me.”
I sighed and rolled my eyes, wishing he would just give up and leave without me.
“Rodeo is all you know, too.”
“Yeah, well that’s the problem. I don’t want to spend my whole life riding bulls and have nothing to show for it but a trunk full of buckles, arthritis, and an empty bank account. Besides, Mom needs my help around here.”
“Come on, Billy. Just one more season. I need someone to slap my back for good luck. I can’t do that myself.”
Shit. I blinked hard then glared at him. Although it was nearly impossible to talk him into or out of things, with me, it was just a matter of finding the one thing that struck a chord. The back slap was that thing. The satisfied grin on his face made it clear that he knew he’d finally stumbled onto the bullseye.
“Please, Billy.”
I rubbed my face and gave in. “Fine, one weekend, but if you wreck, I’m not going to help you.”
“Deal.” He clapped his hands.
“I must be crazy,” I mumbled as I got up to pack my bag.
“We both know I’m the crazy one.” He tackled me onto the bed and wrapped his arms around me in a headlock to roughhouse. “Ooh, look at that. My baby brother is still stronger than me. Maybe we’ll get you back on a bull yet.”
I twisted out of his hold and pinned him across the throat. “I will always be stronger than you, but I’m never getting on a bull again.”
“You lost your nerve?”
“No. One of us has to stay alive to take care of Mom. We both know it isn’t going to be you.”
“You got that right.” He pushed his hands into my chest and launched me off him. “Stop horsing around and get your bag packed. That shiny new camper is pulling out of here in exactly eight seconds.”
When we arrived at the rodeo, we parked in the participants’
