A Fighting Heart

Chapter 3

Chapter 3 

It’s a Saturday, and somehow, Gigi manages to be up at nine a.m. to call me. By noon, the doorbell is ringing, and Gigi is letting herself into the house. 

I watch her smile as she observes the tall white ceilings, dark furniture, and hardwood floors. However, when her eyes land on me, her smile instantly falls, and a look of disgust replaces it. 

“Savannah, have you ever even been to a rodeo?” she asks with disdain. Then, with a wave of her hand she dismisses whatever retort I am forming, and pushes her way past me, strutting down the hall. “You’re room is in the “east wing”, correct?” It might be a Texas thing, but I’ve got to wonder; how does she even know that? 

Gigi doesn’t waste any time with common curtsies. In the seven hours I’ve known her, I’ve already learned that much. Following her into my room, I take a seat on the bed while she studies my makeup, rifling through my doors. She then moves on to the closet and scours my clothing. 

I have to assume she is looking for something “better” than what I’m wearing now, and she confirms this suspicion when she says, “You just need something... better. More country. More sexy.” Turning to give me a smile and a nod, she goes back to work. 

Suddenly an off the shoulder top and cutoff shorts have landed in my lap, and Gigi is shooing me into the bathroom to change. “We’ll fix you’re hair when you come out!” she calls from the other side of the closed door. Rolling my eyes I pull off my top, not even sure of what I’ve gotten myself into. 

An hour later, Gigi and I are finally climbing into her truck. “Don’t crush your curls!” Gigi whines as I swing myself up into the passenger seat.

“Well maybe if you hadn’t made my hair so.. big, then we wouldn’t have to worry about that!” I say exasperated. Gigi’s only retort is to stick out her tongue and start the car. 

An hour later we’re stepping out onto a large fair ground. My red boots hit the soil and I’m thankful for sensible Texan footwear. You couldn’t wear a pair of heels in this dirt. 

I follow Gigi as she weaves through the trucks and crowds, heading towards the main stage. Even from the parking lot I can see the large ring in the center of the grounds. We make our way to the stands and Gigi scans the crowd as we take our seats. 

“Okay, the crowd seems to be lacking any wanna-be cowboys today, but that’s okay, because the real prizes are going to be out in that ring.”

“You mean the bulls they’re lining up over there?” I say sarcastically, pointing to the far side of the ring. 

“Not the bulls,” Gigi replies, completely serious. “The bull riders.” 

A hush falls over the crowd as the ring clears, and we watch as they load up the first bull in the holding gate. 

“That’s Tyler Adams,” Gigi whispers, biting her lip as she points to the rider in black getting ready on top of the gate. 

“You know him?” I ask, watching Tyler step from the fence and onto the bull, yelling to the people holding the massive creature, tightening his stirrups. 

“We met a few weeks ago. Would’ve hooked up too, but he had a rodeo in Austin the next morning. Hopefully tonight that isn’t the case.” Gigi says raising her eyebrow suggestively. I laugh as the gate swings open and the crowd begins to cheer. Then, Tyler’s on the ground, running from the bull who’s feet are landing where his head was a minute ago. 

“This is insane!” I yell, turning to Gigi. Her eyes glint with excitement as she nods. 

“4.32 seconds. He got a bad bull.” Back in the ring the clowns are working to round him up, and Tyler has climbed the fence to safety. 

“How long do they need to stay on,” I ask, watching as the bull finally runs from the ring. 

“Eight seconds is the golden number. Eight seconds, and you win.” 

The crowd’s energy is still electric when the next bull is loaded in. The next rider lasts 5.62 seconds, and it’s the same with the next, only lasting 4.77. “Can any of these cowboys last long enough?” I ask Gigi incredulously. 

“Maybe if you get one of them in bed..” Gigi says with a smirk. I bump shoulders with her and we break out into laugher, just as the crowd hushes again.
“What’s going on?” I whisper, noting Gigi’s surprised expression. 

“Ask and you shall receive,” she says, still gazing at the ring. “This is your cowboy who’ll go all the way.” I follow her manicured finger to outside the fence where a tall man is standing, tightening his gloves, wearing black and gold.

“That’s Chase Prior. He’s one of the best, especially for his age. I met him same time as Tyler. They’re best friends, but in the ring, Tyler doesn’t even begin to compare. This is what Chase does. It’s in his blood.” 

I watch Chase adjust his hat, but a crash of metal pulls my vision from the bull rider to the bull. “Wow, that’s definitely a fighter,” Gigi comments nervously. I watch the bull, as it pulls and thrashes in the little metal box it’s trapped in, and I know how it feels. Pure rage radiates from the massive creature, and I don’t even notice Chase has mounted until the gate is open. The second that bull is free, it’s will is obvious. It’s fighting with every part of it’s body, and every ounce of it’s soul. It just wants to be free. 

“Are you alright?” Gigi asks, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Do you need water or something? You look a little pale.” 

I take the bottle she’s offering, turning back to the ring just in time to see Chase fall to the ground, rolling out of harms way. “Damn, 7.36 seconds. Not his best, but I think that’ll win him this one,” Gigi says. “We can congratulate him later at the bonfire.” 

I nod, still looking at the bull. It’s still running from the men trying to round it in. I smile a little to myself. Keeping running, fighter. It’s all you’ve got.