A Fighting Heart

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The rodeo starts at six, so we all sleep in. The boys have to be out for press work at two, so in the afternoon Gigi and I explore Fort Worth a bit. It’s a fun, carefree afternoon. 

By six fifteen we’re walking around the fence of the ring, engulfed in bright, florescent light. We wave hello to those we pass, looking at some of the bulls they have caged up. Chase and Ty are standing just ahead of us, talking to some other cowboys. Walking up behind Chase I cover his eyes with my hands. 

“Veronica,” he guesses. I know he’s joking, but I still pout and hit his arm. “Oh it’s you,” he says with a smirk when he turns around. Then he chuckles and leans in, kissing me sweetly. 

“You know I could find another cowboy in this place if you’re uninterested,” I say, raising my eyebrows. 

“That’s true,” one of the cowboys says from behind me, and I laugh as Chase flicks him off. He pulls me close to him and runs his fingers through my hair. 

“I’m not letting you go anywhere.” 

We leave the boys to get ready and head to the stands, arm in arm. Gigi blushes when I ask about the plans she has with Ty after the show, and I feel like I’m buzzed, high off the energy of it all. 

We watch the rodeo, admiring the barrel riders and calf rangers, but really focus once the bull riders get ready. The first couple are a right joke, all falling in less than five seconds, but Ty does a nice job with a 7.4 second ride, and then it’s Chase’s turn. The gates open and the bull comes out, full buck. It’s clear that Chase is holding on with all he’s got. 

“He ride you like that last night?” Gigi yells, and I laugh, shoving her. Then the clock sounds, noting the eight seconds is up, and the crowd cheers louder than I’ve ever heard. 

Then Chase hits the ground. 

Even through the noise I can hear the sound, the sickening crack. 

Then people are running. 

People are jumping the fence and pulling Chase away from the bull, still stomping in the ring. 

“Gigi?” I ask, not able to pull my eyes away, “Why isn’t he moving? Why isn’t he getting up?” When I finally turn to look at her, bile stirs in my throat. Gigi is staring, face paled and mouth open, eyes full of horror. 

“We have to go,” she says quickly, standing and pulling on my arm, looking around feverishly. I squint and lift my hand to cover my eyes, looking far beyond the ring to where Chase is being loaded into an ambulance. 

I don’t even remember hearing one arrive. 

They must have one on standby. 

“Savannah, come on!” Gigi yells, tugging me up out of my seat and down the steps of the grand stand. I look down, watch my feet move. 

Step down. Step down. Move fast. 

We’re running to the car and before I can register it, I’m sitting in the passenger seat. Gigi is peeling out of the dirt lot, kicking up clouds of dust. 

“Where are we going?” I ask suddenly, turning to Gigi.

“To the hospital. Ty will meet us there.” Her mouth is a thin line and her jaw is set. She’s scared for Chase, I can tell, but that’s not what’s scaring me. 

“Gigi, you have to stop the car,” I say quickly. She turns and looks at me, confused. 

“What? No, I’m not stopping the car.” She shakes her head and turns back to the road. Turning to look out the window myself, I watch the scenery blur. 

“Drive faster then.” 

***

We arrive at the hospital and park the car. Gigi jumps out of the drivers seat and scans the welcome sign, looking for the place we need to go. 

I feel sick. 

Looking at the big white building before me, my head aches. 

No. Fight to keep the thoughts out. 

“Savannah, we have to go to the third floor,” Gigi calls. She’s still frantic. Still rushing. She should just be still. 

I watch as an ambulance flies by, blue and red lights cutting through the darkness. 

I slip my shoes off, then I get out of the car. 

“Savannah!” I hear Gigi cry out, but I keep walking. Then I’m running, and reason isn’t controlling me anymore. Pounding. The pounding stops the thoughts. The pounding is a memory in its own.

 I’m crying. I can’t fight it anymore. I can’t be here anymore. It’s too late. 

***

I don’t remember getting home. I don’t remember if I got on a bus or in a passing car on their way to Dallas. Maybe I called Grandma Barbie, but somehow, I’m back in my bed, and it’s morning. 

Lifting myself up, I swing my feet off the side of the bed. My clothes are different. Grandma must have helped me change. Standing, I wince, looking down at my feet. They’re bandaged up. Sitting back on the bed, I prop up my foot, unwrapping some of the tape. Red, angry scrapes cut across my skin. They’re not deep, but they’re obvious.

Now I remember. I guess that’s what happens when you run for an hour barefoot. 

Replacing the tape, I stand and make my way through the house. Grandma and Grandpa are sitting at the kitchen table, reading the paper. When they hear my come in, they look up. Grandma’s eyes instantly fill with worry, but Grandpa’s stay firm. 

“You gave us a right scare last night young lady,” he says in a stern voice. He stands, placing down his paper, and walks into the kitchen. A moment later he’s back, a cup of tea in his grasp, placing a hand on my back and leading me to the table. “How are your feet doing?” 

I take the tea into my hands, letting the warmth steep through my skin. “They hurt,” I say simply, taking a sip. 

Grandma lets out a forced laugh, then places her hand over mine. “I bet they do. You ran an awful long way without your shoes.” 

Studying the tea in my cup, I shake my head. “It’s all a blur. I just.. I couldn’t be there.”

“We know,” Grandpa says, gentler now. He walks around the table and pulls out the chair across from me. “And I think we all know what needs to happen now. I think we all know we’ve been putting it off for quite sometime.”

“Well then,” I say, lifting the cup to my lips once more, and then setting it down. “Let’s talk about Tommy.”