Bucking Wild

2. Ophelia

Who knew that I would be in Austen, Texas being a photographer for the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association? It's only temporary but I'm excited. I'm snapping pictures of all the riders that will compete tonight. Some of them are cocky assholes that think they're the shit. It's quite annoying. I do my job and move on.

Until I met Holden Oakes. I'm not into cowboys. But damn he was hot as hell. His grey eyes never looked away from me. When we shook hands, time stood still. It felt like an electric charge burst up my arm. All I saw was him. His curly hair was cut into a mullet, and he was wearing the PRCA vest over a stark white long sleeve button up and a pair of chaps over his jeans. His boots were well worn as well.

After I took his picture, I ran away. Like an idiot. I left him behind in my dust. I couldn't even look back. What the hell is wrong with me?

I'm standing on the side of the dirt arena watching him getting ready to mount the crazy bronco. His head is down, and he looks focused. I watch as he takes the rein and moves his hand up and down on it. His father, Waylon, is behind him with a grip on his vest. I lift my camera and push the shutter button on my camera. The crowd is going insane.

The announcer's voice booms over the PA System, "Now riding for the first time for the PRCA on good 'ol Gypsy. Holden Oakes!"

The crowd grows louder, and he lowers himself onto the horse. My heart skips a beat. He's very sexy when he is focused like this. Holden leans back and lifts his legs up to the shoulders of the bronco. He looks up to the man in a cowboy hat holding the gate closed.

I can hear Holden over the crowd yell to the man, "let's go!"

The chute opens and the bronco takes off like a torpedo bucking and kicking. Trying to get Holden off her. I take some more pictures of him while he's being bucked around. Through my camera lens I see his hand start to slip off the rein. I look up from my camera and gasp. He flies and lands hard on his side.

The rodeo clowns run over to help, but they're too late. The bucking bronco kicks furiously around Holden. As he looks up, the back hoof of the horse comes down right on his head. Everything goes silent as he slumps to the floor of the arena. His father hops the gate and runs to his son, as crew rope up the bronco to get it away from the fallen cowboy.

It takes everything out of me to not jump into the arena and run to him. I look around the arena to the surveyors of the show, some have their hands up to their mouths and others have taken their hats off their heads. My eyes go back to Holden laying in the dirt. He isn't moving. An ambulance drives into the arena. The paramedics swarm him with their equipment to help him.

My heart is racing. I can't see anything. I want to know what is going on. After what feels like hours, the paramedics start moving with Holden on the stretcher. He has a neck brace on, and his father is holding his hand. I start sweating and walking along the fence surrounding the arena. Following them as they push him along the dirt.

"We are going to take a break before the next ride," the announcer says over the speakers.

The paramedics load Holden into the ambulance and shut the doors. The unknown is killing me. I have to know if he is okay. Does he have permanent damage to his brain?

The ambulance finally drives off the arena floor. And I am left with the image of Holden being kicked in the head by that bronco.