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Authors: Nicholas Sparks
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twenty-two?”
“Twenty-one.” She half turned in his direction. “And you?”
“Older than that.”
“Not by much, I’d guess. Did you go to college?”
“It wasn’t really my thing.” He shrugged.
“And you ride bulls for a living?”
“Sometimes,” he answered. “When I stay on, that is. But other times, I’m just a toy the bull gets to play with until I can get away.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You were pretty impressive out there today.”
“You remember me?”
“Of course. You were the only one who rode them all. You won, right?”
“I had a pretty good night,” he admitted.
She brought her hands together. “So it’s Luke…”
“Collins,” he finished.
“That’s right,” she said. “The announcer was going on and on about you before your ride.”
“And?”
“To be honest, I wasn’t paying much attention. At the time, I didn’t know you’d end up coming to my rescue.”
He listened for traces of sarcasm but detected none, which surprised him. Hooking a thumb toward the tractor tire, he pointed out, “Those other guys came over to help, too.”
“But they didn’t intervene. You did.” She let the comment sink in for a moment. “Can I ask you a question, though?” she went on. “I’ve been wondering about it all night.”
Luke picked at a sliver on the railing. “Go ahead.”
“Why on earth would you ride bulls? It seems like you could get killed out there.”
That’s about right , he thought. It’s what everyone wanted to know. As usual, he answered it the way he always did. “It’s just something I’ve always wanted to do. I started when I was a little kid. I think I rode my first calf when I was four years old, and I was riding steers by the third grade.”
“But how did you start in the first place? Who got you into it?”
“My dad,” he said. “He was in rodeo for years. Saddle bronc.”
“Is that different than bulls?”
“It’s pretty much the same rules, except that it’s on a horse. Eight seconds, holding on with one hand while the animal tries to throw you.”
“Except that horses don’t have horns the size of baseball bats. And they’re smaller and not as mean.”
He considered it. “That’s about right, I’d guess.”
“Then why don’t you compete in saddle bronc instead of riding bulls?”
He watched her brush her hair back with both hands, trying to capture the flyaways. “That’s kind of a long story. Do you really want to know?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
He fiddled with his hat. “It’s just a hard life, I guess. My dad would drive a hundred thousand miles a year going from rodeo to rodeo just to qualify for the National Finals Rodeo. That kind of travel is hard on the family, and not only was he gone almost all the time, but back then, it didn’t pay much. After travel expenses and entry fees, he probably would have been better off working minimum wage. He didn’t want that for me, and when he heard that bull riders were about to start their own tour, he thought it had a pretty good chance to be successful. That’s when he got me into it. There’s still a lot of travel, but the events are on weekends and usually I can get in and out pretty quick. The purses are bigger too.”
“So he was right.”
“He had great instincts. About everything.” The words came out without thinking, and when he saw her expression, he knew she’d picked up on it. He sighed. “He passed away six years ago.”
Her gaze didn’t waver, and impulsively she reached out, touching his arm. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Though her hand barely grazed his arm, the sensation lingered. “It’s okay,” he said, straightening up. Already he could feel the post-ride soreness settling in, and he tried to concentrate on that instead. “Anyway, that’s the reason I ride bulls.”
“And you like it?”
That was a tough one. For a long time, it was how he’d defined himself, no question about it. But now? He
“Twenty-one.” She half turned in his direction. “And you?”
“Older than that.”
“Not by much, I’d guess. Did you go to college?”
“It wasn’t really my thing.” He shrugged.
“And you ride bulls for a living?”
“Sometimes,” he answered. “When I stay on, that is. But other times, I’m just a toy the bull gets to play with until I can get away.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You were pretty impressive out there today.”
“You remember me?”
“Of course. You were the only one who rode them all. You won, right?”
“I had a pretty good night,” he admitted.
She brought her hands together. “So it’s Luke…”
“Collins,” he finished.
“That’s right,” she said. “The announcer was going on and on about you before your ride.”
“And?”
“To be honest, I wasn’t paying much attention. At the time, I didn’t know you’d end up coming to my rescue.”
He listened for traces of sarcasm but detected none, which surprised him. Hooking a thumb toward the tractor tire, he pointed out, “Those other guys came over to help, too.”
“But they didn’t intervene. You did.” She let the comment sink in for a moment. “Can I ask you a question, though?” she went on. “I’ve been wondering about it all night.”
Luke picked at a sliver on the railing. “Go ahead.”
“Why on earth would you ride bulls? It seems like you could get killed out there.”
That’s about right , he thought. It’s what everyone wanted to know. As usual, he answered it the way he always did. “It’s just something I’ve always wanted to do. I started when I was a little kid. I think I rode my first calf when I was four years old, and I was riding steers by the third grade.”
“But how did you start in the first place? Who got you into it?”
“My dad,” he said. “He was in rodeo for years. Saddle bronc.”
“Is that different than bulls?”
“It’s pretty much the same rules, except that it’s on a horse. Eight seconds, holding on with one hand while the animal tries to throw you.”
“Except that horses don’t have horns the size of baseball bats. And they’re smaller and not as mean.”
He considered it. “That’s about right, I’d guess.”
“Then why don’t you compete in saddle bronc instead of riding bulls?”
He watched her brush her hair back with both hands, trying to capture the flyaways. “That’s kind of a long story. Do you really want to know?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
He fiddled with his hat. “It’s just a hard life, I guess. My dad would drive a hundred thousand miles a year going from rodeo to rodeo just to qualify for the National Finals Rodeo. That kind of travel is hard on the family, and not only was he gone almost all the time, but back then, it didn’t pay much. After travel expenses and entry fees, he probably would have been better off working minimum wage. He didn’t want that for me, and when he heard that bull riders were about to start their own tour, he thought it had a pretty good chance to be successful. That’s when he got me into it. There’s still a lot of travel, but the events are on weekends and usually I can get in and out pretty quick. The purses are bigger too.”
“So he was right.”
“He had great instincts. About everything.” The words came out without thinking, and when he saw her expression, he knew she’d picked up on it. He sighed. “He passed away six years ago.”
Her gaze didn’t waver, and impulsively she reached out, touching his arm. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Though her hand barely grazed his arm, the sensation lingered. “It’s okay,” he said, straightening up. Already he could feel the post-ride soreness settling in, and he tried to concentrate on that instead. “Anyway, that’s the reason I ride bulls.”
“And you like it?”
That was a tough one. For a long time, it was how he’d defined himself, no question about it. But now? He
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