Dust From an 8 Second Dream

Jim let his hand slide against the cool metal rail. He watched as a rider climbed into the chute onto the back of a bull. He shook his head and sighed as he remembered the days when he was like that young man, full of confidence, and youthful ambition.

“You ready to go?” he asked the rider standing next to him.

“Yeah, but scared stiff. You’d think that by now I’d be used to this.”
The rider replied. Jim smiled to himself because he knew exactly how this rider felt. Just then the rider was called to the chutes and the Jim carefully watched every movement that the rider made. His body tensed as the chute flew open and the bull began to spin. He counted each second with the clock as bull and rider spun around and around. He became restless when the timer buzzed and the rider flew through the air and landed in the dirt just inches from the pounding hooves of the irate bull. The moment he saw that the rider was unhurt, he let out the breath that he was holding.
“What a ride” he thought to himself as he left his post to see how bad the rider was beat up.
He was greeted with a smile and a “How’d I do?” from the rider, a little dirty and bruised from the fall but otherwise okay.
“By the looks of the score board, not too bad.”
The rider glanced at the scoreboard and grinned, “I think I’m gettin’ too good for these bulls, maybe I should try ridin’ a tougher one?” Jim laughed as he put his arm around her, “ Come on, lets take you home.”


The two rode home in silence. The young rider had fallen asleep, exhausted from the physical and emotional strain of the evening. Jim looked over at the rider and grinned, “She has all the marks of a hard-core bull rider,” he thought. “Dusty jeans, bruised arms and a scratched face. Yeah, that’s a tough one for ya,” he thought as his mind slowly drifted back to the days when scratches and bruises were signs that you survived and dusty jeans were worn with pride by the bull rider.


The bull was snorting impatiently as the young man gingerly climbed into the chute and onto his back. The bull kept snorting and pounding his hooves as the bull rope began to wrap around his chest. The young man looked up at his fellow bull riders as his hand firmly grasped the bull rope. There were “Good lucks” and pats on the back as the young man prepared himself for the break from the chute. Looking straight ahead, he nodded to the chute runner and braced himself. The loud “BANG” that resounded from the chute was all the excuse the bull needed to have in order to buck and twist with a red-hot rage. The rider did his best to stay on top of this irate bull, but like all other riders before him, he was on the ground just three seconds out of the chute. The bullfighters were ready to drive the bull out of the arena but this time the bull had other plans. Once he saw that the rider was successfully off of his back, he turned and charged the fallen cowboy. The bullfighters ran as quickly as they could to stop the bull, but they were only in time to helplessly watch as the bull pushed the cowboy with his crooked horn and threw him into the air. He came crashing down a few feet away, landing on his back with a hard thud. The wind had been knocked out of him and he couldn’t lift himself fast enough to get out of the arena. Even before the bullfighters could reach him, the bull was charging again. Just before the bull came close enough, he was pulled under the fence, away from the horns and hooves of the angry bull.
The young man stared senselessly at the many faces staring down at him, he tried to speak but no words came out.

“Little Pepper sure gave you a nice beating Jim.”

Jim tried to answer but everything around him began to get blurry and out of focus. Moments later everything went black.
It seemed like a lifetime before Jim finally became aware of his surroundings. Instead of staring at the rusted gates of the arena he found himself gazing at an off white wall with a small ceiling fan making a soothing whir each second. He couldn’t feel the rough dirt under him and wondered what happened to it. His questioning eyes searched around the room for answers and at last rested on a familiar face. It was his traveling buddy Scott Last year they were both 19 and had struck out on their own as aspiring bull riders. All they had to show for their efforts was a small beat up Chevy pickup and a handful of broken bones. It seemed that all of their winnings got eaten up in fuel and doctor bills.
This year had promised to be better with the challenge that they took to ride a fiery bull named Little Pepper. But somehow as Jim sat there looking at his friend, he felt that another slim year lay ahead of them.
By now the doctor came into the room and looked at Jim.
“I see that you are coming back to us young feller,” the doctor said as he walked over to the hospital bed.
“How bad is he?” Scott wanted to know.
“He was lucky, only a few broken ribs and a slight fracture in the shoulder”.
“ How long till I ride again?” Jim asked as his head began to clear and he began to remember a little of what had happened.
“Not till all of the bones are healed. You were banged up pretty bad. I don’t think you should ride anymore, not with injuries like this hiding around every corner.”
Jim looked at the doctor and grimaced as he tried to lift himself off of the bed. “Can I go now?”
“Sure, you’re all set to go.”
“Here, let me help you,” Scott offered as he reached out to grab Jim’s good arm.
“You make sure that he doesn’t ride until he is fully healed,” the doctor ordered as the two men walked out of the office.
“Sure Doc, whatever you say,” Scott said as he grabbed Jim’s things and headed out the door. It was slow going out to the truck, but they didn’t mind.


For days Jim and the young bull rider had traveled the endless blacktop. They were on their way to a rodeo, a big rodeo, a rodeo with nothing but bull riding. For years the two of them had looked forward to this moment. They had worked, sweated, and broken bones with other bull riders to prepare for this one. This was it. They were almost there. Nothing could turn them back now, or so they thought.

Two years passed since Jim and his buddy Scott had ridden Little Pepper. Jim’s bones had healed, but others had been broken. His right shoulder still pained him from time to time. The scar on his face was a bright reminder of what a bull’s horn can do at a close shave. What was worse though was the excruciating constant pain in his left hip. Still, Jim just couldn’t give up bull riding, not yet. Jim looked at the other cowboys around him. They were all getting ready for the big night. He headed towards the locker room being careful not to let anyone see him limp. Of all the nights for his old injury to flare up, why did it have to be tonight. Why did it have to be this night, the most important night of his life?