legs in the air, less than pleased with the disruption. Mattie heard his rumbling bellow from where she waited, and the distressed sound brought goose bumps to her arms.
Excitement fluttered in her stomach as Gil set his plan in motion. It was like seeing a man come to life, the way he handled the mare and his rope. Pure confidence replaced his earlier awkwardness. He definitely had his groove back.
Gil lunged for the bull’s rear and pummeled him with the coils of his rope, making a ruckus as he did so. Like clockwork, the animal busted straight ahead a couple of yards. When he stopped and looked at the trailer, Gil eased off. The brute then blasted onward. This time Gil flanked him on the opposite side with his rope.
The rock-iron beast jerked his head and twisted his body to attack the yellow dun’s rib cage, snot issuing from his nose. Mattie gasped at the skirmish.
His crown missed by a fraction as the mare spun on her hind hooves out of the way. Mattie guessed the thoughts in Gil’s mind must be whirring as fast as the beat of her heart.
Kicking and bucking, the bull charged the dry prairie grass. Within seconds, Gil came up from behind, hooting and hollering, putting the massive bovine in forward motion once more.
He passed the trailer on the left, and Gil sped ahead to turn him around. Using the rope like a whip, he smacked it inches from the triangular head.
Mattie understood the logic. Make any path but the correct one hard to accomplish and eventually, he’ll choose the right course. The bull took off on another route, only to be driven to the trailer by the persistent horse and rider. After minutes of this forced exercise, the bull became winded and stood stock-still behind the open door of the trailer. Mattie held her breath, willing the fellow to step inside.
He stared at the enclosure as though considering just that. Bits of dirt flew in the air as he pawed the dirt and blew mucus from his nose. In the next instant, he drew his thick neck low to the ground and sprung up with extraordinary grace, twisting his muscular body in the air, his hooves landing in syncopated time. Then off he shot in another direction.
Straight for the heifers.
“Uh-oh,” Jake said, and Tulip’s ears shot upward.
Gil loped beside the bull, right on his hip. Mattie saw an opportunity to help — to prove her competence. She sprang forward, ignoring Jake’s protests. Flapping her rope against the gray mare, she dug her heels into the horse’s belly, urging her to give a little more.
Tulip complied, and they set a course to intercept the raging bull, hoping to sway the creature to turn.
He pressed onward.
Mattie gripped the rope. Felt the hard, twisted cord against the flesh of her palm. She slapped it against her thigh, then raised the coils in the air. Timing was everything. By dashing in front of the brute, she risked having him flip her like a rag doll. But if she could time her approach with that of Gil’s, the bull might consider the two-on-one defense more than he cared to mess with, and her efforts would prove successful.
The thud of Tulip’s hooves merged with those of the bull. She counted the seconds before she made her move. A massive blur of coal rushed at her. Mattie shoved her heel into Tulip’s left side to cross in front of the bull, then felt the impact of the beast’s head as it clipped her horse’s hip.
Tulip twisted and Mattie’s body whipped sideways. The bull narrowly missed getting his head under the horse’s belly. Mattie struggled to stay seated as the mare shot off at a dead run, frightened. When she brought the horse to a halt, Mattie jumped off to inspect Tulip’s midsection.
Gil hollered in the distance.
Preoccupied with her examination, she glanced up.
Saw the brute running straight for her.
While she’d made her escape, Gil had managed to turn the bull around, and they were headed in her direction, the brute in the lead.
About twenty yards away, the goaded creature stopped and dug his hooves into the ground. He sniffed the earth, then snorted, shaking his head from side-to-side.
Petrified, Mattie watched him charge. Her feet froze to the ground, unable to move.
With the bull less than fifteen feet away and close enough to smell, Mattie tasted fear and grabbed for the saddle horn. As her foot touched the stirrup, Gil’s mare plowed headlong