“The call of every Christian is to forgive,” his mother told him one morning. “Please, Cody, give him a chance.”
“That’s funny.” Cody wanted to laugh. “I thought the call of every Christian was to love.” He tightened his grasp on the cell phone. “Remind him of that, why don’t you.”
His mother didn’t miss a beat. “What would you know of love, Cody? You don’t love anyone but Carl Joseph. No one else gets in.”
“I don’t need anyone else.”
“You do, Cody. You’ll waste your whole life fighting make-believe battles if you don’t turn around and see the truth. We all love you, Cody. Carl Joseph and I, and even your father.”
Cody was shaking by then. “Don’t mention his name again or I’ll hang up.”
The battle raged.
Cody could only guess how the situation with his parents would turn out, but he was sure of this: He wouldn’t go home again. Not until his father was out of the picture. The man had changed the course of his life, sent him chasing after death every weekend of the year. He should’ve been playing football for some college team by then, but instead he was crippled with rage.
A rage that was worse than ever, one even bull riding barely eased.
ALI COULD TELL Cody was staying away.
He was winning, but he looked angry as he stormed around the arena, angry and distant. The two of them hadn’t spoken to each other in weeks.
That was okay; Ali was fighting her own battles.
Despite an arsenal of stronger medications and inhalers, she was struggling during events. She could still hold her breath during the ride, but afterwards, when she grabbed that first bit of air, she would slip into a coughing spasm that sometimes lasted five minutes.
Other riders had begun to notice. Whereas they typically kept their distance, reacting to her aloofness, now a few of them expressed concern.
“You should see a doctor about that cough,” an older rider told her the day before. “You sound like you have pneumonia.”
If they only knew.
That day, Ali added a third session with the compression vest. The treatment helped, but a few hours later she finished her ride with one of her slowest times of the season, and afterwards she lapsed into a series of coughs that wouldn’t let up.
She was doubled over near her horse when she felt his hand on her shoulder.
“Ali… here.” This time Cody handed her a full water bottle. “Maybe you’re allergic to dust.”
“Maybe.” Ali took a long drink. She had her own water, but it was twenty yards away, near the back of the tunnel. Another swig and she could feel her lungs relax, feel the air making its way into even the stubborn areas that were no longer soft and pliable. “I’m fine.” She wiped her brow and met his eyes. “Thanks.”
He studied her for a minute. “I have to go.”
“Yep.” She smiled. “My advice is still paying off.”
Cody grinned and let his gaze fall to his boots. When he looked up, his eyes were more vulnerable than before. “Can I ask you something?”
“You just did.” She lowered her chin, her eyes big. It felt fun to tease him.
“I’m serious, Ali.” He looked over his shoulder at the arena. The last barrel racer was about to go. His ride was coming up.
“Okay.” She took another drink from the bottle. She could breathe now; but she needed to get out of the tunnel. The dust there was almost as bad as it was on the barrel course. She squinted at him. “Ask.”
“Why do you ride sick?”
The words skipped across the surface of her heart like a series of smooth stones. She met his gaze, unblinking. “Why do you ride angry?”
He mulled over her question and finally gave her a slow nod. “The answers are somewhere, aren’t they?”
“Probably.”
“Let’s talk tonight.” The teasing faded from his eyes. “Can we do that, Ali?”
The truck was circling the barrel course now; a handful of cowboys tossing the bins in the back, clearing things for the bull riders. Ali knew what her mother would think. Anyone but Cody Gunner… She looked at the arena. “You need to go.”
“Tell me, Ali. We’ll find someplace and talk for an hour. Nothing more.”
Ali bit her lip. She needed to wear the vest for an hour before she could do anything. “Come by my trailer around eleven. Knock once on the door; I’ll be waiting.”
For the first time in weeks, the anger lifted entirely from Cody’s face. “Me, too.”
Ali rarely stayed in the arena long enough to watch the bull riders. If she wanted her lungs to bounce back from a race, she needed to get Ace out to the stock pens so she could breathe fresh air. Then, as soon as possible, she would return to the trailer and slip on the compression vest.
Her mother would already be there, waiting.
But that night, she wanted to watch Cody ride. So she took care of Ace and headed back down the tunnel toward the arena. Bull riders were crazy. Ali had always thought so. It was one thing to ride a horse around a pattern of barrels. But to sit on a bucking bull, to think for a minute it was possible to master two thousand pounds of muscled beast, that was crazy.
Crazy and dangerous.
One of the riders that night got hung up on a bull’s horns. He was almost free when the bull jerked his head back and hit the rider’s face square on. It wasn’t as bloody as it could’ve been, but the rider was knocked out, cold.
The bullfighters rushed in and distracted the animal, saving the rider’s life. When it was safe, a stretcher was brought out. Even the announcer—usually optimistic in the face of injuries, sounded concerned. Two riders later a cowboy was bucked off and landed on his head. He lay motionless for nearly a minute before giving a weak movement with first his hands, then his feet.
Two more riders and then it was Cody’s turn.
The announcer was commenting on Cody’s luck, how he always seemed to draw the rankest bulls. That was a good thing because half the rider’s score came from the bull’s ability to buck. The best stock could twist in more than one direction and keep their front and back feet off the ground at the same time, flying through the air.
Ali read the reports. Cody had a knack for drawing that type of bull at least once every rodeo. She watched him climb onto the bull, and that’s when she saw it. She was right; he rode angry. From the moment he straddled the bull, his jaw was set, his eyes narrow. They showed his face on the big screen, and his expression was so colored with rage it made her take a step back.
The chute opened and Cody held on, focused and intent. The seconds ticked off, and Cody didn’t give the bull a single centimeter’s edge. He stayed perfectly centered, his left hand in the air no matter what the bull did to buck him off.
His ride brought him an eighty-six, good enough for second place heading into the final go-round the next day. Ali hurried out of the arena, her stomach in knots. What was the feeling inside her? The strange fluttering of her heart when he survived the ride and pumped his fist in the air? Was it the oneness, the sameness Ali had recognized in him before?
Ali had no answers as she darted through the rows of trailers and RVs. When she reached theirs, her mother was outside waiting. “Where’ve you been?”
“Talking.” Ali walked past her, up the few stairs and into the trailer. She found her vest, eased her arms into it, and zipped it up.
“Ali…” Her mother followed her back into the trailer. She sounded more tired than angry. “Your lungs can’t take it; you know that.”
“Mama…” She flipped the compression switch. The machine made a gentle whirring sound and the vest began to inflate. “I’ve gone two years riding this tour without so much as a friend.” Her tone was soft; she had no desire to fight. “I think it’s okay if I hang around one time to talk, don’t you?”
Her mother hesitated. Then she kissed the top of Ali’s head. “I want you well, Ali. As long as possible.”
“I know.” Their eyes met. “I’m
sorry.”
Ali spent the next hour angry with herself. She shouldn’t have asked Cody to come. She was wrong to invite him; wrong to make him think she was even a little interested. A friendship with him wouldn’t lead anywhere, not when her health was so unstable. There was no reason to involve him.
The knock came at eleven on the dot.
Her mother was long since asleep. Ali pulled a jacket on over her sweater, opened the door and slipped outside, down the steps so that she was standing in front of him. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Cody took a step back, giving her space. He wore his heavy PRCA jacket, jeans, and a cowboy hat. It was easy to see why the girls never left him alone.
“My mom’s asleep.” Ali shut the trailer door.
“Oh.” He stuck his hands in his pockets.
The night was the warmest it had been all season, and a slight breeze played in the distant trees. The parking lot floodlights were off. The only glow came from a canopy of stars and a sliver of the moon hanging on the horizon.
“Follow me.” She led him around the front of the trailer where two canvas chairs were set up. It was the place where she and her mother would sometimes sit and talk while they waited for Ali’s events.
She took one of the chairs and he took the other, sliding it so it would be closer to her. “I got eight.” His voice was a whisper.
“I know.” She angled herself so she could see him better.
“You left.”
“I came back.” Ali studied him. Was he interested or only curious? Either way she had no business leading him on. “You were good.”
A smile danced in his eyes, one she could see even in the dark. “Just following advice, ma’am.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Sure glad you said something.”
She grinned. “I do what I can to help.” Her lungs wanted a full breath, but she could only take in so much air. She should’ve felt better after an hour with the vest. Her grin faded. It was a reminder she should keep the conversation brief. “Okay, you wanted to talk.”
He hesitated. “You were gonna tell me why you ride sick.” He leaned closer, his voice quiet. “Maybe you should get an inhaler or something.”
She smiled. Four inhalers lay in a drawer inside the trailer. “I ride because I love it, Cody. Same as all of us.” Her hair blew in the breeze and she caught it, smoothing it back. A tinny Hank Williams song played from a nearby trailer, and the smell of horses hung in the air. “I just get sick more.” She hesitated. How much should she tell him?
Cody stretched his legs, his boots almost touching hers. “Doesn’t it make you worse, riding when you’re sick?”
“If you were sick, you’d ride anyway.” She stared at the moon for a minute, then back at him. “Right?”
He leaned back, locked his fingers together and placed them behind his head. “I guess.” He narrowed his eyes, more concerned than curious. “Why are you sick so much?”
She blinked, waiting. “That’s the question I never answer.”
“I know.” He angled his head, his eyes searching. “That’s why I’m here.”
“Hmmm.” She pressed into the canvas chair. For the wildest moment, she actually considered it. What if she told him? Her secret had belonged to her and her parents all these years, but somehow—in the dark night with Cody Gunner—she wanted him to know. Maybe then he would lose interest; it would be easier than telling him later.
One thing was sure. Her secret would be safe with him. Cody talked to no one, same as her. If anyone could keep her situation under wraps, he could.
“Tell me, Ali.” He leaned closer.
The smell of him was intoxicating. Leather and cologne, and something Ali couldn’t make out. Confidence and charisma. The intangible that made every bull rider larger than life. The scenario played out in her mind. What would it hurt? She could have a friend on the tour, couldn’t she? Someone who would know what she was up against?
Her hands trembled and her heart raced. She sat up straighter in the chair and met his eyes. “I have cystic fibrosis.” There. She’d said it. She pulled her knees up and hugged them to her chest, her eyes still on his. “It’s a lung disease.”
Cody stared at her, his eyes wide. “Cystic fibrosis?” His expression changed from shock to anger and back to shock again. “Is it bad?”
Ali wasn’t surprised at his question. Most people her age didn’t know about CF unless they had a reason to know. “Yes.” She rested her chin on her knees, but it did nothing to ward off the chill in her heart. “Cystic fibrosis is always bad.”
His expression was frozen, as if he were waiting for her to laugh out loud and tell him it was all a bad joke. “You’re serious?”
“Serious.” She felt herself relax. Relief and a new sort of camaraderie flooded her soul. It felt wonderful to finally tell someone the truth. “That’s why I cough so much; it’s why I ride sick.” She smiled. “I have no choice.”
He was still motionless. His mouth was open, but it took a long while for the words to come. “Will you die?”
“Everyone dies.” She kept her tone light. He didn’t need to know everything.
“I mean it, Ali. How sick are you?” This time something vulnerable flashed in his eyes, a depth of emotion that couldn’t have been easy for someone as private as Cody Gunner.
“I’m sorry.” She sat straighter and gripped her knees, not sure what to say. Was she really having this conversation with him? Sitting beside him in the dark parking lot outside the arena, sharing secrets she’d kept all her life? She bit the inside of her cheek. “CF doesn’t have a pattern. It’ll shorten my life, yes. But no one knows exactly how much.”
He stared at her for a few more heartbeats. Then he stood and walked a few feet away, his back to her. His outline was impressive in the shadows, the cowboy hat and jacket only adding to his image. He wasn’t going to stay, she could tell. Her honesty had frightened him. They probably wouldn’t talk again after this.
“Cody?”
He turned, hung his head for a moment, then straightened and returned to his chair. A long sigh left his lips as he looked at her again. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She lowered her voice. If they weren’t careful her mother would wake up. “I’m doing what I love. How many people can say that?”
“Riding horses.” He lifted his hat and pushed his fingers up his forehead and into his short hair. His voice was tinged with pain and frustration. “That can’t be good for you.”
The breeze was picking up, the temperature dropping. “Anything that makes me feel that alive is good for me.” Ali eased her feet back to the ground. “I get sick once in a while, but the doctors know what to do for me.”
“That’s why you were gone a few weeks ago?” The reality of her situation was settling in. The shock was gone, and now his eyes held a helplessness, a futility.
“Yes. I spent a week in the hospital. Sort of a tune-up.” Ali turned toward him in her chair so she could see him better. “I wear a compression vest three times a day. Otherwise my lungs will get worse.”
“So that’s…” He swallowed, his eyes wide. “That’s why you go straight to your trailer.”
“Mm-hmm.” She felt utterly at peace. How wonderful to finally tell another competitor the truth, more wonderful than she could’ve imagined. Hiding her sickness had allowed her to compete like anyone else; but the journey hadn’t been easy. Everyone wondered about her; they guessed about what made her different from the others.
Now Cody knew.
She explained how she held her breath when she rode, how she took only a few inhalations in the tunnel to keep from breathing in too much dust, and how she’d kept the entire ordeal a secret. “I never wanted anyone to leak it to the press. I wanted people to know me for the way I run barrels, not my sickness.”
“Why me, Ali?” His eyes softened. “Why’d you trust me?”
“You asked.” She looked at the silhouette of the nearby mountains against the sky. Then she found his
eyes again. “You’re a lot like me, Cody. All you need is the ride.”
“Yes.” Cody thought about that. “Can I do anything to help? Anything that would make it easier for you?”
She grinned. “Sure. Don’t talk to me in the tunnel.” She pointed toward a clearing a few yards away. “And could you ride your bulls out here so I could watch?”
His smile broke the tension of the moment. “If they’d let me, I’d do that every night. I hate the crowds. They’re not why I ride.”
Silence sat between them for a time.
“That brings us to you, Cody Gunner.” She lived with CF every day of her life. She was finished talking about it for now. “What makes you so mad? I watched you tonight, all that anger. It has to come from somewhere.” She waited. “What are you fighting out there?”
Cody studied her for a minute. “You should get in; you have goose bumps.”
“I’m okay.” She paused, wanting his answer.
“No. It’s late.” He reached out his hand to help her up. “I don’t want you getting a cold.”
The minute his fingers touched hers, she felt it. A current of something new and wild and exciting. Something that touched her heart and soul and body all at the same time. As soon as she was on her feet, she let go and the moment was over. Her cheeks were hot, and she was glad for the darkness.
“Okay.” She swallowed. Was he really worried about the cold air, or had her honesty scared him? Either way, he was right. She needed to get inside. “Maybe some other time.”
“What about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” Her heart soared.
“If it’s okay. I’ll meet you here, same time?”
“Okay.”
They stood, facing each other. For a long moment she searched beyond his eyes. She’d been wrong earlier. He wasn’t afraid of her disease. They had found a friendship, and she was completely comfortable with that. He wouldn’t tell anyone her secret. Besides, it didn’t matter as much now. Dr. Cleary was right; her time on the tour was short.
Eventually everyone would know the truth about Ali Daniels.