Taken By The Bull

“Well, I enjoy a conversation with someone who’s lived their lives a little and brings something new to the table. So to speak.” Steve shrugged, affable and polite as always. “But, I do fear I may have wasted your time; and for that I apologize.”

“No, don’t say that. It’s – it’s been a nice day. You gave me lunch!” Wow, am I glad I don’t have the recorder running right now. I’d hear that back later and want to slap myself silly for sounding like an high-grade idiot. “Steve – maybe I should talk to Seth some time before I go. Everyone loves to hear about an up-and-comer, you know. If the story gets aired, he’ll be mentioned anyway and it’d just be strange to hear the guy’s name, and see nothing of him.”

“Maybe that’s true. But, like I said earlier, you don’t owe either of us anything at all. You’re just out to make a buck at your job, and I respect that. Seth does too, even if he gets a little moody sometimes.”

Dammit, Steve! Why do you have to be so nice? No wonder I’m finding it hard to make a story where you’re a cheating villain! “Maybe you should go and talk to him a moment. It’s – it’s not right that you’re stood here with me, while he’s off worrying himself. I mean-” Unbidden, the memory of a face came to her, unexpected; a little piece of the past that she wasn’t about to give up on, quite yet. “-Brothers, you know. You have to look after them. I’ll be back in Jackson in a day or two, and we might never talk again. So don’t be neglecting him to hang out with me, that’s just – stupid.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Steve’s low, slow voice trailed off as he rubbed the back of his neck before taking a deep breath. “You know, for someone I only just met today, you seem to have a better handle on the things that are important to me than folks I’ve known for thirteen years. You know people, all right.”

“Thirteen years?” She couldn’t quite stop herself smiling at that compliment; he might know little about how a reporter’s mind worked, but he’d managed to home in on the one trait that most reporters valued over any other. “I thought you said it was twelve.”

“Well. It was thirteen years all of six weeks ago, so I guess both of us are right, in a way.” Throwing back his head, he drained the contents of his glass in a single hit; without saying another word, he turned and followed Seth inside the house.

Alone on the porch, Staci felt that chill again; not the temperature of the air, but the reminder that she was in a strange place, far from home. Well, she thought. What now? I guess, I’ll just wait here. You’re doing a real good job at getting to the truth, girl. Real good. No wonder you’re so deluged with work.

Drawing her knees up, she settled in and prepared to get comfortable while continuing to silently berate her own lack of results. Funny thing is, you’ve not even asked him the question. “Why are you so successful at what you do?” Whether he’d tell a lie or the truth, you’ve not even asked that. And why? Because it’s so nice to be out in the fresh air, enjoying the scenery? It’s not a vacation! Mr Minas isn’t paying you to spend time taking in the view.

“Maybe I’m not cut out for this job.” The words came out so quietly, even she could barely hear them; and her hands stole up to the sides of her head, rubbing at her temples as if massaging a headache. “I don’t know.”

“Success is never final, failure is never fatal. It is courage to continue that counts.” Mom always says that. Winston Churchill said it first. Except – sometimes, failure is fatal. Red wire, green wire. But not today. Today is just another day. It’s okay. Mom would tell me, it’s okay.

Slowly she stood, and without a plan, without any real idea what her purpose was, she began to walk. Down off the porch, out, towards the fence. Away from the house. Was this a part of the fence that Steve was waterproofing earlier? All fences looked the same, to her. She ran her hand along the rail, and found the wood was dry, and smooth to the touch.

It’s not betraying anyone if I just do my job. Steve’s a nice guy. Even if he is cheating at bull-riding, even if all this sudden success comes from finding a loophole, or an exploit – he’ll still be a nice guy. But it’s not my call to decide his fate; only my own. Someone always finds out in the end. Someone always gets you.

The light from the sky above was somber, amber-golden; not like the bright glare of earlier when she and Steve talked about Ibsen, or when Dawn came storming over with her double-talk and wounded pride. It wasn’t dark yet, but – it soon would be. It is the courage to continue that counts. Today, and tomorrow, and the next. It’s what I’ve done every day, right?

She put both hands on the fence and pulled herself up onto it, sitting there with one leg hanging over each side. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it felt good to sit up high, out in the open air. Small trees dotted the field in clumps; probably to give the cattle shade. Birdsong came from the branches, and a part of her felt envious of their carefree notes.

I never did read ‘I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings’. Always meant to. She turned her head and looked out towards the trees; and on the ground, somewhere between her and them, something on the ground caught her eye. Bright, shining, reflecting back the dying light.

I wonder what that is? Her first impulse was to go, and look; her second was to feel fear.

Looking up and down the field, she couldn’t see any cattle there; only the fence on each side. It was a lot smaller than the field where she’d petted the cow earlier. Probably just a holding area, for the winter – Steve said that some parts of the ranch are only used in winter. And what would a cow do to me, anyway? Moo? A reporter is like a cat. We’re fast, and curious!

Well, the last part was certainly true as she swung her leg over and dropped down inside the field. Quickly she approached the shining thing, hopping over a freshly-buzzing cow pie that got in her way. As she drew near, she saw that the shining thing was metal, and small; as she knelt down in the grass and picked it up, she saw that it was a ring on a chain.

I wonder who this belongs to? Threading a finger through the chain, she held it up and let it swing slowly, like pendulum. There was a black stone set into the ring; no, not black. Dark, dark red. It was such a nice thing; who would leave something like that, here? Had they thrown it away? A ring on a chain wouldn’t be something that slipped and fell off, after all.

She stood and turned back towards the house; from this distance, she could see that lights were on in the upstairs window. Vaguely, she wondered what Steve and Seth were talking about, if they were arguing; not that it was any of her business, but still-

Something moved in the trees behind her; something heavy. Whipping around to see, her eyes grew big in horror as a still, dark shape that she’d taken for a shadow snorted and rose to its feet – to all four hoofed, sharp feet, and walked around the tree.

Black eyes caught slivers of light and reflected them back as the beast lowered its head and shook it, two sharp-tipped curved horns pointing her way; over a ton of meat and muscle that snorted and pawed the ground, tearing up the earth in long, powerful strokes.

“We keep the bulls in their own space.”

“Oh, no.” She whispered. “No. Please don’t. Please.”

The bull stood absolutely still, like a statue. Only the sides of its chest moved with the slow breaths drawn in, and out, in, and out.