Page 57 of Jillaroo from Jacaranda

As if rising to the verbal challenge, his hide hot and sweaty, the bull jerked his head, wild eyes almost rolling back in his gigantic skull. In a shady move, he shifted all his weight sideways, slamming Ty into the side of the chute. Ty bit back a pain-fuelled roar as agony shot through his knee and radiated up to his thigh. With all his might, he shoved the bull, moving him a few inches to the left, freeing Ty. Making use of his short-lived reprieve, he shoved his right hand through the rope with his palm up and wrapped it hard before yanking it real tight. This was his grip, it was what kept him on the bull, and it was also what could hang him there if he didn’t free himself in time.

‘This bull hasn’t let a cowboy stay on his back for longer than three seconds, let alone the eight Parker needs to qualify,’ the presenter bellowed.

‘Tell me about it,’ said the second announcer. ‘Boy oh boy, have I seen some trainwrecks with this bull at the helm. Let’s just hope we don’t see a repeat of that today.’

One of his fellow riders slapped his back. ‘You got this, Parker.’

He responded with a grim grin.

Big & Rich’s hit song, ‘Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)’ pounded from the speakers, building the already pumped crowd to feverish anticipation.

Ty gave the signal he was good to go.

The gate flew open.

The bull exploded into the arena. With all four hooves off the ground, he twisted one way, then the other. Two seconds passed. The bull veered to the left, then crashed forward, bucking his rear end, and Ty, into midair. With his legs wrapped nice and tight, Ty kept his seat, his free arm held high in the air giving him the balance he so desperately needed. Vaulting one way then catapulting the other, he hung on for his life.

Five seconds. Six seconds.

Ty held his centre.

Seven seconds.

The crowd were on their feet, roaring, hollering, clapping. The buzzer sounded.

Eight seconds.

Ty tried to release his hand as he threw his legs and feet over the bull, but realised with a thrill of terror that he was hung up. The bull dragged him along the dirt like a ragdoll. The bullfighters rushed to his rescue. One struggled to free his hand while the others tried to divert the bull’s attention from demolishing Ty to charging them instead. With his body jerking alongside, Ty fought tooth and nail to stay on his feet – sliding beneath the bull would be lethal.

Seconds ticked by like hours. He tugged and yanked his hand as hard as he could. The bullfighter on the opposite side was fighting for Ty’s life, and his own. The bull threw his head back, connecting with Ty’s jaw. Excruciating pain seared through him … and that was the last thing he remembered until he woke up out the back of the chutes, with two paramedics staring down at him.

Or was it just one paramedic? Could it be that he was seeing double?

Nausea rose in his throat. Groaning, he choked it back, trying to bring a hand to his spinning head.

‘Hey, Ty. You’ve had a pretty hard hit to the head.’ The paramedic shone a torch into his eyes. ‘Can you tell me what day it is?’

Ty’s head pounded and his mouth was cottonwool dry. ‘Yeah, Saturday.’

‘Good.’ The bloke brought his hand closer Ty’s face. ‘How many fingers am I holding up?’

‘None.’

The paramedic shook his head. ‘Try again.’

Ty tried to blink past the concussion. ‘Two?’

‘Bring a stretcher and hurry the hell up,’ someone yelled.

Everything whirled and blurred then went suffocatingly black.

Next thing Ty knew, he was on a hospital bed. Railings held him in place and a quick glance beneath the sheet alerted him to the fact he was naked except for a blue hospital gown. The curtains were drawn all around him, and he could just make out three shadows on the other side. He could tell one was Rose’s and another was Leah’s. The unfamiliar silhouette must be a doctor. Honing his hearing, he tried to listen in on the conversation.

‘How is he, doctor?’ Rose sounded exhausted and scared.

‘Is he going to be okay?’ Ty heard his sister ask.

‘He should make a full recovery, of sorts, but he does have a serious blood clot at the base of his head.’ The doctor exhaled loudly. ‘I’m afraid to say, but any more bull riding and he’s playing a dangerous game of Russian roulette.’