Night rides always involved the rankest stock, the toughest bulls. It was that way on purpose, designed to bring in the higher-paying crowds and give them a better show. When Cody returned to the arena he got the news he’d been waiting for since he earned his pro card. The bull he’d drawn was none other than the legend, the meanest bull on the tour, a bull so violent and crazed, his owners competed him as often as possible, making a killing off him.
The bull was Chaos.
Of the twenty-three times he’d been ridden in the past two years, Chaos had bucked off twenty-three riders. But that wasn’t all. The bull wielded his horns like weapons. In his wake were a trail of broken ribs, concussions, and a spinal injury. On the Pro Rodeo Tour no greater challenge existed than the challenge of riding Chaos. Before Ali, Cody would’ve paid a year’s winnings fora chance on this bull. Just one chance.
But now...
Now he carried something inside him that would give Ali another three years. He didn’t care if Chaos hurt him; that was part of bull riding. But what if the bull jabbed him in the ribs, what if he punctured his lung, All’s lung?
His mind reeled.
Should he take the draw, maybe pull off the ride of his life? If he did, it would be the pinnacle of his career, no matter how long he rode. Riding Chaos would guarantee him a win and put him in position to coast into the finals. He paced up and down the alley behind the chutes. Every few minutes he stopped to stretch, thinking about the possibilities.
The smell of burned popcorn and greasy corn dogs filled the air and mixed with the scent of livestock. What should he do? How much of a risk was he willing to take? He refused to scan the stands, afraid his mother was still there. If she was, Carl Joseph would see him this time, and then he’d have no choice but to deal with her, as well. Not that he expected her to come looking. He wasn’t even sure she was still there. He didn’t care. The only thing on his mind was the wild bull ride ahead, his chance at making history.
And the damage it could do to him if he didn’t.
Cody was slated to ride last, and the situation was clear to everyone. Stay eight on Chaos and he’d be first not only at this event, but in the standings. First with no one close behind him.
Still... he couldn’t get Ali out of his mind. He wore a path behind the chutes, stretching and trying to convince himself it would be okay. Ali would want him to ride, to take his shot at the bull no one could beat. But as he climbed the fence and stared in at the bull, he shuddered.
He already knew what would happen. The bull would fly through the air, bucking him onto the ground and coming back to finish him off. Chaos wasn’t content with sending cowboys to the ground; he wanted to kill them. Before Ali, that would’ve been fine. Let the beast try. He’d ridden unridable bulls before.
But what if he did get hurt? What if he had a wreck that damaged his lungs?
He could risk his own life, but not All’s.
And with that he made his decision. Cody hopped down behind the chutes and headed for the judges’ table.
“Gunner, what’re you doing?” one of the cowboys shouted after him. “Your ride’s up in a few minutes.”
Cody didn’t stop. He reached the table and stood in front of the oldest judge in the business, a veteran, pure class and character.
“Cody Gunner?” He gave Cody a curious frown. “You need to be in the chute, young man. How can I help you?”
“I’m turning out, sir.” He grabbed his number off the back of his vest and thrust it onto the table. “I can’t ride tonight.”
“But that’s the best draw of the—”
“Thank you, sir.”
He didn’t say another word until he was at All’s side.
“I can’t believe you turned out.” She held his hand and smiled at him. “Everyone’s going to think you’ve
lost your edge.”
“I don’t care.” He leaned down and kissed her lips, slow and tender. “As long as I don’t lose you.” He brushed his nose against hers and drew back a little.
“You won’t, Cody. I’m fine.”
“Right.” He bit his lip. He didn’t tell her why he turned out; left her thinking it was his deal, that he couldn’t get focused with her in the hospital. He couldn’t tell her he wanted to keep his lungs safe. It was better if she didn’t know, less upsetting to her.
They talked about the standings, and after a while, her mother came in from the cafeteria. “Your father says hello. He’ll call you in the morning.”
“Thanks, Mama.” Ali gave her a lopsided smile.
They made small talk for half an hour before the doctor came in, a clipboard in his hands, his face dark.
Cody sat on one side of the bed, All’s mother on the other. He wanted to tell the doctor to leave; they were doing fine without anything else to think about.
“Hello.” Mrs. Daniels spoke first. “Have you talked to Dr. Cleary?”
“Yes.” The man came to the foot of her mattress and touched her toes. “Hi, Ali. You doing okay?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She was breathing easier, but she looked exhausted.
The doctor shifted his look to All’s mother again. “I ran the test results by All’s doctor, and, well... the news isn’t good.”
Cody steeled himself. Hadn’t he known this was coming? No matter what Ali said about this being another tune-up, they all knew she was getting worse. The coughing, the extra medication, the frantic times when she couldn’t breathe. The signs were there for all of them.
“Her functions are bad, right?” All’s mother took hold of All’s forearm. “I can tell.”
“It’s more than her function tests, Mrs. Daniels.” The doctor released a heavy breath. “Her lungs are shutting down. She’s finished barrel racing.”
Ali reached for Cody’s hand. She closed her eyes, squeezing his fingers. He wanted to cover her ears, shelter her with his body. Anything to erase what the man had said. This was the day she’d dreaded all her life. She wasn’t being given a warning; it was more of a pronouncement.
No more barrel racing. Not ever.
Cody could only imagine the heartache exploding through her, because his heart was breaking, too. She was finished racing? Done with the dream she’d chased since she was eleven? Never again would she race around the barrels, faster than every other rider. She and Ace were finished, finished with the Pro Rodeo Tour, finished traveling around the country, finished climbing the leaderboard.
Ali Daniels would be remembered for blazing onto the barrel-racing scene and staying in the top handful of riders the whole time she competed. But her promise would never be fulfilled; there would be no national championship.
He let his head fall against her hand, willing some of his strength into her. The doctor was going on, saying something about recuperating and using the next few months to get stronger. Then he said something that made Cody sit straight up.
“Dr. Cleary tells me you’re planning a lung transplant in December.” The man’s face was stern, tense.
“Yes.” All’s mother continued to be the spokesperson for the three of them. She hesitated and looked his way. “Cody’s one of the donors. Her father’s the other.”
“That’s what I need to talk to you about.” The doctor opened the file he was holding. “We rescheduled the transplant for June. Dr. Cleary believes that’s as long as we can wait. After consulting with our specialists, I have to agree.” He read the file. “Ali would stay a few more days here, and then return home. We’d like her to gain some strength over the next eight weeks, so that she’s in the best possible shape for the transplant.”
June? Cody froze for a moment, but there was no hesitation. June was perfect. The sooner the better. That made his decision about the season an easy one.
Ali opened her eyes and the three of them stayed silent, the news suffocating them like a desert dust cloud.
“Doctor”—All’s mother sounded drained, resigned—“could you give us some time to talk?”
“Yes, certainly.” He looked from All’s mother to Ali and finally to Cody. “I wish I could give you some options, but there are none. This is the only plan left.”
As soon as the doctor was gone, Ali turned to him. “You don’t have to do it, Cody. Someone else could give me a lung; I’m still on the donor list and my case will be more urgent now. June is the worst time for—” “Ali.” He pressed his fingers to her lips. “I’m done with the season.”
“No, Cody.” Her mother looked at him. “All’s right. You’re at the top of your sport.” She clutched the arms of her chair. ‘You’re healthy and whole; if we put her back on the donor list she might get a lung right when she needs it.”
“Listen.” Cody’s tone was calm, convinced. He slid back in his chair. “I’m doing this. Nothing can change my mind. I went her to have my lung.”
No one said anything. Then Ali reached out and took his fingers. “We could try to wait, Cody. The doctor might be wrong. What’s a few months if it’ll let you win the championship again?”
“Hear me, Ali. Please.” He leaned close and kissed the inside of her wrist. “My season’s over whether you have the transplant in June or December. I won’t get on another bull until it’s over.”
“Why? I... I don’t understand.” Her voice was quiet, weak. “I don’t need you at home with me, watching me breathe from a machine. I’d rather have you winning rodeos, Cody. Doing what you love.”
“I can’t.” He ran his fingers over her engagement ring and pressed her hand to his face. He didn’t want to tell her, but he had to. “I’ve never worried about getting hurt on a bull, because I only had myself to think about.” He shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe I wanted the challenge. The pain of a pulled shoulder beat the other pain, the one inside.” He found her eyes and held them. “But everything’s different now.” He sat up and put her hand to his chest. “One of my lungs is already yours, Ali. It’s not mine. I’m not worried about myself, I’m worried about the part of me that belongs to you.”
All’s mother covered her face with her fingers. She was crying, doing her best to hide the noise.
Tears filled All’s eyes, too, spilling down the bridge of her nose onto her pillow. And that’s when he knew he’d won. It was time to go home and get Ali well again, time to dream about the days the transplant would buy them. It was possible, wasn’t it? A cure could be found while she was living on borrowed time, right?
He leaned over the bed and hugged her. No matter that Ali and her mother were crying, he couldn’t bring himself to feel sad. So what if he missed a season of Pro Rodeo? He’d earned plenty of money that year already, and he could always go back when the surgery was behind them.
Ali was going to get better, stronger, and after her transplant anything could happen. She was a survivor, a fighter. If anyone could beat cystic fibrosis, it was Ali Daniels. And now they would be together every day back at her ranch. Ali and her mother were upset now, but Cody could feel nothing but joy over the fact. And then in just a few weeks when she was well enough, they would celebrate the happiest moment of all.
Their wedding day.