Chapter 1Late spring
Gila, New Mexico
Carlos Casanuevo, “Casa” to his friends, eased down on the big Brahma’s back. He wrapped the rope around his hand, drawing it as tight as he could. It still wanted to slip. He rosined his glove again and tried a second time. The bull swayed, bobbing its massive head. Casa recognized the big gray had been in the chutes many times before. Old Smokey knew the drill. Other cowboys had told him the bull was usually pretty docile, until the gate swung open. Then, he burst out like a rocket fired for the moon, though not moving in a straight line, but a zigzagging pattern as he bucked and twisted. Not a lot of cowboys managed to stick on him for the required eight seconds. Casa believed he could.
He recalled when he’d done this all season long, at least a
