"Have you ever seen such a horny bull?" Peace asked the vet after Bryan finished mounting another cow.
The vet laughed. "He does look like he's making up for lost time."
"You've still got all that semen we had already collected on ice for me, right?"
"Of course, Mr. Peace. Almost a shame that you have to give the animal back to its owner in a few more days."
Peace hadn't quite gotten around to telling the vet the true story about the bull that had landed in his hand a couple of weeks ago.
"Yea, that is a damn shame."
The vet made his departure and Peace turned to Zeke. "Lead the big guy back to the barn," he ordered. "He's probably worked up quite an appetite."
Thinking on that for a moment, Peace amended his instructions. "No need to waste the good feed on him, though. Just give him some hay."
Zeke gave a curt nod. He didn't like the way his employer continued to treat Bryan like some dumb brute even after learning about the accident with the Chronivac. In fact, he had hatched a plan. "I'll see to things here," Zeke said, glad to get the old man out of the way.
Once Zeke got hold of the chain connected to Bryan's nose ring, he had no trouble leading the big bull across the pasture toward the barn. The big bull kept trying to throw his head back, bellowing in his desire to return to the cows.
"Bryan, will you stop thinking with your dick," Zeke snapped.
The remark from his old high school friend snapped Bryan back to his senses. He felt mortified, realizing what a spectacle he must have provided with his mounting of every cow within reach. He had tried to fight the urge, but it had been too powerful. Ever since the electro-ejaculation sessions, his brain had felt so scrambled it had been harder and harder to prevent the mind of the bull from dominating his thoughts.
As they entered the barn, Zeke disregarded Peace's stingy orders and gave Bryan plenty of the good feed.
"Listen, I have a plan," he said.
Bryan's head was already lowered over the food, and he barely listened as Zeke mentioned a friend who had arranged for some guys with a trailer to transport into hiding. "I think I can make it look like rustlers got you," he said. "When everything blows over, we'll get hold of a Chronivac and you can go back to your old life."
Bryan huffed and continued feeding. Zeke couldn't tell if he had understood one word. About that moment, his phone buzzed. He got a text and read it. He cursed.
His friend had arranged for transport, but gave him a heads-up that the men with the trailer only spoke Spanish. "Pain in the ass," Zeke grumbled.
Bryan continued blissfully to feed. He had almost consumed his fill when a truck and trailer pulled to the barn and several Latino men got out. Zeke walked out to greet them. "Amigos? Marco?"
One of the men stepped forward, extended his hand. "Si, Marco." As for the rest of the rapid-fire Spanish, Zeke was left uncomprehending.
He pointed to Bryan. "There's the bull."
"Toro?" The man asked.
Zeke nodded. "Toro, yes. Load him up." He swung his hands in the direction of the trailer.
Zeke hadn't been open with the details about his plan to his friend, Marco, who had been left to speculate. That was unfortunate for Bryan.
The men quickly loaded Bryan into the trailer, using the chain attached to the nose ring to maneuver the big animal.
Bryan began to pay closer attention.
"Marco told you where to take him?"
The man looked confused.
"Destination-oh?" Zeke tried to patch together English and Spanish. He tried to imitate the truck pulling away.
The man seemed to comprehend. "Si," he nodded. "El Matadero."
Bryan had done well in high school Spanish, plus he lived in Texas. He thought he recognized the word.
"Good... take him to the...matadoro..." Zeke waved his hands. "Whatever you said."
Bryan panicked. Zeke was sending him to the slaughterhouse.
One of the men closed the gate on the trailer.
The sound of the closing trailer echoed loudly in his mind. Bryan bellowed. "Zeke, you idiot!"
Zeke walked over, lowered his voice. "Take it easy," he said. "They will hide you out for a few days."
Could he really be so clueless? He bellowed again, in great distress, trying to communicate to Zeke.
Zeke figured that Bryan must have momentarily lost the struggle to dominate the bull's mind.
Far from it. Bryan's faculties clarified around his dilemma.
The men piled back into the cab of the truck. "Have Marco call me," Zeke said to them. He got smiles, but not much else.
Bryan felt the truck engine start. The trailer swayed beneath his hooves as the men pulled onto the dirt road back to the highway. As the truck rounded a curve, a panicked Bryan was able to look through the bars of the trailer and glimpse Zeke, who waved toward him, still completely ignorant that he had just sent Bryan to the matadero, or slaughterhouse.