The late-summer air in the arena was thick with dust and adrenaline, the scent of sweat, manure, and leather clinging to the heat. Under the floodlights, Ryder stood by the rail, his pulse still galloping from his own ride, the crowd’s roar fading to a hum in his ears.

“That was a fine ride, son.” Tyler Hayes, broad-shouldered and sun-burnished, laid a hand heavy with pride on Ryder’s back. “You kept your hips steady, sat deep. Did you feel the difference?”

“Yeah,” Ryder ...