When the buzzer blared, Ryder loosened his grip in mid-spin and let the bull sling him into the dirt. He hit hard, rolled once, twice, before coming up to his feet in a shower of dust. A bullfighter cut across the animal’s path, turning its fury toward himself as the beast thundered through the gate, hide slick with sweat.

For a beat, Ryder heard nothing but the thunder of his own heart. Then the crowd’s roar swelled back into his bones—a wall of sound, applause and boot-stomping echoing ...