Page 155 of Lost Trust

There are chutes, holding pens, alleyways, sorting gates. Everything seems connected, designed to move an animal from one place to another without needing a dozen people standing around, pulling chains and opening gates.

“What’s the plan?”

Bryce sits back. “I want to breed, raise, and sell bucking bulls. Host rough stock events locally. And mentor young riders year-round.”

My eyes lift to his.

“Not just two weeks at a time,” he adds. “I want them here. I want to build something they can grow with.” There’s a different kind of excitement in his voice now. The same kind I’ve heard when he talks about the academy, only bigger.

I look back at the plans.

“I was in Stephenville recently,” he says. “Spent some time talking to the guys down at BuckTown. Came back and started thinking maybe I’m ready to pull the trigger on this.”

BuckTown is a private ranch, training compound, and old-school bull riding venue that J.B. Mauney built after he retired.

I study the layout again. “Damn.”

He smiles faintly. “Good?”

“This is more than good.” I trace the path of the pens with my finger. “This system is slick. You could sort bulls without needing three or four men chasing them around. Feed them straight from their pens to the bucking chutes. Open one gate, close another, move the next animal through.”

I shake my head. “Hell, you could chute-train bulls with minimal staff. Once everybody knows the system, one guy could manage a lot of this.”

“That’s the idea.”

“It’s a hell of an idea.”

Bryce watches me for a second.

“You got Matty on board?” I ask.

He exhales. “I’m working on it.”

That makes me grin. “Good luck with that.”

The ranch has experienced a shit ton of growth over the last couple of years. All good, but each carrying its own level of risk. Matty’s smart, but she’s also conservative, which is one of the things that makes her a great ranch manager. She doesn’t let her emotions influence her decisions.

He laughs. “I’ve still got three hundred undeveloped acres of the land she originally gave us for the academy. I figure we can start there and hopefully convince her to let us branch out as we grow. I’ve been talking to Porter.”

My eyebrows rise.

“About his grandfather’s old place. Silver Spur Ranch.”

I know the place. Everybody around here does.

“That place has been sitting unused for years.”

“Exactly. It’s on the outskirts of town. Could be a backup location. Maybe even a second facility eventually.”

I sit back and look at the plans again.

It’s ambitious, but I can see it.

A place where kids can train year-round. Where bulls are raised specifically for the sport. Where young riders aren’t getting tossed onto practice bulls for ten minutes and sent home. Where they can learn how to ride, how to read an animal, how to handle themselves around livestock.

And the practice-bull market alone is worth chasing. There’s a demand for good practice bulls, and the right ones can bring serious money.

“You’ve got something here,” I tell him. “It’s a big project, but I think it could work.”