Page 187 of Lost Trust

“Eight whole seconds.”

There it is.

That look.

That fire.

I’ve seen it in riders who refuse to quit. In men who climb back on after getting thrown. I’ve seen it in Axle.

I’ve seen it in the mirror.

But seeing it in this little boy makes something in my chest ache in a way I can’t explain.

“All right,” I say, patting his shoulder. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

We get him settled again.

The sheep shifts beneath him, but Ryder doesn’t flinch.

I stay beside him as the chute opens.

The sheep shoots forward.

I’m on his heels as Micah rounds the other side.

This one is wild.

Ryder’s free hand shoots into the air as the sheep bucks hard out of the gate. He stays centered through the first jump, then another.

His hat flies off when the sheep snaps into a hard pivot.

The buzzer sounds.

Ryder hangs on.

The sheep twists violently back to the left.

And Ryder comes off.

He hits the dirt, rolls through it, then pops to his feet like nothing happened.

Immediately, he starts celebrating.

The kid is having the time of his life.

“Eight!”

He throws both arms into the air.

“I did eight!”

Pride blooms so damn big in my chest I can barely contain it.

“You sure did, little man.”

He runs straight at me and launches himself at my legs.

I catch him under the arms and swing him up.