“Want me to do rounds on the carts?” Betty asks as I walk past her cart, and she comes chasing after me. “I can do the counts if you like. I get it if you don’t want me to. I'm new and all, but I thought maybe, never mind.” All flustered, she starts to turn to leave and head back toward her cart.

“I’d greatly appreciate that, Betty,” I call out after her. I don’t think anyone has ever asked to lend me a hand around here before. She slowly turns back to face me, and I see that some of her wild curly hair has slipped free from her ponytail.

I hired her four months ago, and she’s so new that she doesn’t get the best sections. She does her job and keeps her head down for the most part. From the second I met her, she seemed genuine, and I hired her on the spot.

“Okay! I got it, boss lady!” she chirps with a giant smile. Boss lady is something all the construction men have been calling me today. No clue where the name came from, but I think it’s kind of nice. For so long I’ve been busting my ass here, and never have I felt any kind of respect until today.

I make a full circle as my eyes roam over the crowd and the concession stands. Everything is being wrapped up, and as I go by the arena, my gaze drifts over to the next steer wrangler that’s about to go in. He should be the last for the night.

I see Bronco talking to the man, or at least he’s trying to. I can tell the guy is only half listening to whatever it is Bronco is saying. You’d have to be plain stupid not to take advice from Bronco. It’s like a rookie quarterback paying no mind to Peyton Manning trying to tell him the best plays against the opposing team.

I wish I could say I’m shocked, but I’m not. Some of these boys that come in here are so damn cocky. I’ve seen more than a handful leaving in ambulances. Most of them have been ones I hadn’t wanted here to begin with, but my father has the final say in that. Or he had, I suppose. That’s something else that can change.

When Bronco leans back, he shouts something at someone, but the announcer starts to call out the wrangler, and it’s too late. I think Bronco was going to stop him from going in the arena, but I have no idea what the two of them were talking about.

The man doesn’t last even a second before he’s flung so hard and far you’d think he’s never been on the back of an animal in his life. The bull charges after him when he hits the ground, and I gasp.

The barrelmen try to lure the bull away, but he seems hell bent on going for his target. The whole stadium goes quiet as the rider tries to get up. I think his name is Jericho, if I remember right. Even from this distance I can tell he's out of it and probably hasn’t got a clue where he is.