Last year, I was approached by the Younger Rodeo School to open the second clinic in Montana. They wanted me to train, and it was a hard hell no. Working for Rand Younger, my old asshole instructor, dredged up shit I’d rather forget. But then I got hurt. And hurt again. I love the rodeo. I’m goddamn good at it. Some might call it cocky, but for me, it was a calling. But it was time. I had enough broken bones; one day it’d be a broken neck. My older brothers were worried, and they’ve had enough worry to last them a lifetime. So I finally took the damn job. A job I didn’t even want.
