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Isobel and her family cheered with fervor as Ryder strode into the dirt arena, clad in his signature black Wrangler shirt adorned with sponsor names, his beloved Wrangler jeans, and sleek black leather chaps. He doffed his black felt hat, waving it to the crowd, his eyes scanning until they met Isobel's. She sent a kiss his way, hands over her heart, and Ryder mirrored her gesture before placing his hat back on.
After introducing several more names, the announcers finally arrived at the evening’s last rider. Representing five countries and twenty-two U.S. states, forty cowboys filled the arena, each removing their hats for the flag presentation.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please rise and remove your hats for a warm welcome to Las Vegas local Rebecca Moore, who will sing our cherished National Anthem."
Two riders entered with American flags as Rebecca took her position and began to sing. The stadium stood still; hats in hand, lost in the stirring words of the anthem.
As her song drew to a close, thunderous cheers erupted as riders spurred their horses into a gallop. They crossed paths at each end of the arena in a thrilling display of precision.
On the final notes of "O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave," the horses converged at one end of the arena, turned side by side, raced toward center stage, and slid to a dramatic stop. Dust spiraled around them while flags cut through in vivid contrast. Cheers reached new decibel levels at this spectacle.
With lights dimming again, silence settled over the audience as men in the arena knelt with hats held before them for the nightly prayer.
"In celebration of liberty, stay standing and bow your heads. Heavenly Father," began the announcer. "We gather tonight grateful for Your blessings. Thank You for this community: tonight's rodeo committee, volunteers, sponsors—everyone who made this event reality. We're thankful we can praise Your name openly. Protect our cowboys, livestock, crew—each traveler here today. Guide our actions to honor You. Keep safe those defending our freedoms abroad and at home. Our prayer is offered in Jesus Christ’s name. Amen."
Cheers and whistles erupted throughout the venue once more as the cowboys stood and donned their hats. Filing out of the arena, the announcer continued to get everyone settled and introduced the bullfighters.
With the first set of bulls loaded and the initial rider ready, the gate burst open, and the rodeo commenced.
The first three riders managed to stay on but earned low scores. The next two were thrown off within seconds. The sixth rider was slammed against the gate as soon as the bull stormed out of the chute, and he came off. Struggling to get up quickly, he was pinned against the gate by the bull, which broke his arm. Luckily, with aid from the bullfighters, they managed to distract the bull long enough to get him to safety.
Thomas and Grace watched in shock, unsure of how to react. Celeste leaned over to Grace and took her hand. "It’s usually not as bad as it looks," she reassured her with a smile.
Grace turned to her with worried eyes and asked, "How do you watch your child go through this?"
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Celeste patted her hand gently. "In prayer."
Grace turned back to see the next rider make it through eight seconds and score an 81.
Rider after rider took their turns; some lasted while others hit the dirt. When Wren’s name was announced, everyone straightened in their seats. They watched his bull spin out of the chute; though he lost balance briefly, Wren recovered and held on until he heard the buzzer. He let go and flew through the air, hitting the dirt hard. Quickly finding his feet, he dashed to safety without knowing where the bull was.
Once safe, he stepped back onto the arena floor, removed his helmet, knelt down, and sent up a quick prayer.
"I've noticed several riders do that," Grace said to Celeste while pointing at Wren. "Are they really praying?"
Celeste nodded with a smile. "Yes, we are a very prayerful bunch."
"That's wonderful," Grace responded, finally letting a smile grace her face for the first time since the rides began.
"Wren did great," Luther said to Bella Rose as they sat back down.
"Wren Coulter's ride earned him an 83—the highest score of the evening so far!" cried out the announcer.
The group cheered loudly for him while Rose waved and blew him a kiss.
As the evening wore on, Isobel's unease mounted. Unsure when Ryder would appear, she fixated on the cowboys by the chutes, searching for his familiar face. Suddenly, her eyes locked onto him. He was kneeling, his back against the wall, hat in hand, head bowed—a picture of silent prayer. She watched with bated breath as time seemed to stretch, until at last, he stood, donned his hat, and vanished behind the row of riders.
Moments later, she saw him again on the raised platform behind chute three. Clad in his safety vest and holding his helmet, he had his rigging slung over one shoulder. With growing excitement, Isobel pointed him out to everyone around her.
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Ryder's heart pounded as he stared down at the bull he had drawn that evening. He glanced up to the stands where his family sat and quickly found Isobel, who was pointing him out to everyone. Closing his eyes, he prayed for God to see him through the week.
Exhaling deeply, Ryder shoved the helmet onto his head, shook out his arms, and shrugged off the rigging from his shoulders. As he lowered himself onto the bull, clarity washed over him; all worries were left behind on the platform. With laser focus, Ryder positioned the bull rope, warmed up the rosin, secured his hand tightly, and gave a nod.
The gate flew open, and Leon’s Twister erupted with raw power. The roar of the crowd faded away; all he heard was the thunder of the bull's hooves against the dirt. Ryder synced with the bull’s every move, executing a flawless ride. When the buzzer rang, he released his grip and catapulted through the air, rolling safely into the dirt. He swiftly scrambled to his feet and leapt onto a nearby fence to avoid the charging bull.
Isobel sprang up, her screams of joy piercing through the air. Their group joined in unison, their cheers echoing down to the arena floor. Even Thomas and Grace stood up, clapping and shouting for Ryder.
Once safe, Ryder descended from the fence and walked to the center of the arena, removing his helmet. Catching Isobel’s eye, he mouthed "I love you," then fell to one knee and offered a prayer of thanks.
"Ryder Hayes just scored an 88! That's tonight's top score!" The announcer’s voice boomed with excitement. "Ryder might just snag his third world title this week!"
Ryder stood tall, pointed to the sky in gratitude, and strode out of the arena. Outside the gate, Wren enveloped him in a bear hug.
"Great ride, Ryder. A perfect start to our week."
"You too, Wren." Ryder returned the hug with equal fervor. "We’ve got this. Right?" He asked with a grin.
"You bet we do."
The two walked back to their family near the chutes and settled in to watch more riders take their turn. Their hearts raced as they watched competitor after competitor either fail or score lower than them. By rider number forty, only one man had bested Wren’s score; this left Ryder in first place and Wren in third for the night.
As each of the top fifteen riders were announced by name, they stepped into the arena one by one, waving to an enthusiastic crowd before exiting triumphantly.