“Next up in this afternoon’s Saddle Bronc Ridin’ contest is number sixty-seven, Mark Carson,” came the announcer’s voice over the loudspeakers.
The crowd cheered.
Lex stood behind the fence, chin resting on his crossed arms. He leaned on the top rail, one boot resting on the bottom slat. Normally when waiting for their turn to ride, Trent would be standing next to him. Today Trent stood some distance away with Sonny Hammill. Lex looked in their direction and sighed.
“Good ride for Mark with a score of seventy-nine point five,” the PA voice barked. “Next up, rider number seventy-two, Marty Schmidt.”
So far no one had broken a score of eighty, the mark that separated the average bronc rider from the elite.
Strict judgin’ today, Lex thought.
Lex glanced at Trent before turning his
