Page 33 of Lost Trust

I know firsthand how unexpectedly retirement can become a reality.

“Yeah. Anyway, the Storms had the land. I had the finances, rodeo background, and the connections. We partnered up and got to work, bringing the dream to fruition. The school opened last year.”

I stare at him. “That’s incredible, Bryce.”

He grins. “Come on. Let us show you around.”

He starts walking.

The first building is the administrative center. Inside are bright offices, classrooms, and meeting spaces. Everything is clean, modern, and designed specifically for education.

“Classrooms?” I ask.

“Yep. We don’t just teach people how to ride. We teach horsemanship, livestock management, sports psychology, conditioning, safety. Everything a rodeo athlete needs.”

He shows me the student bunkhouses next. Rows of comfortable rooms, common areas, laundry facilities.

Then the staff cabins.

“Those are where the instructors stay.”

I look inside one. It’s a small, open setup with a kitchenette and bathroom. Clean. Comfy.

“They’re nice.”

“They are. Just not designed for a growing boy.”

I glance at him, but he doesn’t explain further.

We keep walking.

He shows me the clinic, fully equipped for both minor treatment and emergencies.

Then the gym.

The sauna.

The stables.

The livestock barns.

The indoor training arena is enormous, as is the open arena beside it. There are barrels set up in one section. Mechanical gates. Bucking chutes. And multiple riding areas designed for different disciplines.

I stand at the rail of the indoor arena, staring. “This is state of the art.”

Bryce leans against the fence. “That’s what we were going for.”

“It reminds me of the training center in Kentucky.” I look across the arena. “I practically lived there when I was a girl. Some of the best training I ever had.”

He smiles. “Then you understand why we built it this way.”

I nod. “I do.”

He watches me for a second. Then his expression changes. “Good.”

I turn toward him. “Why good?”

“Because I have a proposition for you.”