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The rodeo announcer’s voice blared over the loudspeaker signaling the day’s final events for Cheyenne Frontier Days’ rodeo competition. Haley Clayton wiped her sweaty brow and pushed through the crowd toward the bull pens lined up behind the arena.

A whistle from a nearby cowboy quickened her step. She ignored his slow perusal and moved on. The circuit consisted of mostly good, hardworking people with just a few rotten eggs. Today, the latter surfaced like bad pennies, stirring memories she’d locked away for eight years.