'Saw you out there. You're mighty good at that.' His tone was stilted, southern drawl affected with some kind of European harshness.
'Should hope so, or I don't get to eat tonight,' Charles huffed, dragging the curry brush along. The stranger smiled, eyes crinkling more than was warranted for a lazy joke.
'What're you here for?' Charles asked, nodding to the '33' stuck to the stranger's navy shirt.
'Me? I do rodeo'ing myself.'
'Well, let's just hope you don't break nothin', then,' Charles said with a smile and a shake of his head. The stranger gave him an odd, sideways look.
'Let's. You comin' to watch?'
'If you tell me your name.'
He smiled. 'Max. What should I call you?'
'Charles. Good to meet you, Max.'