Tanner Melsaether does a few side bends and arches his shoulders to stretch. He is dressed in baggy shorts loose enough to let him move freely and cover his hip and knee pads. His plaid shirt hides a protective vest. And his black-brimmed cowboy hat shadows his bright eyes and round, baby face. Bright yellow knee socks will keep his legs from being scratched by the grit of the arena and may capture the attention of a bull.

“Clear the arena, folks. It’s rodeo time in Jackson Hole,” the announcer’s voice booms through the loudspeaker.

A few of the bulls begin to thrash, restlessly in their chutes, but as the arena quiets, so do they. There is a calm in the air, undercut by a subtle pulse of electricity.

A junior-high-age boy approaches a chute as Melsaether hops down into the arena. The boy’s legs are unsteady beneath his chaps.

“Take care your business, have some fun and ride a bull,” an older cowboy tells the boy.

Under the bright arena lights, Melsaether isn’t thinking about scores or how long this rider might last. He is going over how the bull will move and where he needs to be to make sure the young cowboy walks away safely.

Bull riding is consider one of the most extreme and dangerous sports, Melsaether said. You would never catch him on a bull. Instead, the 17-year-old fights them. Melsaether’s job is make sure the cowboys walk away unscathed once they are bucked off.

“I’d rather take a hook than watch anyone else get hit,” he said. “Because my job is to make sure they don’t get hooked.”

Melsaether grew up around rodeos. His mom, Carol Petersen, barrel races, team ropes and breakaway ropes. His sister, Annie, pole bends and barrel races. He had always admired the cowboys riding rough stock. But as he watched those guys get beat up, it seemed too dangerous. He began to notice the ones that weren’t flailing on the bulls, but were still heros— the bullfighters.

Rodeo life is something that is bred into people, his mother said. Whether competing or working, it takes dedication to go out multiple times a week and subject the body to the physical demands. Bullfighting is different because it isn’t about the individual or winning. It is about someone else.

“That (drive) comes from deep within,” Petersen said.

It is dangerous work, but Petersen said she supports her son’s dreams. And already bullfighting has taught him responsibility, how to make split-second decisions, putting others before himself and the rewards of working hard.

“For 17, he has a lot of things going for him, but he worked his butt off for it,” Petersen said.

Melsaether started fighting steers when he was 8 years old. About three years ago, he moved up to bulls.

Petersen is a little afraid when she watches her son work, but she is also proud when she sees him down in the arena, keeping the cowboys safe.

Melsaether crouches to the side of a chute, knees bent. The adrenaline pounds. He is like a spring ready to be unleashed. He takes a moment to settle and goes over a mental check list of what he knows about the bull, which way it will turn, how it bucks.

Bullfighters position themselves based on how a bull is known to kick and which hand the cowboy will have tied down. Melsaether is always opposite another bullfighter in the arena. His first steps when the chute opens are like a choreographed dance. But within a fraction of a second it is all improvisation, depending on how long the cowboy stays on and where he lands when thrown.

Once a bull comes out at Melsaether, fear and instinct can take over – as happens this instance.

“Tanner, get off the damn fence and watch your cowboy,” the head bullfighter shouts.

He is back on the ground, flapping his arms and whistling, to direct the bull into the chute.

As he has gotten older, Melsaether has come to appreciate the magnitude of his job. He takes each mistake seriously. He is supposed to be the protector. There is shame and regret in moments where he makes mistakes.

There have been times he has crashed into the gate, or even had his arms snagged over the horns of a bull. The worst was when he was knocked down. Every time he tried to move, he seemed to end up under the hooves of the bull.

There is always more fear when a bull that has hooked him is about to come out of the chute. But each time Melsaether goes out, he learns something, whether it is how to shut off the fear, or move differently. He is constantly getting better at being where he needs to be to help cowboys. The high school junior wants to continue to improve and make it a career.

“It’s not like a job,” he says after the first round of bull riding is done at a Wednesday night rodeo. “I’d have a hard time coming to a rodeo and not fighting.”