The flashiest rodeos start with a single rider, swept up by the endless Colorado grassland, patiently herding fiercely snorting horses toward a distant corral. Eventually a second cowboy joins, tearing alongside with a purpose. For a moment its possible to imagine the landscape scattered with the homesteaders, native tribes and ranch hands described by cowboy Binion Cervi.

But then he mentions paperwork, meticulous record keeping and genetics--the dry details that make Cervi Rodeo Company one of the largest and most successful in the world.

The company produces events in Houston, San Antonio and Denver. They provide stock for other rodeos--25 a year--including the finals in Las Vegas. In two weeks, they'll send bucking broncs, bulls and other animals to Kimball, too, for the county fair and rodeo.

"Kimball is our community," he says, explaining the relationship now in its second year and dismissing the importance of revenue. "It's like our hometown rodeo."

Events like the one in Kimball also allow Cervi to develop an animal's reputation and fighting spirit before sending it on to more lucrative arenas. The 27 year-old cowboy's business side tick off more information: eight pounds of grain per day for each horse, 120 colts a year, bloodline charts back to their orneriest animals and such.

He mentions Fletch, a particularly venomous mare featured in the national finals 18 times. She gave birth to Fletch's Girl, Little Fletch, Fletcher and 16 others, including Fearless Fletch, scheduled to compete in Kimball. The rodeo doesn't start in the fields, he says, but in the blood.

"We do the exact opposite of what most breeders do," Cervi explains. Instead of culling the wildness, they seek it in stallions and mares--and put the two together.

Unfortunately, it takes six years and thousands of dollars in grain and care before the company really knows if a horse will kick with rodeo anger.

"You can't teach a horse to buck," he says. They do, however, work each animal with a dummy at age three or four.

"It's like try outs for baseball," he insists.

From the tests with spring-loaded dummies, the company learns which horses might be both willing and able to toss a cowboy. A few turns on the college circuit confirms their expectations. Then the bucking broncs--and bulls, too--head to places like Kimball.

Cervi has been in the business all his young life. Binion's father, Mike, started as a rodeo clown in 1967.  He then bought the company, once owned by Gene Autry, and moved it to the family's northeastern Colorado land.

"When I was six and seven I'd clean boots at the rodeo," Binion Cervi recalls. "You work your way up."

Binion handles the "corporate" side of the operation, though he's good in the saddle, too. Working alone one morning, he herds 30 or 40 horses from a hillside, down through a rugged, snaking valley toward a confusing draw, where another cowboy, Garet Groshans, joins the effort. Once inside the pens, the two sort which will appear at a weekend event, scheduled to begin the next day. Binion's brother Chase, a pick up man, cousin Scotty, a flank man, and about 15 full time employees round out the company.

"There are fewer and fewer cowboys every year," Cervi says, citing the hard work, low pay and isolation--the rodeo company occupies a section of that expanse known as the Pawnee National Grasslands.

"That's why the people who do it have a love for it," he continues. "There are things stacked against you"--gas prices, hours on the road and in the saddle--"but you just want to stay involved."

The horses they will bring to Kimball are ready for action after six or seven years on the range. When they were colts, Cervi wasn't old enough to drink.

"That's why you love it," he explains in a 'does that make sense?' tone. "You have your heart and soul in it."

And a lot of paperwork.

The corporate side understands that the broncs, bulls and other animals must first please the fans and the host committee. Of the riders, he points out that they often don't know ahead of time if a horse will buck frantically enough to allow for a good score. That's why bloodlines are so critical. They draw the name Fearless Fletch and relate the animal back to the great parent.

Anyway, Cervi says, "if the cowboy can't ride your horse, you've done your job."