The day is the fourth of July, Independence Day to some. “Nope,” Mom clarifies, “Firecracker Day.” On this Firecracker Day, the boy is sat in the kitchen in the morning, messing with his mom as she fits her cowboy hat to her head.“This is my Fourth of July shirt,” Mom boasts, tugging the bottom corners of a yellow tee to show the face of a Native American man and his caption: “I loved America before it was called America.” Asked who the old man on the shirt is, the mother and son laugh to each other and mutter, “some ole Indun.” Then they slip on their cowboy boots and load their horses in the trailer, pack the saddles and halters.For three years the boy hasn’t rodeoed, a sad span which sums to almost a quarter of his life. This national holiday may be just another day to the boy — albeit one in which he can light off his fireworks — but it’s actually more remarkable than that. He’s back to riding in the ring.The boy is big-boned, with broad shoulders and hips like his daddy. He has …