A Good Kid Horse

We grew up on horses. I don't ever remember not riding. I remember riding all over the country as soon as I have memory. I remember teaching my friends to ride horses. They would bounce around like fish in the saddle as we progressed to trotting, and eventually galloping. I can remember their confusion over how I moved so easily with the horse, and they were being beat to death.I rode horses nearly every day that we were home. Remember Sugar? Remember how sweet and even tempered she was?

Well, it seems that Sugar has been spoiled. It seems that my dad and brother have not been riding her every single day. It seems that they think they have farm work or some such nonsense to do, and it doesn't always involve horses. Do you know what I say to that? Phooey!

Anyway, Sugar has become a little sour. It seems my brother decided to rope a calf off her the other day. Do you know what she did when he threw his lariat? She planted her front hooves and screeched to a jarring stop. He denies flying over her head. He insists that he kept his seat...

Well, the first day out at my folks I took Sugar for a ride myself. Dad rode Appy, his 28 year old appaloosa pictured below. We needed to bring the cattle in from the pasture behind my parents house to their corrals, and then we needed to sort off a few pairs to be sold.

We headed to the pasture, with my faithful dogs in tow. I'm not sure how much help they were, but they felt pretty darn important. Holly stopped every few feet to roll in some fresh cow patties. Just in case we didn't understand the importance of her position, she wanted us to be sure and see how hard she was working...

We started gradually pushing the heard from the northwest corner, up the fence to pick up a few that were near the northeast corner, then along the east fence and into the corral. Easy peasy, right? Well, in fact it was very easy. We only had one cow who was determined to break away, but she presented little problem.

The only thing that presented a problem was Sugar. She did not want to gather cattle. She did not want to be ridden. No. She wanted to hop around from side to side. When I pulled up on her reins, and said, "whoa," she decided that meant to run backwards. A cow was considering breaking away, and instead of going to head her off, Sugar decided to start throwing her head, and I had visions of the broken nose my dad sported from Appy pulling a similar stunt while he was roping a calf.

Now. I gotta say, I grew up on a spirited, temperamental appaloosa named Blue. I can't count the number of times Blue decided a piece of wire on the ground was deathly scary and he bolted. Or, he would be tied to the fence, and the wind would blow something past him, and he would go into a rearing frenzy and break his reins, the post, or whatever. No kidding. The hard and fast rule with Blue was to never ever tie him with his reins. You always had a halter on him with a HEAVY lead rope, attached to a large, very heavy post. He seriously pulled down panels that weren't secured well enough for his moments of panic. AND he cost my dad a small fortune in ruined bridles and reins from his escapades before we decided he could never be trusted to remain calm while tied.

Blue's number one redeeming quality was his desire to work. That horse loved to gather cattle. He loved to rope. He loved to run after any calf that may even consider straying...

He was an absolute dream to work on. He never gave me a bit of trouble. His work ethic actually caused my broken foot. It was the first week of summer break between my freshman and sophomore year of college. We were gathering cattle off of a field to be moved down the road about a total of three or four miles, to my folks house where we would sort them according to weight, and sell them... We had taken our horses over in a stock trailer, and my Granddad Marvin was in his pickup.

My granddad was their to honk his horn and draw the cattle to him, so that we didn't have to ride all over the field and pasture they were in to round them up...When we feed cattle, we honk the horn, so they associate a horn honk with the dinner bell. It's a pretty nifty trick.

I was pushing a group slowly toward the gate, and my dad was over pushing a group. A black baldy calf decided he didn't want to go with the flow. He broke from my group, most of which were already near the gate...Blue was immediately pleased. There was nothing he loved more than a good chase. The calf cut down the field, and eventually ended up in the bottom of a terrace, out of the sight of Dad & Granddad. We had recently had rain, and the terrace bottom was muddy and slick. The calf took a quick turn away, and Blue did the same. Only he slipped. I thought we were totally going down. My right boot hit the ground, and I kicked out of my stirrups, prepared to jump to the left, so he wouldn't land on me. Unfortunately, Blue got his feet back under him, and decided to totally freak out because I was hanging off of his left side. He pinned his ears back and took off as fast as he could. I was dangling off the left side of the saddle, trying to get my boot back in the stirrup, but not being very successful...Eventually, I lost grip, and landed with my full weight on my right foot. Blue, being the loyal mount that he was, headed for the trailer....

My granddad saw him come running, riderless, and quickly drove to my dad... He knew where he'd last seen me headed, and Dad came over and found me laying in the terrace bottom, in the mud, holding my foot in the air...

"Are you okay?"

"I think I hurt my foot." I didn't feel any pain yet. I was in shock, but I just knew I didn't dare let my foot touch the ground...

"I'm going to take your boot off."

I immediately started begging him to please leave it on. It was just fine, and it wasn't hurting yet, but I was pretty sure that if he took my boot off, it was REALLY going to hurt...

Obviously, my dad ignored me. He took my boot off, drove me to the hospital, met my mom on the way (she was working at the school as a bus driver and teacher's aide) and did the 55 mile drive in about 35 minutes, including the stop. I do remember mom trying to say we didn't need to drive that fast, as I wasn't going to die from a broken foot. Dad looked at my pitiful face in the mirror and ignored her...

It turned out I had broken the arch of my foot from the impact. The doctor said that sort of break was typically seen on men when they jump off of oil rigs or something with height.

Now. Back to Sugar, the perfect kid horse. She, unlike Blue, does not like to work. She does not like adult riders. She jumps from side to side, throws her head, and is just a general pain in the behind...
I was a tad nervous to put my girls on her. I put a lead rope on her halter when we left, just in case she acted up. (She had pulled the screeching halt thing with me when I was trying to ride the vinegar out of her after gathering cattle. I darn near lost my seat, and I wasn't leaning over her twirling a lariat. You can see why I was wondering if my brother kept his seat.)

Of course, she didn't. She never gave my kids a moment of grief.

Studmuffin says I was just over her comfortable weight limit...

He likes to live dangerously.