My Life and Horses - Part 2

Well, sorry about the delay for Part 2…are you ready for the second half of my horse history? ☺

Where was I? Ah, yes, the end of the KC era. I didn’t think about my beloved Paso Fino much after my last year of horse camp. But I was looking online at horses almost everyday, and it wasn’t long until another horse captured my heart. Remember the man who let me ride his draft, Rosie? I had been neglecting her lately, so I headed over to give her some exercise. Surprise, surprise, there were two horses in a barn stall. They were like twins, both huge, black, and beautiful, with intelligent eyes and alert faces. The main difference was that one, who was a bit bigger-boned than the other, had a tiny white spot on her forehead. I found out from my farmer friend that they weren’t his – his friend was boarding them there while he waited for a buyer. (A buyer!) The horses were still young and wary of people, and they were half Percheron and half Morgan. My friend said that they would probably turn dapple gray as they grew older. I named the one with the white spot Firefly and the smaller one Kizmet, which was a misspelling of the word “kismet”, meaning “destiny.” I found that out, but decided I liked spelling it with a “z” better. I’m afraid while I rode Rosie that evening, I paid more attention to the two black shadows hanging over the fence than I did the red roan Belgian under me.

By the way, I was extremely proud of Rosie, especially when cars slowed to watch me. Once, I was riding in my farmer friend’s hay field when a car stopped and a man told me how pretty my horse was. Smiling, I told him she wasn’t my horse, but tried to look as professional as possible on Rosie’s back as the man spoke to his little daughter and they both watched me for a while before driving on.

Anyway, I decided that I was more partial to Kizmet than Firefly; she was more responsive to me and I loved how she kept her big eyes on me whenever I was near. I told my mom about her and suggested that maybe my farmer friend would even let me help train her. Then one day I went to his barn and the two black drafts were gone. I went home and cried. Yeah, I know – cried – again. When it comes to horses, I’m pretty prone to tears. Again, my parents had to deal with my heartbreak. But like it always did, the rain blew over eventually.

Some time after this, I began riding with my friend at a new stable. We were wary of it at first, being so loyal to our old horse camp, but after a month or so, we were settling in just fine and knew all the horses – which ones you wanted, and which ones you didn’t. Which ones to watch out for in the arena, which ones were slow, and which ones were fast. I began learning more and better details about riding.

And of course, I was continuing my searches online. Not only that, but I had begun to pray for a horse. Sometimes I even prayed out loud when we had our family devotions in the evening. At some point, I began to feel discomfort with my online searches. Something inside told me I should stop looking on the world wide web. I resented the idea – how in the world was I supposed to get a horse by just waiting? But God kept telling me, and I finally obeyed. Horsetopia and Horseville disappeared from the “Most Popular” tab on my browser. I kept on riding at my new stable, every Thursday – even when it got cold and I had to wear three or four layers of clothes.

I know I mentioned in Part 1 that I was collecting horse magazines, but I forgot to say who they were from. The neighbors who lived behind us had two backyard horses whom they didn’t ride, but loved just the same. First, it was Chief and Rocky, but Rocky colicked and had to be put down. I was actually there when he was led to the vet’s trailer and it was heartbreaking. The lady got a plethora of horse magazines every month and she’d leave them in the barn for me and a friend of mine. ☹ After Rocky died, the neighbors got Goldie, a high-strung purebred Arabian mare. They had her for a long time, until the winter of 2008, when I was riding at my new stable.

There hadn’t been any magazines for a long time, but I thought I’d go check anyway. My dad said he had heard a disturbance over at the barn the night before, so I’d check that as well. When I got to their yard, I saw a huge tarp lying on the ground, and I walked around it to see Goldie and Chief. Chief greeted me in the barn – there were no magazines. And no Goldie. I walked hesitantly around, trying to find her, until my search brought me back to that tarp in front of the sliding metal door. I tiptoed around it, wondering what I should do. Finally, I crouched down in the snow and lifted a teeny weeny corner of the tarp. Underneath, I saw two pairs of horse hooves. I dropped the tarp and swallowed. Goldie! Now I saw a bit of her tail sticking out as well. Sorrowfully, I turned and bolted for home.

My dad and I went to sympathize with the Mr. of the house. It was only a few days before Christmas, and we found out that his wife was in the hospital, so he was alone. He casually brought up the idea that if we wanted to get a horse, we could board with him for cheap. The company would be good for Chief, and the money would help him fill in the gap of his wife’s non-working state. We decided to think about it.

My mom liked the idea, and so did my dad. My mom thought that because of my new riding stable, I now had more of the ability needed to control a horse. I was incredibly happy, but not in a loud way. That’s what’s funny. In the movies, when girls find out they’re getting their dream horse, they shriek and hug everyone within reach. Me? I just get a grin on my face which I try to control and say, “Wow. Thanks.” Not that extreme. Of course, I didn’t have a horse in mind yet; my mom said she’d ask our neighbor to ask their veterinarian.

Soon, our neighbor gave us a scrap of paper with a name and a phone number on it and told us to call the number. “She’s got a horse for sale.” Shaking, I dialed the number that night. (Which tells you a lot – I hate calling people on the phone.) I had to leave a message though – all that courage for nothing! I think it was the next day the girl called back. I asked her all sorts of questions about her mare and tried to scribble it all down with my left hand. I was so excited that I had taken the phone in my right hand, leaving me in a pretty mess for taking notes. The horse was a palomino paint, she didn’t spook, she could ride Western, English, Bareback, or Roman – which is riding standing up, I think. Everything sounded great! Then came the clincher.

“And how much did you want for her?”

“Well, she’s a great horse. I’d let you have her for $50,000.”

I think my mouth dropped open. With some difficulty in composing myself, I said, “Well, let me think. Um, I think that might be a little above our price range. But I hope you get a good buyer – she sounds great.” We hung up and I brought my notes – especially the last one – to my dad. I wasn’t too disappointed. After all, this horse was a mare, and I wanted a gelding. I was confident another would come along.

Which it did.
April 5, 2010