Chapter 13

Chapter 13
The next time I took Winnie out for a ride, I decided to find out just what it would take to tire this horse. I rode out onto the mesa, where there was nothing but sand and sagebrush. Not exactly a kind riding path but it certainly would be a good place to help Winnie blow off some steam.

A ‘mesa’ (a Spanish term) is the common language of the area, describing a flat plain area. With miles of open range in front of us, I tied the ends of the reigns together. Then I lifted up the knotted end, where Winnie could see and said, “See this?” then dropped the reigns over the saddle horn.

I didn’t have to prompt her. She was off to the imagined races. I was in for one rough ride. Even at a dead run, she dodged back and forth around the bigger bushes and jumped the smaller ones. It seemed more like a game for her. I just hung on, waiting for her to be winded and come to a stop. It didn’t happen.

I kept thinking, “She’s bound to get tired and slow down”. After several minutes of having my brains pounded, I suddenly got a strange feeling and grabbed the reigns. I began pulling down. Just pulling back, never accomplished a darn thing, with that horse. I had to pull her head down, hoping to make it too hard for her to see where she was going. It wasn’t working.

You would think that using a hackamore and literally blocking off her wind would get her attention. It wasn’t going to happen with this horse. She could keep running even without the wind. It was the rider, who eventually gave up on that idea, fearing what it would do to her.

Call it instinct, I don’t know, but something told me there was danger ahead. I didn’t see anything but I sure felt it. In desperation, I lifted my leg and Winnie came to a stop. About 8 feet ahead, there was a 4 foot drop off into an arroyo. “Well, rats!” Where on earth, could I go and let this horse loose to run until she was tired? “Winnie, baby, I’m trying.”

I knew, instinctively, this horse should have been trained. She should have been living out her own dreams of running and running. That’s all she was born to do.

Through the quarter-horse appearance, and the colors of a paint, I could see her grandfather. She was racing blood, through and through. Here she was, some girl’s pet and worse, a neglected pet. I spent hours just sitting on a fence, admiring this thing of beauty that no one seemed to care about. What a waste. What a waste.

The world would never know of this seed of Man O War. They would never have the chance to see this horse run. That alone, was the pleasure of a lifetime.

I also spent time, letting the two horses out into the small pasture, just to watch them romp and play. Seeing them together was better than television, any day.

Starlight seemed to be protective of his little ‘sis’ who was twice his size. He too, would kick up his heels just to spur her into a frenzy of bucking and running. If only I had had the foreknowledge to get a picture of her, while I still could. There is only one picture of me sitting on Starlight. That’s it.

While I sat on the fence, watching, it was as if Winnie were a child, showing off for me. She would run and then suddenly stop, twist around and buck. She tossed her head and pranced around. I would clap my hands, in approval, which just sent her off again.

I swear she was the smartest horse that ever lived. That coming from a 14-year-old’s point of view. I could say, “You wanna go for a ride?” and she was right there waiting for me to open the gate. If she was ready for a ride and I said, “Not today” she pulled her head up, in seemingly disbelief, and began backing up, to show her disapproval.