Prologue 4 ~ Page 14
Not far behind came Big-Enough, a good-looking black. I had plunked down $40 a few years before for what had been an undernourished, unwanted, mistreated colt. Half of that amount was to pay for an outstanding vet bill, the rest, because I felt sorry for this bag of bones. Well, just as in a story written for a ten year-old girl, we went away to Alaska, leaving the horses in good pasture, and upon return, wondered what had happened to our runt. We couldn't believe that the handsome horse we found was the same, and that he had filled out to be "big enough" to ride.
I like to think that Big never forgot our caring, for in return he was the kindest horse I have ever known. Not long before leaving I was offered a paltry $400 for him. Instead we wrapped a ribbon about him for Bernadette's birthday.
That was our herd. Bernice met me with the news that red tape and quarantines made it impossible to think of buying horses across the border. And, she added that the going price for horseflesh locally was not less than $300.
Tit for tat, I told her about the truck. Looking back, I think we learned a very valuable lesson while at Hauser Creek Canyon— something that enabled us to finish our trip. When a problem must be solved, the only way to cope is to consider the best possible solutions, and give them a try. Take one foot forward at a time, rather than becoming overwhelmed by miles of worry.
My first step was to ride up to the country store at the crossroads for a Sunday newspaper with classified horse ads. The wind was blowing up black clouds as I slacked off of a tight rein, and Daisy fairly covered the ground. Soon rain drops appeared as splotches in the deep dust, and I shook out my slicker. This is a long-tailed yellow, rubber rain coat built to fit over a saddle, and called a "fish" by old-time cowhands. I had started off in a mood as black as the clouds. But now, I felt some of the excitement of being a saddle tramp, without home or hearth, and only a horse for transportation.
Passing a hard scramble ranch I heard a shout. Pulling Daisy to a stop, I watched a Mexican-American boy leap onto a bareback pony, and come at a run across an open field to meet me. His first words, without knowing who I was, or what I planned on doing, were, "Hey, you want to buy a horse?"
"Possibly," I casually replied, and went to take a look. Surprise! The horse was a tough looking, long-legged, gray roan that had all the makings.
"How much?"
"Only $100, Senor."
I like to think that Big never forgot our caring, for in return he was the kindest horse I have ever known. Not long before leaving I was offered a paltry $400 for him. Instead we wrapped a ribbon about him for Bernadette's birthday.
That was our herd. Bernice met me with the news that red tape and quarantines made it impossible to think of buying horses across the border. And, she added that the going price for horseflesh locally was not less than $300.
Tit for tat, I told her about the truck. Looking back, I think we learned a very valuable lesson while at Hauser Creek Canyon— something that enabled us to finish our trip. When a problem must be solved, the only way to cope is to consider the best possible solutions, and give them a try. Take one foot forward at a time, rather than becoming overwhelmed by miles of worry.My first step was to ride up to the country store at the crossroads for a Sunday newspaper with classified horse ads. The wind was blowing up black clouds as I slacked off of a tight rein, and Daisy fairly covered the ground. Soon rain drops appeared as splotches in the deep dust, and I shook out my slicker. This is a long-tailed yellow, rubber rain coat built to fit over a saddle, and called a "fish" by old-time cowhands. I had started off in a mood as black as the clouds. But now, I felt some of the excitement of being a saddle tramp, without home or hearth, and only a horse for transportation.
Passing a hard scramble ranch I heard a shout. Pulling Daisy to a stop, I watched a Mexican-American boy leap onto a bareback pony, and come at a run across an open field to meet me. His first words, without knowing who I was, or what I planned on doing, were, "Hey, you want to buy a horse?"
"Possibly," I casually replied, and went to take a look. Surprise! The horse was a tough looking, long-legged, gray roan that had all the makings.
"How much?"
"Only $100, Senor."
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Text and Photographs © Barry Murray 1971-2007 Mac&Murray Multimedia