Part XII

A few words about my earlier years. We traveled around the country a lot. I mean a LOT!

Once, we had leased a place with some land up ear Oreville, CA. I was around 12 or 13 at that time. I am not sure how it came about, but my dad made a deal with a local horse trader to pasture some of his horses while awaiting selling them. We would run anywhere from 4 or 5, up to over 30 head at various times.
An agreement was made that we could ride the horses as we wanted. The traders idea was they would be easier to sell if they were rode out. Then he approached me and offered me a dollar a day if I would ride 3 or 4 of them every day. I was in seventh-heaven. Getting to do what I loved plus getting paid for it! I did not realize until later years that the old horse trader was pretty smart, plus being pretty cheap. In those days, a man hired to ride out horses usually got around $10 per horse. I was doing 3 or 4 for $1! But it was all good. He was getting his horses rode on the cheap and I was getting paid to do nothing more than sit in a saddle for a few hours.

For awhile, we had a horse there that I will never forget. His name was Choctaw. He stood about 12 and ½ hands. Part Shetland pony, part quarter horse, he weighed probably upwards of 750 pounds. Now old Choc was not a bad pony to ride, IF you were the first one on him that day. The second rider was sure to have his hands full with that little runt.

Once, my cousin Rod was out to the ranch, visiting. Being the type that believed there was not a horse he could not ride, when I came in on Choc, he said he could still ride him, second rider or not. I cautioned him, but up he went. He was doing pretty good for awhile, though old Choc was trying his best to unseat him. He rode him down the road a distance, then turned back for home. When he did, Choc exploded, took the bit in is mouth, and headed for the barn.

Now, in that barn, we just used a 2 X 4 board across the gateway for this pony. It laid across the doorway, about 3 or 4 foot off the floor. When that pony brought my cousin into the barn, he never hesitated, but went right under that 2 X 4, rider and all. To this day, no one knows how my cousin stayed on that horse, even himself. But stay on he did. When I came running into the barn, there sat my cousin, still in the saddle. He had not had the time to get on and then remount, so somehow he rode that pony under that board.

Funny thing is, Rod never asked to ride that pony again.

Another incident about old Choctaw. When that pony started bucking, he would rare up on his back legs. More than once I had simply stepped off of him when he did this. Hanging onto the rains, I would step to one side and allow him to get back on all fours. One day, he tried tha trick and I was too slow. I slid right off his back, over the cantle, and plopped my backside on the ground. This time Choc lost his balance and plopped right back onto me.

My Mom was watching and said it looked like he was just sitting on my lap. She thought that was pretty funny. I did no. Having 750 pounds of horse sitting in your lap is not funny. Fortunately, he fell to one side instead of coming on over onto his back, which would have not been a comfortable happening.

As he fell to his side, I was able to step back into the saddle and by the time he was back on his feet, I was back in control. As much control as anyone could be with him.

After selling him, and then taking him back several times, that trader finally got rid of Choctaw. I felt sorry for who ever bought him, especially if it was for kids. He was just too much horse for inexperienced children.

Another horse we were boarding at that time was a tall, brown colored thoroughbred mare named Bonnie Doone. She had been raced for a few years, but was too slow to earn any money so she was sold off as a saddle horse.

Riding Bonnie was not too bad, though she had a very hard trot. Her biggest drawback was if you were in a lope and another horse tried to pass, she would really take off. However, if you started out back in the pack, she would act OK. She just did not like to be passed when running.

One day, I learned just how good of a rider my old man really was. Of course he had been raised on a horse, out in Oklahoma. Anyway, he was out excersing Bonnie Doone one day. I think the trader had called and wanted to show her, so, as we did whenever he did this, we would ride the horse he was going to show for awhile to “settle” them down a bit. Well, Dad was walking Bonnie along the fence between our place and the neighbors. The neighbor was out doing something and waved at Dad. Without thinking who he was riding, Dad threw up his hand in a friendly greeting.

Boom! Like a shot, ol’ Bonnie Doone was off to the races. I watched in horror as they approached a fence at a full, flat-out run. Up and over they went, hitting the other side in a cloud of dust. I guess about this time Dad decided to sit back and enjoy the ride. As they crossed the middle pasture, I could see Dad put the spurs to that old horse, and flag her with his hat, swatting her on the rump. Upon arriving at another fence, Dad really swatted her more with his hat, and up and over that fence they flew, like that pony had wings.

This put them out on the dirt road that was our driveway. Turning away from the house, dad continued to keep that mare running. He ran her about 2 or 3 miles before allowing her to slow down, then turned her back toward home.

By the time they got to the barn, that mare looked black and white from all the sweat. I unsaddled her, and walked her out for awhile. After she dried out, I rubbed her down and re-saddled her. When that trader got there with a customer, old Bonnie done was as gentle as lamb. The customer got up on her, trotted her around the yard a bit, and bought her on the spot.

I learned two things that day. One, my dad was one hell of a rider, and, two, never buy a horse that is already saddled.