by Connie Foss
Chapter 11
Visitors
Soon winter changes to spring and spring to summer.Bill and Meg take Julie and me to the Arabian shows, and we have a good time. Julie’s getting comfortable under saddle and winning ribbons quite regularly in Western Pleasure classes. Bill and I get a blue ribbon sometimes in a Half-Arab halter class, but I’m never given a chance under saddle for there aren’t any Half-Arabian jumping classes. It kind of takes the fun out of it.
The next winter, my jumping partner is Meg. She took lessons
own arena, with some borrowed jumps from Gretchen. It was fun going to Gretchen’s for lessons, but being able to jump at home is even better.
feed us, she’s crying. “Bubba,” she says, as she buries her face in my mane,“We’re going to have to let you go.”
Between sobs, she tells me that Bill has been called back to active service with the Air Force. He’s already gone. She wants me to understand, so she explains, “I can’t handle the farm without my husband here, and there won’t be enough money coming in to hire
going along so well, and you two are giving our farm a name again.” She
and Julie. Right now I can’t even imagine life without you. I love you, Bubba!” and I know she does.
But what’s going to happen to Julie and me? What are we going to do if we don’t have a home?
Collapsing in the sawdust in my stall Meg dissolves into tears. That’s hard, seeing her cry.All I can do is rest my chin on her shoulder and wiggle my lips against her cheek. I’m sure it tickles, so I keep nuzzling her, breathing warm air on her neck, until she laughs and gives me a kiss.
That spring was the beginning of tough times.We no longer have a normal routine of work followed by play in the pasture. Sometimes after breakfast, Meg gives each of us a little exercise on the long line and then a good grooming, before putting us back in our stalls.Then later in the day someone might come to look at Julie or me. After Meg stands us up in the arena, she saddles us and lets the visitor ride. After the visitor leaves, if there’s still some daylight Meg lets us have a little time in the pasture.
Meg is really down. She goes through the motions of living but there’s no spark, no joy. Julie and I try to cheer her up, but we have no
around the corners of the stall, his little cord of a tail dragging, hardly having the energy to even say hi.
Often the people who come to ride are not good in the saddle. Some pull on the reins, yanking, even using the reins to help them balance in the saddle. Because of the gentle way Gretchen and Meg ride, our mouths are soft. Now, having the reins yanked means our mouths are often sore from the bit cutting in.
Today is a rainy day, and we are dozing in our stalls when a mother and her teenage daughter follow Meg into the stable. The mother seems very stiff and haughty, but the blonde daughter is bouncy and excited.
“This is our Bubba, a great boy. I’ll put a halter on him and bring him out for you.”
As I’m already well groomed, Meg puts my show halter on and stands me up in the arena, as though we’re showing to a judge. The
After just a few seconds, the mother has made up her mind and in a crisp, commanding voice says, “No, he won’t do at all! He is way
crowning jewel on a stylish, elegant horse. No, he will not do at all!” “But, Mom, I like him! He’s so big! Please let me ride him.
Doesn’t what I want matter at all?” Oops, sounds like this family has
some problems brewing. I have a bad feeling about the mother, but the
girl might be fun.
“Of course, what you think matters, Darling, but Mommy knows
best,” the mother says in a syrupy voice. Then her voice regains its
crispness when she says, “Now, Meg, show us that other horse you
mentioned.A mare, right?”
Oh, well, I think, as Meg leads me back to my stall, I wouldn’t
thank you.
As Julie stands up at halter, I hear happier sounds coming from
saddles her.
saddle. “I like her, Mom. I think we’ll make a good pair in the Western
Pleasure classes, and she’ll be perfect for trail rides. Will you buy her,
Mother, please?”
“Well, I’m disappointed! She doesn’t have any snap in her legs.
Granted, she is pretty and sweet, and you do look good on her. But I see
native costume as you race around the show ring on a victory lap. I’ll need to think about this.’
As she ushers her daughter out the door, she says over her shoulder, “I’ll call you with my decision, Meg.”
It’s a disappointed and frustrated Meg who turns us out into the rainy pasture.As she opens the gate, she says,“That is one lady I would
impress her, Bubba.”
Chapter 12
Sadness and New Beginnings
Today is a beautiful sunny day, and Julie and I have had a good play in the pasture before Meg cleans us up and leaves us in our stalls. It’s been several weeks since the mother and daughter were here, but just as Meg is bringing us our supper, a fancy truck pulling a horse trailer
hops out of the truck and races to Julie’s stall.
brings Julie out of the stall, I realize what is about to happen. A horse trailer means only one thing: A horse is going somewhere. It isn’t our trailer and we don’t have a show scheduled. Oh, no! Julie is leaving me!
I begin to dance around in my stall, neighing to Julie, “Please don’t leave me, Julie. I need you!”
“I love you, Bubba, and I will think about you everyday. Be good,” and with that, Julie walks out of my life, and my joy leaves me, just like that.
Meg and I mope around the stable for several more weeks
four years of my life.Will I ever be happy again?
Meg is crying as she hands my lead to the man who’s driving the truck that just pulled up in our drive. She gives me a big hug, and I nuzzle
“Please don’t make me go, Meg,” I nicker, “but if I have to, know that I love you.”
As I step up into the trailer, I see three other horses already there in stalls.This should have been a scary moment for me, but instead, though I’m sad to leave Meg, I’m excited for it will give me something other horses and doing something, anything, seems good.
We aren’t in the trailer long, but during that short ride I learn a bit about the other horses.They, too, are leaving their homes and are
while Bart is older but from the same farm.They’re tall like I am, but a lot heavier.At least with these guys, I won’t be teased because I’m big.
Pete wants to talk. “What’s your name, Bub? You look kind a thin. Hope they have good alfalfa hay where we’re goin’,‘cause you need a bundle of it.”
“Actually, you’re not far off about my name. My name’s Bubba.
How’d you guys get so much muscle? Do you do a lot of jumping?” “Jumping? What’s that?” This was Doug joining in, but Bart didn’t
wait for Bubba to answer. He must be a take-charge kind of horse, so
he explains jumping to Pete and Doug.
“As for our muscle, which you certainly are short of, we got that
working. How else? From the looks of you, you must not have done any
of that.” I can tell by the way Bart talks that here’s a horse I want to
stay clear of.
Before the trailer stops moving, I know that of the three horses
where that’s going to happen.
Chapter 13
Becoming a Carriage Horse
The older man who unloads me from the trailer has a soft, soothing voice. When he puts me in a stall, his hands are just like his voice. I like him already. I’m not that fond of the stall, though. It isn’t clean with fresh sawdust, like at home.
around. There isn’t any indoor arena, but there are a lot of horses in stalls. I don’t have my own paddock, either. In fact, I can’t see any paddocks or pastures.What seems the worst, t
hough, is there are few windows and no skylights.That makes the inside of the stable dark and drab, plus it smells awful.
The hay is okay and the grain is good, though nothing tastes like home, not even the water. Rob, the man who unloaded us, takes care of me, and just having him around makes it all okay. I miss Julie and Tom,
next to Pete and have a good night’s sleep.
Rob’s greeting is a wonderful way to lift the fog of homesickness.With a pat on my nose, he dumps my grain ration in the feed bucket and goes about his chores. After all the horses are fed their grain he throws a couple of slices of alfalfa into each stall.
The stable hand is a young, pimply-faced, foul-mouthed kid named Fred who is very grumpy.The poor job he does shouts loud and clear that he is not a happy camper.When he brings his pitchfork and tub into my stall to remove some of the manure, I stay out of his way.
There’s a lot of activity in the barn after chores are done. As I watch, I begin to see what this stable is all about…or at least what it’s not. It’s not a show stable. Horses are not being long lined or even groomed much.What is happening is that Rob is putting a lot of tack on two of the horses. Funny…there are no saddles. There are headstalls and bits, plus a lot of long lines, kind of like Meg uses, and some other straps…a whole lot of other straps. Some of the straps go under the tail head…yuck…and some under the belly. The weirdest things are what Rob’s calling blinders.They stick out next to the horses’ eyes.The name really says it all, for how in the world can a guy see if those are in the way?
The two horses that are being tacked in this strange way are big, massive horses. They have white stockings like I do, but their manes are white, too. The rest of their bodies are kind of orange, instead of chocolate.After Rob has them tacked up, he drives them out the door.
stall is close to the door, so he’s telling us what’s going on. I can hear Rob saying, “Back. Whoa,” as Bart says the horses are being hitched to a carriage. Bart thinks they probably will be downtown pulling the carriage with people in it. Imagine pulling a carriage!
When another man comes to be the driver, Rob comes in and starts getting two more horses tacked up in the same way.After they’re hitched to the other carriage, another driver drives it away.
When the two carriages are gone, Rob comes back in and, giving a heavy sigh, wipes his face with a dirty red bandana and sits down on a bale of hay to rest.As he sits there, he talks to us, explaining that the stable has two carriages that cover a regular route each day, seven days a week.They give tourists rides to view the historic sections of the city. The reason the stable has us is to train us to pull the carriages, too. Then no horse will have to work two days in a row.
“Bart and Doug, you already know how to pull a cart, so you won’t have any trouble pulling a carriage.The carriages aren’t very big. In fact, they can only carry four people, plus the driver. Pete, you and Bubba are a different ball of wax. Bubba, you’ve been under saddle but never been hitched to anything, right? Pete, you’re just three and have never worn a saddle.The bottom line is you two have some learning to do.
“Well, there’s no time like the present,” Rob says, as he pushes himself up off the hay bale.“Bubba, as soon as I turn Doug and Bart into the lot, we’ll begin teaching you to be a carriage horse.”
I’m not too sure I like the sounds of that. I want to jump, not have a bunch of wheels chasing me. But no one asks me what I want.
Rob halters and leads the two horses out.Then he comes to the aisle in front of my stall, lugging a whole heap of tack. I’ve been pacing back and forth in my stall, whinnying at Bart and Doug, but I stop to check out the tack. It looks like the same stuff the four carriage horses wore. Before he does anything else, Rob ties me up in my stall and gives me a good brushing. Feels mighty good. Fun over, he begins with all of those straps.As he puts them on me and adjusts them so they aren’t all that uncomfortable, he talks gently to me, telling me how fancy I am.You have no idea how good that is to hear! Being in a strange place, missing Meg and Julie and home, I soak up Rob’s attention.
Though the tack feels a lot different than a saddle, I don’t mind
strap under my tail, isn’t too bad. I wiggle around a bit, then give a big shake until it’s a bit more comfortable.
Rob’s about through when he takes a step back, looks at me and says,“ I know you’ve never worn a checkrein and you seem to hold your head up really well, so I think I won’t put one on you.”
Of course I’ll keep my head up. I want to see the world and what’s going on! It must be that a checkrein holds your head up for you, but I can do that myself.
Unfortunately, I had forgotten about the blinders. When Rob
own. I feel shut in! I want to race out of there. I guess I’m kind of going berserk because I do not like blinders! No way am I going to wear them! I shake my head, throw it back and forth, even rub the blinders against the wall.
Rob gets the message.“Okay, Bubba, we’ll do the same thing with the blinders we’re doing with the check rein: If you behave and don’t startle at things, we’ll forget the blinders. But if you rear or misbehave because of a piece of paper blowing by you, or anything like that, those blinders will be back on and stay on!”
too.We each can be tough when we have to be. Good to know where we stand with each other.
After I’m tacked up, Rob opens the stall door and we head outdoors onto the drive. Once outside, Rob walks behind me, just as that. As we walk around, I begin to relax and realize life still can be good.The air is fresh, Rob is nice, and I have something to do. How can I complain?
We practice stopping and starting and even trotting some.The trotting doesn’t last long, though, for Rob can’t keep up.
in my stall and Rob takes it all off, then rubs me with a towel. Oh, good, now it’s my turn to be turned out with the other horses in a small yard behind the barn, and Pete’s turn to learn to wear the tack.
The sun warms my back and the breeze feels good where I’m kind of sweaty.This yard or pen or whatever they call it is really small but better than a stall. I try to avoid Bart and Doug, but if I turn wrong I get a hoof in my belly and that hurts.
After a while I realize this is no good, and I begin to think what to do about it. Clear as crystal, as though I am hearing Meg say it for the
wonderful I am and she says,“ Bubba, you are the most amazing horse. You can do anything you want to do.” I know what I want to do.
Without a thought about the risk I’m taking or the trouble I might get into, I turn and with a mighty push from my hind legs, I clear the fence and take off down the street.
Hey, this jumping thing I do is not only fun, but handy!
Now, what do I do? “Julie, where are you? I’m coming wherever you are,” I whinny.
I trot down the street, which seems to be in a rather rundown part of the city. There are a lot of old cars and bumpers and fenders in the lot next to the stable. Then across the street is a little cottage with peeling yellow paint.An old man is sitting in a rocking chair on the porch. He’s looking right at me, shaking his cane and hollering,“Go, old nag! Run for your life. Don’t let those creeps keep you shut up.We guys
he’s a friend.
Suddenly a horn honks behind me, scaring me, and then a red
There’s a cocky kid driving the car. He’s got a big smirk on his face, partly covered by a grimy baseball cap pulled down low, a cigarette drooping out of his mouth, wagging up and down as he shouts. He looks like the kind of kid that’s always in trouble. I don’t like his looks, but a race might be fun. I pump my legs into high gear, and down the street we go.
Fortunately, the street is on the edge of the city, and the city
I lower my head and tighten muscles I haven’t had a chance to use lately. It feels good, my mane and tail streaming in the wind, a cloud of
dust behind me. It is all so great that I could care less about the truck,
corn across the road, but on my side there is a p
asture. And, would you believe, there are horses grazing, chomping away just like Julie and I used to do at home.
A bit of green grass tickling my tummy would be good. With a hop, I clear the fence, say hello to a chestnut gelding and a gray mare, who lift their heads in surprise to see a strange horse in their midst, and I start enjoying a little reminder of my home at Meg’s.
As I graze in the warm sun, the occasional gentle touch of breeze reminding me that life is good, I begin to wonder how Pete is getting
the stable actually is, and with a nicker of goodbye, I’m over the fence, down the road, back over the fence, and into the lot with Bart and Doug. Soon Pete is turned out with us, and we chat about our morning.
man on the porch, always waves, and I look forward to seeing him rocking away in his rocking chair. One morning when I’m trotting by, on the way back to see Pete, he comes toddling out to the street.“Hey, you old nag, how about a nice juicy apple,” and in his shaking, wrinkled hand there is an equally wrinkled apple. I wrap my lips around it and, though there’s no juice to drip out of my mouth, it is the best apple I’ve had for weeks.
straps, we practice every day. I guess it isn’t any worse than wearing a saddle…just different. Some days, after we practice, Rob doesn’t take the tack off but leaves us standing in our stalls for hours. Rob’s always so good to us, so I feel pretty sure he hasn’t forgotten us. He probably wants us to learn to relax even when we’re still in harness.
Chapter 14
Julie Settles In But Gets a Tummy Ache
okay.
spends most of every morning with her doing all kinds of things and going all kinds of places.
The usual routine is breakfast followed by grooming. The
Julie is hers, and no one is going to push in on that!
When Julie is clean and shiny, it’s time to saddle up and head out.
“Today we’re going over to Jeff’s house, Julie. He and Silver want to go riding with us. Should be fun. I guess you’ve never met Jeff and Silver.You’ll like them.”
Jeff lives on a nearby acreage off a connecting gravel road.When
