HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON
Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture quotations are taken from The Holy Bible, New International Version® NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.
Verses marked MSG are taken from The Message. Copyright © by Eugene H. Peterson 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002. Used by permission of NavPress Publishing Group.
Verses marked KJV are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
Verses marked NLT are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2007 by Tyndale House Foundation, Inc. Carol Stream, IL 60188. All rights reserved.
Verses marked CEV are taken from the Contemporary English Version © 1991, 1992, 1995 by American Bible Society. Used with permission.
Italics in Scripture quotations indicate the author’s emphasis.
Harvest House Publishers has made every effort to trace the ownership of all poems and quotes. In the event of a question arising from the use of a poem or quote, we regret any error made and will be pleased to make the necessary correction in future editions of this book.
All the incidents described in this book are true. Where individuals may be identifiable, they have granted the author and the publisher the right to use their names, stories, photographs, and facts of their lives. In all other cases, names, circumstances, descriptions, and details have been changed to render individuals unidentifiable.
Photos of people and animals used by permission. All rights reserved.
Back cover author photo and photos of Rebecca and her animals by Deborah K. Hamilton, Hamilton, Montana. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
Cover photo © kislovas / Shutterstock
Cover design by Left Coast Design, Portland, Oregon
Published in association with Books & Such Literary Agency, 52 Mission Circle, Suite 122, PMB 170, Santa Rosa, CA 95409-5370, www.booksandsuch.biz.
GREAT HORSE STORIES
Copyright © 2014 by Blazing Ink, Inc.
Published by Harvest House Publishers
Eugene, Oregon 97402
www.harvesthousepublishers.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Ondov, Rebecca E., 1958–
Great horse stories / Rebecca E. Ondov.
pages cm
ISBN 978-0-7369-5642-0 (pbk.)
ISBN 978-0-7369-5643-7 (eBook)
1. Horsemen and horsewoman—United States—Religious life—Anecdotes. 2. Horses—United States—Anecdotes. 3. Human-animal relationships—Religious aspects—Anecdotes. I. Title.
BV4596.A54O523 2014
242'.68—dc23
2013028709
All rights reserved. No part of this electronic publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The authorized purchaser has been granted a nontransferable, nonexclusive, and noncommercial right to access and view this electronic publication, and purchaser agrees to do so only in accordance with the terms of use under which it was purchased or transmitted. Participation in or encouragement of piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of author’s and publisher’s rights is strictly prohibited.
Dedication
To the men and women who are serving and have served in the armed forces of the United States of America…and to their families.
Thank you for paying the price for our freedom.
Acknowledgments
To God. You’re my best friend and my wise Counselor. Thank You for always being here for me.
To my prayer team. May God bless you for the hours you’ve encouraged me and prayed for me and this book. Thank you.
To those whose stories this book contains. I’m humbled that you trusted me to write your adventures. May you be blessed abundantly for sharing your hearts.
To Harvest House Publishers. I’m honored to be part of your family.
To Barbara Gordon. My bling sister. You’re a tremendous editor, fun to hang out with, and a super friend. I’m looking forward to sharing more adventures with you!
To Tom Fox. As my daytime boss, thanks for “not noticing” my bloodshot eyes while I wrote this book and for your encouraging words. I appreciate you.
To Janet Kobobel Grant. You’re an amazing lady, an incredible businesswoman, and a great literary agent. I thank God for you.
To my lumber customers and sawmill reps. Thank you for cheering me on. I cherish our friendships.
To all the horses, mules, dogs, and cats who have been my faithful companions. I thank God for creating you and putting you in my life.
Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgments
A Note from Rebecca
Meet Rebecca’s Critters
1. The Clipper
2. The Mistake—Heaven Made
3. Night Ride
4. Missing
5. All Wet
6. Impossible Prayer
7. A Good Rope for Rough Country
8. Be Still
9. Studly
10. Unlikely Prospect
11. The Train!
12. Saddle Blanket
13. Scared to Death
14. Callie’s Challenge
15. Blackie
16. Hardtack
17. Fingerprints of God
18. A Blessing that Snowballed
19. Going Home
20. The Nanny
21. Blending In
22. A Dream Gone Awry
23. Boon and the Birds
24. The Flood!
25. Dazzle
26. Forging Ahead
27. Short Legs
28. Dee Girl
29. Sweat Equity
30. Double Trouble
31. Sticky Feet
32. Against All Odds
33. The Misfit
34. Gentle Hearts
35. Snickers
36. The Ol’ Plug Named Tornado
37. Unity
38. The Soldier
39. The Castaway
40. The Biggest Blessing
41. Pretty Terrific Jet
42. The Whistle
43. Seeing with the Heart
44. The Love Meter
45. The Battle of the Cinch
46. The Great Escape
47. The Auction
48. Time to Hit the Trail
About the Author
A NOTE FROM REBECCA
Horses! When I see these majestic creatures, they take my breath away. Their influence has changed the core of my being. They’ve taught me tidbits of wisdom on how to live a happy and successful life and the importance of cultivating a sense of humor. For a long time I thought I was the only one who felt this way, but I’ve discovered that’s far from true. In these pages you’ll meet incredible horses, along with a few other critters, and the people whose lives have been transformed by them. I pray these stories will encourage you to get to know Jesus Christ, help you live for Him, and empower you to reach out to others in His name.
May your life be richly blessed by God as we saddle up and ride,
MEET REBECCA’S CRITTERS
• Dazzle •
Dazzle is a beautiful Tennessee walker mare. One day when I’d traveled to a neighboring town to buy knobs for my kitchen cupboards, I happened to pick up a paper and saw an ad about her. I came home with a horse instead of knobs! Although she’s bossy and keeps everyone in line, like a herd mare is supposed to, she’s also kind and keeps me laughing with her sense of humor.
• SkySong •<
br />
SkySong is my mainstay saddle mount. He’s a tough, mountain-bred horse with a tender heart. I crafted his name especially for him. I love to pray when I ride, and prayer is a song in the sky to God—voila!—SkySong.
• Little Girl •
I bottle-fed Little Girl, my brown mule, because her jaw was broken when she was two days old. She was never supposed to live to be three days old—but I prayed and God answered. Now she’s over 30 years old and enjoying retirement.
• Wind Dancer •
I planned Wind Dancer, my sorrel mule, from conception and talked with her while she was still in her mother’s womb. I was thrilled when she was born, and she instantly knew who I was when she heard my voice. Currently she’s my training project and an up-and-coming saddle mule.
• Sunrise •
Sunrise wriggled her way into my heart as a puppy. My fun-loving golden retriever loves romping behind me when I feed the horses and mules and trotting beside me when I ride the trail. She’s so smart she taught SkySong to scratch her belly. Her boundless energy adds a zest to my days; and her soft fur makes a great foot warmer on winter evenings.
1
THE CLIPPER
Friendship
A light, spring breeze whispered past me, carrying the cool scent of snow down from the Rocky Mountain peaks that rimmed the Bitterroot Valley. I stretched the yellow extension cord across the winter-browned grass to the corral. My three horses and two mules were lined up at the gate begging for attention. They nipped at each other, trying to shoo each other away so the “top critter” could hog all the attention. My senior mule and my ancient horse sauntered to the other side of the corral to get out of the action. This day was “beauty parlor day.” The mules would get their manes roached, and the horses would get their bridle paths clipped.
I picked up the large electric clipper to plug it in and noticed that SkySong, my dapple-gray horse, glanced at it and then walked away. I shook my head. I’d only owned him a few months. He’d been green broke when I bought him as a four year old. I’d wanted a horse whose bones and joints were fully formed before I asked him to scale tough mountain trails. And I wanted a horse that I trained. SkySong was perfect. Well, almost. Because his training started so late in life, he tended to be a bit snorty about some things. The electric clipper was one of them.
I pulled the halter off the wooden fence rail and walked across the corral toward him. He stopped and faced me. I slid the halter over his nose. Pushing his thick black mane aside, I buckled the halter behind his ears. “We’re going to get you trimmed up.”
Suspiciously his gaze darted to the side so he could watch me as I chattered. His feet clopped on the hard-packed dirt behind me as I walked to the gate. When I picked up the clipper, which I’d set on top of a tall, green trash can, SkySong threw up his head, his eyes focused on the dreaded equipment. The white whiskers on his muzzle stood straight out like porcupine quills.
I chuckled. “You silly boy. The clipper isn’t even turned on. It can’t hurt you.”
SkySong wasn’t impressed with my reassurance. When I held it out for him to smell, he clamped his nostrils shut and squinted his eyes.
I pulled the clipper away, and SkySong lowered his head and puckered his lips. I shifted my weight uneasily. Lord, how is he ever going to get over this attitude?
Reaching the clipper toward him again, I felt a nudge on my back. I turned. My black Tennessee walker had bumped my arm. “Dazzle, what do you want?”
She leaned her shoulder into me and arched her neck, as if asking me to clip her mane.
I patted her soft coat and laughed. “Okay, just a swipe for now.” I clicked on the clipper. When it buzzed to life, SkySong threw his head up and snorted. Placing the clipper behind Dazzle’s ears, I shaved off a small piece of mane just behind her ears.
I felt SkySong’s breath on my neck. I glanced over my shoulder. He stared at me totally confused, almost as if he felt left out. He knew that the clipper was for him, so what was this clipping Dazzle all about?
With the clipper still buzzing, I turned toward him. He cocked his head and then stood still as I rested the cutter on his mane just above his withers and clipped a little bit of hair. Then I turned and clipped another piece off Dazzle. A nose nudged my back. I looked over my shoulder. It was my mule Wind Dancer. She stood on the far side of SkySong bobbing her head at me. The long winter growth on her mane flopped side-to-side. She too wanted her hair done. For the next 15 minutes I’d buzz a swipe off Wind Dancer’s mane, then SkySong’s, followed by Dazzle’s. Back and forth I went until the job was done.
The first time this happened, I thought it was a novel experience. For the last few years, it’s been the same—and not just with the clipper. No matter what SkySong’s afraid of, his best friends come alongside him. I’m sure they’re telling him, “See? There’s nothing to worry about!” With a companion on each side, he draws from their strength and faces his fear.
What would happen if people did that for each other? If people are afraid of something, instead of teasing them, or telling them to buck up, or offering advice on how to solve the problem what if we came alongside and stood with them? Maybe all they need is a pat on the hand or a kind touch on the shoulder to remind them they’re not alone.
One great example of this kind of friendship occurs between David, before he became king of Israel, and Jonathan, King Saul’s son. “After David had finished talking with Saul, Jonathan became one in spirit with David, and he loved him as himself” (1 Samuel 18:1). Love bound the two together. Until Jonathan died, the two were like brothers. They believed in each other and helped each other through many trials.
From my animals to Jonathan and David, examples of true friendship are all around us. I want to be a true-blue friend who reflects God’s love. How about you?
Lord, when my friends are experiencing difficulties, show me how to come alongside them without judgment and support them with love. Amen.
• Thoughts to Ponder •
Have you found that sometimes simply your presence is enough to give a friend the encouragement he or she needs? What meaningful ways have people encouraged you? Do any friends need you to come alongside them right now?
2
THE MISTAKE—HEAVEN MADE
God’s Plan
The old, red pickup truck puttered down the Alabama highway. The muggy summer air blasted through the open windows, rustling Becky’s long, blond hair. A couple times a week her daddy drove her out to a friend’s farm where they pastured Becky’s pony. Becky leaned forward as they passed the swampy area riddled with trees. Next was Boy’s pasture. A barbed-wire fence surrounded the grassy field. Boy, an albino pony, was out in the field cropping grass. As soon as he heard the engine of their truck his head popped up. Spotting them, he gathered his haunches underneath him and raced toward the truck.
Becky couldn’t imagine life without Boy. He’d become her physical therapist and most trusted friend. He’d shielded her from life’s brutal storms. He was her miracle because he wasn’t supposed to be alive.
The truck slowed to turn through the opening in the fence. It rumbled over the cattle guard and bounced across the grassy two-track that led down to a weathered barn. They coasted to a stop as Boy skidded to a halt next to Becky’s door. The truck door groaned as Becky flung it open and hopped out. The little pony stood perfectly still when Becky wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his mane. She gave him a big, long squeeze.
Boy rested his head on her shoulder and drew the girl closer to him as if he were giving her a return hug.
For a moment Becky leaned into his neck, burying her nose in his fur. She drew a deep breath. She loved the way he smelled. She always felt safe when Boy gave her hugs. She looked up at the pony’s eyes, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a soft peppermint stick.
Boy’s eyes lit up. His whiskers wiggled as he caught a whiff of the sweet candy. Gently he placed his lips over the peppermint and took
it from her hand. Becky giggled as he slobbered and smacked his lips. She remembered how she’d gotten him and what a miracle that was.
“A mistake.” That’s what Boy had been labeled. The colt of an unplanned pregnancy. The situation started shortly after her dad discovered his wife was pregnant with Becky. Her dad had stopped by to visit an old army buddy. Mr. John showed him a stunningly beautiful Tennessee walker mare and shared his high hopes. The mare was to be bred by a well-known Tennessee walker.
But as best-laid plans often go, the mare preferred the neighbor’s Welsh pony.
As the pregnancy progressed, Mr. John was so upset that he threatened to kill the foal if it came out remotely resembling the neighbor’s pony. Becky’s dad loved horses and had raised and trained many. Although he was poor, he couldn’t bear the thought of the foal being killed. He chimed in that if it looked like the Welsh pony, he’d take it.
Time went by, and Becky was born. Her leg was turned in at the hip, but the doctors weren’t too concerned when she wobbled as she crawled. During the time Becky struggled to walk, her dad got the call from Mr. John. The foal was a blasted pony that looked like the Welsh sire. It was ready to wean, so if he wanted it he should come and get it right away.
Becky’s dad put a rack on his pickup and took off. He brought home an albino Tennessee walker/Welsh colt. He started training the horse right away, and it was a good thing he did.
As Becky grew, her leg stayed canted to the side. She was taken to physical therapy regularly. One day at an appointment, her dad watched the doctor manipulate her leg. He cocked his head and asked, “Wouldn’t horseback riding do the same thing?”
Becky’s first memories are of her dad’s strong arms lifting her on top of Boy’s white, fuzzy back. She’d ride bareback and grab a fistful of Boy’s long, white mane. Her dad would walk by her side and show her how to use her legs for balance and to steer the pony. By the time she started school, the hours of riding the pony had strengthened the muscles in her leg so much that it stayed straight unless she was tired.
Great Horse Stories Page 1
