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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781490791869 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Trafford Publishing |
| Publication date: | 11/07/2018 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 332 |
| File size: | 26 MB |
| Note: | This product may take a few minutes to download. |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
The Winds of Destiny
1988
This day was one I would never forget. I was excited and anxious, and there was a deliberate purpose in my step. I knew that I was impatient. It was difficult not to constantly look behind me, hoping to encourage my new husband and our friend, Alice, to hurry up. It was a beautiful fall morning and so very quiet and peaceful. I breathed in the fresh air and tried not to be impolite. I knew that Dick and Alice did not have many occasions to visit and that our trip out here was not all about me and what I wanted. I was a guest here on Alice's ranch, so with control that I had mustered from somewhere, I managed to divert my attention to the countryside around me. This land really was beautiful. Every direction that I looked, there was a never-ending expanse of rolling hills with flag-like stalks of grama grass swaying back and forth in massive undulating waves. A few white wisps of clouds were beginning to form on the horizon of an otherwise cloudless sky. This kind of country never failed to fill me with a feeling of awe and contentment. I felt a belonging here, a belonging that seemed to come from within the core of me.
The scene before us was perfect. Not a fence post could be seen; not a single power line cut though the land. Even the sun had not overlooked anything, for stretched out amid the golden-tipped grama grasses were the glistening bodies of three equines who were oblivious to anything but the warmth and peacefulness of the moment. On one hand, I regretted that we were about to interrupt such a peaceful sight, but on the other hand, I couldn't wait to see more. As we drew even closer, our noisy approach was detected, and a perturbed gray head emerged from among the blanket of grass. I could see that it took a moment for this sleepy head to process that humans were approaching, but once it did, the rest of the equine body rose, alerting his buddies of our presence. Slowly and reluctantly, two other bodies emerged, and then there were three.
"The gray one is Smoky," Alice said quietly.
I smiled at Alice and then gazed back at the three horses. Alice had already told me quite a bit about Smoky and also a little about her other two horses. One was her riding gelding, Kroug, and the other her older broodmare, Babe.
I knew that Smoky had spent most of the past year or so enjoying his life here, grazing, playing, racing, and, frankly, just being a horse. These grasslands seemed to stretch forever, but of course, they no longer did. The land that had once been home to huge herds of buffalo and the Pawnee Indians who hunted them had been broken up into ranches now, and the land that Smoky enjoyed was part of Alice's ranch.
Alice Pollock was her full name, and she was a very active and exceedingly good-looking woman with skin that was radiant. Everyone, including Dick and I, marveled at the freshness and youthfulness she exuded. How she kept her complexion so flawless was something that totally amazed me. All three of us spent a great deal of time outside in the sun; however, Dick and I paid for it.
Alice's husband had died several years ago, leaving her to care for the ranch on her own. It didn't seem to daunt her. She had been determined to keep the ranch going and continued to raise and breed a herd of Hereford cattle that had supported the ranch through the years. The herd was not large by many standards, but it was impressive, and it was her pride and joy. Even with all the work that she had to do, Alice somehow found the time and energy to nurture another deep passion of hers, and that was to raise a small number of very fine Arabian horses. Pursuing this goal, several years ago, she had shipped a newly acquired mare named Cyroga to a stallion standing in Scottsdale, Arizona. She had hoped the cross would produce the foal of her dreams. However, her well-thought-out plans had not unfolded the way that she had wanted, and her dream foal never came to be. Instead, she had this dark-gray colt that stood before us ... and she neither liked or wanted him. It was the reason that I was here.
The small group of horses continued to watch us approach. It was a pretty sight. I really did love this land. Wherever I gazed, I could envision the past. I could imagine herds of buffalo rumbling across the rolling countryside with Pawnee Indians and their tough little ponies galloping in pursuit. How many memories this land must hold! How many Indians had traversed these very hillsides? How many ponies had grown fat and sleek, grazing on the tall grasses and drinking from the pristine waters? That every horse should be so lucky as to spend at least part of its life in such a haven was a dream that was impossible, I knew, but I wished it anyway.
All of a sudden, the three horses broke into a trot. I chuckled as I could tell they knew that Alice had brought them treats. As I watched them trot toward us, I found that I liked the way this young gray colt named Smoky moved; his stride was so effortless and fluid. He was like an Indian pony, covering the ground beneath him with long and easy strides. Just as the horses got to within a few strides of us, however, Smoky slowed to a standstill, ears pricked and nostrils quivering.
What's he so afraid of? I wondered. Kroug and Babe certainly didn't hold back. They were right in our faces, jostling each other for the treats that Alice laughingly offered. I watched the activity, all the while concerned about the standoffish behavior that Smoky was exhibiting.
The shy young colt that I had come out here to see was officially named and registered in the Arabian Horse Registry as Magna Terra Smoky. It was, I thought, such a beautiful name. Alice had taken the "Magna Terra" (meaning "big earth"), part of his name, from her ranch name and the "Smoky" part from his steel-gray coloration. It seemed so very appropriate and natural that his name linked him to this land. It implied that he belonged here. Alice had named him well.
I studied him even more closely now. He really was a nice colt, with a slender build and strong legs with good bone. The only fault I could find was with his rather plain and straight head. Most Arabian horses had a charming, endearing dish to their foreheads that melted the hearts of many a horse person. On the other hand, Smoky did have an exquisite neck and hip and a great set of withers. His legs were clean and straight, and all his body parts fit together like a perfect puzzle. Yes, I found myself thinking, I do like the overall looks of him.
Still on my mind, however, was the question "Why was he so timid and retiring? Why did he have such a marked distrust of humans?" It didn't seem to make sense. Alice certainly wasn't mean to her animals, and Arabian horses were bred to be friendly, loving horses. Throughout history, the Arabian horse had been bred to be a kind, noble steed that was a faithful friend and partner. Why then, at such a young age and in the company of two horses who were overly friendly, was Smoky so afraid? I turned to Alice for an answer.
"What's up with Smoky, Alice?"
The story Alice had to tell explained a lot.
"That's the way he's always been, Barb. Right from the beginning, I just could never develop a rapport with him. And to tell the truth, over the months, I have just spent less and less time with him."
Alice had a sadness in her voice. It was obvious that she had expected so much more from this new acquisition.
"Smoky has always had a tendency to be distant and difficult. He's not a people's horse, and because I didn't spend much time with him, he became more and more difficult to work with. It just kinda snowballed. He kept getting worse and worse. So because I didn't want to fight him, I put things off, and then one day I realized he was just too big and too strong for me to handle at all. He's really a lot like his dam, Cyroga. I bought her because she had such a gorgeous build and such lovely big bone. I felt sure she could produce the foal of my dreams. But I could never trust Cyroga, and she was always so darn difficult to catch. After having Smoky, she didn't want me coming near him either, so Smoky picked up her behaviors. She became too much of a handful for me. I finally had enough, and I gave up on her. I took her to the horse and cattle auction in Fort Collins. I never stayed to see who bought her. Even with Cyroga out of the picture, Smoky still wasn't a colt I could work with, so I gave him to Larry, my veterinarian. Larry's a big strong man, but even he couldn't deal with Smoky. He gave him back to me and just told me to get rid of him. Frankly, I've been contemplating sending Smoky to the auction as well. I don't know what else to do with him. I just don't have the time or patience he needs."
Alice's last comments were very disheartening. It left a hollow void in the pit of my stomach.
"If you're interested in Smoky and think he might work into your plans, that would be wonderful. I don't know if he'll work out or not. If you take him and he doesn't, maybe you could work with him and get him gentled enough that I could sell him and find him a decent home."
As I listened to Alice, I realized that Smoky had no reason to believe any of us wanted to be his friend. I wondered how hard it was going to be to bring Smoky around and gain his trust. How much of his dam's personality was ingrained in his mentality? Was it a task I could deal with? Smoky had such amazing conformation and such easy, fluid movement. He really could have great possibilities, and on top of that, I found myself really liking this little devil. If I didn't work with Smoky, what would become of him? Would he end up with the same fate as his dam?
I wondered who had bought Cyroga. Had she been one of the lucky ones and found a good home, or had she, like so many others, ended up at the killers? At a cattle and horse auction, horses like her did not bring many bids. It made me sick to think about it. I knew I had to take Smoky, not only to perhaps save him from going to auction but also because I found myself thinking that this tough gray pony might be a real diamond in the rough.
It's going to take a lot of time and patience, I thought, but it might just be worth it.
I looked back at Smoky. "You funny little horse, do you have any idea how perilous your life has become?" I wondered to myself, What if I hadn't come along?
Thinking about all the things that had happened lately, it really was a wonder that I was even here. I hadn't even really known Alice until recently. I certainly wouldn't have known about her or Smoky at all if I hadn't married Dick. She was, after all, Dick's friend. And I had come very, very close to not marrying Dick.
For many years, Dick and I had known of each other because of our involvement in competitive trail riding. Then about two years ago, we had started dating. When Dick became serious about marriage, I kept fluctuating back and forth. I had become quite independent and liked my lifestyle very much. I loved my science teaching job and was very proud of and happy with the home that I had bought and worked on in the Black Forest, north of Colorado Springs. I had three horses that I thoroughly enjoyed. Life was good.
Then it was almost as if fate had played its hand to develop the next chapter in my life. For the first and only time that I was aware of, my school district offered a one-time early-retirement cash incentive to any teacher having accumulated twenty-three or more years of teaching experience with the district. Unbelievably, I had exactly twenty-three years with the district. Was this coincidental, or was it a sign that I was meant to marry Dick and move to Fort Collins? Things just seemed to fall together perfectly. The cash bonus would give me some money to fall back on until I could decide what employment to pursue in Fort Collins. We decided to get married in Colorado Springs, and then we settled into Dick's home in Fort Collins.
Before long, I started to explore possible teaching jobs available, but I found myself doing this halfheartedly. As the summer months slipped away after our May wedding, I found myself a whole lot more interested in a job centered around our horses. However, if this was to work out, I had to come up with a way to make enough money to make it feasible. Right now, we definitely needed an additional income to supplement money brought in by Dick's nursery business.
At first, we pondered the possibility that I could train and sell some of the horses that Dick and I had bred and raised before we married. We both treasured the same type of Arabian horses, those that were levelheaded and pleasing to the eye and had good bone and conformation. Both of us had competed and done quite well in competitive trail riding before we were married, and we strongly supported the values and horsemanship skills that this sport encouraged and developed.
Competitive trail was a wonderful sport. Not only did a rider get to enjoy being in the beautiful country, but also, the rider and his/her horse got to compete as a team in a paced cross-country event that usually covered two days of riding, with each day having a marked trail of approximately twenty to forty miles. During the competition, a rider's horse was judged on soundness, condition, manners, etc., and the rider was judged on horsemanship. It was truly a test of the homework that one had done with his/her mount as you never knew just what obstacles might be encountered nor how taxing the course might be. Little could I have foreseen how valuable the horsemanship skills that I learned from this sport would serve me so well in the next chapter of my life.
Sadly, when Dick and I sat down to figure out the math of marketing our horses for competitive trail riding, we realized we couldn't hope to make much of a profit. We knew that people looking for a horse to compete in this sport generally wanted to purchase a four-to-five-year-old horse that was ready to go or at least well along in his training. For us to provide such a horse, we would have to breed the mare and then support her financially for the year that she carried the foal. When the mare foaled, there would be additional costs of feeding, vaccinating, worming, and trimming the foal for an additional four to five years. And it wouldn't end there as we would also need to train this horse to be a reliable trail mount. All this had to be done while we prayed that our prospect stayed sound and healthy. Any profit we were hoping for started to look more like a debit in the ledger books. So our problem was what could we do with our horses to turn a profit? We did not come up with an answer.
Call it fate, or call it destiny. Whatever it was, soon after this, events started lining up that would change my life's direction immensely. It all began when I had chanced to read an article in a magazine that talked about a horse-racing meet at Adams County Fairgrounds in nearby Brighton. That wasn't all. To my surprise and amazement, this meet was offering races for Arabians.
I couldn't believe it. I never realized that Arabians even raced on a flat track. When had that started? All I was aware of were the fifty- or hundred-mile endurance races that took place cross-country. Arabians were bred for distance. They definitely weren't sprinters like quarter horses or even thoroughbreds. Yet there it was, in black-and-white print.
As I read more, my eyes really lit up. The article went on to say that Arabians would be racing for purses or "real" money, not just trophies and/or awards, as was the practice with distance riding. A wave of excitement literally rushed through me. This was unreal, too good to be true. I was beside myself with excitement. Could this be the ticket to making money with our horses? Would the athletic ability that we had bred into our foals be enough to allow them to compete with any success in an endeavor based entirely on speed? I knew that any athlete that hoped to excel in a speed event needed a good strong body and a good mind that could focus on the job at hand. Our horses sure had good bodies and minds bred into them. Could we change the direction we were going with our horses? If we pursued this, would they prove to be fast enough? I sure didn't know any Arabian racehorses, and just as surely, I definitely didn't know anyone who bred them. To tell the truth, I didn't know how fast they needed to run, and on top of all this, I certainly didn't know what was involved in the training of a racehorse. Could I learn the ropes and, in turn, teach our horses? Where would I start? Could we really do this? I was getting more and more excited just thinking about the possibility. I couldn't wait to tell Dick. I wondered what he would think about it.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Magna Terra Smoky"
by .
Copyright © 2018 Barbara Jagoda.
Excerpted by permission of Trafford Publishing.
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