Swept from the corners of my mind…
Author’s note—This story is based on real events as I recall them. Names have been changed to protect the embarrassed.
Stuart was a young man in his 30s who moved onto an acreage near our farm. He was in his mid-30s, at least 6’ 2″, and over 200 lbs of mostly muscle. Although he didn’t have a farm background, he looked like a big, affable farm boy. Stuart was not a philosopher. He was not an academic. He was just what you saw, a big affable guy who didn’t care much about deep thoughts.
Walter was a retired teacher who lived next-door to Stuart. Although very different, they formed a friendship over beers and Walter’s stories. Walter told a lot of amazing stories about his days as a cowboy. I am not sure how a teacher would have had enough time to do all Walter remembered doing and still get an education, a family, and a career, but then he never did let the truth stand in the way of a good story. Stuart hung on his tales.
One mild winter day close to Christmas, Stuart and Walter decided to take a joy ride from south of Prince Albert down to Moose Jaw. They were at loose ends and had heard about a horse sale there. They just wanted to go and look.
The boys were having a good time watching horses sell and chatting with others on the bleachers. In the winter, horses are cheaper because they are expensive to keep, and this was a year when hay was harder to find and extra mouths to feed were not appreciated. Even the best-bred, best-trained horses were going for low prices.
The atmosphere, the prices, the smell of horses and perhaps a few beverages brought Stuart’s dream back to life. Stuart dreamed of a horse. And not just any horse. Stuart wanted flashy horse big enough to carry him (when he learned how to ride) and to rope off (when he learned how to rope). Stuart wanted a horse he could raise and break and be best friends with. Stuart wanted to be like his cowboy neighbours. Looking down into the pen he realized that a lot of registered Quarter Horses were going cheap that day, and Quarter Horses are the Cowboy’s Mount.
Near the end of the sale Stuart was entranced by a pen of assorted QH foals (babies, either gender). Large, small, male, female, registered and not, they swirled in the pen. His eye was caught by beautiful little black colt (boy) with a straight back, good legs, and a pretty head. He was obviously born late, as he was still tiny, but he was energetic and flashy. Stuart knew this was his horse. His huge hand went in the air, and he began to bid. No one bid against him, and his dream horse was his.
Soon the sale ended, and the boys realized that they had to get their purchase home. The problem was that they had driven down in a half ton and hadn’t brought a trailer. A second problem was that snow was starting and promised to be heavy and wet. Persuasive and determined, Walter found someone to lend him stock racks. With the help of onlookers, the racks were installed and the young stud loaded. They headed into the night, trying to outrun the snow.
During the trip these cowboys realized they had forgotten something important. Neither man had a barn at their place, nor were sure of their fences. Where were they going to put their little stallion? A review of the neighbours brought Rob and Verda to mind. Rob was one of those gruff, hard-working, older farmers who got up long before the sun and went to bed early in the evening. He had a pair of work horses, so his fences would be good, and a large barn. The late hour did not stop Stuart from phoning. Verda answered to hear an excited Stuart asking if he could keep his horse at their place overnight. Grumpy but kind, Rob said yes. “But,” he said, “you got me out of bed and I’m going right back there. Just put it in the barn and go away. I’ll look at it tomorrow.” The shoppers agreed and the deal was done.
Rob was up before the sun and went to the barn to see his big neighbour’s new roping horse. He began laughing and called Verda to come see. She joined in the chuckling. Then Rob phoned us.
”Are you still looking for a ride for your kids?” he asked.
“Yes,” we replied, “but right before Christmas we don’t have a lot of extra money.”
“No problem,” he chuckled, “I think this is going to be pretty cheap. Come down now before Stuart shows up.”
As the sky lightened, we drove to Rob and Verda’s to meet Stuart’s dream horse. What was supposed to be a sturdy, black, Quarter Horse colt turned out to be a fully matured Type A miniature mare (female). (Type A minis are shaped like delicate Arabian horses, not like the more common Shetland-style minis.) This horse was beautiful. Shiny black from nose to tail, she had bright eyes, a refined head, and good conformation. She was also only 10 hands high– 40 inches from the ground to the bottom of her mane. She was not the foal Stuart could raise and learn with. This was a tiny, nervous, fully-grown horse. This was not the horse to fulfill Stuart’s dream.
When an excited Stuart arrived to see his horse in the daylight, Rob cheerily broke the news. Stuart listened as Rob said he might be able to sell her to us for our elementary school kids. He had no barn, no pens, and no horse to grow with. We were there with money in our pockets. Stuart wisely decided to sell the little equine to us for even less than he paid.
The kids (not their parents!) named her Black Beauty. She was flighty and hypersensitive, would shy, buck or run at a moment’s notice, but she eventually got calmed (or worn) down by the persistence of the children. They turned her into something they could ride with or without tack, single or double, and even took her to some horse shows. She never grew any taller. When the kids got too big for Beauty, she was sold to a man who said he had a stage coach with five matching miniature horses, and that she would fit right in.
Thus ends the tale of Stuart’s dream horse.
