Tally Goes To Amarillo

You might have to read back and review a bit, I did.



There was a nice little AQHA show every February in Amarillo. It was early in the year, big enough to pick up some points, but small and cheap enough to do some training. The stalls were dry and roomy, the arena pretty nice, the dirt was real nice and the cattle were big, yearling Brahma crosses.

It was a nice kick-off show.

I was bringing Sonita a couple of youth riders and Tally. Her owner, Tim, and I had an iron clad agreement. We'd see where her head was at, show in the reining, and then, only if I decided it was safe.

 The life long city boy and horse addict was going to Texas with a bunch of cowboys. He bought himself a new hat and a pair of chaps and was just about beside himself. We would head for Amarillo early in the morning and get there in time to get some riding in. I would show/school her in the morning and he would ride later in the day.

I felt myself relax as we traveled the back two-lane roads of Colorado. I loved being on  the road. I had my horses, my dogs, my kid, my friends and the shiny promise of what just might happen. Even Amarillo in February couldn't shake my mood.  

It was cold and windy with just a dusting of snow. It swirled across the road and disappeared in the long grass along the road. The ranches were quiet, the stock stood with their butts against the wind and heads low. We could go for miles without seeing another vehicle. I popped Emmylou in my CD player and cranked it up high enough to hear over the grumbling diesel.

The best part was, I had Tim in my truck  and the dogs and Kathy had the girls with her. We talked show strategy, swapped stories about being kids and sipped coffee out of our thermos. Kathy got to listen to the girls whine about how cold it was going to be at the show. It was awesome.

"I am getting really nervous," Tim said.

"Listen," I told him,"we aren't out to win, just to get her in and out of the arena, remember?"

"I know, I know, it's just so exciting!"

"Well let's not hope for too much excitement."

Tally had loaded just fine, kind of bug-eyed and boogery, but well behaved. She rode along easy enough and even seemed to quiet Sonita. I absolutely had no clue what to expect. I was in too good a mood to worry about it, there was plenty of time to ride before our first class.

We pulled into the showgrounds and settled the horses into their stalls. Tally snorted at the corners, pawed her shavings, took a long drink and completely ignored the crashing sound of Sonita kicking the crap out of her stall. By the time we unloaded all the horses and threw hay, the bright bay mare had her head hanging over the door and was checking out the barn. She settled right into her feed. By the time I had dug around and found Sonita's yellow buckets, poured enough Mountain Dew into the water to coax her into drinking, strapped on her kick chains and retied the haybag she had ripped off the wall, Tally was dozing.

I was starting to feel a little hopeful.

After dinner we went back to ride. The arena was lit but not heated and the temperature was hovering around 30 degrees. It cut out the wind though and it was nice to ride after a long day in the truck.

Sonita was high and snorty, no surprizes there, the girls rode around all giggly and excited, and Tim stood at the rail holding Tally's reins. I traded him and took Tally out to the middle of the arena. She was looking around, flashing a little bit of white around her eyes, but let me on without a fuss. We rode off and she felt just fine.

The Big K leaned on the rail and watched Tally lope her circles. I came around the end of the arena and ran a few stops. She was distracted enough to not try very hard, but she laid down a couple of three foot elevens, so I was happy.

I dismounted and waved Tim over.

"I think she's fine," I said.

"She looks incredible," he answered.

He was so wound up his hands were shaking. I started to say something, but decided to let it be. They would be okay or not. Harping at him about nerves wasn't going to help.

He rode off at a walk, stretching out first one arm, then the other, rolling his shoulders and neck, and taking himself through the stretches we did at home.

K handed me a Corona Light. "Did you tell him to do that?" he asked.

"No, and I'm proud of him for thinking of it," I said.

He didn't comment, just took a swallow of his beer and watched. He was looking a little too amused, K always thought my exercises and drills were kind of goofy. I decided to let that be too, he had brought me a beer.

"You showing her first?"

"Yup."

He nodded and headed out to check his horses. The only sign I had that he might be worried was he hadn't asked about Sonita, my students or my three-year-old. His mind was on Tally. For that matter, I guess mine was too. Tim manned up and started loping circles,Tally flowed like a Nebraska creek in the spring and his smile grew with every stride.

Tally

She ran the perimeter of the round pen, oblivious to the empty milk jugs strung from the saddle horn.

I asked for a whoa and I got a tidy little slide in response. When I brought her to the middle she rested her nose in the palm of my hand. Her eyes had a playful sparkle, my new game was fun I guess, it sure wasn't setting off a flight or fight response.

"Well this isn't making much of a difference," I said.

Brittney, the teenage stall help at the stable, leaned against the fence rail. "I wonder why she doesn't bolt with you? She'd crash through the fence if anybody else tried that."

"I can't figure it out," I said, "maybe it's energy, or the time I put in, I just don't know."

I was on a campaign of desensitizing Tally. It went against the grain of my own training philosophies, but so far, my theories were about useless, at least when it came to Tally and her owner, Tim. It was time to try somebody else's approach.

So far, it just wasn't happening. Tally didn't care about tarps, standing on platforms, crossing bridges or having to walk through strings of plastic flags. I could wrap us both in a shower curtain and juggle rolls  of crepe paper, it was just another day of stupid stuff to do.

However, if I was on her back, stayed loose, and let somebody approach us with a bucket, or a piece of paper,she would blast off in a dead run. Once I settled in my seat, and took a strong hold on the bit, she would stop. I never got more than two strides out of her.

If I was ready, and held her between a strong leg and hand, I couldn't get her to even try. She would just stand there while the "stranger" handed me the horse killing object.

"Let's go out to the arena," I said. Brittney followed along behind. Tally hated having people behind her, so I kept my mouth shut and plenty of slack in the lead, waiting for her to react. She rolled her eyes and got up on her tip-toes, but that was it.

I had deliberately left the cinch loose, and drug on the horn and the cantle while I hoisted myself up. The saddle slipped, Tally sidled off and I stepped off, leaving the saddle hanging cock-eyed. Tally stood quiet while I readjusted the saddle and tightened her back up.

"At least you fixed that part," Brittney said.

"It shouldn't have needed fixing."

When I mounted again, I hauled on her back some more, hoisted myself up with my weight all over the place and flopped around on her back, giving Tally my best imitation of a bass landed in the bottom of a rowboat.

She danced around, snorted, braced her feet and let me find my stirrups. Her reaction was completely logical and she didn't take a dangerous step. I leaned back and patted her. I leaned forward and hugged her neck. I yanked the saddle back and forth. Nothing.

"She's doing great," Britnney said. She looked up at me with that awkward, hero-worshiping shine only a teenager gives. I knew she'd be broadcasting Tally's phenomenal progress all over the barn. I really wished it was the truth.

The thing is, I hadn't touched Tally's crazy. I couldn't bring it out.

I gave up for the day and went to loping circles. Tally chugged along, her tail swinging, snorting with every perfect, measured stride. Ten to the left, ten to the right, a few straight lines and a rest to air up.  Man, she was fun to ride. Level and powerful, she felt like she would go forever.

I ran a few stops, and she laid down some nice tracks. Her spins were coming along nicely. I could feel the potential for great ones, if I was better at training them, she'd be smoking.

Tim drove by, flashed me a nervous smile and headed to the parking lot. He had been back in the saddle for a week. He only rode after I worked her and wouldn't leave the arena, but at least he was riding again.

He rode smart, she went along great, I had never been so bummed in my life. I stood next to them while he aired her up. They were the picture of a solid horse and rider pair.

"I don't know what to do Tim. I can't reconstruct what set's her off. Unless I get your confidence and skills up to dealing with her, I don't feel like you'll ever be safe."

"She's been so good though." He rubbed her neck and smiled. I really think we're getting over our problems. I can saddle her and do ground work with her and she's perfect. I want to keep trying. Our reining is getting so solid. I was wondering, could we come with you to Amarillo?"

There was a nice little AQHA show in Amarillo every February. It was fun, not to big, just competitive enough to get the blood running and a nice way to pick up some early points.

"You mean, show her?" My blood pressure shot up about twenty points.

"You said a trip would be good for her. Maybe you could ride her first, and if she was OK, then I'll try."

"If I veto the whole thing and she doesn't show at all, are you okay with that?" Maybe Tim wasn't so crazy. A week on the road might be just the ticket.

"Of course."

"All righty then, Amarillo it is."

Tally, Me and the Big K

Sonita shifted under me, snapped her tail and swung her head. Her irritation was clear, I didn't need the white ringed eye roll to get the point, but she honored me with it anyway.

 Stupid bitch, I thought, but straightened up and slid my butt back to the middle of my saddle. It occurred to me she probably muttered the exact same thing as she reminded me, for the 1000th time, how much she hated it when I rested with my weight crooked and a leg slung over the saddle horn. I touched her neck in apology and she relaxed.

"She did absolutely nothing?" K asked.

"Yep, after all that fuss to get her saddled, once I got a leg over, Tally just rode off like a broke horse. She was so relaxed I started thinking she was relieved to get it behind her and get back to work," I said.

"She probably was. If she was a mustang mare, stolen by some young, ignorant stud -- well, she'd be ready to make his life hell, even if she couldn't get back to her herd. Then, when her stallion showed up, put the upstart back in his place and stole her back, she'd be pretty shook up. Mares don't like having their lives shook up like that. She would probably be on the prod with him too. One he put her back in her place, well, she's be relieved to fall back into patterns she understood."

I thought about that for a bit. It made sense. A lot more than the boarding stable crowd's current opinion.
"She's a one woman horse," they said, and "Janet just has a "touch."

"Those nimrods have Tim about convinced he isn't "horse whispery" enough," I complained. They're telling him to try that Parrelli shit to get in touch with her soul, or heart, or some such shit."

"Don't get all pissy with them," K warned, "they have a point."

"Say what?"

"You've worked out a compromise with Tally. You don't do things that upset her, you ride her quiet and you make damn sure you stay soft, in the middle and are clear. She trusts you, so she goes to work. If you scared her like that crowd at Tim's place, well, she'd be fighting you too."

"So? Isn't that the point?" If I had a tail I'd would have snapped it.

"The point is," K was getting that look on his face, if I didn't quit whining and start trying harder to hear him, he was going to quit talking, "Tim can't do the same thing. His weight shifts, his hands flop around, he miscues her, he can't help it, he hasn't ridden long enough. His greeness is making Tally mad. It's going to get him hurt."

"I'm trying to show him, help him read her, but it just doesn't work."

"Maybe he'll get it eventually, but probably not."

"What should I do?"

"You have to quit being careful. You have to dig deep into that mare, pull out all her stuff and deal with it. You ride her in a way that avoids her tough spots. Tim can't. If you don't smooth them out for him he's going to get hurt. Your job is to turn Tally into a horse he can ride, not to turn him into a rider that can stick Tally."

Wow. I started feeling sick to my stomach. What had I done? I had sold this stick of dynamite to my client, full of confidence I could teach him what it took to ride her. My eternal opinion that if a gomer like me could do it, anybody could do it, wasn't true. My lack of confidence was misplaced. I realized, deep down, I was afraid of Tally. I didn't know if I could handle her without compromise. That was my weakness. That was where the lie was. I had sold a green rider a horse I wasn't sure I truly had a  handle on.

"What's going on?" K asked, his voice was gentle and his eyes were kind.

"I think I'm going to have to step up."

"I think you're right."

Shit. I fought down a feeling of panic and moved Sonita out on a circle. She picked up my anxiety and gave me a few dolphin bucks, one, two, three...each was getting harder, higher, stronger...I settled my weight, picked up my reins and scooted her forward. She leveled out and we went to work.

New Horse Owners, Boarding Barns and Doing the Right Thing

The comments following the latest Tally post brought up some great issues -- some very near and dear to my heart.

While dealing with the result of poor Tim's attempts at independent horsemanship,  riding a horse he owned, but really wasn't ready for, I was getting a crash course in responsible horse training and the human condition.

Here's the thing. The entire situation was my fault. Not Tim's, not the well intentioned, fairly dim advice he was getting drowned with, not the NH wannabe trainers that frequented the barn and were dying to get their hands on Tally. It was mine.

I certainly didn't understand that at the time. There are many reasons this story is tough for me, the biggest being having to face and accept my responsibility. When I took Tally on as a project, I was in the most dangerous place a horse trainer can be. I had just enough knowledge to cause a whole lot of trouble and was still naive enough to not understand the potential repercussions.

Normally, I try to get my philosophy across through my stories. This time, I'm going to break protocol and spell a few things out. I didn't sort this stuff out until many years later and I have reached a limit in my story telling ability. I can't figure out how to get my message out without getting all boring and lecture-y in the telling. Plus, these are concerns I really want to share, without making you guys figure them out, right or wrong, while I sit back and watch (like I usually do). So, I'll do it now, and then get back to the telling.

These are the core beliefs I held at that time. Some I still adhere to, some I have either let go or dramatically modified.

1. All horses deserve a chance.

2. No horse is too much to rehabilitate.

3. Anybody who wants it bad enough can learn to train a horse.

4. "Feel" can be taught to anyone - because I could see and read a situation, anybody could learn to do the same.

5. Because I was developing an effective training method it was the "right" one for every horse and rider.

6. Any horse can be taught to be at least competent in any situation.

7. ***A horse's affection/behavior on the ground translates to behavior under saddle.***

I never, ever, should have sold Tally to Tim. Instead of listening to him and understanding what he needed, I let him talk me into what he thought he wanted.

Tim was new to horses. He loved the animal, the romance of looking like a cowboy and the challenge. All very good reasons to get into horses. He wanted to get into reining. He was 45 years old, had never ridden, was a well-to-do architect with oodles of discretionary income, and had the time to invest in a life-long dream.

He was at the perfect barn for him. It was filled with people of the same ilk, that mostly rode trails and muddled around with some kind of NH training, and run well by a couple who had been working with this type of rider their entire career.

He needed to be mounted on a solid minded, sound bodied, six to ten-year-old ranch gelding, with enough talent to be shaped into a green rider/rookie reining horse. Tim would have had the joy of learning to ride on a quality horse and I would have gotten a healthy share of that discretionary income by teaching them both the basics of reining. He might (probably would) have become something of a rock star at that barn full of bored wealthy horse owners and I might (probably would) have picked up a bunch more clients to molly coddle their way to reining 101.

Tim had potential, drive, a great work ethic and a gentle, horse magnet soul. Tally saw it and was drawn to it. Tim was flattered by my "wild" mare's attention and fell in love.

If I had understood all of this, I would have given him a firm, "Step away from the rehab mare," and guided him on to the next horse he fell for, out of a group of carefully selected prospects that would take us where we needed to go. He would have fallen just as hard, been happier, and certainly safer, if I had done my job.

But I didn't get it.

The barn full of judgmental critics? Personally, I can hardly point fingers. They watched Tim buy a horse he could only ride under my direction -- and then saw why. To them, it translated to "stupid trainer." C'mon, let's be honest, how many times have we thought it, seen it, said it?

They had horses they could ride. Their horses didn't behave like Tally. They were not experienced in the cow horse world, so they didn't recognize her potential or her talent. They just saw a small, snorty, emotional, spooky,maybe dangerous horse with mutton withers that kept rolling her saddle.

They weren't wrong. Tally was all those things. I truly thought she would be OK, because if she was handled just so, she seemed to work things out. I was sure I could teach anybody what "just so" meant. What I wasn't seeing was reality. Not everybody wants, or should even try, to take on the Tally's of the world. My responsibility as a trainer is to factor in who and what people are. Not to try to mold them into my version of Horaii, but to help them find their own.

In the barn chaff's (boarders) mind, with their input, their trainer, their videos, Tim could have the same thing they did -- nice horses.Which he could have, if I had the sense to mount him on the right-minded horse. He couldn't appreciate Tally's abilities, he certainly couldn't ride her to her potential, and he didn't need to. The people who were being so critical couldn't ride her either, but they didn't know that. None of them had been exposed to a horse like Tally before and there was no earthly reason for them to be. I just didn't understand.

Here's the deal. It wasn't ego that caused this big fat swampy morass of a fubar. It was my insecurity, my lack of confidence, my utter conviction that if I could do it, anybody could. I had so little self esteem it never occurred to me that my knowledge, experience and ability might add up to more than what I could teach through lessons. It was almost the undoing of both Tally and Tim.

Tally

Before you wander down the trail (or through the fence) with Tally, I need some blog assistance. The equine mind meld is a mess. If I was going to clean it up and get it running again, are there any ideas on ow to put it in a better format, or to clean up this one? I like it, I think the potential for help is great, but the spam has gone crazy. Help!







Oh boy oh boy oh boy.

This was going to be just one fricking lovefest.

I had been too blunt with my client, Tim, and now he was mad.

I was still pretty fired up myself, I felt bad for Tally, was mad at myself for pushing too hard, mad at Tim for being a dumbass and more than a little nervous.

Tally had grazed quietly next to her owner while we talked, reacting to the rising tension between us with nothing more than a tail snap and moving a few steps away from us.

It wasn't until I tied her to the rail by the tack room that she let me know where she stood. Which would be knee deep in my guts if she had her way.

Her ears were pinned, her jaws locked tight and she leaned against her lead rope, not quite in full "suck back" position, but close enough. "Fool me once, and I get scared, fool me twice and I'll hand you your head on a fence post," her rolling eye made the message clear.

Tally was done with this game. She had not signed up for saddles hanging around her belly, riders flying of without warning, or nervous nellies refusing to listen. It was time to get put back out to pasture and be left the hell alone. She was more than ready to spell it out to me if I didn't care to listen.

"She's not going to let you saddle her," Tim said. "Nobody could get it done -- even with her leg tied up."

I sighed. God only knows what all was tried on Tally before I was let in on the problem. I decided I didn't want to know.

"Oh, she'll get saddled," I said through gritted teeth.

Boarders were starting to gather around. Tally must have been making quite the impression.

I untied her, held the lead rope in one hand and tucked the saddle pad under my elbow. Tally began to maneuver her hindquarters towards me, tail  clamped, butt muscles quivering, she was planning on a double barreled kick. Bitch.

"Hey!" I shouted, stepped into her shoulder, yanked her head towards my chest and hit her across the butt with the saddle pad. She swung her hips away and bolted. I  turned my body to her hip and yanked hard again, "Hey!" Her head was jerked towards me, she lost momentum and hesitated for just a second. I relaxed my hold on the lead rope. She bolted again. I stepped in, jerked and swung the saddle pad. Rinse, repeat.

Ten minutes later we were both sweaty messes. She had quit bolting and had switched to backing away from me, wild eyed and crazy looking. I kept my lead rope loose, pulling her head towards me just enough to keep her arced and her hind legs moving away. I kept my eyes on her haunches and kept walking and running at her, whatever it took to move Tally just a little faster than she wanted to move and to keep her feet going where I wanted them.

We had worked our way out of the stable yard, through the parking lot and halfway down the steep access road before Tally paused to take a look at me. I stopped, stood square, stepped in a little to give her some slack and waited. Our audience was bigger and had come down the hill with us. I let my concentration relax and glanced over at the observers. The energy rolled off them like the sweaty crowd around a boxing ring, what the hell were they expecting?

I could feel Tally through the rope, starting  to tense again. I exhaled, shook my shoulders loose and focused on her hind feet, moving her forward a few steps and then relaxing. Her head dropped and she blew, slinging snot and sweat all over me. I waited and watched while she stretched out and pounded the ground in frustration, first with one forefoot, then the other. She peered out from under her heavy black forelock, trying to decide her next move by reading my intention. I gave her nothing, just stood, rope slack, waving my saddle pad around a bit and idly looking her over. Jeez, she was pretty. Her sweat soaked shoulders gleamed with good health, her powerful muscles were quivering, ready to fly into action at a moments notice, her entire body was poised and ready to fly, or mash me into the dust, whatever. She was awesome.

Tally decided to let go. She sighed, her top line relaxed, her belly sagged and she lipped the grass. When I stepped in to put the pad on her back she flung her head in the air, but her feet stayed quiet.

"Do you want me to get the saddle?" Tim asked.

"Nah, we'll go get it."

I led her back to the tie rail and saddled her without even a foot stomp.

"That's probably enough for today," Tim said.

I was tired. Tired of his new found horse-man-ship, tired of this dude filled barn, tired of Tally and tired of thinking about the situation.

"I'm going riding." I bridled her and headed back down the hill to the arena.

Tally

Tim was a hurting unit.

His wreck with Tally had left him with a cracked head, broken ribs and a bruised ego.

He was conflicted and saddened by the whole train wreck. The hardest part about the whole mess was where it put him emotionally.

We met at the barn for a talk and some tactical planning. As I pulled in, it was a relief to see Tim had haltered Tally and led her out to graze in the deep grass around the wash racks. At least he wasn't avoiding her.

"I just don't understand why she did it," he said.

"A slipped saddle is a nightmare for a horse like Tally," I told him. "She needs to be able to count on things and incident free riding needs to be a pretty high on the list. Your job is to create the incident free ride."

"You make it sound like this was my fault. How am I supposed to help her when she explodes every time something goes wrong? I've been working so hard on developing a bond with her, I'm starting to think she doesn't really like me."

It is your fault, I thought.

The phrase "developing a bond" had long been a pain in my butt. I kept running into this line from more and more of my customers. For the most part, I heard it from new horse owners who thought it would be a good idea to buy a two-year-old for their pre-teen daughter, so they could grow up together, or from total green-horns, who were convinced, after watching a few GaWaNi Pony Boy videos, they could start a colt by themselves, as long as they properly bonded with their horse's spirit. Then they would adopt a mustang. Then, there were my favorites, the "I'm too afraid to ride, so I'll bond instead," folks.
Most of these situations only meant I had a steady paycheck, because somebody had to straighten these messes out, but this was more. I liked Tally a bunch and I liked Tim too. I wanted them to make it.

His sad and angry face told me he had fallen into this trap. He felt he had done everything he could to open his heart to his horse, he was sure Tally loved him, yet here she was, splattering him all over the arena fence. He looked very much like a man who discovered his girlfriend at the firing range using a picture of his face as a target.

I took a deep breath, reached for some empathy and tried to verbalize my thoughts.

"Where we get in trouble with our horses is when we assume they react and think like we do. We're being unfair to them when we mix up our translation of love with theirs. The concept of bonding is a prime example. It's pretty clear to me Tally thinks you're one of the best people she ever met. She also knows that's exactly what you are, people, and that she is a horse. She will never, ever be confused on this issue.

"I don't treat her like she's human," Tim said. His annoyance rang clear as a school bell.

"I'm glad to hear it," I said.

 "All of the stuff I worried about when you asked to buy her is coming up. She's green, she was a bitch to get started, she has a huge flight reaction to things she thinks might hurt her. You're a good rider Tim, but I'm not sure you've sorted out what it takes to own a horse like this.
"If Tally feels her life is in danger she's going to try to run, and run hard, we talked this to death before you bought her. As far as I'm concerned, what you get when you have a "bond" is a horse that likes hanging out with you, but it doesn't translate to the saddle."

"She doesn't even try to bolt with you," Tim said. "It's like she's tricking me, she likes you better. Tally wants to be your horse."

This was the crux of the issue. Something I ran into often, that I had felt, understood in my gut, but never had tried to completely sort out in my thoughts, much less talk through with someone.

We stood in silence, with me leaning against the wash rack, studying the rut I was digging in the gravel with the rowel of my spur.Tim dragged his fingers through Tally's long mane. She lipped his shirt, with sleepy eyes and a hip cocked, her heavy tail twitched slowly at an occasional fly.

"With me and Tally, it isn't about like or love, I finally said. "It's trust. Some of the things I've done to her wouldn't hold up to your idea of kindness. They certainly didn't seem kind to Tally's way of thinking."

Tim gave me a sharp look and flattened his hand against Tally's neck. I smiled at his mamma bear reaction.

"The thing is, everything I did with her and to her had a purpose. She came out of each session unhurt and with a little more understanding of what was expected.

"As time went on, Tally started to get me. She knew there was a trade-off. If she did what I wanted, then she was given what she wanted, which at first, was being left alone. She had no use for people, she wanted to be turned out and let be, but if I was going to insist on messing with her, she could get me to back off if she cooperated.

"The important thing to remember here, Tim, is I never worried about whether or not she liked me. That wasn't what our deal was. She did start to trust me. She could trust me to keep her safe, to get her through everything I wanted of her, without getting her hurt.

"I made mistakes, but I didn't make them twice," I looked steadily at him. When his face turned red and he looked at the ground I knew he was thinking of the twice rolled saddle as much as I was.

"If I had some independent thoughts on training her I ran them by the Big K, I didn't hide them from him or try out the advice of somebody else without checking in. With a horse this tricky I knew I needed the input of the person I trust the most when it comes to training. I owed it to Tally to be as honest and fair as I could, my ego couldn't be a part of working with her."

Tim's face sulled up and his shoulders started to stiffen. I needed to back off.

"I have horses who like me," I said. "Sonita does, but have you ever seen me assume our friendship will save my ass if she's in a mood?"

Tim shook his head, but I got a smile out of him.

"If I took it personal when she blows up at a tractor, well, that just means I'm trying to make her a person. She's a horse. Liking or not liking me means nothing to her when she thinks she might get eaten by the feed cart.

"At the same time, Sonita trusts me to get her by the tractor. I've done it hundreds of times, she knows we always survive, so she doesn't completely unload on me. I had her trust way before I had her friendship.

"If a herd of horses is grazing in a field, they'll stay close to their friends. They groom and play with each other, join forces to take the best grass away from weaker horses, keep watch over each other's babies, all kinds of things that make it clear they are friends.Then, when a plane flies low overhead or a pack of dogs starts harassing them, what do they do?"

I waited while Tim worked through things.

"Well, they run," he finally said.

"Do they hang around and wait to see how their friends are doing?"

"I don't know, he answered.

"They run like hell. Tails in the air, every man for themselves. Horses trust their speed and the power of the group.This is why I asked you to spend time watching a group of broodmares on pasture. If Tally blows, she's getting out of Dodge. If she thinks of you at all, she's thinking, 'Run Tim run!'" She is not worrying about whether you ride well enough to stay on. If you had seen a herd in a full run you might understand it better."

"I did watch them!" Tim protested.

"You drove out to the pasture I told you about and watched the horses?"

"Well, no, I watched the dudes in the big corral, they said it was the same."

"Who exactly, is they?" I started, then I caught myself. "Don't tell me, there's no point. The behavior of a dozen 100-year-old dudes and a herd of broodies with their foals on two hundred acres is not the same. If you trusted me, you'd get that by now, because you would have seen the difference yourself."

"It's not that I don't trust you," Tim protested, "it's just that..." He shut his mouth, there really wasn't a good response here.

"I treat you like I do my horses," I said, "I don't ask you to do things to make nice, I'm trying my damnedest to help you survive your mare."

There was a long, very awkward pause. I waited.

"What's next?" Tim finally asked.

I had to give him points, he wasn't throwing in the towel.

"We saddle Tally and then I ride her," I answered.

"Nobody can get her saddled," Tim said, he was distraught enough for me to see there were some more going on's Tim hadn't felt like sharing.

I shoved my anger and frustration somewhere deep inside, then added the cold fear coiled in my stomach.
Tally was going to take a big dose of calm and I knew she trusted me to give it to her. I found the calm I needed and let it wash over me.

"She'll be fine," I said, "let's go get saddled."

Tally - Thick Skulls

It took a couple of days to get a hold of my client, Tim. Right when I became officially nervous and was in the middle of leaving yet another message telling him just that, he finally picked up.

"Hi Janet," he said. He sounded tired.

"Jeez, Tim, are you OK?"

"Yeah, I cracked a few ribs and have a concussion, but I'm better."

"What happened? Nobody at the barn saw anything, they just tell me your saddle slipped."

"It did."

"Were you on her?"

"Just about, I was swinging my leg over when she jumped and I came off into the fence. The saddle rolled under her belly and she started bucking. Janet, it was terrible, she must have bucked for twenty minutes before the saddle finally came off."

"Wait, I'm confused. Walk me through this."

I wasn't actually confused, I was pissed, but I didn't know where to start  or who exactly I needed to be angry with. It sure wasn't going to be Tally. We were still following some pretty stringent guide lines with her. Tim wasn't supposed to ride alone, or at least without telling somebody he was heading out. I was sure Tally hadn't bucked for twenty minutes, in the messed up time warp of a newly concussed rider, minutes could become hours or seconds. Still, why hadn't anybody seen this? The arena was easily visible from the main barn. Tim was always supposed to mount and dismount in the middle of the arena, where there was plenty of clear landing space in case of an incident. This wasn't a suggestion, it was an iron clad rule. The middle of the arena was where I always began and ended my rides, especially on young, nervous or bolty horses. Tally was all of those things and more, so how had he ended up smashed into a fence?

For the most part, I try hard to not whack somebody when they're down. Tim was hurt and shaken up and didn't need me laying blame. At one point in my life I decided to eliminate any sentence beginning with "You should..." Personally, my back gets up the second I hear that one, and I figured other people felt about the same. Those two words imply so many negative things, the biggest being the person saying them is assuming he or she can know what's best for another person. Life has taught me I don't now what's best for anybody. I can only offer my own experience and how it shaped me, other than that it's best to shut the hella up.

So I did just that and waited for Tim to tell his story.

"I took Tally down to the arena," Tim said, "when I got on the saddle slipped."

"Did you try to step off?"

"I had my foot too far in the stirrup, so I leaned over the saddle to try to shift it back in place. The whole thing started to slide the other way and Tally bolted. When she got to the fence my head was almost hitting the ground, my legs were in the air and I couldn't get kicked loose from my stirrups."

From the quiver in his voice I knew he was till freaked , and I couldn't blame him. The image of the saddle slipping under Tally with Tim clinging to it was making me queasy.

"I guess I was lucky," he said, "Tally spun away from the fence and that made me finally came off. I hit the fence with my head and ended up with a doozy of a concussion."

"Jeez Tim, I am so sorry. You get this wasn't Tally's fault, right?"

"Yeah, I understand. I don't get why my saddle keeps slipping."

"Wait a minute, 'keeps slipping?'"

Now we were getting somewhere. Part of getting Tim ready to have a horse of his own had been for him to saddle as many horses he could find until he had a handle on how tight he needed a cinch, where a saddle should fit, how it should fit and so on. His stable ran lessons on horses of all shapes and sizes and he was a shy, friendly guy in a barn filled with women and kids, so he had lots of opportunity to practice.

Tally was a mutton withered, round backed little horse, with so much muscle she could lift, not only her saddle, but a rider too, a good couple inches off her back when she stepped under herself. A roll back was an awesome experience on her. She was a bitch to keep a saddle on.

It wasn't impossible though, with a 1" neoprene backed pad and a good wool cinch, it was possible to keep a saddle in place on her all day without mishap. A secure breast collar and snug back cinch kept everything in place.I had carefully explained why and how she needed to be saddled, warned Tim up one side and down the other of the dire consequences from not checking and rechecking his saddle and watched him saddle and re-saddle her hundreds of times. Okay, maybe just a hundred, but still...had this really happened more than once?

"Well, I didn't want to tell you, but this is the second time it happened."

"You've rolled the saddle on her twice?"

"Yes."

"Since you've brought her there?"

"Just the day I got hurt and the day before."

"So you rolled the saddle two days in a row?"

"Yes."

Right here is when a riding instructor and or trainer finds herself  at a crossroads. With a new client you really need to keep your mind clear and calm, even though every fiber in your being wants to go off on a crazy tirade. If you let 'er rip, well, the client will either become scared or mad, his brain will shut off and either he'll become too nervous to work things through, or get pissed and start laying blame. Ignorance is forgivable and trainable, and anger on the trainers part will turn it all to stupid.

Don't get me wrong, I am very much to the point with my long term clients and students, just ask Kathy. With Tim however, I really needed to get to the bottom of this, and letting him know how I was feeling wasn't going to get me anywhere.

"Did you tighten your cinch in stages?" I asked.

"Of course I did," Tim answered, with just the right touch of indignation. I was on the scent and the trail was warming up.

"When you mounted, was there any slide in the saddle?"

"Well, yeah, more than I planned on."

"Did you have just the toe of your boot in the stirrup so you could step back off?"

"Well, no, I thought I was just pulling on her too hard and if I got on her correctly it wouldn't shift, so I was making sure my foot was solid in the stirrup so I would have a solid step-off."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where did this information come from?"

I didn't recognize the lingo and those words had never come out of my mouth.

"From that book you gave me to read."

When I had a new, adult rider, I always gave them three books to read, Ray Hunt's, Think Harmony with Horses, Bill Dorrance's, True Horsemanship Through Feel and Sally Swift's Centered Riding. There was more reading later on in the game, but those were the cornerstones of what we were going to build.

It tuned out, my beloved Sally was the culprit. Tim explained he had read he needed to slip two fingers between the horse and the girth for a proper fit. How he came up with the rest of it, I'll never know.

"Did you realize that was pretty different than how I had taught you to saddle Tally?" My voice was calm, but I could feel the heat rising off my face. He couldn't see me, which was probably a good thing.

"Yeah, I did notice that," now he was getting defensive.

"If you had called I would have explained things to you."

"I didn't want to bother you," he replied. "I did ask Bonnie though.She told me to do what the book said."

I couldn't help it, I sighed so loud he heard me. Bonnie  ran the riding program at his barn and was the wife of the barn owner. Sweet and hardworking, she was one of those funny combinations you run into in the horse world, half filled with wisdom and half filled with ignorant crap. I had watched her successfully repair a mama goat's torn udder with staples, but she didn't like the students to ever do more than a trot, because it wasn't "safe."

Her daughters were barrel racers and the stars of the barn. The eldest like to keep her horse jigging by poking him in a continuous rhythm with her spurs and holding him tight between the reins of her mechanical hackamore, because it made the patient, gentle soul seem hot.The youngest kept buying different horses because she was afraid of them all, but it was never her, they were, "mean and stupid." All of them had a great seat and could spot a colic coming on hours before it was visible. They were an interesting group, but not one I would send Tim to for input on Tally.

"So after the first time the saddle rolled, did you think to go back to what I had shown you?"

"I was afraid the tight cinch was hurting her."

Now, I knew Sally hadn't told him this either, but I let it lie, besides I was on the hunt. "Has Tally ever been sore-backed or rubbed raw?"

"No."

"How is she now?"

"Her legs are pretty banged up and she won't let me saddle her. She freaks if she even sees the pad coming. I've been soaking her knee for twenty minutes every day."

"Her knee?"

"It's swollen."

I breathed deep. "Why don't we meet tomorrow and I'll get her saddled, then we can look at her legs."

"Bonnie told me to stay off her at least a month."

"All righty then. How about this. Do me a favor and think our conversation though, from front to back, then give me a call when you are ready to get going again."

I set the phone down as quiet as I could, released my gasping, snorting, inner Buddha and let myself briefly enjoy the image of him talking into the phone -- at least for a couple of minutes-- before he realized I was gone.

Tally

My student, Tim, the shy architect bought Tally.

They hit it off famously. She didn't mind his stiff, first year rider's seat, or the insecurity of his hands. She seemed to thrive under his gentle touch. He was amazed at her level, gliding gaits and her handle. They were a match made in heaven.

 I was terrified.

I explained how green she was, that she came from a very rough past and had a rocky start, to say the least.
Tim and Tally gazed at me with calm, happy eyes, equally incapable of comprehending what I was saying. With Tim it was because he was smitten and Tally refused to be rattled or take an uneven step with him. As far as  Tally goes, well, she was a horse.

He wanted to write me a check right there, but I insisted he lease her for sixty days first. He said fine. Then I added he needed to keep paying me to ride her at least twice a week, take lessons from me twice a week and only ride Tally while I was with him for the duration of the lease. That was fine too.

So we made our tentative deal. Tally would stay with me at my barn for the first thirty days, then we would move her down to his. I had covered every base I could think of. I had trained Tally with everything I had. She had been a rock for many weeks.

"Janet," K told me, "you are not much of a horse trader."

"I don't want to get anybody killed, that's all," I replied.

"I completely get that," K said. "It's a tough call."

Somehow he didn't make me feel any more confident.

Yet they looked beautiful together. Tim fit her, and Tally fit him. They were both small and muscled, tentative and excited. He took her for long walks, he was a hiker before the horse bug bit him, and Tally was a willing companion on the trail. I figured they were doing the ultimate desensitizing walking the trails. Tim had Tally willingly passing bikes and joggers an not flying into a wild panic as they came from behind.

I started to relax.

"Janet, I want to buy Tally now" Tim said. "We're fine, and I'd feel better if I owned her before I moved her. I want her to be at my barn."

I still hesitated.

I was looking at a situation no responsible horse trainer or dealer will let happen.

Green plus green equals black and blue, no matter how good it looks on the surface. If I was really honest, which I had been studiously avoiding, my equation was actually, green plus green plus green.
I was considered very green in the cow horse world. I was in my first year as a competitor and had never ridden horses of this caliber before. Reactive, sensitive, quick legged and quick minded, I was in a mad scramble to keep up with these horses and I had a lot of riding and training years under my belt.

Tim did not. Call Tally crazy, bad-minded, dangerous, all of that was up for debate. I truly, deep down in my gut, believed she was well on the road to recovery. She was, however, all cow horse.

What finally made me overcome my paranoia and sell the horse was the tight bond between the two. She lit up like my Grandma's birthday cake every time she saw him. Besides, Tim promised to keep up our riding schedule once they moved down the pass. I'd keep riding her and he wouldn't ride her unless I was there.

It kept getting better. Tally settled right in and their unique relationship continued to flourish. Tim was a new rider in his 40's, but he was smart, athletic and dedicated. He just kept getting better. He could sit her stops, guide her through a lead change -- and actually know if he got it -- and sit through a set of spins without getting dizzy. Tally stayed solid.

We started making plans for his first show. I would ride her in a warm up show about three hours away and if all went well, Tim was going to come with me to Amarillo for our first AQHA, NRCHA sanctioned show of the year.

I had just sat in my chair with a quart of water and a Mike's Hard Lemonade when my phone started ringing. I hadn't been home for ten minutes and I really didn't want to spend the next hour talking to a client about Fluffy's progress. Jim went to answer for me, but came out carrying the phone a few minutes later.

"It's Nancy," he said.

My mouth went dry and I didn't know if I could find the spit to talk to her. Nancy was the BO at Tim's barn.

"Janet?" She said. "We had an accident out at the arena today. Tim and Tally had quite the wreck."

Tally

It was time to sell Tally.

She lived with other horses in a generous pen and was easy to catch.

She was good for the vet and the shoer.

Her ground work was a joke. She was a flippin' circus pony. I could work her in a circle in an open arena, dictate the size of the circle, spiral her in, spiral her her out, control her speed, reverse in, reverse out, on and on, with her completely at liberty and the only motivation a flick of my fingers or a turn of my head. You could turn her left and right and all around on a rope, drag it over legs, through her legs, around her belly and flanks, none of it made her flick an ear.

Tally, of all horses, was teaching me that endless hours of ground work might be good for impressing clients, but in the big picture, had nothing to do with getting a horse broke.

Under saddle  she had three solid gaits, a good stop, decent spins and an easy lead change. She side passed, half passed, over and underpassed.

She would go out on the trail alone or in a group, look at cattle with healthy interest and although wary, was willing to meet new people.

Tally seemed to be at peace.

"She's still not right," my boss said. "There's a look to her."

I just shook my head. He never was one to admit he was wrong.

"I'm not saying she's going to be an easy horse," I explained, "but she's solid."

"Janet, I just don't think she is. She'll do fine if you want to keep her, probably more than fine, but she's not going to do well with anybody else."

"Boss, you know I don't believe in one-person horses. They're herd animals. They get eaten. Animals that live in groups and get eaten don't build solitary attachments."

He shook his head back at me and returned to his chores.

I was spending my mornings giving lessons at a busy stable in the middle of  town. I started taking Tally with me and sat on her while I taught. She dealt with the hubbub of kids, traffic, goats and tourists without much trouble. An occasional snort and cocked ear was about all she had to offer.

On the trail she got snorty when a jogger approached from behind, but there was no bolting, no frantic skitters. She just kept getting better. Tally still wasn't particularly social. She would tolerate an occasional scratch from a stray student, but for the most part would snort, blow and step away from anybody who wanted to "pet the horsie." It didn't bother me though, she had come such a long way from the terror stricken maniac I had started with, I didn't figure it was in her contract to be best friends with anybody.

One afternoon one of my adult students approached me while I was unsaddling and getting ready to head up the pass.

"I was wondering if I could talk to you about Tally," Tim said.

"Sure, what do you want to know?"

"I was wondering if she would work out for me."

I took a long pause.

"Well Tim, she rides well enough, but you've only been riding a year. She's pretty green and can be a lot of horse."

"I know, but she's so beautiful and you know I want to compete in reining."

"She hasn't been shown though, I've been looking for a good rookie reining horse for you." I turned away and loaded my saddle into the tack compartment.

I stepped out of the trailer and turned to face him. "I just don't think..."

My mouth was still open, but nothing was coming out of it. The short, shy architect was gently stroking Tally's ears. Her coarse little hammer head, from forehead to nose, was pressed against his chest.

"You're probably right. I sure like her though."

Tim scratched under her mane and Tally stood, hip cocked, tongue working, with her eyes half closed in complete and total  bliss. It was an expression I had never seen on her face before.

"I tell you what," I said. "I'll bring her out early Saturday morning and you can give her a try."

His eyes lit up and he smiled, not at me, but Tally. His fingers never stopped their rhythmical scratch.

Tally

I was riding a new horse.

It wasn't a matter of the way we got on together. We had been good for a long time.I backed off the strenuous work outs and simply wandered around the property for several days, letting her meander with minimal direction from me.

She was fun to play on. All of her fear and anger were man made. Out in the fields, left to our own devices she was calm, bold and willing.She would work her way down the creek embankment and into knee deep water without hesitation. We could scramble across a shale covered slope like a mountain goat. Blowing plastic, blaring car horns, rattling traffic signs and heavy traffic meant nothing to her. She would lope free and easy without a sign of bolting up the wide open fire trails in the National forest.

I was starting to get a glimmer.

It was about acceptance instead of tolerance.

We always seemed to share a non-stop silent conversation when we were training.

"Oh no you don't," Tally would say.

"Sure I do," I'd reply.

"Well, OK, but just this one thing, and only for you. I could change my mind any second."

"Great, now let's try the next thing."

"Oh no you don't."

I had been desensitizing her to frightening stimuli, building her trust through careful give and take and ya da da, ya da da. All the great stuff I'd been reading and learning had been working, or so I thought.

There was a trap in all of my gentle, intuitive, body language reading, open minded training. I got physical results, but I didn't truly have Tally's understanding. She had learned to tolerate touch, riding, training for maneuvers, but I hadn't gotten her to accept any of it as a way of life.

Tyler had got on and rode the tar out of her. It was simple as that. It wasn't about kindness or cruelty, reading the horse or not. It was about getting on and staying on until she accepted him as a fact in her life. Not somebody to tolerate today, but accepting the fact she would be ridden. Period.

It had worked too. She was calmer, happier and easier to ride. All her small resistances were gone. No more wild eyed jumps when I got out the same brush she had been groomed with every day. No more sucking back because I approached on her off side instead off her good side first. No more snorting, leaping jumps in the air when we crossed a shadow from the arena windows.

It occurred to me I had been catering to her quirks and fears, even if it was only to stop what I was planning in order to handle the problem she had just dumped in our way.

The Big K was eternally telling me to "Just go!" I was finally beginning to get his point.

By trying to explain every single step to Tally I had lost the original goal. To get on and ride.
Tyler had ignored the little stuff and focused on the primary. Tally had accepted the big fact that she could and would be ridden. The rest faded away.

On the flip side, I had made enormous headway with a horse deemed unrideable. Could she have come this far if she had started out with Tyler's (and by osmosis the Big K) simple, across the board training style?

When did finesse and careful thought need to be replaced with pure and simple riding?

I snapped out of my deep thoughts when Tally snorted at a nose full of No Seeums. I had more questions than answers, typical of my relationship with Tally, but I had a sudden flash of insight.

For the first time I had trusted her enough to let her go. I had become so lost in thought I'd forgotten I was even on her back. She hadn't let me down.

Tally

My cell phone rang while I was pulling saddles from my last three rides.

"Hey Janet? This is Tyler."

"Still alive I'm guessing," I said.

"Who, me or your mare?"

"Well, I can tell you are, how's Tally?"

"She's doing just fine, you coming out to ride tomorrow?"

"I am."

"Well I guess I'll see you then."
 
 Tyler was every bit as much as a sparkling conversationalist as the Big K, they were certainly a good fit. My mood was high though, if it had been bad news I knew he would have gone into a little more detail.

That night I couldn't get Tally off my mind. She never left my thoughts as I drove home, she hovered in the corners while I asked my daughter about her day, chatted with my husband and got dinner going. I really needed to sell her, my board bills were killing me and I wanted to move my 3-year-old up to the main barn. Maybe she was truly coming around. Maybe I'd be able to find somebody who would want to buy a 14 hand, muscle bound, hammer headed, Foundation bred mare with a bad rap. Sure, why not? She was everybody's dream horse, wasn't she? I sure knew how to pick them.

Except she could be somebody's dream horse, I knew she could. There was a willingness to her, sometimes a softness in her eye that went straight to my heart and it was impossible not to admire her quick athleticism and strength. What in the world would I do if I was the only one to see it in her?

The next morning broke clear and windless, so I beat feet to load up Sonita and drive the hour and a half out to the Big K's. It was a perfect day to see how Tally had fared.

The miles flew past as I drove the narrow two-lane roads from the mountains to the plains east of the Springs. I was excited, hopeful and nervous, more than likely I was darn lucky not to run into or through anything I shouldn't have. When I pulled into K's place and parked I realized I didn't remember a single second of my trip.

Tyler and K were rocked back in two battered folding chairs, enjoying the sun like a couple of lizards on a rock. Tyler waited until Sonita was unloaded before he came over to chat. K stayed in his chair, giving Tyler time to talk to me one on one.

"She's going pretty good, I think you'll be happy," he said.

"Did she give you any trouble?"

"The first time I rode her out was pretty wild, but nothing like that first ride. Do you want to take her for a spin?"

He had a barely suppressed smile on his face and I could tell Tyler was proud of the job he had done.

"You know what? Why don't you ride her first and let me watch her go. I know she'll let me ride her." Neither one of us mentioned the fact I had never had her outside the indoor at my barn. We both knew I didn't have any other place to go except straight up a mountain and I would quit training before I admitted to the thrill of fear that had gone through me every time I had thought of leaving the safety of my arena. I was still a little uneasy at the idea, but Tyler had the makings of a good trainer, he didn't call me on it, he just smiled and went to get Tally.

He brought her out and she led quiet and calm. She pricked her ears when she saw me, but didn't knicker or tug on the lead rope.

I had Tyler saddle her with my rig so I could ride when he had finished his demo. Tally rolled her eye towards me when he tightened her cinch, but she seemed content enough. He bridled her with the same simple O-ring I rode with and led her to the middle of K's football field sized outdoor arena. K came and stood beside me as I rested my chin on top of crossed my arms and slipped one foot on the bottom rail of the arena fence.

He swung up with easy familiarity and trotted her out for a few circles. Tyler was a big guy, but Tally carried him handily, her strong back raised enough to keep the saddle skirts an inch or so off the saddle pad. Her neck stayed level and she powered along at a steady pace.

He asked her to stop in the middle and she parked it without a fuss. When they loped of she was flying at a good clip withing two or three strides.

"Whoosh," I said, "he's really got her motoring along."

"That's the speed she needs to be at," K said. "See how solid she is?"

K was right. Tyler was riding on a loose rein, completely relaxed in the saddle. Tally's feet beat out a solid rhythm and looked broke and happy, the faster speed suited her.

Tyler rode her through five or six circles each way, changed lead a few times and asked her to stop.

I headed towards them while she aired up.

"She looks good," I said.

Tyler stepped down and handed me the reins. "She's got a great feel," he said, "she could turn out to be quite the horse."

I made sure I had my game face on and stepped into my stirrup. Tally stood still as I swung up and turned her head to give my boot a friendly sniff. She felt the same as always.

I walked off a few strides and asked for a lope. She moved out quick and fluid as she always did and we were flying around the arena within seconds. I gathered my reins and she dropped into the slow and easy canter she maintained at home.

"Janet!" I heard K shout. "Let go of that mare's head!"

I made sure I was breathing and fed her some rein. Tally, bless her pea-picking heart, stayed at the same speed.

"Janet!" K shouted again.

Meet my Maker or tick off the Big K for hanging on my horse? I shook my head a little and clucked to her, touching her with my heel. She jumped forward, but this time I made myself stay loose. Tally sped around the arena, smooth as could be.

It was wonderful, it was exciting, she was a little engine chugging along the tracks, but there was no tension, no worry, just enough speed to make you know you were going somewhere.

"There you've got it!" K called out.

My smile got bigger and bigger. This horse was such a blast. Tyler still stood in the middle of the arena and we flashed past him. I caught his eye and he smiled back as big and broad as the possibilities I felt opening up for my crazy little mare.

Tally

When I wheeled into the Big K's my stomach was jumping.

This was a big test for Tally. There was going to be no bail-outs on this ride.

I had called the Big K earlier in the week and asked him what it would take to get him to ride her.

"I'll see if Tyler will ride her," K had said."I'm not particularly fond of that mare and I sure don't plan on getting busted up over her."

"I don't know if it's fair to put Tyler up there."

"You think it's fair for me to crawl up on her but not Tyler? He's the help."


"Good point," I conceded.
 

"He's younger too."

"You're right."

"He bounces, we don't."

"True."

"He'll think it's fun."

"I get it K, I get it."

"He's cheaper."

"Oooh, you're right K, Tyler's the man for me."

K was right, Tyler was  more than a little excited when I asked him to ride Tally. She seemed to appeal to everyone and the general consensus was, 'if Mugs would just step up and ride the hair off her,' she'd be a good horse.

If Tyler could get her ridden down for me he could call me chicken as much as he wanted.

I let him tack her up so he could size her up. I was relieved to see he was approaching Tally like a professional. He wasn't cocky and he wasn't nervous, he got her ready like he expected her to be good, but kept an eye on her.

Tally relaxed into his confidence. Maybe this was going to work.

Tyler led her towards the big outdoor.

"You might want to ride her inside, at least the first time out," I called.

"Okay." Without hesitation, he headed for the indoor arena.

They might want me to step up, but Tyler took me seriously. He wasn't used to seeing me this wound up and my time on Sonita had proven I wasn't easily unnerved.The Big K and I followed on foot. I closed the arena doors while Tyler tightened his cinch.

"Give me a sec, Tyler," I told him, "I'm going to close the doors by the cattle pen."

"Do you think she'll jump?" K asked me, with a worried look on his face.

The gates to the cattle pen were only about a foot higher than the one she had cleared with Crystal.

"I'd feel better if we closed the big doors," I answered.

"I'll get them then" he said and crossed the arena to close the doors.

Tally stood quiet, at ease enough to cock her hip. She looked around when K slid the doors shut, but didn't seem concerned. K stopped and talked with Tyler for a few minutes. I wandered over to pick up on what he had to say.

"Stay deep and don't over ride her."

Nothing new there.

Tyler looked at me, a question in his eyes.

"She's going to try to jump out from under you at some point, she's quick and nobody else has been able to catch her. Once she starts running she really gets going."

"OK, I'll be ready."

He gathered his reins, put his foot in the stirrup and gave an experimental bounce or two. Tally's head came up, but she didn't step away, so he mounted in one smooth motion.

Tally took one step, two, Tyler stayed relaxed and open to her.

I saw it coming.Her eyes went hard and small, I finally understood what Kathy meant went she talked about "shark eyes."  I froze as I watched her hind legs step deep underneath her.

K saw it too, there was no freezing on his part.

"Tyler, here it comes," was all he had time to say.

Tyler automatically deepened his seat, pushed his feet father into the stirrups  and relaxed his back. Tally bolted forward, leaping into the air in anticipation of a pull.

When none came she shot forward and they were off. She blasted around the arena, once, twice, three times, her legs churning and her speed increasing with every stride.

"Son of a gun," K muttered and gave me a quick glance, "you weren't kidding."

Tyler picked up his inside rein in an attempt to guide her and Tally finally had the fight she had been looking for. She launched into the air again, shaking her head at the contact from the reins. Her balance was off and she teetered for a second with only one hind leg on the ground. Tyler threw his weight into her shoulder and the other three feet crashed back to the ground. Without missing a beat she was running again, this time careening out of control.

She ran straight into the wall, turning at the last second, intent on slamming Tyler's knee into the support beams. Tyler cranked the outside rein and lifted his leg out of the way, he blocked her turn just enough to make her hit with her shoulder instead of him.

She bounced off without thought and raced around blind, the only thing stopping her was when she would hit another wall with a resounding clang.

"Let her head go and find your middle!" K shouted.

My admiration for the young man grew when I saw him loosen his hold and rebalance himself. I couldn't believe he could even hear K, much less be able to let her go.

Tally settled back into her flight around the arena once she had her head back. Tyler found her rhythm and just rode. The dust was so thick it was getting hard to see them, but the pounding of her hooves told us she hadn't begun to tire.

Finally Tally began to slow. They flew past us and a wide grin flashed across Tyler's dusty face. He had her.

"Great, you're doing great," K called, now try and circle her."

Tyler picked up his rein again and this time Tally responded. They galloped a big, loose circle, by the time they made their third loop she had her head down and was working like she should. By the fifth she was chuffing her contended train sound and her eyes had gone soft.

"Wow, she does look good," K said to me.

I went to the bench on the wall and let my knees collapse. My hands were shaking and there were tears in my eyes. I was embarrassed to no end. K gave me a small smile and turned away so I could pull myself together.

"Now that you've got her, let's make her work," K told him," we'll see what Janet has been teaching her."

"Come through the middle and ask her to change," he said. Tally switched her leads in a single  smooth and fluid stride. So it began.

The Big K and Tyler put Tally through a solid workout. As her focus shifted more and more to Tyler he stepped up the game. I held my breath when he asked for his first stop. She parked it sweet and solid.When he let her rest for just a split second before he put her back into her lope, the surprised look on her face made me laugh. She wanted to quit.

They stopped some more, then spun, then loped out and did a few turns on the wall. When all opinion was wrung out of her and Tally had  given herself completely over to Tyler's legs and hands, K finally said, "OK, let her stop."

Tally stood with her head hanging and her eyes closed. Her sides heaved and the sweat poured off her. Her neck and flanks were covered with foam. I had never seen her so tired. I wanted to step to her head and rub on her, but K stopped me with a look. He knew me way too well.

"That was some amazing riding," I said to Tyler. "What do you think?"

"I think she's fun," he said. Sweat was running down his dusty face making rivulets of mud. his breath was deep but even and his hands were steady. Only a little twitch in his stirrups betrayed the adrenalin still running through him.

"I can ride her for you if you want."

We made our deal and I left her in Tyler's care.

Scared or Mad - Tally

Tally settled right back into work. She was bright and cheerful, happy to be ridden and learning at an incredible rate of speed.

Kathy may have been holding a grudge, but Tally continued to treat her with the same, pre-hurricane-ride-from- hell, calm, friendly attitude every time Kathy brought her out of her pen to groom and saddle her.

"She's like a shark," Kathy grumbled, "just swimming around, waiting for somebody to fall in the water."

"Give her a break," I told her, "it was my fault, she wasn't ready for another rider, that's all."

"Oh, she was ready for me, don't kid yourself."

I went to work on Tally. No more soft, quiet, careful rides. I swung up on her right off the tie wall and pushed her straight into a trot. I leaned and tilted and poked her in the sides with my heels. I rode with uneven reins and tipped my weight to the left or right.

I mixed up my cues, sometimes riding with just my hands and sometimes with only my legs. I drug myself into the saddle, pulling on the horn and thumping into my seat.

She didn't take it well. Her eyes would go wide, her head would come up, her tail would kink and I could feel her feet start to scatter. She would pull herself together though, all it took to bring her back was a deep exhale and relaxing the muscles in my thighs, then my knees and ankles. With each breath my seat would deepen and Tally would settle. She was trying hard and she never bolted.

I found one huge, earth sucking, black hole.  She couldn't seem to handle her rider "going fetal."

If I tensed up, hunched over her shoulders and grabbed the horn she would panic. Tally would have surely bolted if I stayed that way, but I was able to get her back by simply sitting up and parking my seat bones where they belonged.

"Why do you keep doing that to her?" The boss asked me.

"Because it's the one trigger I can't seem to work her through. I'm never going to get her sold if she can't take a rider grabbing for the horn."

"When are you going to admit the mare is a one-person horse? Nobody else is ever going to be able to ride her."

"I refuse to believe there is such a thing," I answered.

The boss snorted and sauntered off.

I would work her up, bring her down, work her up again, each time she would come back to me a little sooner. When her reaction was slower and her settling quicker I would back off and put her to work. It was our favorite part of the day. She would relax into her lope, chugging around like a little freight train. I could feel the electricity in her muscles channel into the task at hand, her power would shift to her strong hind legs and her back would lift, carrying me forward with a lovely, natural cadence.

When we worked, Tally was solid as a rock, it was easy to let my mind go with the steady rhythm of her feet and become lost in the feeling of being one, not a rider on a horse, but a single sentient being. I hadn't felt this way on a horse since racing through Palmer Park on  Mort, my first horse and the best friend of my high school years.

Tally was a cool little horse and I was sure I could place her if I could just unlock that last little knot.

My long time student and client, Crystal, was the next to volunteer to try her. She knew what had happened to Kathy, but she had also seen the progress Tally was making.

"Are you sure?" I asked her. "Tally might give you a run for the money, you'll have to be willing to stick with her."

"I think I can do it," Crystal said with confidence, "besides, I just drool watching you ride her, she's so beautiful."

I looked at Tally's funny little hammer head and scratched her dented, scarred neck.

"Beautiful huh? That's not a word I usually have pop into my head when I think of Tally."

"Some people think rattlesnakes are beautiful," the ever helpful Kathy pointed out.

I understood what Crystal meant though. Tally reminded me of the horses in a Remington painting. Her muscular little body and sturdy, hairy little legs all flowed together in the rhythm of a time gone by. She didn't meet the standards of the modern Quarter Horse, but everything about her showed an economy and strength that made beautiful sense. Her heavy mane and tail, whiskery face and the wild look in her large, soft eyes made me feel like the very cowboys that had drawn me into the life I had chosen.

If Crystal got it, then maybe she was the next rider that could throw a leg over my wild child and succeed.

We arranged for her to come ride on a Thursday afternoon after a good workout. If she could simply ride her through a cool down we would be on the right track. Thursday was good, Tally would be two days away from her day off, but far enough into the week to have the sass off her. It was the best I could do.

Thursday arrived and Crystal came early.

"I'm not ready for you yet Crystal."

"I'm just so excited," she told me. "Can I get Tally ready? Will she let me catch her? Can I at least groom her?"

"It would more than likely be best if Kathy catches her and gets her ready. Let's keep to her routine for today. Why don't you ride yours first?"

"James or Fallon?"

"I'd ride both." It seemed Crystal needed some sass ridden off her too.

Tally was good for me that day. She tolerated my pulling and hauling better than usual and went through her workout with her usual bright attitude. I worked her hard, there was steam rising from her neck and flanks and a solid two-cooler sweat dripping down her legs by the time we were both happy.

Crystal had ridden both of hers and tied them to the wall. She still seemed eager, but her happy chihuahua excitement had calmed and I could see she was thinking clearly. Tired works on both horses and riders.

"OK, let's get this show on the road," I told her. "It's getting chilly and I need time to cool her out before I put her up." 

The breeze had sprung up and was blowing through the open end of the arena. I debated closing the door against the winter chill, but Tally hated it when I rode with it closed and it would take another ten minutes for me to wrestle the barrier gate open and drag the heavy door closed. I didn't need to rile her up now, so I just blew on my hands and buttoned up my jacket after I handed Crystal the reins.

 "I thought I was going to cool her out," Crystal said.

"Well that would be my intent, but my guess is Tally will get pretty nervous. Maybe not, just take it easy on her...."

Before I could go any further Crystal gathered the reins and swung up in one smooth motion.

"We'll be fine, won't we Tally girl?" She said and leaned over to rub her hard under her bushy mane.

I sucked in my breath about as hard as Tally did, but she stayed in place while Crystal scratched her neck. Maybe Tally liked Crystal's inner chihuahua, because her head relaxed and she licked her lips.

"C'mon Tally, let's go," Crystal said and they walked off easy as could be.

I was tickled to death. Tally was cruising along, head level, tail swinging in a cheerful cadence and Crystal was relaxed and calm.

"Remember," I said, "if she jumps, sit deep and pull her around your leg with one rein."

"She's fine," Crystal said.

"Good, I'm glad you're comfortable. But don't pull straight back and don't grab the horn if things get hairy."

"Fine Grandma."

Crystal's teasing seemed justified. They wandered around the arena, Crystal steered her left and right, asked her to stop and back, and just generally dinked with her, Tally seemed to be enjoying the ride.

"Can I trot her? Crystal asked me. "I'm not worried about her at all."

"I don't see why not, you're looking good, just remember to cluck instead of..."

Before I could finish my sentence Crystal bumped Tally with both heels. Tally jumped forward into a lope, still calm, just a little confused.

When Tally jumped, it was quick and liquid, easy to sit but startling in speed. Crystals hands came up and she pulled back hard. Tally's head came up and her eyes widened, she leaned into the bit and sped up.

"Crystal, don't, you need to either turn her or let her lope, you're fine," I called.

Crystal's face was rigid. I realized she wasn't going to hear a thing I said. She braced her legs, locking her knees and pulled harder. Tally gathered her legs under her and they were off.

She jumped once, twice against the hold Crystal had on her and bolted. They went careening around the arena, with Tally building speed with every stride.

Son of a bitch. I walked to the middle of the arena, trying to present a Zen-like trainerly presence. Crystal was hanging in there, but she wasn't thinking at all.

"You've got her Crystal, you can bring her down," I crooned, as well as I could croon over the pounding of Tally's feet. I stayed positioned as close to neutral as I could, I was hoping I could tune Tally in, but I didn't want to create a turn.

By the third lap I could see Crystal begin to think again. She forced herself to loosen the reins and looked at me.

"Try to tighten your inside rein," I told her. "Bring her in a smaller circle. Don't pull back, just guide."

She brought up her inside hand and I exhaled in relief.

Crystal pulled, hard, and yanked Tally's head almost to her knee. Tally stumbled to one knee and I thought we were done, but I should have known better. Crystal dropped her rein and grabbed at the horn. Her back hunched, her knees gripped tight and her toes pointed down as her fear won out.

 Tally was on her feet in a flash and took off in a beeline across the arena. She headed straight for the five-foot barrier gate and was flat out in three strides. I watched in helpless horror as visions of them smashing into the heavy metal rails filled my mind.

Tally cleared it, with only a click of one hind foot and a flip of her black tail.

Crystal stuck it. She flipping stuck it.

I yipped and headed after them when Tally landed clean and began to slow. Crystal fell off. She just let go and hit the dirt. In the 70's one of my favorite programs was called Laugh In. There was a recurring skit where comedian Art Carney, in a shiny yellow rain coat, rode a tiny tricycle. He would peddle along and then fall over, flat on his side totally rigid and still on the trike. It was hilarious. I had to slap my hand over my mouth to stop the strangled laugh that was fighting it's way to the surface when the image of the man falling off that trike filled my mind. I couldn't believe I was laughing, but I was.

I ran up to Crystal and kneeled next to her. "Are you OK?"

She rolled over and looked me in the eye.

"You owe me a Margarita at Jose's for riding that loon," she said, "and the Deluxe Enchilada plate for laughing at me."

I couldn't disagree.

When I gathered Tally up she whiffled my shirt with her soft warm breath. I rubbed her forward and played with her little fox ears.

"Tally old girl," I told her. "It's time to call in the big guns."

Scared or Mad - Tally

I rode Tally hard that morning.

She chugged like a little freight train, her snorts growing louder as she relaxed and lost herself into our workout. She turned into a little machine as she warmed up.

Her muscular little body surged with power and her natural cadence made it easy to get lost in the rhythm of her lope. She was deep strided and strong, making me feel like I was on a much larger horse as she carried me through the corners  without a lean or a wobble.

The bright little bay worked on her own to stay evenly balanced between my legs. She was the only horse I had ever ridden that took my concept of keeping an imaginary sliver of air between my seat and legs and made it literal. With just a touch she would reposition herself so no uneven contact came between us.

Tally was an incredible education. I had to be aware and soft all the time, my riding had to be instinctive, my timing blended with hers to the second, or the surge of panic I knew so well would come bubbling up through her, her back would hollow, her head rise in the air and her legs would begin to scramble.

If my middle was solid and my stinking, eternally sinking, right hip hadn't slid into the pocket of my saddle I could bring her back to me with a sigh, a touch of my calf. My riding improved on my other horses in leaps and bounds. The more instinctive and less intellectual my training became the better off we all were.

My heart ached at the thought of selling her, but my reserves were going fast and my time was becoming more precious as my business began to grow. I needed Tally to learn to accept other riders and I needed it quick.

My assistant Kathy had finally decided she was ready to give Tally a whirl. She wanted her tired and she wanted her on a longe line with me on the end of it.

So I worked hard to tire the mare that morning. Tally was hard to wear out. She had become addicted to our morning work outs, her need to move came closer to being satisfied the harder she went, so it was difficult to wear her down. Tally had flipped my standard release and rest reward system. Her reward was getting to move out, circling at a good clip, huffing and chuffing away. Right when I would think she was ready to stop, her heavy tail would flag a little and she would ask for more.

Finally we stood in the middle of the arena, sweat rolling of both of us in waves. Tally was bright and soft, but relaxed, and I was rolling around on a contact high that gave me confidence this mare could do anything.

"Why don't we start with you just getting up and down on her, we'll take it slow," I told Kathy as I slid down.

"Sounds good to me," she said. Her mouth was set and her shoulders stiff as she approached. "I still want you on the end of a rope."

We slipped off Tally's bridle and put the halter and longe line on. I tied the head piece tight and close to her ear, making sure the pressure on her face would be even, not too much on her nose, not too much on the poll.

She was puzzled. Kathy should be unsaddling her, taking her out for a rinse and tying her back in the line up, not getting her ready for another ride. Tally's eyes stayed soft and she rested her nose first on my arm, then Kathy's shoulder.

"Yep, I'm gonna ride you," Kathy told her.

"Live and let die," I said.

My long time friend glared at me, my compliant and congenial assistant gone in a flash, "Shut...up."

Kathy muttered something I couldn't quite hear as she put the bridle back on over the halter.

I stepped away, the longe line doubled in my hand, enough slack in it to tell Tally Kathy was in charge.
Kathy gathered her reins, stepped into the stirrup and stood up in one easy move. She balanced straight in the stirrup, over Tally's back, one hand on the swell, the other on the cantle.

Tally snorted and raised her head. Her eyes rolled white and she started to shift around.

"Janet...." Kathy said.

"Hold steady, she's just sorting things out, if she goes, just step down and stay at her shoulder. I'll pull her around if need be," I answered.

Tally rebalanced and sighed. Her head dropped as she relaxed and Kathy stepped off.

"That was great! Let's go again." I said.

"Can I wait until I don't want to puke anymore?"

"You're fine, hop on up there."

"I hate you when you're perky."

We repeated stepping into the stirrup several times until Tally started looking around and began to get restless.

"Do you want to swing a leg over or should we quit for the day?" I asked.

"If you ever want to see me again we'll quit for the day."

"OK, we'll go again tomorrow."

"Hooray, I can't wait," Kathy said. "By the way, I think you can put Tally up, I need to go have a cup of coffee."

The next morning began the same, except Kathy was feeling  little more positive and Tally was completely unconcerned when she stood up in the stirrup.

"Do you want to get on and walk her around? We can make it her regular cool down," I asked her.

"That will probably work," Kathy told me. She seemed calm and relaxed when she threw her leg over Tally's back. Tally stiffened, but offered no resistance.

Tally was stiff and white-eyed, but she listened to the unfamiliar hands on the reins.

"It's like riding a little bulldog," Kathy said.

"Bull terrier? French Bull Dog?"

"More like a Boston..."

Tally bolted. Her hind legs suddenly powered under her and she was off like a shot. Kathy grabbed the swells with both hands and deepened her seat. I set my legs and balanced the longe line across my hip so I could power Tally down as she took off across the arena.

She didn't leave. She cut across the circumference of our circle and headed straight towards me. I frantically started gathering in the line so she wouldn't get caught up in it. The mare's eyes had gone cold and hard, like dark little marbles. As she shot by I saw Kathy pick up the reins and pull. Tally leaned into the bit and pulled back. The leverage lifted Tally's front end off the ground  and she pushed off with her hind end. They were burling straight into the arena wall.

I got my line squared away and put some steady pressure on the halter, trying to stop the blind bolt without pulling horse and rider over.

"Get off her face!" I shouted.  Kathy was white  faced and silent, there was nothing in her world except Tally. She couldn't hear me.

I don't know if Tally felt the pressure of the longe line or decided against crashing into the wall, but she veered away, gathering even more power through her turn, her legs thrust deep into the arena as she took off up the side, so close she slammed Kathy's knee into a support beam.

When she hit the end of the longe line I felt her gather for another leap.

"Hang on!" I shouted, but Kathy had enough. She let go and flew into the arena wall as Tally ripped into yet another turn.

The air was heavy with dust and I could barely make out Kathy's still form on the arena floor. Tally stood about twenty feet away, stamping her foot and twitching her tail in irritation.

I ran over to Kathy and knelt down next to her.

"Kathy? Kath? Are you all right? Oh God, let her be OK."

She groaned and rolled over in the sawdust.

"I am never riding that bitch again."

Tally

"She's a one person horse. It happens sometimes," the boss said. "She's never going to let anybody else ride her."

"She doesn't have an option," I said. "I can't afford to keep her.'

Riding Tally was like riding a cat. She flowed. Her muscular little body never was thrown off course by my weight, yet she read every shift and tried to accommodate.

There was no spook to her. Nothing fazed her. Dogs, vehicles, other horses, it was all the same to her. She learned very quickly. Once she understood what I was asking she gave it her all, every time, 100%.

She was so quick I wasn't completely sure I could stay on her through a fence turn. I had never come off, but it was just a sense I had about her. I always felt if I asked for more I might just get more than I could handle.

I moved her out of the dusty, isolated stall in the arena, and into an outside pen. She had fresh air, room to run and companionship. The boss made sure he was there to watch the first time I went to catch her. He was sure he'd have some fun to share with Bill. I had to work hard to keep the smirk off my face when I went right to her and she followed me to the gate with a bright expression. Just to rub it in a little I didn't halter her until we got to the gate. I wanted to be sure the boss knew I had her.

I had crossed a line with Tally. We had become friends. She would nicker when I drove into work in the morning and would leave her feed to say "Hi." It made me feel wonderful. It made me almost believe there was a way to reach any horse if a person had enough time, patience, education, and help.

There was only one problem. She was still terrified of every other person on the planet. She didn't want anything to do with men, women or kids. Nobody else could catch her. She barely tolerated my assistant grooming and saddling her. If I wasn't in the arena when Kathy got her ready there would be a huge ruckus.

When Tally blew it wasn't pretty. If she sucked back she would throw herself forward and crash into the tie wall. She had scrapes and scabs on her head, chest and legs most of the time from flailing against the wall, or a tie rail, or my trailer. She was starting to look like a horse tripping victim from the Mexican rodeo.

When the boss fed she would go to the far corner of the pen and wouldn't come up to eat until he had moved to the next group of horses.

"Why don't you keep her?" I was asked by more than one person."She only likes you. She'll never be OK for anybody else."

It was a lovely thought, but I couldn't afford her. I would have to sell Sonita in order to keep her and I couldn't go there. Plus I didn't believe in this one man horse nonsense. Sonita had tried the same thing and she was over it. Tally could learn to do the same.

I started working her hard and tying her up wet, foamy and tired. I'd let her stand by herself for a few hours and then Kathy would bring her a drink. We'd wait until the end of the day and I would put up every horse except Tally. Kathy would unsaddle her, groom her crusty coat, untangle her mane and turn her out.

She barely tolerated her at first, but as the days went by she began to appreciate Kathy's quiet, gentle touch. Tally's eye grew softer, her head stayed lower and her chin began to drop a few tense little wrinkles.

One morning I was running late. As I drove up to the barn I saw Tally was missing from her pen. Kathy's car was parked outside the indoor arena and I jumped out my car and blew through the door.

There stood my morning line-up, saddled and ready to go. Sonita, James and Tally. Kathy was sitting in a chair, holding a coffee mug, a big old Cheshire cat grin on her face.

"We've got time for a cup," she told me. "There's a fresh pot in the office."

I went and got myself some coffee and came out to sit next to Kathy. Sonita shook her head and stamped an impatient foot at James, he pinned his ears and swung his butt out of reach. Tally stood, mild eyed, and watched them bicker.

"How was she to catch?" I asked.

"It took me about five minutes, then she just relaxed and walked over to me. She's been perfect ever since!"

"Great," I told her. "Now it's time to see if you can ride her."

I felt guilty as I watched the Cheshire grin fade from Kathy's face.

Sometimes it really sucked being my assistant.

Scared or Mad:Tally

I wasn't getting a handle on her. We could walk, we could trot, we could lope a few strides. But nothing felt right.

Tally felt like a keg of explosives. It was like riding a horse down the alley way of a rodeo arena before a barrel race, or sitting on a bull in a bucking chute (which I did once, but that's a Mort story). There was a feeling of anticipation while I was on her and not a good one.

When I start a young horse I spend the first rides ignoring the terror hamster running on his wheel in my stomach. The rotten rodent spins that wheel through at least the first few rides, sometimes more, while I find out what kind of ammo the colt or filly is packing.

Then one day, I'll get on to ride and the terror hamster will be quiet. It's the day I know we've gotten through the rough stuff and I know the horse under me. I trust the evil little hamster and I'm careful until he quits running his wheel.

With Tally, the hamster wouldn't stop. The weird thing was, she wasn't doing anything wrong. She was soft in my hands and obedient to my legs. She was eerily balanced and smooth as silk. She was also very, very quiet. She accepted direction and learned quickly.

I felt like she was waiting. It wasn't like she was out to get me. Tally seemed to like me well enough. But tension wove through her muscular little body and wrapped around my shoulders like a wet blanket every time I threw my leg over.

She took tiny little steps and went with her head low. Her trot was almost a pleasure jog, with the same feeling of pushing through deep water. Her lope was barely there. She held herself back with everything she had but kept her back up and her legs well underneath her at the same time.

Tally wouldn't relax and wouldn't increase her speed. Having her follow another horse didn't seem to matter. She would tuck into the hip and go along willingly enough until the horse moved out faster than she wanted to go. Then she would just lag behind.

My inner hamster warned me not to push her past her self imposed limits. My inner hamster wanted me to go screaming into the night. I hauled her out to the Big K's instead.

"What's going on?" he asked me. He looked Tally over with a critical eye. We were standing outside my trailer. Tally raised her head and snorted at K then stepped her hindquarters away from him.

"I can ride her, but it's like riding a time bomb. I can just feel her ticking away," I dragged my fingers through her mane. "She won't move out."

"Have you pushed her past it?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because she's scaring the crap out of me."

"You can't know what you've got until you dig down and pull it out of them," K said. This was something he had told me time and time again.

"I'm not sure I can handle what Tally's got and I sure can't talk myself into going digging."

K stood with his arms folded and looked at my little mare for a minute longer. "You're probably hanging onto her face."

"Probably. Trust me, there's something about her that's not only making me want to hang on, but I'm just about going fetal every time she raises her head."

"OK, I'm going to go saddle a pony horse. You saddle up your mare and wrap her legs. We'll do some digging."

I saddled Tally and tried to ready myself for whatever was coming. I had never been hurt while riding with the Big K and he had talked me through some tough situations. I hadn't been able to explain the wild current I felt running through Tally but if anybody would pick up on it K would.

K rode out on Dill, his tough little Reminic gelding. "Bring her here," he called. "I'll haul her around the outdoor for a bit and try to get a feel for her."

I led Tally to him and he took the lead rope. He moved off and Tally planted her front legs. She stood frozen until she felt pressure on her poll from the rope halter and then she bolted. She shot behind K's horse and the lead rope dug into his thigh and across Dill's rump. Dill whirled away from the pressure and turned to face her. K kicked him forward a few strides and gave himself enough slack to dally.

Once he had her secure K started to push Tally's hip around with his horse nose to tail. Dill was relaxed and good at his job and kept Tally moving without scaring her. She tolerated being pushed back and forth, but every time K would give her a little slack she would try to bolt.

Tally slammed into Dill's side, try to crawl over the top of him, even shoved her head under his belly and pushed, once she picked a direction she would run blind until she was wrestled to a stop.

The Big K looked over at me, eyebrows raised and his eyes wide, with his best, "What the hell?" look on his face.

"You've been riding this?" he asked me.

"She doesn't act like this when I ride her," I told him,"but you're getting what I'm feeling. It's just waiting for me."

He shook his head and worked her farther out in the arena. He continued to push her this way and that with Dill, trying to give her a little slack and a rest every time she complied. After a good twenty minutes both horses had rivulets of sweat running down their legs and foam outlining their saddle pads.

The two horses stood side by side and blew. K leaned over and pulled on my saddle, rubbed Tally's neck and butt and flopped my stirrups around. She stood quiet and relaxed for him. Satisfied, he released his dally and began to pony her around in circles. Tally trotted alongside Dill with a free and open trot. K broke into a fast lope and Tally went along with him.

They came down the arena fence and K grinned as they sped by. "I think we got her," he called. Tally spun and shot off in a straight line behind them. The Big K held on as she pulled him back but Dill scooted forward as his weight shifted and he had to let her go.

He stopped Dill and took off after her. Quick as she was, Dill was quicker and K hooked onto Tally like a cow going down the fence. Dill began to work her up and down the long side of the arena. He drove her hard along the fence, then stepped in front of her, turning her into the fence and sending her out the other way.

Tally seemed to relax into the work and K was able to reach over and gather her lead rope after a few more turns. The horses' lungs worked like bellows and I could see a flash of ribs every time they sucked in another lung full of air. K dallied again before leading her to the heavy pipe tie rail just outside of the arena. Tally came along with plenty of slack in her rope.

He sidled Dill up to the rail and tied her off before he dismounted. She stood quiet enough, at least until the Big K stepped off his gelding and was standing in between the two horses. Tally sucked back and reared when she hit the end of her lead rope. She whipped her head back and forth and squalled like a burned cat. K ducked under the tie rail and began to work Dill around to him from the other side.

Tally leaped forward and tried to clear the rail. If she hadn't been tied she would have come down on top of K. The rope held and she was yanked over backwards just as her front feet cleared the rail. She flipped and crashed to the ground.

I waited, watching to see how the big K would react. He held his position and watched Tally thrash on the ground until she got her feet under and jumped up. As soon as she was up he came towards her fast with his hands raised and she sucked back again.

"Hey!' he yelled and waved his hands some more. She reared again, shaking her head and he stepped in closer, shouting and waving his hands like a banshee. It looked to me as if she was going to jump again, but instead she put her feet back on the ground and stared wild-eyed at the big K, still leaning back so hard she was almost sitting like a dog. I couldn't decide who was crazier.

His arms went back to his sides but he held his position. The seconds ticked by like hours as they faced off. Tally finally stood up and leaned forward enough to ease some of the pressure on her poll.

The Big K gathered up his reins and led Dill over to me.

"I think she'll be OK now," he said. "Go grab your bit."

"Do you want me to ride her?" I was trying desperately to keep my voice from shaking. I looked at her front legs. The backs were raw and bleeding from knee to elbow and she'd lost a chunk of hide from her hip bone. "She's pretty scurfed up, maybe she's sore."

"She did it to herself and I don't see any bone sticking out. We'll go in the indoor and I'll pony her around a little more. Then you can hop on and I'll pony her again. I think she'll shake loose and move out just fine."

K was right. Tally ponied around like a seasoned cutter in a warm-up. K cruised the indoor arena for a few minutes and told me to get on up. I reminded myself to breathe and got on my little nut case. Tally moved her feet a little, but seemed relaxed and friendly. I held my reins, but kept them loose and rested my hands on the swells of my saddle so I wouldn't grab at her.

K started us out with the nose to tail turns he had began 100 years before when I first handed her over.

"She's looking good," K said, "go ahead and use your legs to start our turns, just stay out of her mouth."

"So if I die today will you keep teaching Kidlette?"

"You're not going to die, I told you she was fine."

He led us out of our last turn and started long trotting around the arena. Tally stepped out with Dill, calm and quiet. Her trot was strong and flowing, her cadence was lovely. I told my inner hamster to shut the hell up and started to relax.

"How did you know?" I asked him.

"How did I know what?"

"That she was ready to cooperate."

"She quit looking like she was going to kill me."

"Why do you think she's so scared?"

"You think this mare is scared?" K looked at me with the same raised eyebrow s he had for Tally when she first blew up on him.

"Sure she is," I leaned down and rubbed on her sweat stained neck.

"I was watching her eye through that whole deal out there Janet," K's voice was dead serious. "This mare was 100% pure mad at me. If you're going to get this job done without getting hurt you'd better remember that."

He smooched to Dill and we loped off. Before we were done that afternoon I was moving Tally around the arena without K's help. We went through all her gaits, free and easy and at a good clip.
When we were done K said he was going to skip our regular "beer-thirty" break.

"I'm not in the mood today." He headed to the show barn with Dill, his head sunk low between his shoulders as he studied the ground. His black mood rolled over me. I wasn't sure where I was failing him, but I knew it had something to do with Tally.

I'd just have to chew on it during the long haul back to my barn.