Short Stories

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Do you mind a true story about the two best horses I ever had? I get this way around Triple Crown time. If you're wondering how this relates to spiritual matters, My Sunshine especially was good for my prayer life. They were Egyptian Arabian mares, dam (mother) Sunshine and her daughter Moriah whom I had the privilege of delivering. Moriah's sire was a national performance grand champion. I've got no use at all for halter horses. This was back in the days of my rural life in California, near a lot of thoroughbred and quarter horse breeders.

Sunny always behaved as if I were her own baby, so fiercely protective that she tried not to allow any other living creature near me until the birth of her real daughter. This was fine with me because the only work I ever wanted her for was cross country solo anyway, and she was fearless at that.

She was green as grass, just started when I got her, and seemed worried about my clearly defective nostrils. She'd nuzzle me and give a worried whicker. Then one day she placed one of her nostrils over my two tiny ones and suddenly exhaled so hard it almost collapsed my lungs. She was trying to help me breathe. Maybe she thought it was a lost cause, though, because afterwards she only breathed softly in unison with me. Healthy horses don't have doggy breath, by the way.

I always allowed Sunny to snuggle all she wanted. Essentially we'd rub each other down after a good run. She would saw her head on my back, probably more for her own benefit than mine, but she washed behind my ears, too. Drove the quarter horse ranchers nuts. They were still nice people, though. Nobody ever came after me with a butterfly net.

Even they had to admit they'd never seen horses run like Sunny and Moriah. Both my girls could stop or turn on a dime and hand you back a dollar change. Sunny would be at a slow canter on my favorite extra narrow trail that ended in a T-square, then drop her shoulder in a flying lead change and take whichever direction I decided on at the last instant in perfect harmony, maintaining even speed. All it took was the slightest shift in my position to cue her for direction.

A confirmed English-style rider, I used a 2 or 3 pound saddle and broken snaffle on Sunny. She had the sweetest mouth soft as velvet - it only took the tiniest touch if any on those reins. Best horse period that ever lived. Not spooky, either. I used to run her through a flock of birds on the ground so they'd fly up all around us to keep her used to disturbances. She could climb almost straight up a rugged mountainside, no kidding. I never did learn to love racing down the other side, but that was my problem. At least it led to many genuine prayers!

Speaking of my problems, in those days I was a notorious hotdogger. If some stupid stunt crossed my mind out in the middle of nowhere, that's what we'd do. I also admit to a time or two when my attention wandered for a split second. That was all it ever took for Sunny to decide I must be asleep at the wheel so it was therefore up to her to drive. She would lower her head for the bit, then stand quietly for the saddle and mounting. After that I'd better not blink. She was uncommonly devoted to say the least, but this was not a kid's horse to nap on for one second.

Well, we did have another tradition we both loved, which other people seldom approved. Sunny would stand perfectly still as always until I was comfortably settled, feet deep in the stirrups (not the way to ride any other time), knowing that momentarily I'd let her buck like nobody's business. That's how we started every ride. Playing wild west, I guess. A time or two she even sunfished for me a little. She could've ditched me in a second if she'd really wanted to. A few tight, fast figure 8's finished the warmup.

Most people never even asked to ride her, which suited me fine. I like my own horses tuned my own way. Letting anyone else on them even once can spoil a lot of work. Not to mention it's begging trouble. Once a famous show trainer did get on her after a fair warning. Didn't last long. The lady was so gracious, though. Said "This horse is too fine tuned for me." What a grand, genuine compliment. She knew what Sunny and I could do as a team, and I respected the lady's overall abilities.

More than a few folks for miles around did like to watch Sunny, however. Near my place there were several thousand acres of open farmland which select people had permission to ride on when it was fallow. After I trotted Sunny around the fence line to check for hazards, I'd bring her to a halt. At maximum collection she had to hold her place, dancing in excitement as if in a starting gate. When I felt she was at her peak, I'd wrap her mane at the withers around my left hand, which put her almost into a frenzy because she knew what was coming. Seconds later I'd yell "BANG!" (didn't own a starter pistol) at the same instant I let out the reins, and we were off to the races. That was our Derby game.

Sunny ran for the pure joy of it. Didn't need another horse to compete with. Those were hard to come by anyway, because most people were smart enough not to take me up on the only kind of bet I'd make: a full three miles or nothing. I'd offer them a big head start, too. We could pass any quarter horse in less than half a mile or any thoroughbred by 2. Well, I guess Secretariat might've taken 2 1/2, but we would've had even him by 3 at the latest if we'd ever gotten the chance. I've ridden some fast horses in my day, but Sunny was pure rocket.

Sometimes after a long run, I'd look over and there'd be a few cars and trucks parked along the big highway where folks had stopped to watch. Sunny looked coal black in most lights although she was actually dark chestnut. Perfect conformation. White blaze down her face. Long mane and tail streaming behind - She was quite the sight to see. All 13-1 of her. To give any non-horsey readers the picture, I was 5'1 and her withers were just even with my chin. It was kind of fun when somebody would call us over and offer an insane amount of money for her. One famous movie stuntman/trainer was so enchanted with Sunny that he stopped on several occasions, determined to get her.

Thinking she might be winded enough after one 3-miler, I finally let him on her when we had witnesses for a legal release. Sunny stood quietly as always while he swung up. Then suddenly she screamed and reared straight into the air, leaping into the hardest sunfish I'd ever seen a horse twist. Mr. Big Shot sailed off and bit the dust almost before she landed, to wide applause from her audience. She did have a bit of a following around there. When he started to his feet, I smiled sooo sweetly and cooed, "Well, I told you she bucks a little."

When Moriah arrived, we were a tight threesome. I'd stand in the middle with them on either side facing in opposite directions, their heads on my shoulders while I scratched behind their ears and such. They'd prompt me if I slowed down too much, and they'd switch flies for that poor creature without a tail. Nearly put my eye out one time.

Well, I could write my own book about more of our adventures, and maybe someday I'll tell the rest of the world how perfect those two were. In my heart I always dedicate the Kentucky Derby to Sunny because she died at 35 around midnight between my birthday and that race. We raced a cropduster plane once - when he passed overhead by a few feet, she screamed (as usual; this was a loud horse) in rage and found more speed than I thought even she had. I seem to recall some grand promisesto God if He would just let me survive this fine mess I'd gotten myself into. That was the absolute best ride of my life!

Most people don't believe me when I say she never had swollen legs or one single limp in her life either, but that's true. Perfect feet, legs like iron. Never sick at all until the very last. When I knew she didn't have long to live, I would promishe her she would soon be able to run again in the sky, faster and longer than she ever could on Earth. This I believe with all my heart, and I know our time together is just interrupted, not over. When there's a big storm going now, I like to sit still and listen, almost convinced I can hear the thunder of her hoofs.

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