This is my mother, with her daddy and pony Mickey. She was a horse lover from day one, and passed that heritage on to all of us. She says Mickey was the best pony a child could ever have, but when an adult got on him, he would buck them off immediately. In high school she had a horse called Old Paint, and kept him until he passed away on the ranch long after she married my dad. She said Old Paint's only flaw was that he loved to race, and if another horse passed him he would buck. My mom must have been some cowgirl! She taught my sisters how to leap on a horse bareback, Indian style. I could never do it, both my legs and confidence level being too short.

My mom was a dreamer in high school. She wrote poems about wild horses and drew fantastic drawings of beautiful girls and their horses. Her dream was to have a horse ranch when she got older. She got her wish, but was often too busy with the housekeeping and children to really enjoy spending time with the horses. She did ride occasionally, especially if we kids were in school and Dad needed her help with moving cattle or getting a sick one in the corral to treat.

Today, my mom lives in a beautiful valley in the mountains. She and dad bought a buckskin quarter horse stallion a few years ago, and are breeding a handful of well-bred mares. My youngest sister, Karmen, still lives at home with them, and she trains and cares for the horses. Here is a photo of one of their foals from last spring.I inherited all of my mother's horse-craziness. I have never been without a horse for very long. When I was about nine, the ache in me from not having a horse of my own was becoming overwhelming. I wrote a silly little note that said something like, "What's the use of living if you ain't got a horse?" I quickly regretted it when Dad and Mom laughed about it and showed it to the neighbor, Francis Wescott, who was drinking coffee with them the next morning. But I got my wish. Dad gave me my pick of the colts, and I chose a two year old buckskin gelding named Sunday in Savannah. He had a blue eye, and we figured he probably couldn't see out of it. That was my first horse, and I started riding him. He was so laid back we never got into a fracas, but his health was poorly, and Dad sold him before long.