“You’re gonna rope off your horse today, “ Lanny West told me over lunch at a Mexican restaurant.
“I’m sorry what did you just say?” I was incredulous. I’ve been on the ground roping the horns of a dummy for months, practicing less than I liked, but practicing none-the-less. I couldn’t believe my ears.
“Yep. You aren’t ready, yet, but it will get you excited.”
He had no idea. I couldn’t chew my tostada fast enough. I was having a hard time focusing on what he was telling me while we ate. Something about how he had a hard time teaching new people how to ride because it irritated the horse. He liked horses to be relaxed around him.
I nodded and chewed. My smile was so wide, I felt as if I could smile beyond the borders of my cheeks. I caught bits and pieces of the conversation, but my mind wondered trying to imagine what it would feel like to sit on my horse and rope.
Lunch ended and we drove to Lanny’s place. When he got out of his truck, he said, “Go get your horse.” Then he disappeared.
I got the halter and found Gambler waiting at the gate of his pasture. I tried to hide my excitement. I could feel it in my chest pushing up at the base of my throat and tingling its way down my arms and through my fingers in hyper-energy. I breathed deeply to get a hold of myself. The horse would sense my exhilaration, but I wanted Gambler to be calm for my sake and for Lanny’s.
I struggled to get Gambler to pay attention to me while I groomed him. When I swung the saddle up, I failed to get the straps over Gambler’s back and the seat came down on a pile of stirrups, buckles and cinches. I went to the other side and carefully dug them out trying not to vex him more than I already was.
Despite my efforts, I jumbled the entire thing up and that poor horse was so irritated, I couldn’t believe it. His head was high, his eyes were wide and his muscles were tense. At least he wasn’t swishing his tail, but I think that had more to do with Gambler’s good nature than any gestures of kindness I attempted to extend.
Just then Lanny reappeared. He gave the horse’s getup a once over, and I could only imagine what sloppiness his well educated eyes might have seen–the saddle pad might have been a touch crooked and maybe too far forward; the air pocket over the withers may have been too small; the mane might have been matted under the blanket. Who knows what other atrocities I had committed, but all he said was that I had cinched the horse too tight.
Sorry Gambler, I thought.
“Go longe your horse,” Lanny said. Once again he disappeared and I found myself in the round pen with Gambler’s lead rope in my hand. He blinked a couple of times. I pointed his nose to the left and gazed at his shoulder. He took a couple of laborious steps. I opened my arms and tried to feel energetic. The horse huffed and ambled around the pen.
Lanny passed by pushing a wheelbarrow. “Get into the horse. Forget about everything else.”
Okay, sure, I thought. Forget about roping. Focus on that shoulder. Focus. Focus. Focus.
I think Gambler tried to do what I asked, but I couldn’t be sure. I’m not a horse whisperer. But I spent some time moving him around in the pen. Lanny would pass by unexpectedly and shout out advice. “You’re getting more exercise than the horse,” or “Now see if you can get him to walk.” And after a while he stopped, leaned against the fence of the round-pen and said, “Cinch up the saddle. You’re gonna take a ride by yourself.”
“Really,” I said. I couldn’t believe it. Lanny never let me ride by myself before. I thought it was going to take another three or four months of tagging along with him before he would even consider it.
I led Gambler to the start of the trail behind Lanny’s house and got on. I rode under tree branches, between poison oak bushes, down steep hills, splashed across a stream and ambled through knee-tall grass. The sky was endless and the temperature was just right for t-shirts and jeans.
When I got back, Lanny followed through on his promise. He had two bales of hay piled, one on top of the other. Stuck into one end was a mock steer head with horns attached. He showed me how to hold the reins and coils of the rope in my left hand and the loop in my right.
Lanny stood next to Gambler and watched him. “Now rope,” he said.
The entire set up felt precarious and awkward. But it didn’t matter to me. I started to swing the lariat over my head and slapped my poor horse right in the face. If he were human, he would have rolled his eyes. Instead, just blinked a couple of times and looked the other way. I could almost feel Lanny cringing inside because I was irritating the horse.
A few days later when I remembered how much I had enjoyed myself, I was struck by Lanny and Gambler’s incredible kindness. The horse didn’t want to be there, but he didn’t budge once. Lanny hated seeing Gambler irritated, but he encouraged my efforts anyway. My eyes moistened from a wave of gratitude and I felt silly, overly sentimental and sappy. I had a nice day at the expense of others. It almost made me want to quit so I wouldn’t be a nuisance. But I probably won’t.
Leave a Comment so far
Leave a comment
