Mr. Big

“Flashy,” that was how he was described to us, the owners of the newly opened Circle R Spur Guest Ranch. “He’ll add a lot a color to your dude string,” promised Pete, our part-time ranch-hand who was always on the lookout for good, ‘gentle’ horses. “Okay, bring ‘em over,” I said, “and let’s have a look see.”

Later that afternoon Pete arrived in his big white pick-up with the home built enclosed horse slip on the back. Pete stepped out of the truck and walked to the rear. “Just you wait, you’re gonna like this one. He’s a beauty. I picked him up over at the Santa Rosa auction.” Pete went on dropping the tailgate and unlatching the door to the slip. The truck rocked as the horse inside adjusted to the change in the light when the door opened. Pete picked up the rope that lay on the floor of the slip and pulled. Shaking and trembling emerged a great black and white paint gelding.

“I got him for only a few hundred dollars,” which actually meant he spent little more than a hundred. “But I’ll let you have him for what I paid. I just know you’re gonna like ‘em.” Pete pushed his cowboy hat back a bit from his ‘honest’ face to look directly at me, “Well, you gonna try ‘em?”

I was still a toddler when I first sat on a horse and before getting married and opening the Circle R Spur I had worked the previous summers as a wrangler at a mountain pack station. So, having the most horse savvy, it became my responsibility to decide which horses to buy and which to pass on.

“Okay, throw a saddle on him and let’s see what he’s got.” I said, looking him over. He was indeed flashy. One of the most impressive paint horses I’ve ever seen and big, over 16 hands at the withers. His heavy neck and muscling warned that he could be a handful as he was probably a stallion for much of his ten years.

The instant I placed my foot in the stirrup, I became aware of the great power, strength and fear in the big animal. I swung into the saddle and picked up the reins. I touched him lightly with my heels and we were off -- like a rocket. I gave a quick pull on the reins and there was no response. I don’t think there is anything much scarier than being stuck on a runaway horse.

Straight for the ranch entrance and out on to Highway 20. I gave a few more pulls on the reins but to no avail. He didn’t cross the highway as hoped. If he had, I could have ridden him straight into Clear Lake on the other side of the highway and surely the water would have stopped him. Instead, he made a quick turn to the left and ran straight up the double line. I started to ‘saw’ the bit in his mouth, hoping to release the bit from his teeth and get his attention. No chance of that either. I looked up to see a Mac truck come around the corner headed right for us. No time for the driver to slow down, I knew we would collide head on. I was screaming although no sound escaped my lips just a pitiful “help me, oh lord, help me.” I pushed my foot hard into the left stirrup and pulled with all I had on the left rein. As in answer to my pleading prayer, he turned just in time on to what little was left of the shoulder on that side of the highway. From that point on it was shear cliff above the road and a twenty-foot drop off into the lake on the other. The truck raced past me with only inches to spare, my hair blowing wildly around my face as it passed. In that brief moment the big horse had paused in his mad run, fearing he would take off again, I took the opportunity to jump down from the saddle, I stood shaking in my boots, holding the reins and trying to calm myself before leading the big horse the few hundred yards back to the ranch. I turned to see my husband, our ranch hands and Pete running toward me.

“Good God girl, how did you get him stopped?” asked Jean, our cabin cleaner. “I would have been screaming my head off.” “I was,” came my whispered response.

“I thought I was going to loose you for sure on the front of that truck,” said my husband, shaking almost as much as I was.

Pete stood mute, nothing to say until we were safely back at ranch. “I guess you ain’t gonna be wanting this one.”

I don’t know what I was thinking, but I bought him anyway with a huge discount making no one really happy. I tried him again, but I didn’t use a bit choosing instead to use a hackamore with long side shanks working like a fulcrum, putting pressure on a different part of his nose and jaw. For the most part, it worked but I was always extra cautious whenever I had to ride him.

He was our Mr. Big and a bit of a bully as horses go until me met the little black mustang stallion we bought later on that same summer but that’s another story. None-the-less, he became the favorite mount of one young man who came up from the city all summer long just to ride him. There were others too who enjoyed the excitement of riding such a powerful horse. I only rode him when I had to and I never toke pleasure in riding him after that first time. Well, that’s not exactly true, he was a strong swimmer and I did have fun riding him far out in the lake. No way he could run away out there.