Payback Time

                                                            by Laura Crum

            I was recently discussing my horses with an acquaintance, and after hearing my litany about keeping weight on my old guys and keeping them sound and giving them lots of turn out time and grooming and attention, she asked me, “But what are you DOING with your horses these days?”

            I had to think about this. “Well, I still ride,” I said, a little hesitantly. “But not a lot, right now. I’m busy with a lot of different things, and just taking care of the horses takes time.”

            She then said, “It doesn’t sound like you’re having much fun with your horses any more.”

            I was a bit stymied by this. This gal knew me when I showed cutting horses and trained horses and competed at team roping and went on several horse packing trips in the mountains every year. You get the drift. From her point of view, my horse life looks like one big, boring drag, compared to what my horse life used to be. And really, I can see her point. But it doesn’t feel that way to me.

            I could go on and on about how I’ve reached a different stage of life and just hanging with my horses and tending my garden seems delightful to me. And I’ve talked about this before. But there’s something bigger here, and it is this. It’s payback time.

            Even if I still wanted to spend my time and money competing at some horsey event (which I don’t), the horses who carried me for so many miles, and in so many different competitions and trail rides are older now. Gunner is 34, Plumber is 25, Henry (my son’s horse) is 26 and Sunny is (I think) 19. Gunner and Plumber are retired. Henry and Sunny are still carrying us faithfully on short rides, but both are less than happy about steep hills (Henry doesn’t like the “ups” and Sunny doesn’t like the “downs”). Based on what I see (they are both sound on level ground) I think they have the slight arthritic changes that are typical of older horses. So we avoid steeper hills these days. The thing is, it’s time for me to pay these horses back for all that they have done for me. And I am glad to do this.

            Yes, I could send them to some retirement pasture. But I don’t have the money for a really first class operation, and I have seen first hand what turning these senior horses out in a pasture with very little supervision really amounts to. The older they get the harder it is on them. And eventually they are thin, lame, shivering in storms, fly bitten in summer heat, and picked on by other horses. If I want my older guys to have the care they deserve, they need to live with me, where I can make sure they get fed the supplemental feed they must have to thrive, pain meds as needed, blankets in storms and fly spray in fly season…etc. Not to mention grooming and attention that they love. So that is my first priority right now.

            Because these horses have earned this. Not only do I love them, but in all fairness, I owe them. Gunner gave me ten straight years of faithful work.

            As a cutting horse.

                    As a rope horse.

            As a trail horse.

           

            Plumber wasn’t just a rope horse (for fifteen years), he babysat my kid and me for several years as well.

            He was my pony horse for my son’s first ride at the beach.

            I could never put a price on all that Henry gave my little boy in the seven years that we have been privileged to own him.

            And Henry is still giving my son great riding experiences. What a good horse he is.

            Sunny has been a huge gift, enabling me to ride with my kid without any worries.

            We have been on literally hundreds of trail rides.

            So many happy cruises down the beach together, without one wreck, or even a really anxious moment.

            Yes, it’s payback time. And I am nothing but grateful and happy to do this.

            Thank you, my wonderful horses. I love you. And I am glad to spend my time taking care of you, in honor of all the times you took good care of me.

            I am so lucky and blessed to have you in my life.

Anybody else in this place in their horse life? Or can imagine yourself being here?

            

"Hoofprints" is FREE Today--Happy Halloween!

                                   by Laura Crum

            So today I have another gift for you. In honor of Halloween, my second novel, Hoofprints, is free today and tomorrow (Oct 30^th and 31^st) as a Kindle edition. Hoofprints features my series protagonist, veterinarian Gail McCarthy, and centers around the world of reined cowhorses. Hoofprints is rated four and a half stars on Amazon.  Click on the title to find the free edition and to read more about the book, as well as plenty of reviews.

            It occurred to me that perhaps some potential readers might wonder what credentials I have to write about about reined cowhorses and/or cutting horses. So today I thought I’d fill you in on my background in this area.

When I was in my twenties, I was obsessed with cowhorses. I went to work for several well known cowhorse and cutting horse trainers as an assistant, and I rode many, many accomplished horses in these barns, as well as helped train over a hundred young horses. I trained my good gelding, Gunner, to be first a reined cowhorse (we competed at the Snaffle Bit Futurity and placed in the Non-Pro and the Ladies Divisions), and then a cutting horse (we placed in the Non-Pro Division of the Northwest Superstakes when Gunner was four years old and went on to win numerous smaller awards, including the cutting at our local county fair). The photo below shows Gunner and me winning the cutting at the Santa Cruz County Fair when Gunner was eight years old.

            Along the way, I rubbed shoulders with some of the “greats” of both the cowhorse and the cutting horse world. We’re talking world champion trainers, incredibly wealthy clients, and some of the most talented horses you could ever imagine. I saw things that came right out of a mystery novel, from outright scams and incredible abuse, to charming sociopaths who would rip you off without a second thought. I also met some genuinely good-hearted folks who knew more about training a horse than most backyard horsemen can even imagine. I learned a lot. I saw a lot of, uhmm, colorful things. And when I began writing mystery novels at the age of thirty, I knew where I would set those novels.

            And so Cutter, my first novel, was set in the world of cutting horses. For those of you who have read the book, I can assure you that every single character and incident was based (sometimes loosely) on something I actually saw or knew about (with the exception of the murders, of course). The horses, too, are all horses I have known. Cutter is rated 4 stars on Amazon and the Kindle edition is currently just 99 cents. Click on the title to find the book, and to read more info and reviews.

            Having finished Cutter, I knew I wanted to do justice to the even more cutthroat world of reined cowhorses, with its own subset of wealthy owners and high stakes trainers. And so Hoofprints was born. Here is a brief synopsis of the book (from Amazon):

In this second installment in the Gail McCarthy series, the young vet stumbles upon two murdered bodies in the course of a routine call. When a midnight emergency turns into an attempt on her life, Gail knows she must uncover the motive before its too late. Plenty of authentic horse lore and an action packed plot from an author who spent most of her life training cowhorses and knows whereof she speaks.

            Hoofprints has always been one of the most popular titles in my mystery series. It stands well on its own, but also holds its place as the second in a twelve book series about the life of veterinarian Gail McCarthy. One of the main characters in the book is Plumber, who, in real life is a horse I bought as an unbroken three-year-old and trained myself. Plumber went on to become a winning rope horse, bringing home numerous trophy saddles and buckles and many, many paychecks. The real Plumber is very much as described in the book—a sweet, kind, willing horse who really likes people. I still own Plumber—he is 24 years old and lives here with me as a retired horse and we all give him lots of love and attention.

            Plumber as a baby, next to his mother, Bucky.

            Plumber packing my son and me—yes, I know we should have worn helmets, but Plumber packed us like this without one misstep for three years.

            Plumber today--24 years old.

            So for anyone who enjoys a good mystery and loves horses—here is a Halloween gift for you. Hoofprints will be free today and tomorrow as a Kindle edition. Get it while you can.

            Happy Halloween!

Feeling Too Good

                                               by Laura Crum

            I am happy that Gunner, my 33 year old horse, feels good these days. But lately it’s been sort of a problem. The old boy wants to charge around, bucking and spinning and galloping up and down his pen at the drop of a hat. He especially likes to do this when I remove the neighbor horse from his pen. Gunner isn’t really worried—and there’s a horse on the other side of him. It’s just a good excuse to pitch a fit.

            The thing is, Gunner was never known for being sensible. A trooper yes, no quit in him. Friendly, kind, cooperative, playful…check. A heck of an athlete, yes. A tremendous amount of cow, super trainable…all of the above. But, sensible, no. My Sunny horse is sensible. Gunner is and always was the sort of horse who saw horse eating monsters everywhere. I believe the new term is a “sensitive, reactive” horse. I just called him a big spook. Also a goofball.

            So its not really surprising that Gunner, at the advanced age of 33, will choose to gallop madly down his sloping pen, slide to a stop at the bottom, spin round and race to the top, neighing wildly. Lather, rinse, repeat. All because the neighbor horse is out of his pen, grazing. Even though Gunner can, of course, see his buddy. He can also see the other horses. He just ain’t sensible. He LIKES getting all worked up.

            I watch these shenanigans, holding my breath. It’s fun to see that Gunner can still move so well when he wants to. But I fear these downhill charges will eventually result in the old, arthritic horse piling it up. I picture him breaking his leg or his neck, and yep, I go fetch his buddy and put the horse back in his corral. That’s how big a wimp I am.

            On the other hand, it’s not fair to Plumber, the buddy, if he never gets out. To my chagrin, I find that horses are very aware if they didn’t get their “turn.” The accusing stares and plaintive nickers that follow me when one horse does not get his turn out time speak louder than words. Plumber is a very people oriented horse and he lets me know he wants his fair share of the attention and grazing. So a week or so ago I turned Plumber out for awhile, and watched Gunner.

            It had just rained and the ground was slick. I had my misgivings. But I had not given Plumber a turn out in a couple of days. What’s a good horse owner to do?

            For awhile Gunner seemed OK. He could see Plumber grazing nearby. But then Plumber moved a little ways away, and the long unhappy neighs began coming from Gunner. He started trotting up and down the top end of his corral, sliding with every footfall. Shit, I thought. It’s too slippery.

            I caught Plumber and hustled back with him. But before I could get there, Gunner loped across the pen, slid to a stop, slipped, went down, and piled it up on the ground. He thrashed on his side, and seemed unable to get up, and my heart went to my throat. I will admit that I screamed, “Gunner!” like a teenage girl. I thought he had broken something.

            I have seen horses break their legs; I have seen them break their necks. I know what can happen. For that moment while my old horse thrashed on the ground, all these horrible scenarios flashed through my mind. And then Gunner got his legs under him and heaved himself to his feet. He limped off, but he was clearly not broken.

            I put the reluctant Plumber back in his pen and kept watching Gunner, who moved around and pretty soon walked out of his limp. He was Ok then. But my problem was bigger than ever.

            Because now I know that I am risking Gunner getting hurt if I turn Plumber out. And I just don’t want the old boy to die because I took the risk.

            What to do? I had the bright idea I might turn Gunner and Plumber out together. I don’t usually do this because my property is 1) Not perimeter fenced the whole way around, and 2) Full of places (like by the house or inside the shop or haybarn) where the horses COULD go, but I don’t want them to. There is good grazing on the verges of the riding ring, along the driveway, and in the barnyard area, and the horses usually stay where they belong. I shut (and lock) the front gate, and the back of the property (not fenced) is very steep and brushy and no horse has ever tried to escape that way (in twenty years). But…

            As a safety precaution, I turn the horses loose one at a time. That way they don’t tend to run and play and get in trouble, and I’m sure that the loose horse will not leave the others. However, I decided to try Plumber (24) and Gunner (33) loose together. Surely two old horses could graze peacefully side by side in the sunshine. Right?

            Bad idea. The very first thing they did was start farting around. Nipping each other, squealing, trotting off together, charging up the hill to the riding ring like a little cavalry brigade. Not at all what I had in mind. They just wouldn’t settle down and graze. They were having too much fun. Never mind that they can play around and nip each other in their side-by-side corrals and this was their one chance to graze on green grass. Nope, they had to go crashing about. And then the old farts wouldn’t let me catch them. Again, having too much fun. I did eventually get them caught and put away…and that was the last time I tried that.

            So now I feel kind of stuck. I turn Henry out.

                              I turn Sunny out.

                              I turn Gunner out.

            And then I catch Plumber and hand graze him, keeping him close to the corrals so that Gunner doesn’t freak out. It’s a solution, but not an ideal one. Plumber would prefer to be free, and I would prefer not to babysit him. But I worry about the downside. What would you do?

            

Book News and the Story of a Good Horse

                                   by Laura Crum

            First of all, I want to let all Equestrian Ink readers know that the first eight books in my mystery series featuring equine veterinarian Gail McCarthy are currently available for 99 cents on Kindle. In October, the pricing structure is going to change, so now is the time to buy these books, if you are at all interested. If you don’t have a Kindle you can download the free Kindle app and read the books on almost any sort of device. For those who have the Nook, I have been told that there is a free program for the computer called “Calibre” which will convert just about any ebook format and transfer it to the Nook. And thank you to my readers who told me about these options (!)

 So, loyal readers, here’s your chance to get the first eight books in my mystery series for 99 cents each. The order is Cutter, Hoofprints, Roughstock, Roped, Slickrock, Breakaway, Hayburner and Forged. Each book deals with a different aspect of the western horse world—and all of them are based on things that I have actually done, so, hopefully, they have the ring of reality. And, of course, they all involve a gripping mystery. I know most people like to read a series in order, but I am often asked to recommend my favorite book—or asked which is the best. I would have to say that the overall reader favorite is Slickrock, which is set on a horse packing trip in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Second favorite is probably Breakaway, a darker book, involving a woman struggling with depression and a very nasty sort of villain. Lots of trail riding in this book, too. I like both of these books very much. Anyway, here is the link to buy the books on Kindle. If you are considering these books, now is the time to get them while they are still 99 cents.

Also, I just joined Goodreads since so many people have told me I should do this, but I have not got a clue how to use this site to promote my books. Can anybody give me some suggestions?

            And now, without further ado, the story of a good horse.

Once upon a time, about twenty-three years ago, a six year old buckskin mare gave birth to her first colt. The mare belonged to my uncle, and as it happened, I saw this colt shortly after he was born. He was a pretty colt, cocoa-colored with a white star on his forehead. As he was by the sire, Plumb Dry, and my uncle named all his colts “Something” Brown (as in Bright Brown, Noble Brown, Ready Brown..etc, my uncle’s last name being Brown), the colt’s name became “Plumb Brown”, which was kind of cute, because he WAS brown.

            The colt himself was very cute, with a winning personality. When I would walk out in the pasture to feed the mare her grain, the colt would peer at me from behind his mother, and then come out and duck and dive at me playfully, like a cutting horse working a cow. Plumber was always a people horse, interested in everything the humans around him were doing. Despite the fact that my uncle raised Quarter Horses and so I had seen many cute colts over the years, I always thought Plumber was special.

            My uncle re-bred the mare to a stud he liked, and she spent a month or two (with Plumber) at the home of the stallion. When it was time to pick the bred mare up, my uncle asked me to do it. My friend Sue went with me, in case I might need help. Right. The mare was flighty and hard to handle (never been ridden), and the colt had been hauled once—in my uncle’s stock trailer. I was proposing to bring mare and baby home in my two horse straight load trailer. As far as I knew, the mare had never been loaded/hauled in a two horse trailer before. The baby had certainly never been loaded/hauled in such a trailer. But I embarked blithely on this chore—such is the confidence of youth (I was about thirty).

            We got to the stallion owner’s ranch to find nobody home. Well, OK then. I backed the trailer up next to the barn, so I’d have a wall to help me load, caught Bucky (no easy task), and with the colt running loose at her side, prepared to load them. It took awhile.

            But I had a long rope and some experience and patience, and eventually we got the mare in. On my uncle’s advice we loaded the colt without trying to catch him (as I recall, he wasn’t halter broke, so this was a good call). Eventually he loaded up alongside his mother, and Sue and I fastened the butt strap and shut the door and drove off.

            So what did we do, with a three hour drive ahead of us and a somewhat unreliable pair of horses in the trailer? Why we stopped and had enchiladas and margaritas for lunch, of course. This may sound irresponsible, and, in fact, in retrospect, I think it was. But Plumber and Bucky stayed right side up and calm in the trailer and unloaded easily when we got home and I said to Sue, “This colt’s going to be a good one; he’s already bar broke.” (And yes, “bar broke” is a common cowboy term.)

            (Fast forward--the funny thing is that some years later I bought Plumber and Sue bought Bucky’s second foal, Power, who was in his mama’s belly when we hauled the pair home that day. And we still own these two horses today. Plumber is 23 and Power is 22. Both are healthy and happy. Bucky lived to be 28 years old and was retired to pasture the last ten years of her life, after producing roughly ten foals.)

            Anyway, Plumber grew up, and I stayed interested in him. I wanted a colt and by the time Plumber was three, I thought I might buy him. He had remained friendly and interested in people and would often leave the horse herd to stand by the arena and watch us rope. I liked that. I’d been involved with him since he was born, I’d helped halter break him and I’d hauled him to be turned out in pasture, and I knew him to be a smart, cooperative colt, who had not been spoiled or soured by too much handling. He was not started under saddle, so I would be free to do it my own way. He was three years old and my uncle wanted to sell him. The price was cheap, reduced to $1000. But I hesitated. Why, you ask?

            Well, there was one slight problem with Plumber, and it was the reason the price was so cheap. Though pretty, well-made, cooperative and friendly, the colt was a klutz. And he had lousy feet. Plumber had been turned out to pasture that spring, and his brittle flare-y hooves had broken up so badly that he was lame (none of the other dozen horses in the same pasture had any problems with their hooves). On top of which, once he was shod so he wasn’t limping, I’d taken him to the round pen to see how he moved. The first time I stepped in front of the colt to turn him, he tangled up his feet and nearly fell down. The second time I did it, he tried to jump the fence and landed upside down on top of the panel, from which position he rolled clumsily off, landing on his side with a whump. He was fine, but sheesh. Who needed such a horse?

            Me, I guess. I bought him to save him from going to the horse trader, and it was the best decision I ever made. I broke Plumber myself, and he went in three days from never been saddled to being ridden around the arena at the walk and trot. Yes folks, I don’t dink around. We did not endlessly round pen or ground drive or lunge. I saddled him one day, worked him in the round pen the next day, and got on him the third day. No, you couldn’t do this with a lot of horses, but Plumber was, as I expected, as easy colt and took to being ridden with no trouble at all. The trouble came when I tried to teach him to DO something.

            Because Plumber could not make three turns in a row with a cow without tangling up his feet. Oh, he could walk, trot, lope in a straight line all right. He collected easily, kept his butt under him and had a pretty nice whoa. He would watch a cow and make the first turn ok. The second turn he got a little behind, and by the third turn he was scrambling and completely out of shape. Every single time. I had trained a lot of colts at this point in my life and I tried all the tricks I knew—to no avail. Plumber was just clumsy. He grew very flustered if I pressured him, and things got worse. I truly believed he was unable to do what I was asking. He wasn’t unwilling.

            So I decided to make a heel horse out of him. Pretty much any level-headed, sound horse can be a heel horse. I’ve seen people heel reasonably successfully at the jackpot level on some very slow, clunky horses. Plumber could do this, I reasoned.

            Well, maybe. For the first year I tried roping on him, Plumber disunited when asked to go faster than the slow lope. It was as if he just couldn’t run. My friend Wally, an experienced horseman, told me I should get rid of the horse. He’s useless, he said. He’ll never make it.

            But I persisted. I liked Plumber. He nickered every time he saw me, and was as friendly and happy to be with me as a dog. I kept telling myself that any horse can learn to do this—all horses can run and make one turn with a cow and stop (which is what a heel horse does, essentially). So I kept roping on Plumber—strictly at practice. He was in no way ready for competition.

            A few years went by. Plumber was by now eight and I’d been roping on him awhile, just in the practice arena. He was starting to look reasonably competent. He couldn’t run very fast, but he no longer disunited, and he was good in the box, started well, and knew the heel horse drill. You could rope on him. He was cooperative and calm. I had achieved all this merely by being patient and persisting.

            At this point Wally lost the use of his great heel horse, Pistol, due to ringbone, and I offered to let him use Plumber until he found a new horse. Wally pooh-poohed this idea, but he did take Plumber to a few ropings. And then a few more. Pretty quick he wasn’t looking very hard for a new horse. He liked Plumber.

            Plumber wasn’t athletic but he had a good mind and he tried. I had taught him the basic rope horse skills. And he was/is one of the most likable horses that ever lived. Wally began winning a little money on him. Pretty soon my biggest problem was that when I wanted to ride my horse he was off at a roping with Wally.

            This wasn’t such a big problem because I had given up roping by then and was getting ready to have a baby. For a couple of years I didn’t ride at all, and when I returned to riding it was very sedate, with my young son in front of me. I was happy that Wally was exercising and using Plumber, who was in his prime.

            Plumber won many saddles and awards for Wally—and he packed my son and I until my little boy was five and I bought my child a pony. Here we are in our days of riding Plumber—and yes, I know we should have helmets on. Of all the many things Plumber achieved, I am most grateful to him for being a good family horse. We never once had any problem in the years we rode him double.

            I still have Plumber today. We retired him from roping at 20, because he didn’t want to run any more. He had been a competitive heel horse since he was nine years old, so he had a good long career. We also rode him on many trail rides and horse packing trips in the mountains. I thought I would use him as a trail horse once we retired him from roping, because he was/is still sound, but he made it clear he did not care for walking downhill, and since all our trails are hilly, I honored his wishes and bought Sunny for trail riding. Plumber seems happy just being turned loose to graze and getting his share of attention.

            Plumber today—taken this summer.

            So there’s one story of a good horse. I know we can all tell them. But I feel very blessed to have had Plumber in my life and wanted to share his true story. Those of you who read my mysteries will find Plumber featured prominently—only the storybook Plumber is a touch more athletic than the real horse. But every bit as sweet. One of my greatest pleasures in my twenty years of writing mysteries has been conveying my real life horses on the page—always as realistically as I can. Those of you who have read my books—feel free to let me know how I did. And yes, I can take criticism as well as praise. I find it always teaches me something.