The Perfect Horse

                                                           by Laura Crum

            Sometimes I hear people (in real life and on the internet) talk about finding the right horse. It’s a great and appropriate topic. The trouble is that these folks often seem to me to be looking for something that is virtually unattainable—some sort of “perfect” horse. A horse that never does anything wrong, is never lame, is talented at the event the person wishes to pursue, is pretty, is young…etc. This horse does not exist. Like people, all horses have strengths and weaknesses; the trick (as in friends and husbands) is to find the one you can live with.

            I have had five “forever” horses in my life. They all were good horses. None of them ever dumped me or hurt me in any way. I truly loved all five of them. Two are dead and they are buried here. Three are still with me. Did/do they have their faults? Yes, of course.

            So today I’m going to describe (briefly) my five good geldings and let you see their faults. I’m hoping that this will help some potential horse owners who are trying to sort out what might be the right horse for their needs.

The first horse I owned who really became “my horse” was Burt, a bright bay QH gelding that I bought as a five-year-old with thirty days on him. Burt was a kind, willing animal, not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but also not inclined to bucking or being spooky. Burt did, however, have the constant impulse to jig. I never cured him of it, and many rides were executed in his prancing walk. Burt was my ranch horse and he never quit me, never dumped me, and had tons of heart. He was always completely under control—nonetheless, much as I loved Burt, his jigging drove me nuts, and I vowed I would only own horses in the future who could proceed at the flat-footed walk.

            My next steady mount was Gunner, a well bred cowhorse that I bought as a three-year-old with thirty days on him. Gunner had no inclination to jig. Or to buck. Gunner was a spook. He did not bolt or do more than make one jump, but the jumps were amazing—absolutely sudden, twenty foot sideways leaps with no warning at all. One either grabbed the saddle horn or was left sitting on air. I got good at grabbing the horn. I was in my twenties and early thirties when I rode Gunner, and he never dropped me. He did, however, find something worth spooking at on virtually every ride. His spooking was a pain in the butt, but it didn’t threaten me at that time. I’ll be the first to say that I couldn’t ride a horse like that today. But Gunner was in every other way a good-hearted, reliable horse that I won on at reined cowhorse, cutting, and team roping, as well as a mount that carried me on many gathers, pack trips and trail rides. I was very happy with him.

            When I retired Gunner, I began riding Flanigan. Flanigan was a seven-year-old broke team roping horse when I first got on him. He was neither inclined to prance nor particularly spooky. He inclined toward being lazy. But…Flanigan was cinchy, and if a certain careful protocol was not followed in his saddling and warm-up, he would buck. I owned Flanigan in partnership with my friend and team roping partner, Wally, and Flanigan bucked Wally off numerous times. Being a cautious sort, I was always careful with Flanigan’s warm-up, and though the horse bucked with me occasionally, he never bucked me off. Flanigan was a superficially grouchy, aloof critter, prone to pinning his ears and acting hard to catch. Underneath this unpreposessing surface, however, the horse had a heart of gold. I competed on him successfully for many years at ropings, and crossed the Sierra Nevada Mts on him numerous times on pack trips. I took my baby for his first ride on Flanigan. There never was a better horse.

            When Flanigan died at the age of 21 (and I still miss him), Plumber became my main mount. I had known Plumber since he was a foal; I bought him as an unbroken three year old and broke him and trained him myself. When I started using him as my main riding horse he was about eight years old. I’d trained him to be a decent team roping horse and trail horse, and I enjoyed riding him. Plumber had no huge holes, other than the fact that he wasn’t very athletic. He was also more of a puppy dog than your average horse, nickering whenever he saw me. He was willing to do anything I asked, but he was also a big baby. He didn’t spook like Gunner (he wasn’t athletic enough) or jig constantly like Burt, but he was frequently a little spooky and jiggy. He got anxious easily, and needed a lot of patience and reassurance. Nevertheless he was a reliable horse. For several years I rode everywhere with my toddler in front of me in the saddle and Plumber took very good care of us.

            Plumber is now twenty four years old and retired. He’s still sound, if a little stiff. My mount for the last six years has been Sunny, the little palomino gelding shown in the sidebar. Sunny was a middle-aged horse when I got him and settled in his ways. Of all my horses, he most resembles Flanigan. But there are differences. Sunny is no puppy dog, but he is much more overtly interested in me and my doings than Flanigan ever was. Sunny also has not much inclination to pin his ears. He is not the least bit cinchy. But, like Flanigan, he is more inclined to laziness than other vices. Sunny is neither jiggy nor spooky. He doesn’t buck…a small crowhop is the extent of it. Sunny’s big deal is testing in small ways for dominance. He assays a gesture at a nip or a kick, or tries to crowd my space or balks as if he will refuse to go…etc. I have no trouble straightening him out, and I find this quirk more amusing than annoying, but I quite understand that I will not train it out of him. Sunny will always test me. As long as I remain dominant (and I intend to), Sunny and I will get along fine. On the trails, that is. I bought Sunny because he was a good trail horse, and he is a real delight to ride outside, steady, solid, reliable, tough. You can go anywhere in perfect confidence on this horse. The arena is a different story. You can darn sure walk, trot and lope around, and/or chase or rope a cow, but Sunny is too clunky and lazy to be much fun in the arena, and he is much more resistant there than on the trail. Sunny dislikes arena work and lets that be known.

            So, what do my five main lifetime mounts have in common? Not much. They’re all horses, but they sure are different. I enjoyed and enjoy every single one of them (and I kept or am keeping all five until the end of their days); I would have a hard time picking a favorite. I guess I just don’t run to one type, because I liked each of these horses for their own unique traits. I will say that I’m very happy to be on steady little Sunny these days, as my chief goal is pleasant trail rides, either by myself or with my son.

            In the end, I think my main point here is that you have to be able to tolerate some faults in a horse or you will never truly be happy with your equine partner (same applies to human partners). Anybody else have any thoughts on this?

           

My Life With Horses--Part Twelve (and a Free Book)

                                                by Laura Crum

            Here is where I must play catch up and add in all that has been left out. Because I have told the story of the seven wonderful forever horses that came to me, but left out many other parts of my life with horses.

            My first forever horse, Burt, was turned out for many years in a friend’s pasture, fifteen minutes from my home. He was joined by a motley collection of horses, two that I took because they were sweet old rope horses that deserved to be retired (ET and Gray Dog), along with Wally’s great old heel horse, Pistol, who was retired due to arthritic changes, plus another horse of Wally’s that I had trained who crippled up due to EPM in the prime of life (Rebby), and the last colt I ever trained (Danny), who tore up his stifle joint in a freak collision with a pickup truck. Danny would have been euthanised by his current owner, but I took him back and rehabbed him and eventually he was sound enough to be a pasture pet. I had Gunner turned out there for awhile, too. So at one point we had six or seven of these pasture pets.

            But life moves on. Pistol grew too sore to be comfortable even on painkillers, so we had to euthanise him when he was 25. And eventually Burt died of a massive stroke at 35 years of age. ET and Rebby were both very hard keepers, and as they got into their thirties and late twenties respectively, it became impossible to keep them at a good weight in the pasture, even with tons of supplemental feed. And Wally and I were both getting overloaded trying to take adequate care of all the horses we were responsible for. A couple of years ago we made the difficult decision to euthanise Rebby and ET and bring Gunner home. The pasture owner kept Danny and Gray Dog for her pets, and they are still doing well there.

            Wally is eighty this year and, like me, has decided he no longer wants to ride young horses. He gave his young horse, Smoky, to a good home that had already taken a previous horse from him, Lester. And Smoky and Lester are happy, useful riding horses to this day with owners who love them. Wally’s gray gelding, Twister, has been living with me since he bought the horse as a six year old. (Twister has definitely "whited out" as he aged.) 

            Twister turns 17 this year and he is the last horse Wally has left, and will probably be the last horse Wally owns. I have made a commitment to keep and care for Twister until he dies. I owe it to the horse and to Wally. Twister and Wally accompanied my son and me with Henry and Sunny, on many, many expeditions. So Twister has a forever home with me.

My gold, silver and copper horses.

            Today I have five forever horses living with me on my small horse property (five horses is the maximum number I can have here). My own Gunner, Plumber and Sunny, my son’s Henry and Wally’s Twister. Flanigan and Toby the pony are buried here, and Burt is buried in the pasture where he lived for his last ten years and where he died.

            Gunner is 33 and still doing well. 

            Plumber is 24, retired, and sound, perky and happy.

            Henry is 25 and my son rides him a couple of days a week, mostly at the walk and trot. Henry is still perfectly sound and shows no sign of weakening. 

            Sunny is going strong. I think he may be nearly twenty years old. He has no papers and when I bought him he was said to be 10, but the vet said he had “funny” teeth, and could have been as old as 15. So who knows? But he is sound and strong and I ride him a couple of times a week on average. 

            Wally is recovering from knee surgery currently, so Twister, whose usual job is team roping horse, is getting a little downtime. Twister is sound and strong and doing well at 17 years, and Wally is already back to riding again and will be roping soon. Here's a recent photo (taken on 4th of July) of Twister and Wally along with my son and Henry on Wally's first ride post knee surgery (exactly one month after the operation).

            As I’ve known for awhile, if I keep taking good care of these forever horses (which I plan to do) there is a chance that in five years or so, I’ll have five older horses that are not ridable for anything more than puttering around—and no place to put a younger riding horse. And that’s OK. Its Ok because I love these horses and am deeply grateful for all the hours of happy riding time that every single one of them has given. I don’t in the least begrudge becoming their caregiver as they get older. Yes, I like to ride, but I have achieved all the goals I set myself in my life with horses and my mind and heart are both full to the brim with everything that horses, and these horses in particular, have brought to me. If there is more riding to come, that’s great. And if there is not I take complete joy in spending time with my horses and connecting through them with all the wonderful things we have done together. Time past is as present as time present when I am with my horses.

            I will add that it is important to me that every single one of these horses are good horses who have been great riding horses. None of them EVER purposefully dumped or harmed a human (to my knowledge). And yes, this matters to me. It is not my calling to babysit a herd of rescue horses who never had a partnership with humans, and would be happy to kick your block off or dump you on your head. It’s my pleasure and privilege to reward some fine horses who are richly deserving of a happy, peaceful retirement after their long, steady years of good service. And who are now, as they always were, a true pleasure to be around. I will feed them three times a day, and brush them and doctor them as needed, and ride them lightly if it seems right, and turn them out to graze and live happily with them in my garden. 

            As with my horses, so with my novels. I set out initially to write an even dozen, and that goal has been accomplished. People have asked me if I will write more, and the truthful answer is that I don’t know. The novels cover twenty years in the life of horse vet Gail McCarthy—she is 31 in the first story (Cutter) and 50 in the last installment (Barnstorming) and it took twenty years of my life to write the books. Gail goes through many of the life changes that I have gone through in the course of the series. My husband said, upon reading this series of posts, “You need more anecdotes.” Well, the anecdotes are all in the novels. The names have been changed to protect the innocent—and the guilty—but most of the things I describe in the stories, really happened in some form or other. I wove the events of my life into my books. (Oh, and just by chance, this series of posts about my life with horses is also twelve episodes in total--serendipity.)

And yes, its possible that I could write more about Gail, but its also possible that I won’t. And either way is fine with me. As I said about my horses, I’ve achieved the goals I set myself and I am happy and at peace with where I am now.

There are those who ask, what’s next? Well, I don’t know, and I am OK with not knowing. I may have many more adventures ahead of me, or I may live a peaceful, fairly solitary and hermitish life from now on. Right now my focus is on raising my young son. My life is good and I love every minute of it. I spend as much time as I can with my husband and child and our critters and garden. I try to enjoy the present moment fully. I don’t ask for more. And I am very grateful for all that I have. I will always love my horses, and if luck favors me, I will always live with them.

I know that there are some who will consider this a sort of “do nothing” life. There are those who think one must have goals and be working hard to achieve these goals for life to have meaning (both with horses and in general). There are those who think one must be busy to be happy. I am not in this group. I feel I have been plenty busy and productive in my life, and I have achieved pretty much every goal on my “bucket list.” It’s my intuition that moving on to a more contemplative stage at this point in my life is a good thing, not a bad thing. If you want to read more thoughts on this subject, I wove them into the last book in my series, Barnstorming. This book somewhat tells how I view my own future, as well as how I see Gail’s future.

Finally, I am deeply grateful for all my readers. And so, I’d like to offer a gift. For the next five days, Cutter, the first book in the series, and always one of the most popular titles, will be FREE as a Kindle edition. (Starting today, July 7^th, and going through Thurs, July 11^th.) Hoofprints, the second book, is currently on sale for 99 cents. So right now, for less than a dollar, you can read the first two books in the series. The remaining ten books are available for just $2.99 each as Kindle editions. The order is Cutter, Hoofprints, Roughstock, Roped, Slickrock, Breakaway, Hayburner, Forged, Moonblind, Chasing Cans, Going Gone, and Barnstorming. Click on the titles to find the Kindle editions. And for those who have read some of these books, I would be eternally grateful (really) if you would post reviews on Amazon or Goodreads. These reviews mean a great deal to authors nowadays. A huge thank you to those who have already done so. And I very much hope that you enjoy my stories. Cheers--Laura

           

My Life With Horses--Part Nine

                                                            by Laura Crum

            I’ve written about my son’s pony, Toby, before—Magic…and Toby the Pony. Click on the link to find the full story of our magical little white horse. In the context of my own life with horses, the next two years were dominated by this pony. I spent most of the first year leading the pony around with my five year old son on him. I seldom actually rode myself. (Though once in awhile I did ride Toby to give him an “attitude adjustment.” Toby was a good pony, but he was a pony.)

            To those who think this sounds like an incredibly boring horse life, all I can say is that it wasn’t at all boring, from my point of view. But I’m not sure I am going to be able to explain why I loved this part of my horse life so much. However, I’ll try.

            Partly it was because I had truly come to understand that my greatest joy lay just in living with horses, and whether I rode or not wasn’t that important to me. Partly it was because having a pony of my own had been my childhood dream…and now I was making it come true. At last I had a pony (!) Toby was the first pony I ever owned and I still smile, thinking of him. And partly it was because I was just happy with my life overall.

            Another factor was that I had achieved the goals I had set myself in my life with horses. I had been a reasonably effective competitor at cowhorse, cutting and roping; I had trained some horses that I was really proud of. I’d crossed the Sierras many times on my own horses and camped with them in some amazing places. I’d worked as a cowboy on a commercial cattle ranch. There wasn’t anything that I had once been burning to do with a horse that I hadn’t yet done. And the depression I went through had freed me of the need to see my life with horses in terms of goals. I was happy just to enjoy my horses and my son. I think the fact that I was older helped, also.

            But mainly, of course, I was happy to spend my time this way because I loved my little boy so much. As I said in the last post, I would have done absolutely anything to give him a happy life, and I thought, and still think, that raising a child around and aboard horses (if you can do it without injuring or scaring them) is a fine way to create a happy life. Lest you suppose this is just my own prejudice, you may consider the fact that the number one therapy for handicapped kids is “horse therapy.” People pay big bucks to let their handicapped child get led around on a gentle horse. If it can actually “cure” handicapped kids, how good must horseback riding be for kids who are not handicapped?

            So I took much delight in spending my horse time leading my child around on our steady pony, feeling that I was giving my son a huge gift. And I really believe this from the bottom of my heart, in the same way and to the same degree that I believe in attachment parenting. It doesn’t matter if my son grows up to be a horseman or not. That isn’t the point. The point, to me, is that riding and interacting with horses throughout your childhood helps you to feel strong and comfortable within yourself, and to connect in a positive way with the natural world. That is, if it’s a positive experience.

            I took this part of it very seriously. As a young child I had many very “scary” moments on a horse. Because I was passionate about horses, these moments had never deterred me. But I knew many others who had been scared, or injured, or both, and who never again had any interest in horses. So I resolved to do everything I knew how to do (and I knew quite a bit about horses at this point in my life) to give my son a positive experience.

            To this end I bought Toby, a very steady 20 year old pony. To this same end, I led my son around for a year on the pony before I let him ride independently. I took the stirrups off the saddle for this whole year, in order that my kid should develop a good seat. I cannot count to you the miles I jogged, leading Toby as my son learned to trot on the critter. My long legged husband ran alongside the pony, as my son learned to lope. Once our child was pretty confident at all three gaits, I began lunging Toby with my kid aboard. And only when my little boy seemed absolutely solid, did I let him begin riding Toby independently—in our small riding ring. When we rode in larger spaces, I ponied Toby from my own horse, Plumber.

            This may sound overprotective to some, perhaps. But a lifetime of experience with horses had taught me to be careful, and my whole aim was to create a positive, rewarding experience for my son. And it worked. My little boy became a confident, happy rider. By the time he was seven years old, he could walk, trot, and lope Toby independently, and control the sometimes strong minded pony competently. And he began asking me to take him out on trail rides.

            Here is where I had a problem. Because Toby just wasn’t the right horse to take a seven year old out on the trails. He had a tendency to be “forward” outside, and I knew perfectly well that riding outside was very different to riding in an arena. Many more variables, a much less controlled situation. And so I hemmed and hawed about the trail rides. We took a couple of short ones (around my uncle’s ranch) with me ponying Toby from Plumber. And then life, once again, intervened. Toby got sick.

            The story of Toby’s death is described in “Magic…and Toby the Pony.” I will just say that it was very hard on my son when we lost his pony to cancer just after my little boy turned seven. Toby is buried here and at least once a month my son talks about how he misses him. Toby truly was a very special and important part of my life with horses and I will always be grateful to him. He was the first forever horse that came to me for my son.

Fortunately Toby was followed by another great horse. I have always believed that Toby sent us a gift in his passing and brought us another forever horse to take care of his little boy. Because of losing Toby, Henry came into our lives. (To be continued.)

            Toby is featured in my 10th mystery, Chasing Cans. Click on the title to find the Kindle edition of this book. (I have to add, I just read the Amazon reviews of Chasing Cans, and there is a group who absolutely hates this book, due to the fact that it is about a mother with a new baby. Yes, it is also an exciting mystery with lots of horses and a dastardly barrel racing trainer and plenty of action, and also includes the wonderful Toby. Most people, even the haters, point out that it is as well written as the previous books. However, fair warning: if reading about the "mama" experience turns you off, don't bother with this one. And if anyone who has enjoyed this book would post a review on Amazon, I'd be really grateful. This is one of my favorite novels in the series. I have to admit that it makes me sad that the non-mothers who hate reading about a career woman turning mom are the ones who seem mostly inclined to review it. I have no problem with anyone else's path, but since my own path became motherhood, I wanted to write about the experience. I tried to be faithful to the reality--joys and trials--while still crafting an exciting mystery. See what you think.)

 

            This saga begins here.  

Heart Horses and Breakaway

by Laura Crum

First off, I have to confess, I don’t really know what the term “Heart Horse” means. I hear it used a lot, and I take it to refer to those special horses that come along in one’s life—the ones who own a piece of your heart. When I was young there was an old cowboy saying about how you “only got one special horse” in your lifetime, but I find that isn’t true. I’ve had five “special” horses in my life—and each one brought me some unique gifts. Three of these horses are still with me—two of them I kept until the end of their lives and they are buried here. So today I’d like to talk about my “heart horses” and show you some photos, and maybe hear your stories about yours.

I sometimes wonder how many special horses will come my way in my lifetime. I’m going to be 55 this year, and I’ve owned horses pretty much non-stop since I was 15. That’s forty straight years of horse ownership. I don’t know whether to be proud of this fact or sort of embarrassed. It kind of reminds me of an AA meeting. “My name is Laura and I’m a horseaholic.” Only I’m still doing it. Sort of like going to the AA meeting and then heading out to the bar afterward for a few cocktails. Cause I am still drawn to acquiring more horses—though I know that’s not particularly reasonable. But I am deeply grateful for the five forever horses that have come my way.

I’ve owned many horses in my life, but plenty of them did not really work out for me, and I either sold them or gave them to an appropriate home. When I was young, I longed to have a horse that WOULD work out, would be a forever horse, but I just didn’t know how to make this happen. I eventually found out that you don’t MAKE it happen—you follow where you’re led. Not one of my heart horses came to me in a “normal” fashion. You know, where you set out to buy a horse, try lots of them, pick one you like and buy him, and hey presto, he’s your forever horse. No, every time I tried this approach, I ended up with a horse that did NOT work out.

My first forever horse came along while I was in college. I had previously owned three different horses that I never established much of a bond with; I was busy with school; I had horses I could borrow/ride and had determined I didn’t need to own a horse at that time. But not a month after I sold a little sorrel gelding that I’d trained, I went with a friend to look at some Queensland heeler pups—and saw Burt.

It really was love at first sight. I got out of that truck and ignored the puppies, just walked straight to the corral where this bright bay gelding was trotting up and down. Burt was exactly the horse I’d imagined. My favorite color and size (bright bay, 15.3), and he had the brightest look in his eyes. “Is that your horse?” I asked the guy with the pups.

Turned out he was boarding the horse for a friend—who wanted to sell him. Burt was five years old—and had had thirty days put on him when he was three. That was it. He was said to be gentle—but obviously green as a grass. I’ll make a long story short. A couple of months later Burt was my horse. And he stayed my horse for thirty years. Burt was my first forever horse, or heart horse, I guess. He died at thirty-five years of age—and was trotting about as bright-eyed as ever two hours before we had to put him down (due to a major stroke).

The photo below shows Burt in his prime—he was about seven or eight.

Next came Gunner. Once again, I wasn’t looking for a horse. I owned Burt, and another horse named Ready (who ultimately did not work out). I could not afford a third horse. And I particularly could not afford Gunner.

At the time I was riding for a well known cowhorse trainer as his assistant. I was learning a lot, and I got to ride a lot of really nice horses. I also saw a whole lot of very abusive stuff. Gunner was a just turned three year old for sale, who was placed in my string for me to put some training on him. Gunner had had thirty days when he was two. Like Burt when I bought him, Gunner was green as grass.

But unlike Burt, Gunner was a royally bred cowhorse prospect, and an immensely talented colt. He was also sweet, friendly, and willing. After three months of riding him I was desperately in love with him. I could not stand the thought that he would be bought by some tough cowhorse guy who would torture him to try to win the Snaffle Bit Futurity. No matter that I had no clue how I could afford his expensive purchase price, I took out a loan and bought Gunner. Best choice I ever made. We competed at many events over the years, won some buckles and awards, and shared many good times together. Almost thirty years later, he is still my horse, and he’ll be with me until he dies.

Below you see Gunner and me fifteen years ago—Gunner is seventeen years old and mostly retired—I just used him for light riding at that time.

Next we have Flanigan. Once again, I was not looking for a horse (do you see a pattern here?) Flanigan belonged to my friend, Wally, and he was a horse I did not much care for—until I borrowed him to rope on when I retired Gunner due to arthritic issues. Once again, I fell in love. I have told Flanigan’s story before on this blog, so will simply say that both Wally and I feel he was the best horse either he or I ever rode. I bought a half interest in Flanigan, and took care of/rode this horse until he died—of an inoperable colic at 21 years of age. Below you see us together when Flanigan was in his prime as a rope horse—I’m turning a steer for my friend Sue Crocker on Pistol.

And then there was Plumber. This time I WAS looking for a horse (shock). Gunner and Burt were retired, Flanigan was getting older, and I wanted to buy a young horse to train. But Plumber was not the horse I wanted. I had known this colt since he was born, and when my uncle decided to sell him as an unbroken three-year-old, I took the colt to the round pen to see how he moved. Well…I got Plumber trotting and stepped to his head to turn him—the horse promptly tangled up his front feet and stumbled. I got him going again and again went to turn him—this time he tangled up and fell down. I shook my head in disgust. This was not an athletic colt.

My uncle was of the same opinion—the price on Plumber went lower and lower, as no one bought him. Eventually my uncle made a deal to sell him to the local horse trader. I couldn’t stand it. I had known this sweet little horse since he was born and I knew him to be kind and cooperative. I bought him, determined that he would be my “mind over matter” horse. I told my disbelieving friends that I would prove that a good mind could triumph over a lack of athletic ability.

Plumber was truly a klutz. He disunited if asked to go faster than a lope. He could not make three turns in a row while following a cow without tangling up his feet. It took me five years to get him solid enough at team roping that you could compete on him. But when he was nine years old he was a competitive heel horse. He’s won at least half a dozen saddles, as many buckles, and thousands of dollars in a ten year career. We triumphed; my little mind over matter horse was a winner.

I still have Plumber—he is twenty-three and retired. He nickers every time he sees me.

Below you see Plumber at seventeen years, packing me and my kid.

And now there is Sunny. Once again, I was not looking for a horse. I had quit roping, and the only riding I was doing was with my kid. I had recently bought my little boy a solid horse (Henry) and we were starting to go out on trail rides. I was riding Plumber, recently retired from roping and plenty sound enough for the trail riding I wanted to do. I had no intentions of buying another horse.

But Plumber didn’t like being a trail horse. He’d been a team roping horse for my friend Wally for the last seven or eight years, and hadn’t been out on the trails much during that time, though I’d ridden him outside a bunch when he was younger. For whatever reason (and I suspect he was kind of stiff), Plumber protested when asked to walk downhill and spooked dramatically at every little rustle in the bushes. I was not afraid that he’d dump me, but I didn’t enjoy riding a horse that clearly didn’t want to be there, and I did want to keep my entire focus on my kid, which required that I have a solid bombproof horse of my own.

I had known that Sunny was for sale (in fact I’d tried him and rejected him as a horse for my son—too stubborn), and I knew he was a good trail horse. On a whim, I called the owner and asked if she’d sold him. No, she hadn’t. Many people had tried him, a few had come close to buying him, but he was still with her. Waiting for me, I think.

Anyway, I picked Sunny up on New Year’s Eve 2007, and the rest you know, since I write about him often enough on the blog. Here’s one of my favorite photos of Sunny, taken a couple of years ago. I think it shows the magical quality this little mutt of a horse has—at least for me.

And finally, my sixth book, Breakaway, is now up on Kindle for 99 cents. This is a funny book. People either like it or hate it. I’ve had quite a few folks tell me it is their favorite title in the series. But my then editor told me she never should have agreed to the book, that it didn’t fit my series and was outside the range of “cozy”. It is certainly my darkest book. But my books are pretty light in general, so a dark one isn’t all that creepy compared to lots of what’s out there. In any case, Breakaway deals with depression, which some people relate to, and some people don’t. People who’ve been through depression usually like this book. People who haven’t often find it “depressing.” The crime around which the plot turns is a little weird (OK, very weird)—though it is based on something which I encountered in real life, as are most of the crimes I use to create my mysteries. Anyway, I really like this book, but don’t say I didn’t warn you it’s a little “different.” Here is the link to buy it on Kindle.

If any one would like to talk about their own heart horses—or review Breakaway—I’d love to hear your thoughts. Also, if anyone would like a free copy of my most recent book, “Barnstorming”—a paper copy—email my publisher, Susan Daniel at susan@danielpublishing.com and ask for your free review copy. You must send her your snail mail address, and your only obligation is to post a short review—can be two or three sentences—on Amazon or on your blog.