

## Backyard Horse Tales: Sox  
2nd edition

by

### Jackie Anton

© 2012, 2015 Jackie Anton

All Rights Reserved.

ISBN 9781311194510  
Smashwords Edition

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or trans- mitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written permission of the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Places, events, and situations in this book are purely fictional and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

## Acknowledgements

A special thank you to my editors: Cliff Carle for his invaluable assistance, and professionalism. Patricia Anton for hours of brainstorming sessions, and serving as my frontline editor.

My inspirations and equine models live within sight of my computer workspace.

What a great job of modeling! Our little riders Connor, Erica and Izzy are the newest generation of horse lovers. Thank you to my nephew, Ben, for bringing his guitar to model for me.

Kellie Anton gets credit for the great photographs. Thank you!

Tom thanks for all your support. I know that you loved Sox as much as I did.

Illustrator Sandy Shipley did artwork for the preview cover of the next volume of Backyard Horse Tales

The song "Hillbilly Rock" mentioned in chapter 9 is Kenny Chesney's hit. It is one of the really good freestyle choices.

This work is dedicated to children, horsemen, and animal lovers everywhere.

Also to those who have ever loved a special horse, or dreamed of owning one.

Thank you to Two Scooten Sox's legion of fans for their support of this fictional tale, which was inspired by my beloved reining partner and friend.

##  Table of Contents

1. A New World

2. Small Town U.S.A.

3. Learning the Ropes

4. Herd Life Isn't All Clover

5. New Horizons

6. Just Say Whoa!

7. Icing the Cake

8. The Storm

9. Back in the Game

10. Stepping into a New Role

Appendix

## Chapter One  
A New World

It had been a long voyage, eleven months exactly, getting to here from there. My assigned quarters were comfortable, and all my needs had been seen to, but I could not wait to explore the new world. Maybe I had cabin fever, I was becoming very uncomfortable, and my traveling capsule seemed to have shrunk. At the beginning of my voyage there had been plenty of room for me to move around, but now I felt restrained. Close to my final destination, I began to have doubts that I would make a successful landing. My environmental suit had just sprung a huge leak, and it collapsed around me.

I put my foot through the escape hatch, and I encountered icy air. The blast of frigid air changed my mind about putting my footprints on this planet, and I decided to stay inside where I was warm and safe. I tried to pull my foot back in, but an unknown force was pushing on my backside as it guided me toward the escape hatch. Help! My left foot dangled out there, and the pressure from behind was getting stronger, but my right foot was stuck. I struggled to move it in line with my left leg, but it didn't want to cooperate. Finally I succeeded in placing my legs in a good position to land. I stretched my neck, put my nose between my front legs and that was when I tumbled out onto the hard prickly surface of an alien environment. The hard landing did not tear the collapsed suit from my face, and I was too tired to struggle with it.

It had been hard work getting into this strange new world. Exhaustion had taken the edge off of my long awaited arrival, and breathing in this atmosphere was proving to be impossible. A soft nickering sound from my mother reassured me, but her voice sounded different in this new world. At first I thought I heard other voices nicker a welcome, but their voices too were fading. My head was spinning and I began feeling very weak. Part of my protective suit was now blocking any air supply. The life- line that had attached me to my mother had broken when I fell to earth. The remains of the umbilical cord that provided nourishment and oxygen during my long journey dangled from my tummy.

An alien sound tickled my ears, a whisper. _There is the foal; it is lying against the stall door. Open the door carefully, Bill, and pull the placenta away from the baby_ ' _s nostrils, so that it can breathe._

Strong appendages gently removed the covering from my nose, and I took my first deep breath; relief flooded through me. While I tried to recharge from my near death experience, I heard a grunt; it was my mother. She had been resting in the deep straw too. She was very tired and weak after helping me into this world. Soon she rose to her feet and came close to me. Mom began pushing me to stand up too.

She nuzzled and encouraged me, "Come on, son, on your feet."

Easy for her to say, she was already an old pro at standing, but I was having trouble untangling my long gangly legs. Instinct and constant encouragement from Mom made me try again. I gathered my back legs under me and shoved.

"OOPS! Not quite so hard, son." Mother cautioned me, as I tumbled onto my side. "It would probably help, son, to uncross your front legs first. Try again."

Three tries later, I succeeded. The effort was sure worth it! Mom guided me back along her large warm body, until I found her fresh supply of sweet milk. It warmed my belly and it made me feel stronger.

I plopped down for a nap once my tummy was full, and that was when the front wall opened. A chilly gust of cold air ushered strange two-legged creatures into my world. The two of them came in through an opening that had appeared in the wall, as if by magic. I tried to get a good look at them, but everything was fuzzy. The larger of the creatures knelt down beside me, and it started to rub me with a soft cloth. I couldn't see it, but I recognized its smell. This alien had pulled the covering from my nose when I'd first arrived. Some of my fear concerning this invasion was lessening. This creature had helped me, and the vigorous rubbing felt wonderful. The smaller biped was busy drying my mom with a big soft rag, and it was talking to her, nonstop.

_"You are such a good mother, Sandy"._ I heard it say.

Big news flash, I thought. I might be new colt on the block, but I had already figured that out. I could feel its eyes, like twin laser beams, as it turned to look at me, and I had the feeling it knew what I was thinking.

Then the smaller creature moved closer to me, and was staring intently at me. The larger creature stopped rubbing my damp body to question the other alien. " _What_ ' _s wrong, Mom?"_

"Look, Bill, Sandy' _s little bay colt has socks on his hind legs"._

I recognized the sound of its voice, though it was different outside my traveling capsule. Many months I listened to that voice as it talked to my mother. Not that I understood its language, but Mom did. She did a bang up job of translating for me. Horses are born understanding one another; it is part of our survival skills. The alien's language was more difficult, a lot of it sounded like static. For instance, I was not sure what socks were, and I felt nothing on my back legs except the prickly straw that Mom had explained was our bedding. The smaller alien squatted down next to the larger one that had saved my life. It talked to me in a soft voice that reassured me, and it stroked my neck. I was really getting into all the attention.

Hey! Something isn't right! A large cold wet spot on my belly that included the remainder of my broken umbilical cord gave me a chill. Whatever the cold wet stuff was it began to sting me there. The two-legged creatures left through the opening in the wall, and my momma came over to nuzzle me.

"The burning will go away soon, son. It is only medicine," she assured me.

I wasn't so sure about that, but it turned out Momma was right.

I was feeling better, when the two aliens returned. I scrambled to my mother's side. I was not sure if these creatures had caused the pain on my navel, but instinct told me to get up and seek the protection of my mother. I peeked from behind Momma as they picked up the torn remnants of the traveling suit that I had worn, and removed it.

Momma explained, "Our confined area is called a stall, and the warm glow overhead is a heat lamp, to keep you warm in the cold night air."

I wondered what night was, but I was too tired to try and figure it out, or ask any more questions. I yawned, I stretched my long legs out, and fell asleep next to my mother, under the warm glow.

A loud chorus of whinnies woke me. I blinked my eyes trying to focus on my surroundings. The world seemed brighter than when I had gone to sleep. Then BANG! A noise startled me and I scrambled to my feet. I moved as fast as my long shaky legs could carry me, scampering to my mother's side.

She told me, "There is nothing to fear, son, it is feeding time, and one of the other horses just got excited and kicked the wall of its stall." The strange two-leg creatures came back into our stall. They put something called bran mash in Mom's corner feeder. She seemed very interested in it, but all I wanted was to nurse.

The alien creature called Bill filled, what mom had told me was a bucket, with water.

It told us that we could go outdoors as soon as the vet checked us.

In between bites of her food Mom attempted to explain what a "vet", or veterinarian was, and what "outdoors" was. It didn't mean much to me. I felt frisky and scampered around my mother while she was occupied with the contents in her feeder and browsed through her hay. My legs were working better, so I tried to dash from one side of our stall to the other.

They were back! The ones my mother called "humans." Another human had entered with them, and he was looking my mother over. Aha! I realized this new human was the veterinarian that my mother had told me about.

Mom did not mind his inspection of her, and she nickered to me, "Don't worry, son. Everything is as it should be." She sounded so confident and calm.

I was just beginning to relax when the small alien from last night and the vet turned their attention to me. My attempt to evade them proved futile. I hid behind my mother, but they cornered me.

The vet looked in my eyes, listened to my heartbeat, and checked some very personal parts of my body. They spent a lot of time dis- cussing my right front leg.

_"The colt has a contracted tendon",_ was the vet's diagnosis.

Mom paid close attention to their conversation, and when they left our stall she tried to explain it to me. "The vet believes that because you were such a large colt, that your leg position had been cramped as you developed inside me."

"Is that why my right leg isn't straight like the other one, Mom?"

"Yes, son. That is the reason that you were having so much trouble untangling your legs last night. It is pretty hard to stand with your right leg crossed over your left. That was probably the way that you compensated for the lack of space toward the end of your journey."

"Is this a bad thing, Momma?"

"Only time will tell, son."

"Well, I have to tell you that I was happy to see the backside of him!" Mom just laughed at my comment, but I wondered how often he would invade our privacy. I quickly forgot about the vet, and any worry about my leg, when the small human returned, and started taking the other horses out of their stalls. I could sense their excitement, and I could feel the anticipation building within my mother.

Close behind Mom, I stepped from the stall—where I had been born—into the aisle of the barn for the first time, and then out through the big door. I swear, it was like being born again! I looked around at this big bright new world, and filled my lungs with fresh "outdoor" air.

"This is called the front paddock, son, and it is a safe place. There is nothing here to hurt you," Mom said.

I didn't answer. I was too busy gawking at everything. The other horses whinnied a greeting, and Mom whinnied back to them, "Good morning, guys! Great day, isn't it?"

"Is that the new arrival that woke us in the middle of the night?" one of the other horses asked.

"Yes. Everyone, this is my new son," Mom answered proudly.

I strained to see in the direction of their voices, and tried to focus my eyes, but they were just blurry shapes to me. Several fences separated us. Momma saw my confusion and explained. "The others are in the back paddock. The work arena takes up that large space separating our paddock from the back one."

All of the new sights, sounds, and information were too much for me. I blocked out everything except for my basic needs. I was hungry for some more milk, and soon I was ready for a nap. Most of my first day was spent nursing, exploring my surroundings, trying out my legs, and sleeping in the sunshine.

The world became clearer to me on the second day and I was starting to get a handle on my long legs. They weren't as wobbly, nor did they get tangled as much as they had yesterday. Before bedding down for the night Mom quizzed me.

"What did you learn today, son?"

"The variety among the humans surprises me. I was not able to see them very well on the night that I was born, and things were fuzzy yesterday."

This question and answer session was to become a ritual at the end of each day. My rescuer was taller than the other being that I encountered on my first night. On the evening of that first quiz I discovered that they were mother and son, just like Mom and me. Bill towered over his mother, Katie. Maybe someday I will be bigger than my momma too.

My forth day on this new world, I was stretched out taking a snooze in the sunshine. I was minding my own business when I nearly got frightened out of my young life! I had been lulled to sleep by the rhythmic sound of my mom munching grass. At first I thought I was still asleep and having a bad dream as I stared at the strange sight. It just goes to show that you never know what is going to pop up to scare the wits out of you. The few humans that I had met since my first day had been quiet, moved slowly, and they made an effort to reassure me.

Awake now, I knew this was no dream! I panicked, scrambled up next to my mom, and blinked my eyes. The three-board fence that surrounded our paddock had come to life! Small humans were invading our sanctuary. They stuck out along the front part of the fence line that ran parallel to the road. These scary little creatures continued around the corner and lined up along the side fence that ran next to the driveway. And they were all pointing at ME!

A line of pine trees that cast dark shadows and harbored various furry little creatures that scurried about beneath them was the most frightening place in my world, until that moment. Mom told me yesterday, or maybe the day before, that the long eared creatures were rabbits and they had made a nest under the low hanging branches.

"But what are the ones with the bushy tails that zip up to the top of the trees and back down, Mom?"

"The larger bushy tailed animals are squirrels, the smaller ones with the stripe down their backs are chipmunks. They both like to run and play in the trees, son."

I still wasn't sure that I liked the idea of all those strange creatures lurking around, but I made a beeline for those tall pines and their dark scary shadows. It was as far away as I could get from the strange, small humans protruding from two sides of our enclosure. I would have run all the way to the back fence line, but I couldn't leave Mom to face the threat alone. She was so busy eating grass that she didn't notice the invasion.

I mustered up all the courage that my four days of life would allow, and charged up to my mother to warn her. I bumped her head and nipped her neck to get her attention, but she wouldn't budge. So I said, "Run, Momma! We are in danger!"

But she still didn't stop grazing??? She lifted her head to stare at the scary sight, but she didn't turn and run???

Instead, she nuzzled me. "You are so brave to come warn me, son." She went on to say, "What you're worried about isn't a danger. Those little humans are called 'children.' And just like you, they're small because they are still young."

"But what is that scary loud screeching noise they're making, Mom?"

Mom giggled at that. "The squealing sound is their way of expressing the joy that they feel at the sight of a new foal ... you, honey."

Now I was intrigued and feeling a little braver. And I had to admit that being the center of attention appealed to me. I pranced up close to the front fence where the smallest children stood. I tossed my head and arched my neck, and then I snorted at them. They squealed even louder, jumped up and down, and smacked their hands together, over and over, real fast. Okay! On second thought, their reaction was a little too scary for me, so I hightailed it back to Mom.

She laughed and said, "They must really like your performance, to clap and cheer so loudly."

It is not that I didn't believe Mom; I just wanted to test her theory. I approached the children at a slow walk. I got closer to them this time. I snorted, turned quickly in the opposite direction, and took off at a run. The children's excited cheering and enthusiastic clapping felt encouraging, so I ran a little faster. Yes! It felt good! I let loose a couple of little hops, kicking out my hind legs.

Mom praised my little maneuvers. "Nice crow hops, Son."  
Wow! Mom was suddenly running alongside me.  
"I'll race you, Mom!"  
She was amused by my challenge. "You will have to grow a lot more,

and get better with your legs before you can race with me." She laughed, and paced herself along with me for a couple of laps around the paddock.

That night I dreamt of growing big, and racing my mother across a large field without any fences to stop us.

I looked forward to learning something new each day. I discovered that I loved to run; I learned to stop smoothly without getting my legs tangled, and to quickly turn around. I perfected my crow hopping style. And believe it or not, I learned how to rear up on my hind legs. That was the most fun of all. I would paw at the air and practice acting fierce, much to the delight of the children in my neighborhood fan club.

Mom would accompany me to the front fence where she would let the children pet her muzzle or stroke her neck. Not this kid! I wasn't ready to trust my nose to them, yet.

I found out that I could charm these humans, and it was easy to get my way. Most members of my human family were easy to win over; all I had to do was nicker at them, prick my ears forward, and look cute. The exception was Katie. Cute didn't impress her, and she was a big pain in the buttocks about good manners.

Before I continue my tale, let me tell you about my human family. Bill, my young rescuer, was named the same as his father, but Mom calls his dad "Slim." Father and son look much alike, and both are tall. Now that they have shed their winter head coverings, I can see that they both have dark brown wavy hair. Bill, who Mom says is twenty-six in human years, is heavier than his dad, and his eyes are the same blue-green as Katie's. Slim has brown eyes, almost as dark as mine. Patty is Bill's sister, and she is a couple of inches short of her brother and father's height. Patty is three human years younger than Bill. In addition to her duties as Bill and Patty's mother, Katie is also the barn boss, and a lot shorter than the rest of the family. She doesn't tower above me, like some kind of predator. She often squats down to reduce her minimal height when she senses I am distressed, and talks to me in a soothing tone. She is in the habit of scratching my withers, rubbing my back and neck, and talking to me, while my mom is busy eating breakfast. I have to admit I've begun to look forward to the back scratching routine; in fact I really enjoy it.

My curious nature got the better of me, and I used my teeth to pull off Katie's ball cap. She scolded me for that, but before she put it back on, just as I supposed her hair had intriguing curls of light brown. I had observed little wispy curls peeking from beneath the cap for a while now, and I just had to know.

The youngest addition to my human family is Emma. She lives next door with her grandmother; and like me, Emma is small. She is only eleven in human years. Her hair is red gold, almost the color of my mother's glossy coat. It is usually braided down her back, or tied in a ponytail that is almost as long as my own little tail. When I asked Mom about Emma's strange little spots, she explained, "Those sprinkles on her nose are called 'freckles.'

I really liked my littlest human, and she was always happy to see me. I don't know why, but I had an odd feeling that there was something special about Emma.

# Chapter Two  
Small Town U.S.A.

_"Don_ ' _t complain to your mother, Emma. She should not be worrying about us. Keep your e-mail to her happy." That was the lecture that Grandma gave me along with a birthday card and a pink diary. "Write your thoughts and complaints in your diary. Save them until your mother is safely home."  
"If I write down the thoughts in my head, the page will burst into flames!" I didn_' _t continue to argue, but rolled my eyes and let out an audible sigh._

Life sure changed for me three years ago, when my parents split, and Mom had to work full time. Mom had been unable to get a good paying job that would allow us to remain at home, and so she joined the Army. Mom and I moved close to the base. That was a big change, but at least there were other kids who lived near us, or on the base. My world crashed when she was deployed to Iraq, and I came to live with my grandmother.

_I had been raised in the glow of streetlights, and was used to the color of flashing neon signs. Getting used to this backwoods place is a challenge. My ears are used to the hum of traffic and the voices of other apartment dwellers. It is hard for me to believe that Mom grew up here; it is so nowhere! Grandma_ ' _s home is on the outskirts of a small town. It is really different here. There are no sidewalks or streetlights, and at night it is so quiet that you can hear the frogs and crickets. It is really creepy. I am sure that my new diary was just another one of Grandma_ ' _s ploys to keep me busy._

_September 20_ _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _School sucks! Grandma makes me dress like a nerd, and the other kids_

_laugh at me. I just don_ ' _t fit in here, and there is not one person to talk to who understands what it is like to have their mom so far away._

E-mail from Mom always makes me feel better, and I know that for now, she is OK.

_October 23_ _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _Today I turned eleven. Mom always told me that the trees turned colorful_

in October just to celebrate my birthday. She sent me a gift card this year, and I tried to be positive when I e-mailed to thank her.

_I get scared whenever Grandma turns on the evening news, and they show what is going on in Iraq. I always look for Mom, but then I am glad I don_ ' _t find her when they show the shooting. I pray every night that she is safe, and that she will be home soon._

_November 30_ _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _Thanksgiving is over and I am back in school. We watched a news program_

_that showed some of the soldiers being served Thanksgiving dinners. Later, Mom told me that she too had turkey, and even some pumpkin pie. Grandma called my dad a "big turkey." I guess what upset Grandma was that I have been living with her since August, and this is the first time that he has shown up. He told me that he wanted to make sure I was doing well, but he didn_ ' _t talk to me much. He sure ate a lot of turkey and stuffing, so did his new wife and their twins._

I followed Grandma' _s advice, and did not mention Dad_ ' _s surprise visit here when I spoke to Mom. Instead, I told her about my new reading tutor._

_December 29_ _  
_ _Dear Diary._ _  
_ _I could not stop thanking Mom for my new guitar. I know that I sounded goofy. I just kept saying, thank you, thank you, thank you, repeating it over and over. I love my new guitar, but I still like to play her old one. Its strap is frayed and it is too big for me, but playing it always makes me feel closer to her. Maybe we can play together when she returns._

The cookies that Grandma and I made got to Mom, along with the rest of the presents that we sent her. Christmas cookies are a popular treat, and Mom shared hers with the other soldiers.

_I strummed the notes of "Silent Night" for Mom in front of the videocam that Gram got us for Christmas. It has always been her favorite Christmas song, and it was real neat that I didn_ ' _t make too many mistakes._

_January 15_ _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _School started again, right after the huge snowstorm that came with the New Year. I thought that I was doing OK in school, but the guidance counselor doesn_ ' _t think so. She says that I have a problem paying attention. I wonder how easy it would be for her to concentrate, if she had a parent in a war zone. The counselor told me that I probably have Attention Deficit Disorder. She wanted to have me tested, until Grandma gave her an earful._

_January 30_ _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _When Grandma got the official notice from school that they wanted me tested, she marched up there and demanded to meet with the guidance counselor. Grandma informed the counselor that I have a mild case of dyslexia. Thanks to Gram, I now have a math tutor along with my reading tutor! There goes any chance of fitting in with the rest of the kids!_

I guess that it was kind of funny, the way that my grandma went up to the school to confront the guidance counselor.

" _I bet that she barked orders there too." I made that bet while talking to my mother; she laughed, and told me, "Grandma can put most drill sergeants to shame."_

_March 29_ _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _Sorry, that I have not had time to complain to you lately. School and the two tutors keep me pretty busy. Sometimes it gets hard to squeeze in time to e-mail Mom. It takes me a longtime to organize my thoughts, and then put them in the e-mail. Spell check sure helps a lot!_

_Guess what? The neighbor_ ' _s horse had a baby! It is so cute and so tiny com- pared to the other horses. I told Mom and Grandma that I never thought of horses as babies. I promised to e-mail Mom a photo as soon as I can get a shot. The baby hides behind its mother and peeks out at me. The weather is kind of warm for the end of March, so the baby horse is out every day._

_April 30  
Dear Diary,  
_I don' _t want Mom to know how scared I am, or how much I worry about her. She reassured me that she was not near the bombing that was reported on the TV, but I don_ ' _t think that she would tell me if she had been. I always tell her that I love her, and I ask her to be careful._

I am glad that I have some interesting things to tell Mom. I talk about the baby horse, or school, or the mess that I made trying to color Easter eggs. Gram didn' _t mind the mess, and though I hate to admit it, the egg coloring was kind of fun._

I started a scrapbook today with the photo that I sent Mom of the baby horse and his mother. He is not hiding behind her anymore. He races around and snorts at the kids who hang over the fence. His mother is friendly, and she will let me pet her, but the baby keeps out of reach. The little guy sure has a temper! I hope he makes out better than I do when I let my temper get out of control.

# Chapter Three  
Learning The Ropes

I enjoyed Katie rubbing my neck and head, but then sneaky as you please, she slipped something over my head! I pinned my ears back, snorted, and pawed at the stall bedding to show my displeasure. Violent shaking of my head failed to dislodge the offending object. To make matters worse, Katie just laughed at my display of temper.

"It is okay, Sox. You will get used to the halter." Mom told me in her soft comforting voice.

"Right, Mom. My arrival in this world was not a lot of fun. So why would I think that things are going to get any better? I complained.

"Look on the bright side, son, we just found out the name the humans have given you."

Mom thought that Katie called me Sox because of the white "socks" on my back legs. Mom might have a point, but I was more concerned about getting the irritating halter off my head than how Katie had chosen my name. I rubbed the halter against my mother's side, but it didn't work any better than shaking my head.

After I calmed down, my mother explained that the halter was like a passport, and if I was ever going to travel, the halter was a necessity.

"So why doesn't yours have a tail hanging from it too?"

"The little lead is part of your first training halter, Sox. Later you will not require it.

There are a lot more lessons to learn in life. Rest for a little while, son. Soon we will go out and you can play."

I guess that made it official, Momma had called me Sox several times. So after drinking my fill of Mom's milk, I stretched out in the straw, and took a nap wearing my new halter and my new name.

Bill left near the end of my first week. Two of the dogs went with him; they lived in a place called Illinois.

"I was born in Illinois, and I lived on a large farm there until my three-year-old spring when I came to Ohio," Mom told me.

"Illinois is a long way from where we live in Ohio." Then she added, Bill is a graduate student at the University of Illinois, and he had been home for Spring Break."

I did not know what all that meant, so I asked, "What is a student, Mom?"

"Humans go to school at a young age, to learn about the world. Then, when they have mastered the basics, they go to an advanced school called a college or university."

Okay! That was more information than I could process, but I answered, "I guess it was lucky for me that he was home on the night I was born."

Patty also drove away, two days later. She had been home on Spring Break too, but from a school in Indiana. Mom wasn't sure where Indiana was, but she remembered overhearing that it was just west of Ohio.

Young as I am, I have to wonder about Katie's parenting skills. How could she let her children climb into those metal boxes and just drive away? I had been observing these traps on wheels as they whizzed up and down the road near the front of our paddock. They all went by very fast—some were loud and smelled bad; some were small, and some were very large with huge boxes behind them that rolled along on double wheels. Occasionally, one of them would make a loud honking noise, similar to the geese that fly over our home.

Mom called the small boxes "cars," and said the larger ones were "trucks."

"School busses" were the worst, they roared down the road and then screeched to an earsplitting stop. With their red eyes blinking, they gobbled up the children and carried them away. All of those contraptions on wheels looked dangerous to me, and I planned on steering clear of them. I was just getting used to this world, and I didn't want to get gob- bled up by some predator on wheels.

It appeared that the weather could be as tricky and unpredictable as the humans. Storms plagued my life, and limited my outdoor playtime for the next week. Mom and I only went out for short periods of time whenever the rain let up, but we were confined to the work arena. This fenced area was almost as large as our front paddock, but there was not a patch of grass.

"Mom, the ground feels soft and squishy!" I complained as I scooted out the door behind her.

"The surface in this paddock is sand, Sox, and when it gets wet from the rain it becomes soggy.

Puddles were another problem; the rainwater had pooled deep in places. Excited the first time that we got to go out again, I scampered out the door splashing mud and water on my legs and tummy. It was cold! And I did not like it much. Trying to run away from it didn't work; the harder I tried the more the ground splashed at me.

On the bright side, Katie would towel me off after she removed my wet halter, and I really liked it when she rubbed my head. My muddy halter disappeared with her, and magically the overhead heat lamp would come on. The warm glow from the lamp felt almost as good as the spring sun.

I learned how to navigate through the mud, but it took some practice. I discovered that I did not like to get wet or muddy. So when I needed a nap, I just curled up on my mother's pile of hay, where the squishy stuff couldn't get to me. Katie and Slim must have thought my dislike of the cold wet sand and my problem solving skills were funny. Their small chuckles or laughter would reach my ears as I napped in my dry little island of hay. Mom was patient and waited for me to finish with my nap before she resumed eating her hay.

I figured out that wearing my halter meant that I was going out to play, and during my second week of life I began to look foreword to wearing it. Heaven was the feel of a soft towel, so I stood and let Katie rub my head. I even stood there after she removed my wet halter and continued to enjoy my head rub.

Finally, Mom and I made it back to the front paddock. It was different than I remembered. Bushes and trees that had been bare—like giant sticks reaching above my head—were now dressed in green, and some wore pink or white flowers.

"Mom, what is the strange smell? I don't remember it."  
"The sweet smelling air is the aroma of the blossoming lilacs, Sox." The road, with the noisy cars and trucks, was not as visible as it had been that first week of my life. Happy to be back in the front paddock, I ran, and ran, and ran some more. I could rear really high now, and I could buck too.

Hairs prickled along my back, I could feel Katie's eyes on me. I lifted my head and stared back at her. "I wonder what she is planning to do to me today."

Mom looked up at Katie, and commented, "Whatever the lesson is to be, it will be for your own good."

Then she gave me that serious look of hers. "Things would go a lot easier for you, Sox, if you didn't enjoy a fight so much."

It was true that I loved a good fight. As a six-week-old colt, I looked for excuses to test my fighting skills. Without the company of other colts to play with, or to test my skills in mock battles, I looked for other outlets to work out my aggressive nature. Mom was a great source of nourishment and information, but I have to say, she wasn't very much fun. She would run with me for a little while in the morning, then spend the rest of her time munching grass. I tried bumping her head, but that didn't work. I pulled on her halter and nipped at her neck; neither of those worked either. She just ignored me. So I decided to challenge the humans.

I especially liked to take on Katie. It was my favorite sport. But often our time together got a little spooky. Too many times she seemed to know what I was going to do before I did it. Instead of giving me the fight that I wanted, she would distract me, and I would end up doing things her way. Worst of all, Katie could make me think that the lesson had been my idea. In our sparring sessions, I learned how to lead, to walk and trot next to Katie. Backing was a little harder for me to master. It is not a normal thing for a horse to back up, but all the same I learned how to do it very well.

My favorite "lesson" was to stand in the barn aisle next to my mother and get groomed. The currying and the brushing felt great. I did not like to have my feet picked up or cleaned out, but I got used to it. I was getting accustomed to being handled by Katie and Slim, and they were patient with me. The scrape of the hoof pick on the bottom of my feet didn't bother me anymore, and I was becoming comfortable lifting my hind legs. It was more uncomfortable for me to surrender a front leg to them, and that lesson took longer for me to learn. When my left leg was held up, it put a lot of strain on the tight tendons in my weaker right leg, so I would rear and pull my foot away.

Two weeks ago the vet returned to check up on Mom and me. He called me a "super colt." By his tone of voice and the way he stroked me during the examination, I really thought that he liked me. Again he looked in my eyes with a little light, and checked my sides and tummy with a funny round disk with strings that were attached to his ears. Then he left the stall. Katie was holding my lead and scratching my withers when the vet came back in. He rubbed some wet smelly stuff on a small place on my rump, and then he stuck me with something!

That hurt! I leaped forward and tried to get away. My effort to escape was futile. Katie held on too tight and the vet put a strong arm around my chest. He stuck to me like a huge burr and I could not out maneuver the two of them. Mom just stood and watched, while he stuck me two more times before he released me. I quickly backed away from all of them. I scrunched up my nose, laid my ears flat on my head, and glared at Mom and Katie. I felt betrayed. They had just let the vet come in and hurt me.

Katie patted my mom, and snickered, _I think Sox is angry at us, Sandy._

My mother tried to convince me that the shots would protect me from disease. I was too young to understand what "sickness and infection" was; all I knew was that those darn shots hurt! The veterinarian was not going to corner me so easily next time. I planned to run in the opposite direction if I ever saw him again.

A few days after the visit from our horse doctor, I had my first experience with getting my "hooves" trimmed. "Grumpy" and "Goliath" were my names for the blacksmith and his assistant. Everyone else had been trimmed and shoes were reset, or replaced. I peeked through the top of my stall bars and noticed that each of them stood quietly through the whole process, I took it all in while I listened to my mother describe what was going on. One by one, Katie brought the other horses out of their stalls, and stood them in the aisle of the barn. Because of my age, Katie insisted that my mother and I be trimmed in our stall. I watched as Mom got her hooves trimmed, and she didn't look like she was worried or scared. When they were finished with her, Katie tied Mom in a corner of our stall, and then turned her attention to me. She stroked my neck and talked to me as she attached the lead to my halter.

Grumpy was looking me over and talking to Katie. " _He sure is a nice looking colt. Too bad he is crippled. What do you want us to do with him?"_

I didn't know what "crippled" meant, but it sure made Katie angry. I was getting a little better at the human's language, but Mom still had to translate and fill in the gaps.

Katie put her hands on her hips and informed Grumpy, "Sox is not crippled, and the tight tendon in his right leg is already stretching. He is going to be just fine". She patted my shoulder to comfort me, like I understood every word that was said. I could tell that she was trying to control her temper. She gave Grumpy instructions on just how I was to be trimmed.

One thing that I had learned in my short life was that you didn't argue with Katie. It would get you into trouble, and Grumpy hadn't figured that one out, yet. She used the same voice that I heard when I was bad, it sounded kind of like a low growl. " _Trim my colt the way I want, or I_ ' _ll find someone who will."_

Wow! After that ultimatum, I was really hoping that Grumpy would leave and let Katie find someone else. That would have given me more time to get used to the idea. No such luck. Grumpy decided to do the job. He was in a bad mood, which suited me just fine. I had been looking for a good fight, and it looked like these two were going to give it to me. Grumpy grabbed ahold of my left foot—not gently like Katie or Slim—then he pushed his shoulder against mine. After he knocked me off balance, he pulled my foot up. I reared up and pulled my foot away, then pinned my ears back and glared at him, waiting for his next move.

Grumpy decided it was Katie's fault I was fighting him. He believed that I was only misbehaving because she was upset with him, and I sensed it. I really don't think Katie believed old Grumpy when he claimed that Goliath could do a better job of handling me. With her arms folded over her chest, she stepped back next to my momma, and they both watched me. Goliath took a short hold on my lead, and Grumpy went for my leg again.

I repeated the rearing maneuver and I got my leg away from Grumpy, but Goliath pulled me down and roughly took ahold of my left ear. Nobody, and I mean NOBODY grabs my ear like that and gets away with it! I leapt forward and bit him as hard as I could manage. Goliath yanked hard on my lead rope and hollered a bunch of words that I had never heard before. We fought until all three of us were sweaty and panting. Shoot! They out lasted me. I was worn out, but I would be bigger and stronger before I met them the next time...and I wouldn't forget.

After my opponents went on their way, Katie rubbed my sweaty body with a soft towel. The toweling felt wonderful, and I calmed quickly under her gentle hands and the sound of her soothing voice. When she left us, the magical warm overhead light came on. I sought additional comfort from Mom's warmth and her sweet milk, while she assured me that everything was going to be Okay. Then I took a nap. Katie's parting words echoed in my dreams.

"You are a very brave colt, smart, and handsome too. Someday, little Sox, you are going to be an amazing horse."

Since my battle with the blacksmiths, things have been too quiet around here, and I had a feeling something significant was about to happen. I could tell by the way Katie was observing me from the work arena side of fence that she was up to something. I was relieved when we went in for the night, and nothing unusual had happened to me.

That wily Katie sprung the trap on me the next morning. Mom was nickering and pawing up our stall, because everyone had been grained and had hay, except for us. Slim and Katie came for us and took us out to the front paddock. A huge red box on wheels was parked in the middle of our paddock. I braced my legs and refused to go any farther with Katie.

"Mom! What the heck is that?" I did not take my eyes off of the huge red monster.

"Just a horse trailer, Sox, and it is not going to hurt you...I promise."

Slim continued to walk Mom up to the back of the metal monster, and to my surprise she almost ran inside it. She knew that her grain was in there...and she forgot all about me! I called for her, but she ignored my frightened cries. Katie stood next to the trailer, trying to coax me closer by offering me some grain. She knew that I really liked it and had been eating quite a bit of it lately, but at this moment I was not interested in food. I was worried about Mom. I ignored the offered grain and Katie. I lunged to the end of my lead, stuck my head in the trailer, and I called to her.

While I was trying to get my mother's attention, I had forgotten about Katie. She quickly moved from my head, stepped behind me, and locked hands with Slim. Together they pushed my rear end forward. I jumped up and scrambled to the safety of my mother.

Once I calmed down, I realized that even though I was inside the metal monster, nothing terrible had happened. So, I began to relax and nurse.

Breakfast in the trailer was repeated for several days, and by the end of the week I was happily following Mom into the trailer. Doors appeared on the back of the trailer the second week of my "trailer training." It looked a little different, but it didn't concern me. What did worry me was the scary looking truck that was attached to the front of it, but after a few days I didn't notice it anymore.

Then one day, those doors closed behind us, and the next thing I knew, I felt a rumbling in my feet and up my legs. Oh my god! The monster was moving!

Mom sensed my panic, and reassured me, "Calm down, Sox, we are just going for a ride."

Too frightened to think of a good question, I just asked, "Why?"

Like all mothers, Mom seemed to know just what to say. "This is the way that we can cover many miles in a short time. Riding in the trailer is an adventure, Sox, you never know where your travels will take you."

We went for more rides the following week, and stepping in and out of the trailer became another lesson learned.

From where I stood, it sure looked like Mom and Katie agreed that I was smart, and both were impressed with how quickly I learned most of my lessons. But my manners received mixed reviews; Mom was pleased with me; she said. "You are a bold, curious, and brave."

_"Too bold, too curious, and bad mannered",_ was Katie's assessment of me.

"Just because I like to rear and nip once in a while, she acts like I am a juvenile delinquent," I complained to my mother.

"It is fine to play rough and act like a stallion when we are turned out, Sox, but your displays of aggression are dangerous when the humans are working with you. Katie is worried about you around the neighborhood children, and the youngsters who come here for lessons."

As my basic training progressed, Katie became more focused on improving my manners.

Around and around I ran inside the small round pen, while Katie began to work with my mom, like I had seen her work the other horses. "I want to be out there in the big arena too!" I complained to Mom when we returned to our stall.  
"You will have your chance in good time, Sox. Have a little patience, you'll be working with the rest of us before long."

Waiting was not my style. I was more into instant gratification, but I didn't have to tell Mom that, she already knew. So I changed the subject. "What is that large thing that was strapped to your back?

"That is called a saddle, Sox, it allows a human to ride on a horse's back."

"Does it hurt?"

"No, "she laughed," not at all. Don't worry, dear, you'll be ready for it when your time comes. You already let Katie rub you all over with a towel and allow her to lay it across your back while she picks out your feet, or combs your mane and tail. Soon she will sack you out with a saddle pad."

OK! That sounded a little scary. "What 'does sack out' mean?"

She had another chuckle at the look of concern on my face. "It only means getting you comfortable with things on your back, or bumping into your sides. You have been sacked out many times, Sox. Every time that you are rubbed with a towel, or groomed."

Well, I liked the towel rubbing, and the grooming, but I had to think about that saddle stuff.

Usually, when Katie finished working with my mother, she chased me around the pen on a long line. Lessons in walking, stopping, standing still, and reversing direction on command were not difficult for me, but running was my favorite sport. I ran around the paddock, and I ran small circles in the round pen. All of the exercises that Katie and I did, as well as the long days spent outdoors, had worked wonders on my right leg. The tendons were stretching, and my small, so-called handicap sure didn't slow me down any.

Another month had passed by before Katie began to lead me next to my mom, while she finished up their ride. It was strange to be guided by a mounted rider, and I was not allowed to play. Mom praised me following each session.

"You are growing up quickly, Sox. By the human calendar you're four months of age, yet you prance beside me exactly like the grown-up racehorses prance next to their pony horses."

"What are racehorses, Momma?"

"They are horses that humans match against one another to see who can run the fastest."

Boy! Was I excited to hear that! Now, here was a future that sounded like super fun. Then and there I made a decision: if I have any say in it at all, when I grow up, I am going to be a racehorse!

As Katie and Mom taught me to pony, I listened to her talk to my mother.

_"We are going to have to wean Sox soon. You are becoming much too thin, Sandy. Look at the bite marks on you, and the scratches where his hooves have struck you. He needs some discipline. You really shouldn_ ' _t let him climb all over you. He will get in trouble if he tries that behavior with the other horses. I think it is time you and Sox join the others. We will try putting the two of you in here first for a little while, with the arena fence as a buffer, so he can get used to them. Sox has to learn his place before we can wean him."_

Later that very afternoon Mom and I were turned out into the work arena. Wow! Up close, the other horses were huge!

"Mom, why do they all look bigger than us?"

"Horses come in all sizes, and colors, Sox. Humans measure us by weight and something called hands."

Mom was—imagine my surprise—a small horse. She weighed about a thousand pounds and only stood 14.3 hands at the withers. Golden highlights sparkled on her sorrel coat, when she trotted to the back of the sand arena to greet the other horses. This was a new and exciting experience. I had not been this close to the other horses that lived at our little farm. The humans had kept Mom and I separated from the others, and I couldn't help gazing longingly at them from the confines of the round pen, or from the more distant front paddock.

I blinked my eyes and tried to focus on the approaching horse. A silhouette stepping out of the setting sun, she came closer at a leisurely pace. I continued to blink and watched the large white mare touch noses with my mother. I was sure that looking into the sun had played tricks on my eyes, because she had spots all over her white body. She was built much like my mother, with a powerful chest and muscular hindquarters, but she stood four inches, or one hand, taller than Mom. Not one to be shy anymore, I stuck my nose through the fence boards to sniff at her. "Hello," I said, "my name is Sox. Who are you?" She didn't answer me, but turned and walked away.

Mom said. "The big spotted mare is Gunner, son."

"Well, that sure is good news, Mom. I thought that something was wrong with my eyes!"

Our next visitor was an awesome black mare. She too touched noses with Mom, but unlike the other mare, she also touched noses with me and nickered a greeting. "Hello, little boy. My name is Tar, and I am a Morgan."

I introduced myself to Tar, like I had tried to do with Gunner, and when she walked away I asked Mom, "What is a Morgan?"

"Morgans are an American breed, like us Quarter Horses. They were bred in the early colonies, sometimes called New England, to work and pull carriages. The people of that area used to race their buggy horses, for entertainment, and the Morgans became famous for their speed at a trot. Most are not as tall as Tar, she is the tallest Morgan that I have ever seen!"

I noticed that a large bay horse kept his distance, but he sure looked us over. I asked my mother. "Why doesn't that one want to meet us?"

She said, "He is an experienced old gelding, and wise; he knows to stay away from a mother with a foal. His name is Handy, and he is a Quarter Horse too.

"Why does he have to stay away, Mom?"

"At most large farms, mature male horses are kept away from mares with new foals. In the wild the herd stallion, or the boss mares, drive off any male horses over two. It is just the way it has always been. Much like our inherited flight response that some horses can never overcome."

It still didn't make sense to me, but I decided then and there that I needed to hone my fighting skills. No one. Stallion or boss mare was going to drive me off!

Little did I know that Katie had been watching as I was introduced to the other horses, nor did it cross my mind that she was very soon going to let us join the rest of our horse family. And I was about to find out that Katie was not the only one who thought that I had bad manners, or that I needed an attitude adjustment.

May 5

Dear Diary,

Grandma told me that I could take horseback riding lessons if Mom agreed. I started by telling Mom how great I thought Katie was. It turned out that Mom knows her. Sometimes I forget that Mom grew up here, and that it was my dad who was from the big city. Mom said yes. I can take lessons! Cool!

_That is the good news. The bad news is that Mom_ ' _s last e-mail was very short. Something is going on, because we have not had a video cam link for almost two weeks now. Usually, she answers my e-mail on the same day, but now her mail is delayed for days. I think that Grandma is worried too, but she puts on a brave front to keep me from being swallowed up by my fear._

_May 16  
Dear Diary,  
Grandma helped me pick out the animated Mother_' _s Day card that I sent_

_to Mom_ ' _s e-mail. I got another short message from her. She thanked me for the card, and she wanted to hear about my riding lessons._

_It was easy to answer her question about whether or not I liked them. I had just one word. YES! I_ ' _d only had two lessons, but I loved it! I told her about the big white mare with all the spots that I have been riding, and that Katie said the mare is an Appaloosa. Her name is Gunner, and she is 21 years old. I guess that is sort of old for a horse. I thanked Mom for letting me take the lessons._

After getting all mushy and telling her that I thought she was the greatest Mom in the world, and that I loved her, I told her how very fast the baby horse is growing. His name is Sox.

June 10 _  
Dear Diary,  
Only a couple more days of school left. I have been spending a lot of time next_

door on the weekends and when I can during the week, after I finish my school- work.

I am so excited that I can barely stand it! Katie said she could use some extra help around the barn this summer, and in exchange I will be able to ride more. I just have to get permission to work around the barn and the horses.

Grandma said that it was OK with her, as long as I kept my grades up. I emailed Mom a copy of my school report. I think my grades are better, but I am waiting to hear what Mom has to say about them and about working in the barn

My work with the horses helps keep my mind occupied. It is really scary not knowing where Mom is, or when she might be able to answer me.

# Chapter Four  
Herd Life Isn't All Clover

After breakfast we were turned out, as usual, with Mom and me in the front paddock and the other three horses in the back. Every- one was settling down to some serious grazing once they got the morning run and bucks out of their systems. Then, Katie came for Mom and me.

She talked to Mom as she walked her to the back paddock. " _I think it is safe to let you and Sox join the other horses, now that everyone has settled down"._ And then she opened the gate to let us in to the much larger back paddock.

Excitement got the better of me, and I immediately ignored my mother's warning: "Stay close to me, Sox."

The large white mare with many spots came up to greet my mother, but once again she ignored me, which made me even more fascinated with her. I pranced up to say hello, but she continued to graze and totally ignored me. I shook my head and reared high, I placed my front hooves over her back, the same way I did with Mom when I wanted to get her attention. Like lightening her back leg lashed out! She rocketed me into the air, then looked over her shoulder and warned me.

"Watch your manners little brat!"

I slowly picked myself up from the dirt, along with my dented pride, and I went in search of my truant mother.

A string of curses escaped from Katie's lips singeing my little ears as I went skidding along the ground. If you have ever hit your elbow and felt a sharp pain run up your arm, then you know just how my hip felt. The pain was easing, only to be replaced by a numb feeling. It was as if my back leg had gone to sleep; I couldn't feel it!

I spotted my mom and hobbled up to her, expecting some sympathy. She just continued to graze and said, "I told you to stay close to me, Sox. Not everyone is as indulgent as I am with your rowdy behavior and bad manners."

I was crushed. Momma had never criticized me until then!

It took a lot to intimidate me, and I was always looking for some- thing or someone to challenge, but a lack of information could get a guy killed! If I had known that the white mare was the herd boss, I might have waited to introduce myself...well maybe not.

"You could have been seriously injured, Sox, challenging Gunner like that!" Mom scolded.

"I only wanted to say hello!" I whined in protest.

"I should have better explained the consequences of not minding me, Sox. Gunner is not the white mare's real name, but one that she has earned. She is a deadly shot when she takes aim with her back hooves. The rumor is that she sent a couple of dogs to doggy heaven when she was just a year old!"

"WOW! It was lucky for me that she had only used one hind leg."

"Yes, you are lucky, Sox. Gunner was in a good mood today. She merely gave you a warning shot. Next time it could be the real deal!"

My hip was sore for a few days, but I was still able to run and play a little, even during the day that I had been shot down. I stayed close to Mom for a few days, and I kept plenty of room between my small body and the Gunner. Katie, however, was pleased with my intelligence, but don't you know she gave credit to the Gunner for the quick improvement in my manners.

******

Life got a lot more interesting as spring turned into summer and the numbers of children taking lessons increased. Trucks pulling two horse trailers, four horse trailers, and horse trailers of many different colors brought strange horses to our farm several times a week. From my round pen or the front paddock, I watched as Gunner, Tar, and Handy joined the schooling sessions. The other horses carried young riders around the arena.

It was fascinating to watch the older horses go through lessons with their riders. Some of the instructions that Katie gave them, I under- stood. The instructions given to the riders, like _walk, trot, whoa_ , and _back_ were familiar to me, I could do those things. Other maneuvers or instructions were new to me, but I found them entertaining.

Not even a little entertaining was the occasional absence of my mother. Left alone in our stall I frantically whinnied for her. Soon as she returned, I would ask where she had been. Sometimes she had gone to a _4-H workout_ , and other times she went on something called a trail ride. Workouts and trail rides didn't keep her away too long, but what she called a _horse show_ kept her away from me for half of the day. It never occurred to me that Katie was deliberately separating me from my mother, to get me used to being on my own.

Emma was the bright spot in my day. It worried me that my little friend often rode the Gunner, but the crabby old mare liked the humans. Emma helped me make it through the stress of being separated from my mom. _Weaning_ was what the humans called it when they took your mother away from you.

Emma would talk to me, or play her guitar and sing little songs to me. I looked forward to my time with her. One day she told me, " _I know what it is like to miss your mother, Sox. My mother is a soldier, and she is far away from me, too."_

On one of the days that my mom was at home, she had said, " Sox, I think that you and Emma are kindred spirits."

"What does that mean?" I had asked, afraid that it was something awful. "Spirits are like ghosts. Right?"

Her eyes twinkled. She gave me a horselaugh, and then she said, "A kindred spirit is another being who has a lot of character traits in common with you, and the two of you are able to communicate without a lot of effort."

It was one of many times that I was not quite sure what my mom was talking about, but I was relieved to know that spooks were not involved. A few days following that talk, Mom went away for longer than she ever had before. I really missed her company and her wisdom, as well as the comfort of her sweet warm milk. There was no one to answer my questions, or reassure me when she was gone.

June 28 _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _June is almost over, and I am riding a couple of times a day! Katie says that I am a natural horseperson. I think all of the patterns that she gives us, to practice controlling our horses, are helping me to focus and follow directions. It is so much fun. I even like cleaning tack and sweeping the barn floor!_

Little Sox is not very happy. Katie has started working his mother more, and when Sandy goes on a trail ride or to a 4-H workout, he cries and paws up his stall. But when I talk to him it calms him down, and it seems he really likes me. So I park my stool in front of his stall and I chat with him while I clean the tack.

_I am counting the days until Mom_ ' _s deployment is over and I can give her a big hug. I wish that she could see me ride. Grandma told me that Mom used to ride too! Funny, she never told me about that._

_July 10_ _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _I sent Mom an e-mail to wish her a happy Independence Day. It is becoming harder to keep my worry from her. I wish that I knew where she was going that she wouldn_ ' _t have an Internet connection. I promised that I would write to her by snail mail, but somehow that only makes it feel like she is farther away._

I am visiting with Sox more often. Katie took his mother to another barn, to separate them during the weaning process. Poor Sox, he is so lonely. I know just how he feels.

_July 20_ _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _I thought that old people were supposed to be forgetful. Grandma doesn_ 't forget _anything! She reminded me that I was behind on my summer reading that she insists on. It was part of the deal we made for me to ride. One book a month over summer vacation didn_ ' _t sound too bad, but now she wants me to read the three of them out loud! Then, she suggested that I practice reading the books to Sox. I know that he likes me to talk to him and he loves the sound of my guitar, even when I make mistakes, but I don_ ' _t read all that well. The words on the page get jumbled up and the harder I try the more jumbled they get._

_July 30_ _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _Sometimes I don_ ' _t think that Grandma trusts me. She has been reading the books too, and she gave me two choices. Write out a summary for each book, or tell her the story and read one chapter from each book out loud for her. HELP!_

_Reading to Sox was one of Grandma_ ' _s better ideas. He doesn_ ' _t care if I get stuck on some words. He just likes to hear my voice so he doesn_ ' _t feel so all alone with his momma gone. Boy can I relate to that!_

******

Katie was always busy with lessons and horse shows, so she was paying less attention to me. Without Mom and left to my own devices, like any youngster, I looked for trouble. So my care and training exercises were assigned to Patty and Emma. Patty was home from college for the summer. I found her easier to get along with than Katie. Patty looked like she could be Emma's big sister. Their hair color was almost the same, but like me, Emma had brown eyes, and Patty's eyes were blue like the summer sky. She instructed Emma how to work with me on the lunge-line. I liked to work with Emma. She was always happy when we got something right. So I tried real hard to do my lessons correctly.

Mom returned a month after she deserted me, and I was very happy to see her. I called to her, but she would not answer me. She pushed me away when I got too close or tried to nurse.

"You are not a suckling foal any longer, Sox. You are six months old now and a weanling. It is time for you to be independent," she said firmly. We did not even share a stall anymore.

Mom still watched out for me, and she continued to teach me the things that a horse should know, but it was not the same between us. I hated the whole weaning process, but Mom accepted it. She even seemed to enjoy her private stall. "Weaning!" What a silly word for such a life-changing event.

Emma, Patty, and I continued our training lessons. _Showmanship_ was more difficult for Emma and for me than our other lessons had been. Emma learned by practicing with my mother. She had been a champion youth horse for many years, and knew all the routines.

After a lot of practice with Patty, and coaching from Katie, I got real good at _standing up square_. I learned not to move when she walked from one side of my body to the other. I trotted at her side on a loose lead. I learned to walk, stop quickly then turn one hundred eighty degrees, and trot off in the opposite direction. It was hard not to puff out my chest and prance when Katie let us join the showmanship lessons. Working in the arena along with the other horses was exciting.

"You are doing a very good job, Sox," Mom told me when we were turned out to pasture together.

"I think that I messed up some, Mom." I was frustrated, and Mom made it all look so easy.

"Don't let it bother you, son. You are getting better with every lesson. I still make mistakes sometimes."

Mom made mistakes too? That bit of information surprised me, but it made me feel better about my efforts.

_August 2_ _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _Summer is streaking by. Streaking, that is pretty good! Don_ ' _t you think?_

Grandma bought me a dictionary and a thesaurus. She has to help me read the dictionary. Sometimes the definitions are pretty hard for me to follow.

_August 4_ _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _I went to the fair with Patty. She showed me the 4-H exhibits, and we toured the decorated 4-H horse barns, the dairy cow barn, the beef cattle, and the goat and sheep barns. At every stop we ran into people who knew Patty, and she introduced me to everyone._

I was ready for a break when we took our elephant ears and lemonades to the bleachers. I munched and slurped on my fair treats while we watched the flag ceremony that started the afternoon 4-H horse show. I have to admit that I was jealous of those lucky kids.

_August 20_ _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _I got a letter from Mom today. It was dated July 8. That was six weeks ago!_

_So I guess that she has not received the one that I wrote her last week. I hate this. Six weeks to get a letter? That is like living in the Stone Age! I don_ ' _t like not knowing where she is or waiting so long to hear from her._

I have so much to tell Mom. I am riding Sandy now, and Katie will let me show her. That is if it is OK with Gram and Mom. Gram said that I could, until I get the final word from Mom. I ended my letter to her with a plea. SAY YES! SAY YES. PLEASE, SAY YES. I wrote it in big bold font, but Grandma thought that was overkill, and she made me tone down my request to just capital letters.

******

One sunny morning in August, I got a bath, and I had my hooves polished. Mom and I were served breakfast in the horse trailer. I never had a bath before breakfast, so I asked, "What is going on, Mom? Is this some kind of new lesson?"

"Emma and I are off to a late summer horse show, and Patty decided to take you along too!"

HOT DOG!! I was finally going to a horse show!

My friend, Emma, won a third place ribbon with my mom's help. But no ribbon for me! The excitement, the strange horses, and the loud speakers made me nervous. I could not stand still. All of the things that I had learned at home just fell out of my head to be trampled under my restless hooves. Patty tried to make me feel better. She said, " _Don_ ' _t worry, Sox, it won_ ' _t be so bad next time. You will get used to it_."

Patty took me along whenever there was room in the trailer. Emma, like me, made mistakes, but she continued to improve, too. Mom rarely talked to me at a show; she was totally focused on the task at hand.

Having Patty and Emma for company helped ease the desertion of my mother, but it wasn't long before they deserted me too! Once again I felt lost and alone. Patty had disappeared. Mom said she went back to college. Emma still came to see me, but not as often, or for as long. She was in school most of the daylight hours, and she could only visit me on the weekends.

Things changed in the paddock and around the house where my humans lived. The bushes that had been green near the house turned a bright red as the weather got colder. The leaves on our tall trees turned red, orange, bright gold; they began to fall from the trees. Leaves covered the grass; they crunched under my hooves, and I had to paw through them to reach the quickly disappearing grass.

******

Then came the white! It covered everything. It clung to all the trees. It stuck to the fence, and it hid the grass under its winter blanket. I put my nose in it finding it to be very cold, and if I snorted it blew up into my face. I noticed that Handy was laughing at my antics. "The cold white stuff that you are exploring is called snow, Sox. There will be a lot more of it before spring."

It was my first winter, and I hadn't realized how long it would last.

December made Emma sad because her mother would not be home to spend Christmas with her.

_Sometimes I can talk to her on the Internet, but it is not the same as having her home. I really miss her Sox,_ she told me.

I did not have a clue what the Internet was, but I loved it when she talked to me. Like a good friend, I perked my ears forward trying to understand, I nuzzled her, and I allowed her to hug me when I thought she needed comfort.

A few days after Christmas, it snowed, and it snowed; some of the drifts came up to my tummy. When the snow finally stopped, we built a snowman in the front paddock.

Okay, truthfully, Emma built the snowman, and I ate its carrot nose. Funny thing about that snowman, whenever I would eat his nose he grew a new one, by the very next day! Carrot Nose made Emma smile. She took photos of me stealing his nose, and Katie took some pictures of Emma, me, and Carrot Nose. She gave them to Emma to share with her mother.

When the winter winds were not howling, I could hear the faint music of Emma's guitar drifting into the barn. The music sounded sad and my heart ached for her. I wondered if she felt as lonely as I did.

_September 15_ _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _I still do not have an answer to the last two letters that I sent to Mom at the end of August, and I have been back to school for two weeks! In the first letter I told her about the fair. The second letter was to brag. At my very first show, Sandy and I won third place in a showmanship class of twenty other kids. Wow! I was so pumped that I couldn_ ' _t wait to get home and write her._

_I explained that I did not place in the walk trot class, and the experience was more like the dodgem at the amusement park than a riding class. When Katie is instructing us at home, she must also play the part of a traffic cop. Most of my first riding class I guided Sandy around stalled or balky ponies, and tried to avoid being run into by horses who weren_ ' _t guided very well._

_October 7_ _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _October is here and I still haven_ ' _t received another letter from Mom. I am getting really scared, but Grandma says that no news is usually good news. She told me that letters often get lost or delayed because they pass through many hands. She said that if something bad happened to Mom, the Army would have notified us. I am praying every night that Grandma is right._

_November 30_ _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _Late in October I got a birthday card from Mom, but still no answer to my letters. We did not hear from her until she returned to Internet land just before Thanksgiving. That is the good news. The bad news is that her tour has been extended which means that she won_ ' _t be home for Christmas. So again this year, Grandma and I baked cookies, we bought toiletries and a few useful gifts, and we shipped them to the Middle East._

_January 2_ _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _It snowed hard after Christmas, and I tried to shake off my sadness by playing in the snow with Sox. Grandma watched us from her window while we built a snowman in the front paddock between our house and Slim and Katie_ ' _s house._

_Sox got in the way more than he helped, but he was having fun licking and biting at the large, round balls of snow that formed the body, I would roll one, and he would stick his head in the way to check it out. The funniest part was his reaction to the snowman_ 's nose.

I went into the house and got a large carrot. Sox waited for me right where I had climbed through the fence. As soon as I put the carrot nose in place he swiped it, and then ran off to munch on it. I made another quick trip to the house, brought another carrot back with me, along with my digital camera, and as soon as I replaced the nose he stole it again. But this time I was able to capture him with my camera.

I attached the photo of Sox the carrot thief to the next e-mail to Mom, and ended up with more than the one photo that I had planned on. While I was busy taking snapshots of Sox, Katie had been photographing both of us. She sent the photos to my e-mail, along with a photo she had taken of Sandy and me with our first ribbon.

_January 30_ _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _Finally, I talked to Mom on the videocam. She congratulated me on my first ribbon, and she said that she got a good laugh out of the snowman photo. I told her that I replaced the carrot every morning, and Sox would steal it the first chance that he got._

It is so great to see her and hear her voice again!

_March 24_ _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _It is already the end of March, and today is Sox_ ' _s first birthday. Only a year old and he is already bigger than Sandy!_ _  
_ _News flash! Mom said that I could join 4-H. Katie is going to let me use Sandy for my project horse. I am so excited that this year, when I go to the fair, I will be one of the lucky kids showing a horse. I hope I do a really good job with his mother, maybe some day I can show Sox. I wonder how much I would have to save to buy him?_

# Chapter Five  
New Horizons

I became a gelding in the spring, and all the other horses commented on what a better mannered horse I now was. " Give me a break!" I told Mom. "I don't know what the big deal is — I don't feel any different."

Mom said, "That's because you're still so young, Sox. You hadn't developed strong stallion traits, yet. It is much harder on older stallions to be gelded. Truth be told, Sox, most of your orneriness is just your personality."

"Gee thanks a bunch, Mom." If Mom's observation was a complement, it sure didn't feel like it.

The tendons in my right leg had stretched, and to most people my leg looked normal. It still gave me some trouble after a long trailer ride, but it was getting stronger every day.

Now that I had been on planet Earth through four seasons in the horsemen's world I was called a _yearling_. I was the equivalent of a four-year-old child. Mom explained to me that human children grow slower. So every year of our lives is equal to four years of a human life. Much of my one-year-old summer I got to accompany Emma and my mom to shows, and as a pair they were advancing rapidly. Emma was now showing Mom in riding classes, and they were leading the walk trot division for beginner riders in the _thirteen and under_ age group. I was very proud of them.

Horse shows are very interesting places, and I went to a lot of different ones that summer. I met some little horses that Emma called _Minis_. One of them, named, Missy, told me, "Mini is just a human nickname for Miniature Horses."

"What is the difference between Minis and ponies?" I asked my new little friend.

"Miniature Horses!" The little mare corrected me, "are a small breed of horses, not a breed of ponies."

OK! I let that slide. Obviously I had said something insulting, and I didn't want to upset Missy by saying that the Minis....horses or not....were a heck of a lot smaller than any ponies that I had met.

The Minis didn't even come up to my shoulder. On the other end of the equine spectrum there were the draft horse breeds and the Warmbloods, the giants of the horse world. Some of them tipped the scales at over two thousand pounds, and they stood seventeen hands or more! I made a point to steer clear of their back ends. One swift kick from one of them would probably knock me into the next county. I bet I would be able to fit all four of my feet in just one of their shoes!

4-H shows, and local schooling shows expanded my limited view of the world. Some of the shows we traveled to were only for registered American Quarter Horses, and most of the horses there looked very much like Mom, and me too...I guess. I couldn't begin to tell you how many miles rolled by beneath my hooves as I rode in the big red horse trailer.

Late that summer I got my first saddle. Mom was right, I was ready and I wore it proudly as Katie or Patty worked me in the round pen or on the lunge line. Sometimes one of them would pony me alongside my mom or the Gunner. Working alongside Gunner for the first time was a little scary, but crabby was all business, and I made sure to mind my manners.

"It is hard for me to believe that I only arrived here last spring!" I told Mom.

"You have learned so much, Sox. You are an accepted member of our small herd, and you have a good beginning on your show career." Mom nodded her head.

"I am not so sure about the 'accepted member' of our herd part, Mom. Gunner still won't talk to me. She pins her ears back and scrunches up her nose at me whenever I even glance at her. She gives me the evil eye and still calls me BRAT! But I have you, the other horses, I have our human family, and I have my best friend, Emma. And they all seem to like me."

"Gunner will come around, Sox. You still have a lot to learn about life as a horse as well as the more difficult lessons that Katie has in store for you."

_MORE DIFFICULT?_ Yeah, like I needed to hear that!

_May 29_ _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _I haven_ ' _t written in you since March because I have been really busy. I still have two tutors, but now I am grateful for them. They help me when I get stuck on a school assignment, so my grades are improving. I have to keep my grades up so I can spend more time at the barn and on my 4-H horse. That is so fun to say! "My 4-H horse!"_

_Wow! Miracle of miracles! I think I finally found a place where I fit in. 4- H is where I have found others with the same interests. The kids in our group range in age from eight to eighteen, and many of them also have a parent deployed. There are thirty of us in the Rainbow 4-H Club. We have meetings once a month at Katie_ ' _s house. She is one of three advisors for our group._

June 20 _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _YEAH! SUMMER VACATION!_ _  
_ _Most of the time I ride Sandy, but during summer vacation Katie has me ride one or two of the other horses too. Sandy always gets the day off after a show or after she gets her shoes reset. On those days I could end up on Gunner, Handy, or Tar. Sometimes I work one or two of them, or I just might have to warm them up for a lesson with a younger rider. Other times I end up cooling them out. I love every minute that I spend on a horse!_

I am thankful that we began by showing at local schooling shows. Sandy has a lot of experience in the show ring, and she never makes a bad move in showmanship. So all I have to do is make sure she is in good condition and well groomed. That is the easy part. Remembering and following the pattern for each class is the hard part. Since Sandy and I travel to the horse shows with Katie, I have her and Patty to help me figure out the difficult patterns.

_July 10_ _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _The Quarter Horse shows were a big reality check for me! The bulletin board in my room is beginning to fill up with ribbons. I even have to dust a few trophies that now decorate my dresser. The first time I went in a showmanship class at a Quarter Horse show, I was overwhelmed by the sparkles on the clothes, and the bling on the horses._

Katie asked me to sit with her and observe some classes of older kids. She critiqued them the same way that she did for her students, and at the kids at the 4-H workouts. I started to see past the fancy clothes, and look at the showmanship. After the morning that I sat with Katie, I began to observe the older age groups that followed my class at the local and 4-H shows.

_Patty shared with me that she too used to watch the older age groups. She said that it had helped her to copy down the pattern for whatever class she was watching. She told me that many times, if the first person in the class messed up on the pattern everyone who followed would mess up too. She was right. A lot of the kids didn_ ' _t remember their pattern, and would just follow what the horse in front of them did. It really helped my confidence to know that other kids made mistakes too. So far, I have not missed a pattern. It has worried me that should I mess up my pattern, then everyone in the class, and those who are watching on the rail will know I am dyslexic._

_August 10_ _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _Sandy and I won our division in showmanship at the fair, and we placed fifth in my age group in western horsemanship. We placed third in western pleasure. I had such a good time at the fair that I could not wait to come home and tell Mom._

_A HUGE SURPRISE! I had just dismounted from Sandy following the pleasure class, when Grandma came up and gave me a big hug! She even patted Sandy_ ' _s neck. I didn_ ' _t even know she had come to the fair, or that she had been watching me show. Maybe Gram is not as tough as she likes to make everyone think. I thought I saw tears in her eyes, but I didn_ ' _t say anything. She would have only claimed it must have been the dust, or something like that._

Sox is progressing with his saddle training, His first small English saddle has been replaced with the larger western saddle. And I swear, he somehow knows that his destiny is tied to the western tack!

# Chapter Six  
Just Say Whoa!

Early in the spring, by the human calendar, I turned two. Once I was comfortable with the weight of a rider, Katie would guide me around at a walk and trot, and then she would make me stand still. Standing like a statue was the hardest part for me, but if practice makes perfect, then I will be perfection.

I understood what _whoa_ meant from all of my _groundwork_. Groundwork is what I had been doing since I was a baby; it is the most basic training. Many days of halter lessons, lunge line training, and endless lessons in the round pen made it easy for me to understand what Katie wanted from me. Most horses have three gaits: the _walk_ , the _trot_ , and the _canter_. I was mastering all three gaits on command.

It was one thing to stand quietly at home while Katie gave instructions to her student riders. It was another story mastering the same task in the show ring. Over and over, we were the last horse and rider team to exit the ring. My skin felt too tight! I was sure that I was going to burst out of it. I quivered from my ears to my tail and waited impatiently to follow the other horses. One by one they began to leave the lineup. Some would go forward, one at a time, to collect their fluttery little ribbons. Horses that didn't receive ribbons would head for the exit gate, except for me! We horses are herd animals, and I wanted to go with the others, but there I remained alone in the center of the arena, until Katie decided that it was time to go.

As a two-year-old, I went along to all the shows. Katie rode me around on the outside of the show ring while she coached her young riders before their classes. Our little group of _equestrians_ traveled to 4- H shows, open shows, schooling shows, and a couple of Quarter Horse shows. I was there for all of them.

Katie just rode me around, and once in a while she would take me in walk-trot class, and it was in those classes that I learned to stand my ground. Often, Katie and I waited there and watched the other horse and rider teams exit the show ring. Sometimes we would stand there long enough for the next class to enter the opposite gate!

Walk-trot classes are beginner classes, and they are usually for riders under ten, but some shows have walk-trot classes for older age riders, or green horses like me. I was a little worried the first time that I was called that! "Mom, why is Katie calling me a green?"

Mom said, "Sox, you are still a bay. 'Green horse' only means that you have very little riding and show experience. It has nothing to do with your color."

I was relieved to hear that green was not my new color, but I noticed the twinkle in Mom's eyes and the amusement in her voice when she answered my question.

Emma was progressing faster than I was, and she was doing a super job of learning how to ride. Mom became Emma's 4-H horse, and as a team they were hard to beat in showmanship, horsemanship, and trail classes. Criminy! Emma had mastered showmanship back when I was only a weanling.

Mom explained the other classes to me. "Horsemanship or equitation classes are judged on the rider's ability to communicate with their horse. Often a horse and rider are asked to perform a pattern in these classes, and they are scored on how well they accomplish the required maneuvers. I love the trail class. It offers obstacles for a horse and rider to negotiate. One at a time a horse and rider team is scored at each obstacle. Some of the obstacles include: the crossing of a bridge, walking over poles, or walking through a water hazard."

" I am content to be a spectator and let you and Emma compete in that class. Some of those obstacles look a little spooky to me." I shook my mane and snorted for emphasis.

Emma and I teamed up to show in "stock-horse" halter when it was offered at the small local shows. We did so well that Katie paired us up for a few two-year-old gelding halter classes at some of the Quarter Horse shows. Halter classes require the same skills that Emma and I already mastered for showmanship. Halter classes are judged on the conformation of the horse. In showmanship the emphasis is on the handler, and they are judged on their ability to show off their horse. The best-groomed and most fit horses will usually place the highest in either class.

The metallic highlights in my bay coat that I inherited from my mother sparkled in the sun. Emma had brushed and polished me until the human spectators had to wear sunglasses to protect their eyes from my dazzling brightness. We were an excellent team, and we won most of our classes. Emma was so excited that she always attached the ribbons to my halter while we got our win photos. I was not crazy about the ribbons hanging from my halter near my eye, but I humored my friend.

Like me, Emma was growing and changing. She was thirteen and almost as tall as Katie. She still read books to me and played her guitar for me, and I noticed that her voice was changing. My voice was changing too. I didn't sound like a foal anymore; now I had a big powerful grown-up voice. And then, in the fall my training as an athlete began in earnest.

In previous years, things slowed down once the children returned to school at the end of summer. Then we played in the falling leaves, and later the snow. Work schedules were shortened or canceled entirely. Everything depended on the weather.

My winter activities changed BIG TIME! By the end of August, I was wearing a horse blanket, and late in October I left home for the first time for an extended period. We didn't travel far, and I probably could have just walked up the road. My first thought was that we had gone to another horse show when they put me in a strange stall. But this place felt different, so I asked, "Mom, what are we doing here?"

"We are at a boarding stable, Sox. Katie will keep us here so she and Emma can continue to work with us throughout the winter. I have been here before. When it snows, rains, or turns too icy to go outdoors we can still work. When the weather is real bad we will be turned out in the small indoor arena at the end of our stall row. We will continue to work in the large arena behind this barn."

At the time I did not realize that I would spend many more winters at that stable. We made excellent use of the large indoor arena, while Katie and Emma continued our training throughout the long winter months.

I was progressing very well, and most of the time I knew what was coming. Katie grumbled once in a while, " _You are too smart, Sox!"_ It was true that I would occasionally anticipate my next cue. As Mom had predicted, advanced training was a lot more difficult. I was sure that I had succeeded in driving Katie around the bend. One time our work- out was almost over when she rode me straight at the arena wall! We had been working at a trot, and the wall was quickly approaching. I started to turn to the right; Katie pulled me to the left, so I thought that I had made a mistake and turned to the left. But she would not allow me to turn away. It was a good thing that I had not been going very fast. Confused, I did not stop soon enough and banged my noggin.

Katie snapped, " _Pay attention Sox, and next time you won_ ' _t bump your head"._

We ended every workout that way, and soon I was able to stop straight only inches from the wall. I never bumped into the wall again, even when we moved to a lope. I also figured out that if I sat down some and brought my back legs under me that I could stop better. Katie praised me whenever I stuck my hocks and tail in the dirt! When I heard her drag out the command to whoa, felt her sit back a little in the saddle and take her legs off of me, I stopped.

"Whoa, means stop!" I learned that long ago, but now I had to learn how to round my back and settle to a smooth stop while balanced over my hocks.

"Katie keeps drilling me like crazy. She's never satisfied with my stops," I complained to Mom when we were turned out the next morning.

"She is only trying to show you how to position your body, Sox, so you can stop without hurting yourself when you have some speed going into it."

"SPEED? You kidding me? She never lets me go faster than a lope, Mom."

"Be patient, my boy, it won't be long now and she'll let you have all the speed you crave so much."

******

By my third birthday I could lope up to the wall and slide to a stop. So we worked on developing my slide without the aid of the wall. Now that I had the basic skill, I could slide to a stop in the center of the arena too. Once I had a good handle on "whoa," we moved on to circles. We spent a lot of time practicing them. Right circles seemed harder for me than the left ones, but they were getting close to the same size and shape.

During my rest periods, I watched Emma work with Mom. I was amazed at how fast my mother ran toward the arena wall, and then slid to a stop that sent the dirt flying up behind her. "Mom? That you?"

Parents sure can surprise you! I could not believe this was the same horse I couldn't get to run with me until the day I picked up a stick and chased her with it. That memory played in my mind as I took a break, and continued to watch their workout.

A rainstorm had knocked down some tree limbs during my yearling summer. Out of boredom, I had picked up a long twig began to play with it. I was running with the twig in my mouth and shaking my head. I noticed that the other horses were hightailing it away from me. It had always been a challenge for me to get the older horses to play. After the first successful romp, I would search for a nice long twig to help instigate a group gallop around the paddock. Maybe the other horses thought that it was a whip, or a snake.

I had never seen my mom run as fast as she did during that reining exercise! I was not the only one surprised. Emma's freckled face turned a little green, like she might be sick. Katie coached her on adjusting her seat position. " _Emma, sit back on your hip pockets and move your leg toward Sandy_ ' _s shoulder more. You have to adjust your riding style a bit. You can_ ' _t ride a reining horse like a pleasure, or equitation horse. When you're close to the wall take your legs off of her, sink deeper onto the hip pockets of your jeans. Make sure to keep your legs forward and push into your stirrups."_

It took Emma several tries to get used to the feel of Mom's powerful burst of speed, and her equally powerful stop. Like me, I don't think Emma believed Mom could move so fast or stop that hard. The Mom we knew had always been a quiet little pleasure horse, but she sure could raise a cloud of dust when she was called to the task of reining.

Katie was happy with Emma's circles. " _Okay, Emma, roll Sandy back, over her hocks to the outside of the circle and go in the opposite direction. Try to stay on the same tracks you made with the previous set of circles."_

I watched as Mom galloped her circles and rolled back several times to change direction. Katie had them finish their workout by running straight down the arena into a sliding stop that sent the dirt flying higher than before. I am ashamed to admit that I was jealous of my mother. I wanted to run fast too, but Katie would not let me. She would tell me, " _Easy, Sox, We need to gather all of the ingredients before we can bake a cake, and then it has to set before we add the icing."_

Okay, whatever. Sometimes the things Katie said didn't make any sense to me, but when she talked I twitched my ears back and listened intently to her voice. Mom called Katie's statement a "metaphor." Mom's explanation was a bit beyond me, too!

I still had visions of running, and running, as fences dissolved before me. I knew there had to be open spaces out there somewhere, places where horses could run free mile after mile, but so far the wide-open spaces were only in my dreams.

The year I turned three, trail riding was added to my exercise routine. My first trail ride I was like a country kid on the first trip to a big city. I gazed around in awe. Huge trees linked their branches high over my head, and rays of sun filtered through the thick summer leaves. At first I was hesitant; I waited for the cue to turn, but it never came. I walked for miles without encountering a fence. My dream of no fences had come true... sort of. In my dream I did not have a rider, and I was free to go as fast as I wanted to. My three-year-old year whizzed by.

Feb 28

Dear Diary,

_Another Christmas has gone by. I can_ ' _t even imagine what soldier_ ' _s families did before the Internet. It seems forever since I have been able to hug my mom. But at least I can see her on my computer screen once in a while and hear her voice._

_I am so grateful that I have had the horses and my new 4-H friends to fill the years without her. Holy cow! I can_ ' _t believe I_ ' _ve been living here with Grandma going on five years._

March 20

Dear Diary

HOORAY! This will probably be my last entry. I have run out of pages. Three days ago I was composing an e-mail to Mom when someone rang the doorbell. Grandma yelled from the kitchen for me to get the door. I almost did a back flip! IT WAS MY MOM!

I launched myself for a hug, and almost sent us both tumbling down the front steps. Grandma was so overcome, we almost had to call 911! After she recovered from her shock, imagine my surprise when she started scolding my mom for not warning her. Mom said that she had returned from a routine patrol in Iraq when was told to pack up, she was going home! She quickly stuffed everything she had in her duffel and got on the next transport.

We all cried like babies, we hugged and hugged some more. I think I went through a whole box of tissues by myself, but they were all happy tears!

******

Emma's mother returned home in March right before my fourth birthday. I was happy for my friend, and she was all smiles now. I missed her and my mom at the horse shows. Emma stayed home and spent time with her family. She only showed Mom at a few of the 4-H shows leading up to fair. But I was not given a lot of time to feel sorry for myself. Katie and Patty had ganged up on me, and they decided to work my tail off at reining shows.

Ohio, Pennsylvania, Michigan, Indiana, and Illinois rolled by beneath the tires of my new t horse trailer. Hot dog! I was back riding on a slant now. If you've never done it, let me tell you, it's much more comfortable than riding straight in the old red trailer. Have you ever stood in the aisle of a crowded bus? If so then you know that it is easier to balance on turns, on starts, and stops with your feet planted sideways to the motion. It is much harder to stay on your feet when you face for- ward. Not to mention you get a better view!

The gently rolling hills of Eastern Ohio made my mouth water as I watched all those delicious stretches if green grass roll by my window. The rolling hills became steeper when we entered a place called Pennsylvania.

Trips to shows in Pennsylvania were a lot more tiring than traveling north to Michigan, or west through Ohio to Indiana or on to Illinois. Up and down the trailer went, lean to the right then quickly lean to the left, it must be like riding the big coasters at Cedar Point that Emma told me about. She made the whole experience sound like fun, but I found it difficult to find the thrill in struggling to keep from upending.

I met horses that lived in the foothills. I met some who had traveled to the shows from farms high in the mountains. They were used to straddling the floor of their trailers the way that a surfer balances and walks his surfboard. I guess that like surfing big waves, it takes a lot of practice to balance over mountain roads. I got better at trailer surfing, and after my first trip into steep hills, and the mountains, I never mentioned the balance issue again. I did not want the other horses to think I was a wimp.

A big part of my balance problem was because of my new sliding shoes. Sliding plates are wider and smother than the shoes that I had been wearing on my back feet. When I stopped quickly, the plates helped me slide over the dirt or sand, much like skis let humans slide over snow. As a result, my stops were improving, but the slide plates made it harder to keep my feet under me in the horse trailer. It was a much easier to keep my balance when we traveled through the flat states to the north and west of our home.

I wondered how the barns and houses in Pennsylvania kept from sliding down the steep hills. I noticed that entire towns were perched on the sides of the steep slopes. Roads wove through the green land- scape like gray and brown ribbons. I pondered the living conditions as I peeked through my window at the passing towns and farms. Were the stall floors in the barns steep too, like the land around them? I missed not having my mother along. She could always be counted on to answer my questions without laughing at me.

I had two pilots at the reining shows. Reiners are the elite western horsemen. What we do is often referred to as _cowboy dressage_. When one of our humans makes a mistake in communicating with his or her horse, they call it pilot error.

We developed a routine where Patty warmed me up before we entered the green horse class. In a green reining class she was allowed the use two hands to guide me. Katie handled me with one hand and neck reined me in jackpot gelding. Jackpot classes have no added money only the entry fees are put in the pot, and paid back to the top placing horses. How many places are paid depends on the size of the class. One jackpot might only pay the top three, and another might pay the top ten. Jackpot shows always sent Patty and Katie home with a smile and a check – Thanks to me, I might add.

Later in the season I advanced to some big money competitions. Katie included novice open to our selection of reining classes. I was progressing well and perfecting my maneuvers. Katie got real emotional the first time we rode a penalty free pattern! That was the first time that I placed at a NRHA show, and we won some serious money. Katie called it " _Getting a paycheck_." NRHA means the same as the National Reining Horse Association. There were approved reining shows in all the surrounding states and we traveled to, what seemed to me, all of them.

NEW DIARY

_April 28_ _

__Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _I am much happier since Mom came back home. Easter was super fun this year, too. We made our usual mess with the egg coloring. Mom bought some plastic molds when we went shopping, and the three of us made our own chocolate bunnies. That trip was where I found you, my second diary._

Sox is always so happy to see me. I hope he understands why I am not around as much, now that Mom has returned. It is like we have so many years to catch up on. It will be easier to spend time with him when he returns from the boarding stable the first of June.

June 25 _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _Mom is going back to school. She broke that news to Gram and me when she took us out to dinner on Mother_ ' _s day. She is looking into schools close enough to commute from Grandma_ ' _s._

Mom went looking for a new car and we ended up with was a full size Sub- urban! How cool!

Mom and Grandma now haul Sandy and me to the 4-H shows. There are four 4-H events in June and July leading up to the fair in August. Katie lent us a small two-horse trailer that she seldom uses. Sandy fits in it just fine, but Sox and most of the other horses are too big for it.

If I ever get a trailer of my own, I will have to make sure that Sox fits!

_August 19_ _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _School starts in two weeks! Ugh! Summer seams way too short._ _  
_ _Sandy and I placed high enough in our fair classes to qualify for the championship show. We also got to participate in the flag ceremony two days in a row. The first day we carried the 4-H flag, and then the American Flag at the beginning of the championship show._

Wow! Mom is starting classes at the community college in September. She enrolled in the nursing program.

_September 1_ _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _Today Mom is helping me get ready for the big weekend show. I am a little nervous people come from all over Ohio and neighboring states for this show. There will be three judges in the show ring! One judge can be nerve racking. Three is off the charts!_

_Sox and I have been practicing our moves for the gelding halter class. I haven_ ' _t spent as much time with him as usual. But he doesn_ ' _t forget anything, and we just gel._

******

Emma and Mom joined us for a big Quarter Horse show on Labor Day weekend. Hanna, Emma's mother, came too. Hanna looks like an adult version of Emma without the freckles. My friend is a lot happier since her mother has come home. She and her Mom played their guitars for us every evening of the three-day show. Their music and songs sounded a lot happier than the sad notes that had filtered into the barn during my first winter.

Labor Day weekend was the last show of the summer for us. As usual, Emma and Mom placed in every class they entered. They won the youth reining, and the youth trail class. They finished up the week- end as high point youth rider in the fourteen and under age group. I am not sure that I was the most proud of their accomplishment, but I was right in the running with Hanna and Katie. OK! So I was a little jealous – I wanted to be the one carrying Emma to victory.

I will always remember that show. It was a milestone for me. Patty and I won the amateur showmanship class, and the amateur horsemanship class. All reining horses wear leg protection when in heavy training, or competition. So I knew that we were going in a reining class as soon as Katie put my splint boots on to protect my front legs. I had also begun to wear skid boots on my hind legs to protect my fetlocks, and they were securely in place too.

All eyes were on us when Patty rode me into the arena. In reining, the horse and rider can't hide in a crowd and hope that the judge won't notice a small mistake. Unlike pleasure classes or even the horsemanship class, in reining only one horse at a time enters the arena to perform the required pattern.

Patty walked me down the center of the outdoor show arena. Along each side of the arena were three red cones. We walked past the first cone; when we reached the center cone we turned to the left, and we stood in the center facing the left wall. Seated on either side of the center cone were two people. Katie told me long ago that one of these people was the judge, and the other one was a _scribe_. The judge never took his or her eyes off of me. Every move that I made was given a score. The judge called out the score for each skill that I performed to the scribe, and that person kept track of how well I did each maneuver.

Every horse enters the reining pen with a score of seventy. If I could perform the maneuvers correctly, and not make any mistakes; I could keep my seventy score. Performing a skill or maneuver poorly would subtract from my score, but excelling at a maneuver would add to it. Boo-boos and bad behavior would also be subtracted from my score. Bucking, striking, kicking, or biting all are considered bad behavior, and five points are subtracted for each offense. Boo-boos are things like forgetting to change your lead, or breaking to a trot, and over spinning up to one quarter of a circle. These offenses fall in the penalty box on the score sheet, and they can subtract one half of a point to two points from the original score of seventy. If a horse bucked, the judge deducted five points, and the horse's score was now sixty-five.

I stood facing the judge and waiting for instructions. I remember thinking that Patty had to be confused, because she always rode me with two hands in a reining class. Instead, at this show, she was using only one hand to neck-rein me. Maybe she thought this was another horsemanship class because that was the way she began our ride. When she urged me forward, I played along with her, and moved into a relaxed canter to the right. Three circles to the right, then we stopped at the center again. I made four spins to the right, and then cantered off to complete three circles to the left.

The next time we stopped at the center, Patty asked me to spin four times to the left, and then we started another circle to the right again.

When I returned to the center, she urged me forward, and we changed direction! That meant I had to change my lead while moving. A circle to the right requires that my right legs reach out further than my left ones. On the right circle I was on my right lead; now I had to change my leg position, mid air, at the center so that my left legs would lead me around the left circle. Changing lead legs while cantering or galloping is called a _flying change of leads_.

Lead changes always get me a little excited, so when I came to the center again I picked up a little more speed. It was still more difficult for me to go from the left lead back to the right one. I gathered my legs under me, and turned to the right. After successfully completing the figure eight maneuver, we continued to start a new circle to the right. Patty cued me to turn at the top half of the right circle and rode me straight at the opposite side of the arena. I ran down the length of the arena, increasing my speed with every stride, and then I felt Patty pull her legs off of me and say _whoa_.

I gathered my back legs under me, and I slid so far that my front feet were in danger of being run over by my back ones. Whew! That was an unnerving stop! I thought I was going to flip over. It is a good thing that I figured out how to move my front feet out of the way.

Patty turned me sharply to the right, so I rolled back in that direction and ran back the way we had come, retracing our tracks. I knew what was coming now, and I picked up more speed. This time when Patty said _whoa_ , I slid longer, and I flung dirt into the air! Spectators whistled, hooted, and clapped much louder than the children had when I was just a little foal. I knew that they liked what I had done. So when I completed my left roll back, I ran hard toward the opposite end of the show pen. Patty had to yell above the thunderous applause after our last stop, and our speedy back up to where we had begun our pattern at the center of the arena. " _GOOD BOY, SOX_!" She shouted, patting my neck.

Do not ask me what my score was, because I do not know. It is strange, but the Quarter Horse shows don't announce the score. At reining shows we knew our score as soon as we finished our run.

Katie smiled at us and said, " _That was a beautiful run with very few mistakes"._

Our ride earned second place. The placing did not mean a lot to me. The fact that everyone was happy about what I had done, including my mom, was all I cared about. Patty and Emma took turns hugging my neck, patting my shoulder, and rubbing my head. It is a good thing that I don't have a problem with public displays of affection. Emma even gave me a big juicy red apple, and that was a lot more important to me than the matching red ribbon that Patty showed me.

The following day, I enjoyed the rest. In the morning I ran and bucked some; I rolled in the grass, and searched for fallen apples under the McIntosh trees, but more than one day of rest was too dull for me. I was ready to go back to work.

******

TRAIL RIDE! I was having trouble standing still long enough for Katie to wrap my legs. She had used words like _a well-earned rest_ , and a _short vacation_ , when we returned from the horse show three days ago. Katie had always wrapped our legs when we traveled, and the wraps were old news. But I was ready to explode with pent up energy, and I felt like I was going to jump out of my hide. I knew that I was going on a trail ride when Slim brought Gunner out of her stall. She was his favorite trail horse. I guess that there is just no accounting for some people's taste.

Hinckley was a little more of a challenge than some of the other trails that I had traveled so far. There were a lot of hills to climb, a steeped banked creek to cross, and just enough flat trail skirting a couple of fields where we could canter a long way.

I wondered how I could get Katie to buy me a set of earplugs. I sure that Gunner had managed to shatter my left eardrum. She kept shouting, "HEY! Is there anybody out there that I know?"

Here was the problem: if no one answered her she kept calling, and if someone did answer she only got noisier. Since we were traveling side by side, I got the full blast.

"You know, it is much quieter when Slim rides Handy or Tar," I hinted, but I don't think she could hear me over all the noise she was making!

Gunner only went on short trail rides because of her advanced age. Twenty-five years old seemed ancient to me; after all, my mom was fifteen. I guess if we were related, that Gunner could be my great-great-grandmother. On our first trail ride together she settled down after the first hour.

I had come to love the parks, and the trail rides. The best part was that I could travel for miles and not have to retrace my steps. Mostly we walked or traveled at a slow jog trot, but Katie encouraged me to extend my trot up the hills. Some of the reiners we met from other parts of the United States called it a long trot. So I long trotted up the big hills, and I walked down them. We jogged along the winding parts of the trail that wove snake-like through the trees.

Occasionally, deer would parallel our course as they traveled through the trees and underbrush along the trail. They were as curious about us as we were about them. Squirrels scampered up the trees, which lined the trails, and they scolded us for interrupting their work. Busy collecting acorns to store for the winter, they were impatient with the delay caused by our outing.

Gunner surprised me! The old mare never backed off. As I long trotted up a steep hill, she was right with me step for step. All of a sudden, the trail broke from the cool dark cover of the trees, and then the path wound around two sides of a large field. That was the spot where we usually cantered. On that day there were deer in the center of the field, and when we began to canter, the deer took off at a run. Gunner must have thought a gallop was called for, and she whizzed past me.

In a flash, she put least ten horse lengths between us, and she was turning the corner to the longer part of the trail that skirted the field. My blood ran hot, and every muscle in my body quivered. It took a few seconds for me to realize that I could run after her! I was shocked when Katie bumped my sides with her legs and said, "Go get her, Sox. _"_ She didn't have to tell me twice.

I was running! Dust billowed in my wake as my legs gobbled up the distance between us. I was so high on running that when I caught up with Slim and Gunner, I blew right past them. Katie let me run for a while, and then she began to slowly rein me in. We stopped at the other edge of the field, and waited an hour for our trail companions. Okay. Maybe I'm exaggerating, but it sure felt like it took that long for Slim and Gunner to catch up to us.

Gunner was breathing hard when she said, "You can really move, Sox, but I bet I could have beat your little socks off when I was your age."

I suppose match race between us at an equal age would have been close, but I did not care that she thought she could have beaten me. I was merely happy to hear her call me "Sox", instead of Brat, so I let her boasting pass. Sometimes, you just have to let the old horses have their fantasies.

Trail rides became a regular part of my training schedule. We rode the trails two or three times a week for the remainder of September. In October, the trees turned to vivid colors and by the end of the month their leaves covered the trails.

Deer became more visible when the frosts stopped the growing season. As the grass and wild flowers disappeared, the deer came closer to the trails looking for food. Their coats were changing too. Fawns lost their spots, and their coats became thicker, and darker as they prepared for winter.

I wondered what the deer living in the parks ate throughout the winter. Deer by us traveled along the riverbanks, and they could be seen in farm fields or backyards that were close to the river. During the winter, Katie threw hay out for us when we were turned out. The deer would come into our paddocks at home, and they would eat any hay that we had left on the frozen ground.

Weekend trail rides were a lot more fun, because Mom and Emma could come along too. When Emma's mother joined us she usually rode Tar. On the first weekend of November our social outing got an unexpected interruption.

Halfway across the river, we were startled by a large buck crashing through the trees on the opposite bank. The big bully was chasing a smaller male right into the shallow river. Outmatched and terrified, the little buck leapt from the riverbank. He was pumping his young legs like crazy on a collision course with us! I could see his huge brown eyes bugging out of his head as he kept his focus on out running his enemy. It was like we were invisible. The poor youngster was too busy trying to get away from the bigger buck to see that we were in his path. Katie hollered, " _Let him through guys!"_

Mom and I leapt swiftly to the right, while Slim and Hanna guided Handy and Tar to the left. It was a good thing we moved to let him through, and lucky for all of us that the water wasn't running deep that day. We were able to dodge out of his way. Still, it was a close call. I think that terrified little guy would have crashed right into us.

We closed ranks behind him ensuring his escape. The larger buck wasn't going to take on the four of us. He did a good imitation of a reining horse skidding to a stop. Only, instead of dirt, he sent water flying into the air as he spun around and shot back up the bank. We watched him gather up the does watching the drama from cover of the trees, and fade into the woods.

By the time we climbed out of the river on the opposite bank they were long gone. I kept my eyes and ears tuned for the sights or sounds of any more crazy deer. I was thankful that Handy and Tar were ahead of us when Mom asked me, "Do you remember the first time that you saw a buck, Sox?"

I didn't answer. I merely snorted my disgust, and she laughed. Why do mothers always bring up dumb things that you did when you were little? It's embarrassing! Right before my first winter, about this time of year, I made the mistake of asking Mom, "Why do some of the deer have trees on their heads?"

She probably tried hard not to laugh at me, but she didn't quite pull it off. Once she finished acting like someone was tickling her, she explained. "Those are not trees on their heads, Sox. They are called _antlers_." She went on to tell me, in between snickers, that only the bucks, male deer, have them. Four years have passed, and my mom still has to bring up childhood mistakes.

My final trail ride that year came the following weekend. Fortunately, we never encountered any more spooked deer. It was a good thing too. It was getting trickier to pick our way across the river. Most crossings were in shallow water, but it was freezing, and ice was forming along the edge of the banks. Scattered puddles also wore thin coats of ice, and it crunched under our hooves. Snow began to fall as we traveled back to the horse trailer, and I could tell by Katie's big sigh this would be our last trail ride for a long time. How disappointing!

Mom perked me up when she said, "A horse can negotiate trails or work in the snow, Sox, but not with slide plates on their back feet. You are a reining horse in training, and that makes you special."

She went on to say, "Less than three percent of all horses excel at the sport of reining. It is in your blood, Sox. You come from a long line of working cow horses and reining champions."

She sure had a way of making me feel invincible.

Mom was probably right, reining coursed through my veins. I was not ready to give up the high that I got from it. I remembered the roar of the crowd at the Labor Day show, and all the happy faces that greeted me after my run. So I left the park trails behind, and I plunged heart and soul into the next phase of my training. Look out world, here comes Sox!

# Chapter Seven  
Icing the Cake

Christmas at the boarding stable was different from the same holiday at home. It was my third Christmas there, but Santa still found me every year. He brought me a new winter blanket, and he filled the new fuzzy red stocking that hung on my stall door. I have to admit I was a little worried that he might have put my name on the naughty list, and it would remain empty. Last year one of the stable hands just rolled my door over while he emptied and cleaned my water bucket. In a flash, I used my muzzle to roll open the door and snatch my stocking! It was mostly empty by then, and I pretty much shredded it trying to get at the last of my goodies.

My Christmas stocking was always filled with carrots, dried apple slices, and peppermints. My treats lasted for a couple of weeks, only because Katie miserly doled out only one or two per day. Mom was stalled next to me, "I noticed that Emma is not as stingy with your ration of treats," I complained. Don't you know, Mom caught me tearing up my stocking!

"Sox! How is Santa going to fill that next year when you trashed it?

I tried to hide the evidence under the bedding in the back of my stall, but Katie found it.

Great! Then I had to listen to another lecture. " _You're going to have to be very good the remainder of the year, Sox. It is the only way to get off of the bad boy list so Santa doesn_ ' _t pass you by next Christmas."_

Every morsel I ate was carefully monitored, and Katie made sure that I got plenty of exercise. I liked her, but she was the human equivalent of my mother — always training or teaching me something. She scolded me when I was bad, but then she praised me when I was good. Whenever I got sick, or when I hurt myself, Katie took good care of me. I trusted her completely, but without question it was Emma who was my best friend.

I really looked forward to our halter practice. We had both grown up. In the spring I would be five, and Emma just had her sixteenth birthday. Neither of us were fully-grown, but we were not little kids anymore, for sure.

After Christmas, my training became more difficult and demanding. I worked hard to perfect my spins, my rollbacks, and my sliding stops. Back when I was first learning how to spin, I would get dizzy if I had to do more than two or three in a row. Now, I was capable of six, seven, or more speedy rotations. I could stop right where I had started my set of spins or add another one quarter of a rotation whenever the pattern called for it. It took me quite some time to get the hang of shutting down my fast spins when Katie asked me to, and hitting the correct spot required a lot of practice.

In the beginning of my reining training, I struggled with my right spins. It felt natural for me to plant my left hind leg under me and to spin around it to the left. Crossing my right front leg over my left, and pushing my body to the left was easy. It took me a long time to learn to cross my left leg over my right, so I could spin to the right. Now I was able to spin really fast both directions. No one could tell that I ever had trouble with my right front leg.

Speaking of trouble, Emma was having some with Mom. She was refusing her lead changes, and backing crooked. So Emma rode me around while Katie worked with my mom. I couldn't believe my eyes. Mom messed up! She usually took everything in stride.

That night, back in our stalls, I asked, "What happened, Mom?"

"I don't know, Sox. My left leg hurt when I circled on that lead. And it was even more painful backing up. It is an old injury that pops up once in a while."

The next day, Katie called the vet to look at Mom's leg. He said,

" _Wrap her leg and rest her a week. I will give her a shot for the inflammation, and leave some pain medication with you."_

Katie moved my workout to mornings so Emma could ride me after school. It was a total of ten days that Mom was off.

_January 15_ _  
_ _Dear Diary,_ _  
_ _This was the best Christmas ever! Mom at home was the greatest gift I could ask for._ _  
_ _Mom and I are both back to school. We are study buddies sometimes. She has begun helping me prepare for the exams required for college. My grades are much better, but college! That_ ' _s a stretch._

I hit a snag with Sandy. She is a lot more difficult to ride when we are working on the reining maneuvers. Yesterday she refused to change to her left lead, and I could not get her to back even close to straight. Katie checked her out and then called the vet.

Katie said that Sandy could have slipped when she was turned out, or rolled in her stall and hit her leg on the wall. Her leg was bruised, and she needed to rest. We take turns hand walking her, and Katie is teaching me how to bandage her leg.

_Sandy_ ' _s prescribed rest period provided me a chance to ride Sox. I have been dreaming of riding him since I first laid eyes on him five years ago. He was just a baby and I didn_ ' _t even know how to ride. Well, my dream finally came true. He is a lot touchier than Sandy. The least little movement and he is ready to go, none of the other horses are so responsive. It is like learning to ride all over again. And I just love it! Katie says that reining horses are the best trained all around horse. They are easy to handle, not easily spooked, and they will stand quietly until their rider gives them their next assignment._

_I get an attack of nerves just thinking about college. But I think in "_ horse school _" Sox is already there!_

******

I was concentrating so hard on my lessons that I did not have time to daydream about running; at night I slept dream free while I recharged for the next session.

By the end of January, I was _hunting my circles—that_ ' _s_ reining talk for staying on a circle until told, by your rider, to do something else. I could perform this task on a loose rein. Katie seldom used two hands to guide me any longer. A light touch of a rein against my neck, her leg against my side, or a slight shift of her weight in my saddle was all that was needed for her to communicate with me. I could sense that Katie was pleased with my progress.

However, I was not sure what she meant when she told me, " _You_ ' _re doing an excellent job Sox. All of the ingredients in place, and we are ready to finish. What do you say? Shall we put the icing on the cake?"_

I didn't really know what she was talking about. I did not know anything about _icing_ , Emma once let me lick some sweet stuff from a piece of her birthday cake, but I am sure that she had called it _frosting_. Maybe humans put more than one thing on cakes? Still, it completely escaped me what either icing or cake had to do with reining?

Many hours, days, months, and years had passed while Katie taught me the basics. Always, she kept me at a slow pace and taught me to be calm, even when she added my reining maneuvers. She'd never let me run in the arena or the outside work pen.

For a week after our gallop in the park, she checked my legs a couple of times a day. I felt great. So I had to ask my mother, "What in tarnation is she looking for?"

"Well, son, the way that Gunner tells it, sparks were shooting from your feet as you scorched the trail and whizzed past her! So Katie is probably checking for any soreness or heat in your legs."

"Maybe the old grouch's memory is fading with advanced age?" I offered. Mom only chuckled, but I'll bet Gunner forgot to mention that she started the whole race along the trail.

WOW! Icing meant speed! At first I was not sure what she wanted, but I remembered the smooching sound that she made from my early training. Back then she would make that sound and pop the whip behind me when she wanted me to run faster on the lunge line or in the round pen. I was traveling along at a brisk canter and hunting a large circle, and I picked up a little speed. Katie didn't try to rein me in. Instead, she bumped me with her legs and moved her rein hand for- ward. That was all the encouragement I needed. I had been waiting my whole life to run, and as long as I stayed between the reins and continued to hunt the circle she let me pick my speed. I ran as fast as the confines of the indoor arena and the large circle would allow.

As I began to slow down, she shifted her rein hand back and said, _Easy, Sox._ Then she guided me into a smaller circle. When we finished with the left set of circles, my heart pounding and sides heaving, we stopped in the center of the arena. Large billowing clouds of my own breath obscured my vision. I sucked the cold winter air into my lungs and waited restlessly for her next command.

I was ready to run some more, but Katie made me remain in the center of the arena and rest. Running got me revved up, and I was having trouble standing still. Finally, she let me move again, but it was only to walk. It seemed like forever before we started on the right circles. When Katie moved her hand forward that time and smooched to me, I ran like the wind.

******

Before my fifth birthday rolled around, I was able to run large circles at a gallop, and I could shift down to a slow lope or an easy canter whenever Katie asked me to. Through the winter, I had learned more reining terms and their meanings. I learned that a _reining pen_ was much the same as a _show arena_. _Fencing_ was what they called it when you ran straight at a wall.

At the first winter clinic we attended, several horses bumped their heads on the wall during the fencing exercise. I had already learned that lesson well when I was just a colt, and I never repeated the same mistake. Clinics made me restless. It's so boring having to wait while the humans conducting the sessions talked and demonstrated the reining maneuvers.

I liked the winter schooling shows more than the clinics, but Katie never asked me to really run like we did at home. The winter shows allowed us to perfect my skills and to develop our timing as horse and rider team.

In the middle of March, we traveled to a schooling show to practice some more. The show pen was smaller than the arena at our boarding stable. It was only about half of the size that I was used to, but I was able to gain enough speed on the large circles so it was easy for the judge and the spectators to see when I slowed down for the small circles. Doing the _rundowns_ and rollbacks was a lot harder. I only had enough room to run about five strides before I had to stop and run back the other direction.

Spins were easier to accomplish, but the spectators who were hanging over the rail enclosing the show pen distracted me. I missed my cue to shut down my right spins, and I way over spun. Oops! I just blew the class. My over spin was good for a big fat score of zero. Reining horses are not allowed to make mistakes that take them off the designated pattern. I was supposed to do four spins, not four and a half. So Katie made me do them again before we left the reining pen.

I had one more chance at it, but when Katie rode me into the small arena for the next class, she was using two hands to guide me. At the end of our rundowns, instead of rollbacks, she made me spin. As a result of the extra practice where the spins were called for in the pattern I shut down right on the spot. Full-of-questions Emma was waiting for us. She was dying to know why Katie had gone off pattern.

Katie explained to her, " _The reason that we are here, Emma, is to practice and to work out any problems. Sox had trouble concentrating with the crowd so close. He missed his right spin shut down cue in our first class, so I chose to school him."_ Then she gave Emma some pointers, _"You need to ride Sandy like it is a horsemanship class. The arena is small, and the ground is sticky. You are not going to be able to slide her. So, just go for correct form."_

I stood there, out in the warm-up area, adjacent to the reining pen, covered from head to tail with a loosely woven blue blanket, called a cooler. Alongside Katie and Slim I observed the other reiners.

Emma and Mom were up next. I held my breath when they entered the arena. They started their large circles at a soft canter, twice around to the right. I was worried about how they were going to slow down for the small circle without _breaking gait_. That means dropping to a trot from a canter or a lope. Back at the center of the arena, Mom shifted gears, and she went into the most ridiculously slow lope that I had ever seen. I mean, it was like slow motion!

I snorted and shook my head at the sight. Katie laughed and reassured me, " _Don_ 't worry, Sox. You don' _t have to go that slow."_

That bit of news was a huge relief, because I did not think that I could possibly do it. Sometimes it was creepy the way that Katie knew just what I was thinking. Who woulda guessed: slow motion Mom and Emma won the amateur reining! That was the same class that Katie had used to school me after I messed up in the open reining class.

Once dry, I was back in my winter blanket by the time Emma and Mom entered the youth reining. Their run was really looking good. They only had one last rundown to go when a little dog jumped from its owner's arms right in front of my mom! Emma reacted quickly, pulling on the reins to stop Mom.

It sure was a good thing they had been traveling along at an easy canter. Mom was able to stop and back, in an instant, to avoid squishing the overexcited dog. I watched in disbelief as the dog's owner charged into the arena to save her pet. The little black poodle was wearing a plaid coat that matched the one on the short round lady with the blue-white hair. She was doing her best to capture the little critter. Mom stood calmly taking in the strange sight. The dog was having a great time, the little showoff! Three more spectators followed by the ring- master entered the arena and joined the chase. Ringmasters are usually already inside the show arena. It is their job to assist the judge and relay instructions to the announcer, who then tells the exhibitors what to do next. There is nothing for a ringmaster to do in a reining class. One small dog playing "keep away" with five people had hijacked the horse show. When the dog had enough fun, he sat down with a big doggy grin. There he waited for his owner to pick him up and carry him out of the pen.

Because her run had been interrupted, the judge offered Emma a rerun. I could see that Katie was proud of Emma when my friend refused the judge's offer. I listened in as she rode over and talked to Katie _._ " _I thanked the judge, but I told him my horse had done a good job, and that we were finished for the day."_

Boy! All the practice in the world couldn't prepare a horse for some things. You just have to do the best you can and rely on your quick reflexes.

A light drizzle fell on our backs as we walked up the ramp into the trailer and headed for home. A short time later, and a few miles up the interstate, the rain turned to sleet. It pounded on the top of the trailer, and made a terrible racket! "Can someone get me some earplugs?" I grumbled.

The roads got icy, and it slowed us way down. Fifty miles south of home, we ran into heavy snow. From that point, the remainder of the trip should have taken us about an hour. Instead, three hours later we pulled through the drifts that blocked the drive at our winter home. We unloaded in heavy snow, and walked to the barn through drifts almost to our bellies.

Snow packed into my shoes! "How are we supposed to walk with these huge ice balls on our feet?" I complained to Mom.

"Just take it slow, Sox. We will get the compacted snow removed when Katie and Emma pick out our feet, once we're inside the barn."

Maybe the early schooling show had been a warning that we all missed. The snowstorm we ran into after the little dog fiasco was only the beginning.

# Chapter Eight  
The Storm

Our first NRHA outing that year was in Western Ohio, and we got caught in another snowstorm on the way home!  
In addition to the unpredictable weather, my usually dependable Mom disappeared a few days after Easter. At first I thought she had only gone to a show, but then I realized Emma did not go along, which ruled that idea out. The next event to cause me stress happened when the horse trailer came home without her!

Emma rode the Gunner to continue her riding progress, and she rode me to practice her reining while Mom was away. Like me, Emma had grown a lot, and she was a couple of inches taller than Katie, but their stirrup length was about the same. This made responding to Emma's commands easy for me. She had ridden me some when Mom hurt her leg, so we just kind of picked up where we left off.

A trip to Michigan was next on our agenda. The first weekend of May I was traveling alone, and I sure missed my mom's company. I also missed my best friend. Emma had stayed home to feed and turnout the other horses. After eight boring hours that felt more like eight days, I was unloaded in a freezing rain.

Slim and Katie unpacked while I watched their every move from a cozy freshly bedded stall. Grain and hay were supplied for me, but I was more interested in what they were up to than eating. I hoped that they were not going to disappear too! I kept a close eye on them while they set up the tack stall.

Slim, Katie, and our dog, Buddy, kept me company on that outing. Buddy is my favorite playmate. I heard Katie tell Emma that he is half German Shepard and Half Golden Retriever and weighs about one hundred pounds. Bud could always be counted on for a game of tag, or a good romp around the pasture. Most of the time he is gentle and friendly, but when we are at a show, whether tied to the horse trailer or in a tack stall he changes into super guard-dog!

Slim rolled out a large piece of carpet before everything was moved into the other stall. The extra stall held my feed and tack along with human's show clothing. It was a comfort to me when they curled up on their cots, and Buddy settled down on the old saddle pad that was his horse show doggy bed. I knew that they would stay with me, and I began to enjoy my grain. The storm raged all night, and the air was colder there than it had been at home, so I wore a light sheet under my heaver winter blanket.

Michigan was where we first scored seventy for one of our runs. Katie and I had been flirting with seventy for quite a while. Our previous runs had been scored at sixty-nine, sixty-eight and a half, or sixty-nine and a half. She was so happy when our score of seventy was announced you would have thought we'd won the class, instead of coming in third.

On that trip the weather had turned from the cold rain on Friday night, to unbelievably hot and steamy by Sunday afternoon when we packed up to go home.

We remained at home for the next two weeks, and Emma rode Gunner more often. Katie and I worked three days a week. Every other day Emma rode me, which totaled three or four days a week. My workouts with Emma were lighter than the ones that I had with Katie. The practice sessions with Emma were fun for both of us, and we were getting real good at our communication skills. Our reining maneuvers were awesome! I listened with great interest and got really excited as Katie told Emma that she could show me next year. But what Katie said next almost knocked me for a loop: Mom was going to have another foal in the spring. Now, that was news to me! I was going to have a brother...or sister (nothing against fillies, but I was rooting for a bro!) Mom returned a few days later to tell me exciting stories of the big farm she'd visited. "A lot of Quarter Horses call the farm home, Sox. Visiting mares like me are kept separate from the year round residents. Many of the other visiting mares also had foals with them and were there to be rebred."

Emma resumed her riding schedule with Mom. I was jealous, and I complained to Mom.

She said, "Emma is still in school, and she does not have time to work with both of us."

I tried to make the best of the situation, but I couldn't help feeling left out.

Katie increased my workouts; we worked harder and more often. It was as if she knew I was feeling abandoned. We worked every day, sometimes twice a day. The park trails were once more added to my routine. I looked forward to trotting up the big hills. Miles passed at a lope, and she let me gallop on the long straightaways. I liked to work, especially if it required running! I could run for miles, or cruise countless circles and barely break into a sweat. Strong muscles rippled under my glossy bay coat. I was ready to take on the world, and more than one day off made me restless.

******

Patty was back home for the summer and she accompanied us on our next trip. It was Slim's turn to stay at home and take care of the other horses. He was at work when we pulled out of the drive and headed south. Patty's new horse joined us on that outing. Mom was a little picky about who was in the trailer stall next to her. She'd get almost as cranky as old Gunner. So there I was riding in the center stall, sandwiched between my mother and Patty's new gelding, Mack, who was a Quarter Horse too. His coat was only a little lighter than Mom's sorrel color, but he had a cream-colored mane and tail, so the humans called him a _chestnut._ They also said he had lots of _chrome._

Chrome? That description confused me. Wasn't chrome the shiny trim on cars? I mulled it over, but I could not figure out what chrome was on a horse. So, I went to the expert.

Mom explained, "Chrome is what the humans call his white markings."

Well, I guess that made as much sense as most of what humans say. It was hard for me to make the leap it took to call white markings _chrome_. Mack wore a white star on his forehead, and four white stockings on his legs. The socks on my back legs only reached up to my ankles, but Mack's stockings went almost to his knees in the front, and they ended just below the hocks on his back legs. I'd have called him a "two-tone."

Most of our Friday morning was spent grazing, while our humans gathered up our saddles, hay, and grain. They packed a lot of other stuff too—human clothing, food, and other things that I was not sure about. Mack, Mom, and I got a bath before we left for the show. The weather was warm enough for the cool water to feel fantastic, but an hour down the road the heat in the trailer became uncomfortable. Thankfully, Katie pulled over at something she called a rest stop; she opened the hinged windows to let us stick our heads out. We all greedily drained the bucket of water that she offered to each of us; then she snapped the screens back in place and we were on the road again. All of us were grateful that she had left the windows open. More air came through to cool our backs and to circulate the air better throughout the trailer.

It was obvious that we had arrived when we saw all of the other trailers and heard other horses. Nervous whinnies and loud pawing echoed from surrounding horse trailers. I understood their complaints. It was hard to suck the hot, humid air into my lungs. The trailer had become stifling even with all the windows and doors open. Now that we were no longer moving, there was not a breeze to cool our backs. Manes plastered to our wet necks as we stood in a pool of our own sweat, and we began to pant. It had only been a few minutes since we had stopped, but it felt like an eternity.

Mom said, "Bad weather is coming."

"How can you tell?" I asked.

A little sarcastically, Mack answered my question before Mom could. "Stop asking stupid questions, kid, and feel the change in the air."

I was insulted and about to tell him off, when I spotted our three humans running back toward our trailer. Their strange behavior was a bit unnerving. Usually they took their time to unload us. It was more common for them to be laughing and joking once they'd located our assigned stalls.

The sick greenish color of the sky caught my attention. I'd never seen a green sky! Great peels of thunder and huge bolts of lightning vibrated through our trailer moments before our humans reached us. I'd been through a lot of spring thunderstorms and a few nasty winter snowstorms, it is part of life near the Great Lakes, but I never felt anything this ominous!

A sudden wind roared in and around us. It stirred up the bedding on the trailer floor, and hay that had fallen from our hay bags. Hay continued to fly from the wildly swinging bags and joined the wood chips to swirl around us. I felt my ears pop as the air pressure changed. Katie unhooked the bar across the back of our trailer so Emma could unload Mom.

"Go Emma! We' _ll be right behind you!"_ Katie yelled into the rising wind.

A bad feeling came over me, and I began to tremble. It had not escaped my notice that Patty had come through the small door in front of Mack's stall, or that she was leading him out that way. None of us ever exited through the front door! I felt Katie hook a lead to my halter ring. She disconnected the trailer tie then placed her hand on my chest. Even that small bit of guidance wasn't needed. I backed down the ramp the way that a racehorse bolts from a starting gate. As quickly as it had started, the wind stopped, as if on a dime, and everything had gone eerily quiet. It was like someone had sucked all the air out of the world. I scooted out of the trailer and shook my head, attempting to clear my ears. Once more, I struggled to breathe in what seemed like an alien environment.

A heavy wall of black clouds hung slightly below the strange green skyline. Before I took two steps to follow Mom and Emma, the fierce wind returned, but had doubled in strength. It was blowing so hard that the rain was coming at us sideways! Katie and I sprinted after Emma and Mom. With one hand on Mom's lead, Emma was struggling to open a large overhead door to lead her inside the barn. The door was locked!

Someone, already inside, had panicked, closed and locked it right before Emma gotten there. Katie yelled above the roaring wind. " _Emma, follow me!"_

Rocks of ice fell from the sky stinging me as they bounced off of my back and rump. Later, I would learn what I had experienced was called _hail_. I lowered my head, tucked my tail between my legs, and ran along with Katie. Mom and Emma were right behind us, but I couldn't tell where Patty and Mack were. Katie and I ran toward a small door, a little farther down the side of the barn, and she pulled it open. People go in and out of these small doors all the time, but it looked like a tight fit for a horse. I sucked in my sides as best I could and amazingly, I fit through the small door. I was used to following wherever Katie wanted me to go, and responded to the urgency in her voice. " _Come, Sox! Hurry boy!"_

Right behind us, Emma was through the door. But then I heard Mom let out a terrified whinny. A loud roaring sound blocked out my mother's voice. Katie dropped my lead rope and made a disparate grab for Emma. She screamed, " _Let go of Sandy, Emma!"_ Katie was determined to go after Emma, and it took several large cowboys to restrain her. While she was doing battle with the equally determined cowboys, two other people man aged to close the door we had just entered.

Rooted to the floor, I stood with my lead rope dangling. I called to my mother with a loud whinny, but she didn't answer me. She was gone, and Emma too! The wind had blown them away, right before my eyes. The powerful storm had picked them up and carried them away like they were only dried up leaves. Every part of me felt sad, and my heart was heavy in my chest. Forgotten were my small bruised spots from the hail.

I couldn't take my eyes off the door where Mom and Emma had vanished. It was only then I realized Patty and Mack did not make it inside either. No wonder that Katie was frantic! Both of our girls were missing, as well as my mom. Katie calmed down, but only a little, when Patty and Mack joined us. They had found another way in.

The monster wind left as quickly as it had come. The large overhead door opened again, and almost like a miracle, we walked out into a warm sunny afternoon. I filled my lungs with the clean fresh air, and then I blinked my eyes. I could not believe what I was seeing! Our truck and the trailer we had arrived in were gone! All that remained in the section of the parking lot where we left our rig was a silver truck that had been parked next to us; but the trailer it had been towing was stuck in the middle of a _shed row_. Behind the main barn, where we had taken shelter, were six smaller barns called _shed rows,_ each made up of ten to twelve horse stalls. Horses housed in these small barns could look out of the half doors and still be protected by the overhanging roof. Fortunately, those outside stalls were not in use that day.

It appeared to me that the huge silver trailer had landed on the roof of one barn and fallen through. There it was wedged in the center of the second shed row. Only a pile of sticks remained where the first shed row barn had been, but barns three through six were undamaged. Flung into a hay field behind the last barn, our green truck and trailer were resting on their sides. I was sure glad we were not in the trailer for that trip! Out of our mangled trailer, Katie and Patty were able to salvage our saddles and bridles. After quickly getting tacked up, we began our search for Mom and Emma.

Other folks continued searching the first two barns. No one had been found yet, and that was probably a good thing. Maybe no one had been in those collapsed barns. But Emma and Mom were still missing. No help was on the horizon from local responders. The sheriff, fire department, and other emergency crews were occupied rescuing people in a nearby town where many had been stranded by the storm. It was up to us to find our missing friends. Just as we were working our way around the big barn where we had sheltered, one of the cowboys we met earlier gave us a storm update: " _Three funnel clouds have been spotted and they touched down in various parts of the county."_

Additional humans who were there to help with preparations for the weekend show pitched in to search through the rubble. To widen the search area, Mack and I went with Patty and Katie in one direction, while other horses and riders took off in other directions. Some people were on foot, and others took cars or trucks that had been parked on the other side of the big arena, and were still operable. It was believed that more people or horses might be missing than Mom and Emma. I focused on the job at hand, and pushed all the disturbing thoughts far to the back of my mind.

We carefully weaved our way through downed trees, fences, and other clutter that I could not identify. We'd only traveled about a quarter of a mile from the show grounds when I thought I heard something, like a weak call for help. I took a deep breath, and projected my voice, like a rock star trying to reach the people in the back row of a concert without the aid of a microphone. The sound was faint, but I recognized my mother's voice. I hollered again, "Mom, Emma, where are you?"

"Here, Sox. We are here," she called out to me.  
Katie let my reins hang loose, she gave me my head and told me _. "Go find them Sox."_ She knew I had better hearing than either her or Patty. I picked my way through a muddy field, and I carefully walked around large wood beams scattered over the ground. When my mother's voice reached our human companions' ears, Katie and Patty began to call out to Emma.  
En route, we found five strange looking creatures.

They were standing in the middle of a county road watching us like we were the strange ones. Mack called them "cows." I had never seen one before, and I knew absolutely nothing about them. However, it occurred to me that they must not be very smart, or they would not keep standing in the middle of the road. It was difficult to tell what color they were. The small herd resembled mud sculptures that had magically come to life. Scared and pitiful voices mooed at us, and since I did not understand cow, I asked Mack to translate.

"Storm moved 'em, and they're confused," Mack said.

"What kind of a storm could move those big animals?" Mack was new to our horse family, and I thought he might like to tell tall tales.

"Prob'ly a _twister_ ," he said.

Mack talked kind of funny, real slow, and he used words I had never heard before. He said "howdy" instead of "hello." He was always saying things like "I reckon," and "y'all."

"What 's a twister?" I asked, while we tried to shoo the muddy cows out of the road.

"Some folk call 'em tornados. Twisters kin move things much bigger'n a cow. They kin move a buildin' bigger'n our barn. Whadaya think moved an' mangled our horse trailer?" He drawled out his explanation, obviously disgusted with my limited knowledge.

I didn't answer him. Now I knew the name of the roaring monster that broke our trailer, destroyed the outside row of stalls as it parked a trailer on its roof, and then plucked Mom and Emma from our midst. Moving the mud caked cows was frustrating. Impatient with the delay, I called out to my mother again.

She sounded closer! I left the dazed uncooperative cows to focus all my attention on locating my mother, hoping against hope that Emma was nearby. As soon as Mack and I successfully navigated the drainage ditch on the opposite side of the road, we crossed through a broken tree line that bordered a rain soaked open field. Time and effort wasted in trying to move the stubborn cows had me frustrated. Believe it or not, the mud soaked herd had decided to move from the road, and they began to follow our trail. Once through the tangled and broken line of trees, I could see my mother — at least I thought it was my mother. It sure sounded like Mom, but she was the equine equivalent of the mud cows that were now plodding close behind us.

Katie and Patty were frantically searching for Emma. They called out her name, but there was no response, and she was nowhere in sight. We were mesmerized as out of the muck, a muddy human slowly rose up.

Emma struggled into a sitting position, not twenty feet from my mother, where she had been lying partially submerged in the mud. Muddy or not I'd recognize that human anywhere! Thank God, it was my Emma. Her eyes looked kind of strange and she was still clutching the lead rope attached to the broken halter that Mom had been wearing. While Katie tended to Emma, I stood by my mother's side, and softly nickered encouragement. Both she and Emma appeared confused, like the pitiful cows that stood near us gazing around with a dazed expression. Emma, too, was dazed and unsure of where she was. Katie was finding it a difficult task prying Emma's fingers from the lead rope.

I wanted to go to Emma too, but I remained with my injured mother, talking softly and nuzzling her a lot. Mom was in a lot of pain, and I couldn't tell about Emma – she looked a little spaced out and was still unresponsive. Neither was in good shape, but I was happy that I still had both of them.

Memories of that Friday, and the frightening storm that came with it, will stay with me forever. I hoped none of us ever had to experience it again. An ambulance left with my dear friend, and I was really worried about her. A few days would pass before I could see her again. Unbeknownst to me, Katie had called Emma's mother from the barn before we left on our search. When we located Emma and Mom, Katie called Hanna again. Man, was Hanna relieved! I could hear her tears of joy coming through the tiny box.

_Cell phones_ are what those little square devices are called. Patty used a phone with an ear attachment so often that I thought she had a strange growth on her ear, but I did not know that Katie had one too. In a million years I'll never figure out how those weird contraptions were able to summon help for Emma, my mom, and for the muddy cows.

Mom, Patty, Mack, and I waited with five sad cows, while Katie went in the ambulance with Emma.

A short time later five horse trailers showed up. We wove a path through the storm debris as we walked back to the road where the trailers were parked. I had been taught to wait wherever Katie dismounted, so I was reluctant to go. I was determined to wait for her. Mack was already loaded, and making clucking chicken sounds at me while Patty worked to convince me to join him. Any other time, I would have gone in there and taken a big bite out of his wide butt! However, I was too concerned with Mom and Emma to worry about his impression that I was afraid of the strange trailer.

Old friends, and horsemen we had never met before, had come from the horse show and brought their horse trailers to help us. Like a queen, a trailer all to herself, Mom was transported to a veterinarian. Side-by-side Mack and I made the trip back to the show grounds. Our parade of trailers included three that transported the mud cows, and they traveled back to the show grounds with us. Once safely back in our stalls, Patty fed us, and we waited for word about our injured companions.

******

Early morning sunbeams burned away the fog on Saturday as we traveled home in the old red trailer that Slim had hauled down late Friday night. Before we saw Slim at the show grounds, he'd dropped off Emma's Mom at the hospital, and brought Katie back to us.

I was both surprised and relieved when I saw that Mom was already on board as Mack and I were put in the trailer for the trip home. It smelled like the vet, and I was a little hesitant about entering the old trailer until I realized the odor was coming from my mom. Smelly ointment covered her scrapes, and her shoulder was bandaged. Bright blue leg wraps covered her lower legs, the same as Mack and me, but her left knee was heavily bandaged above the wrap. She had the front two stalls to herself, and I rode home in one of the back stalls next to yakity-Mack.

Poor Emma was bruised and scraped. She had also been in shock, but overall she was not hurt badly. A large piece of a splintered board was removed from Mom's shoulder, and her right knee had to be stitched as well.

I overheard Katie tell Slim, " _It was a huge miracle that Emma and Mom survived. They were carried nearly 500 feet. People rarely survive a ride in a tornado!"_

When Mom was feeling better, she told me what happened. She began her tale by asking, "You know how it feels when Katie uses the horse vacuum on us during the winter? Well, Sox, it was kind of like being sucked up by a giant vacuum cleaner! We felt a terrible pressure in our ears. As we spun around, I knew that Emma was still close, but I couldn't see her. I had my eyes closed to protect them from the stinging mud and other debris that buffeted us. Something sharp hit my shoulder, and then I tumbled to earth. We were lucky to land in the soft muddy field instead of in a tree, on a blacktop road, or on top of a house.

Emma was still with me when I hit the ground, but my halter broke and it fell off of my head. I struggled to my feet and looked around for her. My knee hurt, and it was hard to walk, but I found her sitting in the field holding the lead rope with my broken halter still attached. She looked like she was trying to wake up from a bad dream, and she was completely drenched in mud. Twigs, leaves, and mud matted her hair, just like it matted my mane and tail. I put my muzzle on her, and I softly nuzzled her, but she continued to sit in the mud and stare blankly straight ahead. I nickered and nuzzled her again, and she fell flat on her back in the mud! I tried to go for help, but I could barely walk, so I didn't get very far. It felt like we were in that field forever, and then I heard you call to us. I tried to answer but my voice was weak and shaky. I was so grateful that you heard me, Sox."

"You were not too far away, Mom, but it took us a while to get to you. We had to pick our way through pastures littered with broken fences, downed trees, and what was left of a barn," I explained the delay.

"Was that the cow barn, son? "

"Yes, Mom, I heard talk that it was the home of the cows we found in the middle of the road. Do you remember the muddy cows that followed us across the field to you and Emma? Well, I was there when the dairy farmer told Katie that the five cows we found were the only survivors from his small herd."

Mom said, "I heard Katie tell Slim that Emma and I were very lucky to survive our wild ride in the tornado. She also said you were a hero. It was your keen hearing, intelligence, and extremely loud voice, which led them to us so quickly."

"I am not a hero, Mom. I was only looking for those I love. Mack and Patty were there too. It took all of us to rescue you and Emma, as well as a lot of help from others to get you both out of there.

"You're still my hero, son! I hope all my foals are as smart and brave as you."

Well, what could I say? I decided it was okay with me if my mom thought I was a hero. But I had no idea how much trouble the whole hero thing was going to be.

# Chapter Nine  
Back in the Game

The comfortable green slant trailer and matching truck never made it home again, after the big storm. Our traveling routine underwent a major change. Mack and I rode in the old, red, four-horse trailer— he and I in the back two stalls, side-by-side, and our feed, hay, tack-trunk, and other junk in the front two stalls. I sure missed the slant stall trailer—and the loading ramp. It had been a long time since I had to hop into a trailer and ride with my head pointed down the highway. I had to readjust my old road surfing style, but I knew that we were lucky. We still had Mom and Emma.

Reluctant as I was to admit it, Mack was a darn good reining horse. We showed three weekends in a row, and he had accumulated five wins. Wily old Mack was in the money every time he entered the reining pen. And darn it, he scored seventy-two to seventy-four most of the time.

Second best just doesn't work for me! So I put more speed into my large circles and into rundowns before my sliding stops. Even so, I only won three times, and twice I didn't place at all. I think probably I tried too hard. Increasing the speed on my spins seemed like a good idea at the time, but when I increased it too much I was unable to shut down. I over spun and received a score of –-you got to be kidding me –- ZERO!

A guy has to be able to concentrate on the job at hand, and it is possible I was distracted. I am not making excuses, but it was getting more difficult to concentrate. It was not that I didn't appreciate the attention, but all the hero stuff was starting to get on my nerves. Mothers always think their sons are heroes, so I took Mom's praise in stride. However, word had gotten around about the storm rescue, and the story had grown with every telling. Curious people were always popping up to pet me or take a photo standing next to me.

"Yo _Hollywood!_ " Mack called me, and laughed at his own joke. "Y'all oughta try out fer the movies, 'cause yer such a celebrity." He taunted me relentlessly. "Reckon y'all might be a better movie horse then a riener."

It wasn't until Katie and Patty entered us in the same ladies reining class a few weeks later that Mack stopped teasing me. Patty and Mack were up before Katie and me. They scored a seventy-three. Then Katie and I put down a run of seventy-three and ONE HALF. That half point put us in first place. Hot dang, I got a win over Mack!

The world suddenly seemed brighter again, or maybe it was just that I was happier since Emma was back, and working the Gunner. She regained her strength and seat quickly, and we worked together on her reining. Thankfully, my celebrity status had faded by the time that Emma and I entered our first reining class. I knew it wouldn't take us long to develop as a team, once Katie finally decided to pair us up, after the fourth of July. We'd always had a special bond, and it made us super team!

Mom was plagued with severe injuries, and unable to compete any longer. I guess I'll never understand females. Even though her showing days were over, Mom could not have been happier. This happy-high all started when she heard the vet tell Katie: " _Sandy_ ' _s tumble to the ground out of the twister, fortunately, didn_ ' _t hurt the foal she_ ' _s carrying."_

Mom would be a _broodmare_ from now on. Meaning, in addition to my reining duties, I got the nod to be Emma's replacement 4-H horse. Mom might be small in height, but she cast a huge shadow, and I had some awesome hoof prints to fill. So for the first time I went to our county fair.

Five years old and well traveled, I thought that I had seen about everything. Think again! Fair was wacky. I guess the best place to start is with the endless stream of humanity that prowled the aisle ways of the barns. Tiny humans rode in little covered carts that were pushed from behind by a parent. Some little ones had a much better view; they rode in a sling strapped to their parent's stomach or back. Then there were the little _hoppers_. These were children too small to see over the top of our stalls, so they would have to jump up to gain enough height to peek in at us. Occasionally, a larger family member would lift them up to get a better look at us horses.

Okay, by day two of the fair I was getting used to the mobs of people, and the fact that they always appeared to be eating. And it was the weirdest looking food I'd ever seen. I was enjoying a refreshing bath after a hot afternoon of showing when some of Emma's friends stopped by the wash rack to chat. They were devouring _elephant ears!_ No joke. They were eating ears. I do not know what elephants are, but if they have ears they must be some kind of animal. Visions of great brown beasts sprinkled with white and missing their ears, popped into my head. I thought that the beasts must be huge to have such large ears. Thankfully, my ears were too small to interest the young carnivores. Other kids were munching on giant pink cotton balls; and some were wolfing down some kind of a dog on a stick?? Eww, yuck!

Fair horse shows proved to be a challenge. Not only did you have to fight your way through the crowds to reach the show ring, you had to dodge other panicked horses too. The first hysterics came during showmanship. We were lined up and ready for the judge's final inspection. About one hundred feet behind us, _harness racers_ were competing in a qualifying race; they whizzed around the end of the racetrack. The pounding hooves and the rattling _sulkies_ of the trotters sent several horses in our class up on their hind legs. Young handlers struggled to control the other horses and ponies who tried to flee. I'd seen horse carts before, so I stood my ground. I didn't remember any carts moving that fast, but I didn't think it was all that frightening.

Mammoth wagons pulled by huge draft horse teams also caused a frenzy among the less experienced 4-H mounts. Okay, I have to admit to you that the hot air balloon, with its whooshing sound as it barely cleared the announcer's stand, gave me butterflies in my tummy. Many of my fellow 4-H projects got so upset that parents and group leaders came in to assist the young riders.

Wow! What an education. Back home, when I told Mom about my experiences at the fair, she only laughed and said, "That sounds about right. If you handled the fair for a full week, son, you can handle almost anything."

Emma and I only showed a couple of more times in August, before school started. Mack and I went to a few more reining shows during September. As October rolled along, Slim and Katie came home from the All-American Quarter Horse Congress in Columbus with a new truck and a new horse trailer. Both were silver, and memories flooded back to me of the silver trailer in the middle of the collapsed barn.

As a young horse, Mom had been to the Quarter Horse Congress many times, and I wondered when I would get a turn. Mom told me, "The Congress is the largest single breed horse show in the world, Sox, and it goes on for three weeks in October at the Ohio State Fairgrounds."

"Do you think that I will ever get to go to that show, Mom?"

"I wouldn't be surprised, Sox. You are placing and showing very well."

October and November meant riding the trails more often. As usual, I was blanketed by the end of August, and when I went out to play I wore a turnout blanket. December first, I stepped into the new slant trailer, and left home. I was prepared to spend another winter at the boarding stable, and it looked like Mack was going to accompany me.

My first clue that something was different was when I heard Buddy's excited bark. It was the same sound he made when Katie let him travel to the shows with the rest of us. The second clue came when Slim turned the wrong way out of the drive. Our winter boarding stable was in the opposite direction.

"Where do you think we are going, Mack?"

"I quit worryin' 'bout where I was goin' a long time ago, Sox. Ain't like we got a choice. F'rinstance, I went to a reinin' show with some-a mah buddies from mah ol' home, and ended comin' back here with lil' Patty,"

"Don't you like it here?" I thought maybe he was homesick. I knew I would be.

"Shucks, the grass is good eatin', and I do like Patty. But y'all sure have cold weather 'round here."

"Oh, this is only the beginning. It will get way colder and snow a heck of a lot more before winter is over," I laughed.

Mack didn't reply. He just groaned, rolled his eyes, and then busied himself with browsing through his hay bag.

Most of my travels had been confined to Ohio and neighboring states. This time we traveled all the way across the Ohio River, through Kentucky and Tennessee, with their steep roads that wound through mountains. It was such a relief to hit the long flat stretch of road through Georgia and into Florida.

Our first night on that trek was spent with some horse friends in Tennessee. Our winter blankets were shed the next morning. By the time we stopped for the second night, we were traveling with our windows down. Florida was a strange and different world!

Heavy snow and ice pellets had made it a slow start from home, and here it felt like summer! How could that be? Cold breezes from the Great Lakes were replaced by soft, warm, winds from the Atlantic Ocean that sometimes lifted our damp manes. From our temporary home we could smell oranges. A local horse we met told us that what we smelled was really just the aroma of the orange blossoms. Florida had some strange looking trees that Katie called palms. People there decorated them with Christmas lights, just like our humans did to the pine trees back in Ohio.

Santa found us in Florida! Imagine that! Our usual stockings with dried apples, carrots, and peppermints were hung on our stall fronts. The Christmas stocking was a huge comfort to me. I was a bit homesick.

I surprised when Mack told me, " Reckon I ain't never had a Christmas stockin' before!"

"Seriously? I always thought all horses got Christmas stockings! Don't they have Christmas where you came from?"

"Maybe? But we never got us stockin's on our stalls."

That winter in Florida, we also provided rides for Bill's little children. I remembered Bill as soon as he helped his mom and dad unload us. His scent is permanently imprinted; he was the first human I had contact with, and I was happy to see him again. His children were very small, Bill or his parents had to hold them in their lap so they could ride us.

Once we were more used to the climate change, Katie and Patty increased our workout time, and they worked us even harder. Early morning, before the heat of the day, became our regular work sessions.

Mack said, "Horses livin' in warm states usually work in the mornin', or late in the evenin'."

"Do all horses in those states only work in the morning, or at night, Mack?"

"Nah. Ranch horses, ridin' horses, an' others work regular hours. But once we're put into reinin' trainin' we're worked durin' the cooler time-a day."

"Did you come from here, Mack?"

"No siree Bob! Born'n raised in good ol' Texas. An' there I stayed till Patty done brung me to Ohio."

Florida reining shows begin in January, and we were ready for them. Some of the shows were outdoors, but the bigger shows were in covered arenas. Since I'd turned two, I've been working and showing in indoor arenas, but our arenas at home had walls all the way to the roof. Some were even heated.

The arenas here looked like a roof on poles; the sides were open to allowed the air through while it kept the hot sun out. Huge fans hung in the peak of the ceiling helped to circulate the air. Most of the time the ground was good, and we brought home a few paychecks, as well as a couple of trophy plaques. We continued to show through January and part of February, while Slim, Katie, and Patty visited with Bill and his new family.

Patty left before the rest of us. Katie said, " _Patty had to fly to New York for a meeting."_

"I knew Patty was smart and talented, but I did not know that she could fly too!" I told Mack.

He didn't say anything. He snorted, turned his back on me, and went to the back corner of his stall to sulk. Maybe he was missing Patty already. His whole attitude had improved when we arrived and Patty joined us.

On the return trip, blankets were fitted snuggly on our backs before we got through Tennessee. Mack and I didn't return home; instead, we were dropped off at the boarding stable where I had spent the previous four winters.

Katie picked up the slack caused by Patties absence, and started riding Mack too. Three days a week she would ride Mack, while Emma rode me. I was happy. I was home, and I was working with my special buddy once more.

******

We remained home through March and practiced our timing. Somewhere during the middle of the month, Emma told me I had a little brother. I was so excited, I wondered if he looked like me. Most of the time we never know our sires – the humans choose the stallion for their mares. From what I have overheard, my new brother has a different father. Katie said, " _I need a reining stallion for Sandy with a lot of substance and a quiet disposition. I am getting too old to deal with another Sox."_

Now I was confused. Katie always seemed proud of me, and was the first to sing my praises — scratch that, Emma thought I could do no wrong. But why didn't Katie want another like me? I hoped my new brother wasn't too quiet, I was eager for someone to run and spar with.

We went to Michigan again the first weekend in May. Katie showed Mack, because Patty couldn't make it. Emma and I competed in youth reining, and the jackpot gelding class. I was determined to make Katie eat her words! We won both classes, and Emma went home with her first youth reining plaque, a new saddle pad, and a first place paycheck for our efforts in the jackpot class. I bet Katie would happy with another like me in the reining pen! Even Mack didn't win both of his classes.

Mack and I returned home for the summer in June, and that was the first time I met my new brother. Wow! He was really small. I guess I will have to wait a while to run with him. He didn't look anything like me either. What a bummer! The little guy had the same coat color as our Mom. Like her, he didn't have one white marking. Our humans called him _Doc_ , or _Little Doc_ , or _Doc E Doodle_. What they called him depended on how cute they thought he was at the time.

"Do you think they could show him a little more attention?" I said sarcastically to my pasture buddies. I was trying my best not to be jealous of Lil' Doc, but come on, how many times can you say _Isn_ ' _t he a cutie_ in one day? I tried to hide my disappointment that he was so different from me.

"Exiled bachelors." Mack, Handy, and of course me, that was our new status. We occupied a different pasture from the mares and my little brother. At times I would catch him looking at us the way I used to look at the other horses when I was little, and Mom and I were kept separated from them.

"He won't be that little, or that cute for long," Handy commented. "You just don't remember all the fuss that was made over you when you first arrived."

"It is hard for me to believe I was ever that little, or that cute." I had barely gotten the words out when Mack put in his two cents!

"Yep! I reckon that's a bit hard fer me to swaller too!" And he followed his negative viewpoint with a big horselaugh.

Handy thought that Mack's comment was pretty funny too. When he stopped laughing, he told Mack, "Oh, yes. Sox was real cute when he was a colt, but not as well mannered as Little Doc."

The two of them spent a lot of time swapping stories, and I was having a hard time deciding which of their big butts to bite first! The only thing that saved their hides were the intriguing sounds coming from the barn, signaling it was close to feeding time. I wandered to the gate, so I would be first in line. While I waited for Slim or Katie to come for us, I noticed clouds gathering. It appeared we were in for some rain. I gazed out to the back pasture, looking for Mom and my little brother.

Mom's unease about bad weather did not bother Little Doc. He was extremely calm for a foal, and I think that he reassured Mom. Nightmares still haunted her whenever the weather turned bad. The tornado had left scars on her, and she had a slight limp, but I think the memories were worse than the physical injuries.

Emma too became very nervous during threatening weather, and tension radiated from her as she scanned the sky for frightening dark clouds. Hanna, Katie and I took turns reassuring her.

******

At age six my show schedule changed, and we traveled east more often. We went further into Pennsylvania. New York was added to our reining show circuit because Patty worked and lived there. She was able to drive to the shows in Eastern Pennsylvania, and New York. Competition was tough in our reining classes, but we held our own.

Mack was collecting a lot of big paychecks along with an increasing collection of pewter trophies that looked like a reining horse and rider. He now had three _similar_ bronze trophies. The Bronze ones were the top awards in the classes with the toughest competition, and the biggest paychecks.

Emma and I were doing great in the youth fourteen to eighteen age group, winning most of our classes. As a pair we were leading the age group for our affiliate club, and Katie complemented us: " _Emma_ , _you and Sox keep winning like this, and you will qualify to represent us at the regional qualifier for the world championship show."_ We were always in the top three in the rookie reining class too. So in addition to our youth plaques, Emma had to find a place in her room for all of our rookie trophies.

On occasion, Mack and I would end up competing in the same class, whenever Katie and Patty rode us in the ladies reining or the jackpot gelding class. Patty issued a challenge to her mother: _The rider with the lowest score has to buy dinner_.

I think the results were sort of even on the dinner bet. Mack and I usually scored close, and I placed above him as much as he outscored me. We even tied a couple of times, and once we had a run off for first place!

On our first run we each scored seventy-four. Katie and I went first on the tiebreaking run. She kept me at an easy pace and we aimed at a correct and penalty-free pattern. We completed our second run with a score of only seventy and a half. Patty and Mack were having a good run, and it looked like Katie was buying dinner that night.

We were running pattern two, and spins were the final two maneuvers. Mack spun to the right so fast that he was a blur, and he spun equally fast to the left, but instead of the required four spins he did five! Patty got so excited by Mack's awesome second effort that she lost count of the rotations on the last set of spins. She was a good sport, calling it pilot error, and she bought dinner for her mom that night.

Back in the local 4-H competition, Emma and I qualified to represent our county at the state fair, but she opted to take me to the Quarter Horse Congress that year. She'd saved up for a long time to go to Columbus for the Congress, so she gave up our spot to go there for the Ohio State Fair. Emma and I stayed home and went to our county fair, while the alternate 4-H horse and rider went to state.

Our workouts changed following fair. Emma carried her guitar when she cooled me out after our workouts. I loved music, and I especially loved it when Emma played her guitar for me, but I was not crazy about her playing it on my back! Several trips a week to our winter boarding stable were added to our workouts, so we could practice in the large indoor arena. The guitar bumping me gave me some trouble, and I it took me a while to get used to it.

September in New York, all the practice with the guitar and the music finally made sense. I entered the show pen, with glitter painted on my rump that looked like notes of music and gold ribbons woven through my mane and tail. Emma glittered too in a white shirt decorated with rhinestones.

Our approach to center arena was at the same relaxed walk as usual, but when we stopped I made a quick quarter turn to the left and stood staring at the judge. Emma started to play her guitar, and I was expecting the recorded music signaling the beginning of our routine. I really thought I was prepared, but the music was not soft like it had been at practice. The music and lyrics boomed out of huge speakers, and filled the air. It echoed off the ceiling and bounced off the walls! Emma spun the guitar around to her back, and we took off to the beat of "Hillbilly Rockstar."

True to the lyrics of the song I was off and running, a bit out of control, but the crowd loved us! In this, our first freestyle competition, I got way too excited and out ran the music, so Emma added a few more rotations to my spins, and backed me a longer distance to fill up the time. Then after a long sliding stop, we finished with another back up, freezing perfectly still on the last note of the song. WOW! My ears were still ringing an hour later from the raucous applause of the crowd. We placed fifth in the non-pro freestyle, and we discovered what needed to be smoothed out before we tried our routine at the Quarter Horse Congress. Maybe I could put in another request for earplugs?

Freestyle reining is like dancing or figure skating, and keeping time with the music makes a much better impression. Like dancing or skating, it takes a lot of practice to get it right. I got all of my required moves in: including four spins each way, three stops, and a lead change both directions. My awesome rollbacks and speedy back ups were considered additional maneuvers in the freestyle class. Horses are allowed a lot of extra maneuvers, but if their routine does not include those that are required, they will receive a score of zero.

That year Emma, and I improved our freestyle routine enough to place third at the Quarter Horse Congress. Not bad for our first time. We loved dancing to the music and had become a fantastic team. It was awesome and fun!

Not so thrilling was the trip to the show arena at the Congress. We had to walk a long way through thick crowds to get there, or to reach the warm up areas. A lot of humans brought along golf carts, or rented them from the supplier at the show grounds. Those lazy people rode back and forth between the barns and the show arenas. But their poor horses had to walk or trot behind the smelly carts while their handlers held on to their leads or reins.

I made a comment about the strange sight to Mack. "That is the strangest thing I have seen since the cows in the middle of the road.

Why do you think those goofy humans are riding in their stinky carts and making their horses come along behind them?"

"Some horses have to put up with a lotta rotten bull that'll seem strange to you, Sox. I reckon we're lucky our humans care more 'bout our welfare."

A group of horses from Texas were stalled near us, and Mack was happier' _n a pig in mud._ Whatever that meant? Every single one of them drawled like exactly like Mack, and they all talked kind of slow. I finally gave up trying to follow their _dawdlin_ ' _y_ ' _allin_ '.

Nerves got the better of us in our first few classes. I could feel Emma's knees shaking against my sides, and it worried me, but we settled in before our freestyle class. Thoroughly enjoying our experience, Emma and I returned to the Congress the next two years, winning our class both years.

In addition to our youth and rookie reining classes, we also entered every freestyle class that we could find on our show circuit. Emma and Sox: dance team extraordinaire! Sometimes we could hear groans from other exhibitors when we showed up for a freestyle competition. Emma was really excited when we were invited to participate in a huge freestyle event. The event was by invitation only. The best freestylers in the country would be there. Only problem, the huge entry fee was more than Emma could afford. But then her whole family pitched in, and Katie even chipped in on the cost for my stall. She also hauled us to the event.

The arena was huge! It was a good thing we were given a couple of practice runs the day before the main event. Katie claimed: " _Sox is so fit that smacking his hide is like hitting a brick wall, and his legs are remarkably strong!"_ It was true my legs were in great shape from years of training and previous competitions.

To keep time with our music and end our freestyle dance on the last notes required a lot more speed. I galloped my large circles like I was a racehorse blazing toward the finish line. But when Emma asked for less speed on the small circles I showed off my pleasure horse lope. I gobbled up that arena on my rundowns. The blistering speed on my rundowns before my rollbacks and before my final stop sent the arena dirt flying into the air.

Are you sitting down? We won the non-pro freestyle. Emma went home with a huge trophy, a custom reining saddle, a new two-horse trailer, and a huge paycheck. Thanks to our timing and my racehorse like speed, spectacular stops, and breathtaking lead changes.

I couldn't resist bragging to Mack, "I guess Emma and I are a team to be _reckoned_ with."

# Chapter Ten  
Stepping into a New Role

Mom had been right: reining was in my blood. It's hard for me to remember that I indeed struggled with the maneuvers as a young horse. Years have whizzed by, and I am ten now. I love to run, slide, and roll back just horsing around. Us backyard horses do not have a lot of room to run, but I have learned to maximize my paddock space. I can run full out, by tucking my hip under me, and circle the paddock like a blur.

My little brother has grown into an amazing reining horse too. Call it sibling rivalry. Call it showing off, or call it horseplay. Doc and I have developed a unique pasture game. It began as a simple race between competitive brothers. Just bucking, kicking and shaking our heads we were quickly approaching the fence line near the road. Handy and Mack were blocking our forward progress, mowing them down was not an option, but it sure was tempting!

They continued cropping grass and concentrating on their conversation, totally oblivious to us. It occurred to me they had a competition going to see which of them could spin the biggest whopper. With nowhere to turn short of running into the side fence line, or over the two storytellers, we were running out of choices. Fast closing in on the front fence, as one Doc and I slid to a stop. In unison we rolled back and ran hard in the opposite direction, then repeated the process. The game was born!

Part of our game is to try to outrun the other, but we are pretty evenly matched. Doc loves to run almost as much as I do. I miss our game, and Doc too, when he goes out to the boarding stable for the winter months. He is the young reining horse in training now. I am able to spend my winters at home. That's the reward of being an accomplished reining horse.

Life has turned another page for me and a new chapter has begun on my journey. Mom foaled another colt and a filly after Doc. I now have two brothers and a sister. My youngest siblings prance alongside me while I help pony them. Katie and I teach them manners, and how to travel along with another horse; the same way that my mother had helped to teach me. Can you imagine me teaching others about manners? It has to be one of life's biggest ironies.

Show and tell has become part of my new role in life. I teach the lessons of a horse's life to the young colts and fillies. I travel to 4-H clinics with Katie, and help demonstrate to the young riders how to perform reining maneuvers. At home, I introduce reining to Katie's more advanced students.

One of my new responsibilities is to carry around Slim and Katie's grandchildren whenever they visit us. Chris, their grandson, is the oldest and has longer legs than his younger sister. So it is easier for him to guide me.

Little Kristen is three years younger. She has trouble reaching my sides, but I can tell that she totally loves me. She talks to me like Emma used to when we were both young. Katie had to outfit my saddle with child bumper stirrups, which have a hole in the center of a wide leather attachment that slips over the saddle horn.

Drawing from years of experience, I listen for the familiar commands to walk, trot, or whoa that reach my ears from her small child's voice. I pay extra attention to the little leg bumps on my saddle, because she can't reach my sides yet. Katie's little granddaughter is a natural horseperson, like Patty and Emma, and it won't be long before she wants to go faster than a walk and trot. Maybe we can put some Velcro on the seat of her jeans before then.

Trail riding in the snow is a new experience I really enjoy. My slide plates come off for the winter, and once again Mom was right, without my reining plates I am able to handle the snow.

When I'm not on a winter trail ride I am able to relax at home. Once more I can play in the snow and enjoy the guitar music coming from Emma's house. Hanna makes the music that drifts into our stalls now.

My dear friend, Emma, has gone away to college, so I don't see her much anymore. We are still best friends, and she always spends as much time as possible with me when she returns home. The rumor is that she made something called the _Dean_ 's List her first semester at The Ohio State University. Her mother and grandmother were so proud of her, but they both cried when they told Katie. No matter how old I get I do not think that I will ever understand humans. Why the heck do they cry about good news?

On one of her trips home, Emma told me, " _The university is not far from the State Fairgrounds in Columbus where we showed so many times."_

Christmas break she brought carrots and apples to supplement the treats in our stockings. Our ears, picked up at the joyful sounds of Christmas carols. Two guitars and a piano accompany Emma, her mother, and her grandmother, as they sang. It was a real treat for us. Whenever we had enough snow, Emma and I would build a snowman. His carrot nose still fascinated me. I now knew that his nose was really only a regular carrot, but it still tasted yummier than all the other carrots.

"I wonder what the future holds in store for me?" I mentioned in a discussion with my mom.

"You're still young, Sox, you never know what the future holds," she laughed. "You could find a new home, or end up as Little Kristen's youth horse. Maybe you will be Chris's trail horse. That's the wonder of being a horse."

"Wow! I guess there are a lot of possibilities. Who knows? I could even be able to compete in reining again."

I guess that only time will tell. Mom is twenty-five now, and the Gunner is still kicking at age thirty-five! I've decided to take one day at a time, and enjoy each one.

Spring Break and the summer months that bring Emma back to me are something that I especially look forward to. As in years past, sometimes we ride the park trails with our friends, other times we go to a couple of small local shows, but what I enjoy the most is when we dance to music just for fun!

******

June, what a fantastic month! Not only did Doc return home, but so did Emma! Things were sure looking up. Doc and I were playing tag on Friday morning when we noticed Katie and Slim loading the trailer.

"It looks like another weekend of showing, Sox," Doc commented.

I was disappointed at first when he replaced me as Katie's show horse. But then I swallowed my pride. Each new generation deserves their chance to shine. I even imparted years of reining pen advice to Doc.

He was right: a short time later Katie came to give him a bath. Then Mack got one too. I figured Patty must be meeting them at a show. She now lived in Virginia and was teaching at the American University. Katie took me next, and bathed me too, but when Doc and Mack were loaded in the trailer I was not included. Instead, I remained in my stall with a light summer sheet covering me so I would stay clean. Geez. I was really feeling down.

I didn't get to go when Slim put the other horses out Saturday morning. Instead, he lunged me, groomed me, put my sheet back on, and put me in my stall. I munched on the hay that he had given me and tried to figure out the strange turn of events.

In the afternoon, loud music and a lot of strange human voices echoed through the barn. The noise seemed to be coming from Emma's yard. It looked like I wouldn't be able spend any time with her today either. Then Hanna came into my stall with Slim they fitted my show halter to my head, and Hanna slipped a huge red and gray ribbon around my neck. Before leaving my stall she told Slim, "Wait ten minutes. _"_

I followed Slim through a side gate I hadn't ever been through before, and ended up on the other side of the front paddock, in Emma's backyard. In my twelve years all I could manage was a peek at this side of the fence. A big tent had appeared like magic in her yard, along with a lot of people. I had been at horse shows where temporary stalls were set up in bigger tents, so that didn't worry me. But the crowd's reaction to me was a little unnerving. They all got real quiet and stared at me like they had never seen a horse before.

Slim was more laid back than Katie, so I tried munching a little grass even though I knew better wearing my silver halter. I stopped browsing for clover patches when the back door of the house opened and Emma appeared. How strange though...She was blindfolded and was being guided slowly down the steps between her mother and grandmother!

I was concerned about this bizarre human behavior, and nickered to her. Okay! I was not prepared for her reaction. She ripped off the blindfold, squealed my name, and ran forward to throw her arms around my neck. The silent crowd then began to cheer and clap like mad. I tell you it all felt pretty weird.

Emma let loose with that uniquely human bout of happy tears. She left me standing there while she returned to hug, kiss, and cry all over her mom and grandmother.

I spent the rest of the afternoon there with Emma munching grass, and licking the icing from her graduation cake off of her fingers. After one of her more exuberant hugs she said, " _Oh, Sox, you are the most fabulous graduation gift ever! This is a dream come true. You actually belong to me now."_

I really did not understand what she was talking about. From the time I was born with my handicapped leg, she was always there. And I fell head over hooves in love with her when she sang and read to me during the terrible weaning. My heart has always belonged to her.

# Appendix

Vocabulary

**Bay** – A brown horse, with a black mane, tail, and black points. Points include the tips of the ears, the muzzle, and black on the legs from the knees and hocks down.

**Biped** – An animal, for example, a human, with only two legs for loco- motion.

**Bran-mash** – Bran is the outer covering of cereal grains that are partly or completely removed during the milling process. It is a good source of dietary fiber. Adding warm water to the bran makes bran-mash, it is usually wheat bran and it looks much like oatmeal.

**Colt** – A male horse under four years of age.

**Contracted tendons** – Flexor tendons and some ligaments are too short, and can make it difficult for the foal to pass through the birth canal. Severe cases may require surgery and a leg cast.

Draft Horse – There are many breeds of draft horses. The most famous are the Budweiser Clydesdales. Many small farms, as well as the Amish use Draft horses to work their fields.

**Filly** – A female horse under four years of age. **Foal** – A baby horse, or pony.  
Gelding – A male horse that has been neutered.

**Green Horse** – A horse with very little experience, usually in the early stages of training.

Hand – A hand is four inches. It is the measurement for a horse, taken from the ground to the point of the withers. Example: A 15 Hand horse would be equal to 60", 15.2 Hands = 62".

**Long-line or Lunge-line** – Is a long lead, fifteen to twenty feet long, with a snap at one end.

**Mare** – A female horse four years of age or older  
**Pony Horse** – A horse that is used to lead another horse. Racehorses

often have a pony horse walk them to the starting gate. **Sibling** \- A brother or sister (same mother and/or father)

**Stallion** – A male horse four years of age or older that is usually kept for breeding.

Suckling – A young animal that is still feeding on its mother's milk.

Warmblood Horses – Are popular with dressage riders and cross- country riders. They are tall horses 17 hands to 19 hands. Most of the breeds were originally imported from Europe. They combine the cold blood of the Draft Horse with a hot-blooded horse like a Thorough- bred.

Weanling – A young horse that has just been taken off of its mother's milk.

**Yearling** – An animal that is between one and two years old. Examples: A horse, a calf, or a deer.

## More About The Sport Of Reining

**HISTORY:** Reining began as a form of recreation among working cowboys. These cowboys covered many miles on the back of their cow- ponies gathering and moving herds of cattle. Cowponies had to be quick, agile, and strong. Also known as stock horses, they were prized for the ability to cover a short distance at a dead run to stop quickly and to change direction in an instant when chasing a stray steer or calf.

Cowponies were adept at neck reining, because the cowboy needed one hand free for his rope, or rifle, or even to haze a reluctant steer with his hat or sombrero. Competitions developed between individual cow- boys, and often between ranches to determine the horse with the best skills.

Around 1949, the American Quarter Horse Association recognized reining as a sport. In 1966 the National Reining Horse Association was formed in Ohio and remained there until 1997, when it moved to Oklahoma.

Quarter Horses dominate the Sport, mostly because working ranchers originally bred them for strength, speed, and disposition. Many other breed associations have also added reining as a recognized class, but the National Reining Horse Association competitions are open to all breeds.

Reining has spread like a wildfire in the last two decades and the American Quarter Horse has taken up residence in many countries. Over 30 countries around the world have Reining Associations and hold reining competitions. Since the opening international debut, at

Gladstone, New Jersey in June of 2000, reining earned many new fans. The sport also gained recognition in 2000 by the (FEI) International Federation for Equestrian Sports.

One of the fastest growing horse sports in the world, reining was added to the World Equestrian Games in 2002 at the Games in Jerez, Spain. The 2010 Games were hosted at the Kentucky Horse Park in Lexington Kentucky. For the first time in its history reining was showcased on national television, as part of the coverage of the World Equestrian Games.

The top individual riders competed, in front of millions of viewers, for the individual gold, silver and bronze medals.

Reining competitions can be found at: grassroots shows, 4-H county and state shows, sanctioned NRHA Affiliate circuit shows, and non-NRHA affiliated clubs that sponsor jackpot reinings.

This wide verity of venues offers beginners and casual reiners the opportunity to compete at their skill level and at an economic comfort level.

If you would like to know more about the sport of reining or see some reining videos try www.nrha.com. You can also learn more about the American Quarter Horse at www.aqha.com, or check out the Foundation Quarter Horse Association at www.fqha.com.

## Author Notes

I hope you enjoyed Sox and Emma's friendship and mutual support through trial and adversity.

Please take a moment to review this Tale, or rate it if words fail you. Thank you for reading Sox's adventures.

**Backyard Horse Tales 2: Frosty and the Nightstalker** is also available in E-book and in Print. An excerpt follows these author notes.

**Backyard Horse Tales3: Don't call me Love** is scheduled for an early 2016 release.

Young adult readers may also wish to check **out Uncharted Storms: Short Stories of Hearts at Risk.**

Best wishes and happy reading.

Jackie Anton

**Author Website** : http://talesbyjackie.com

Frosty and the Nightstalker

Backyard Horse Tales 2

by

Jackie Anton

Illustrated by Sandy Shipley

FROSTY is an Appaloosa struggling to understand reoccurring visions. What are the reasons for these strange experiences? Are they only bad dreams or are they memories of a long ago past? Has Frosty been here before? Was he there with his ancestors, as they fled for their lives, or are his disturbing recollections only stories handed down through the ages?

Turn the page for an excerpt from this multiple award winner.

_October 1970,_ Olmsted _Falls_

Our manes tossed in the cool fall breeze while we waited for the endless procession of train cars. Boxes on wheels, flat beds with lumber or coils of steel, clanked and rumbled past us.

Strong tremors shook the soles of my feet and traveled up my legs; my heart began to pound like a war drum. My young rider stroked my neck and held me a safe distance from the metal monster.

My companion, Joey, was a three-year-old, at the time, and he was very frightened. I was only a year older than him, but he looked to me for guidance. Like me, he was an Appaloosa.

"Frosty aren't you scared?" He asked.

I could not lie to him and tell him that I was not afraid. I chose my words carefully, and asked him.

"Joey, are we not descendants of the fabled war horses of the Nez Perce?"

My tactic worked. Joey perked his ears, puffed out his chest, and turned to face the terrifying beast. The kid stood his ground, and he made every attempt to look brave and strong.

Once the train passed, we watched as a parade of cars and trucks rumbled over the tracks from both directions. Our riders continued to hold us back until there was a break in the traffic. Finally moving for- ward, we stepped from the side of the paved road onto the train tracks. The ground tremors were fading, but I could still feel the retreating train as I stepped onto the thick plank surface that anchored the rails for the snake like beast.

Joey regained his confidence and settled down quickly once we entered the park. The warm afternoon sun filtered through the canopy of brightly colored trees, and the fall of leaves formed a brilliant layer over the bridle path. We followed the multicolored ribbon winding among the tree-covered hills. Bright red, orange, gold, and brown leaves made a pleasant crunching sound beneath our hooves as we walked along.

Joey and I occasionally tossed our heads, or flicked our tails at a fly. The cool fall air kept most of the flies away and they did not annoy us as much as they had during the summer. Sometimes we jogged; some- times we loped along as we followed the colorful trail that wound its way through the valley.

As we again approached the train crossing, on our return trip, the muscles twitched beneath my skin; it didn't have anything to do with dislodging another fly. I tried to focus on the task at hand, but my skin felt prickly the way it always did before one of my visions. Once more my senses told me that the great metal beast had recently crossed here. Suddenly the cadence of the ground tremors changed, and I began to scour the landscape for the huge shaggy animals, in my mind, that shook the earth when they ran. Marcie stroked my neck, and her voice brought me back from the edge, just before I could slip into that other world. She always seemed to sense my distress; we had been together three years by then, and sometimes we appeared to read each other's thoughts. Our unique bond had been there since our first meeting. Safely back home, I let my mind wander back to the beginning of our relationship.

***********

Happy and carefree, I romped with the other colts around the farm where I had been born. Unlike some of the other weanlings, I was not up set at weaning time. My mother had prepared me for the usually traumatic process. She also told me she was carrying another foal, and it was time for me join the rest of the herd. Early the following spring, I was able to see my little sister run and play. Then I left the farm.

Marcie came to look at an older horse, but I could feel we were meant to be together. I followed her around as she rode the Palomino mare. Their test ride took them around the outside perimeter of the fenced pasture that enclosed me, and the rest of the herd. I could feel her gaze on me as I tracked them. The truth is she could not keep her eyes off of me. I know how that sounds, and believe me I am not vain. I know that there are many pretty horses, some might even be prettier than me, but there was this instant connection between us.

Thus two months into my yearling spring, I went home with Marcie. The first two years of my life were mostly uneventful. Marcie and I went to a few horse shows, where she showed me at halter. I think that the judges liked me because I always got a ribbon. I did not care that most of the time I came in second place, or maybe third. Still, Marcie praised my performance, and she said that many judges liked to place loud color, when they judged the yearling stallions.

Maybe, Marcie was right, most of the horses that got their ribbons before me were leopard horses, or had huge white blankets loaded with spots. At that time in my life I was a dark chocolate color with black spots under my dark coat and just a little sprinkle of white hairs on my rump that resembled sugar or frosting. I guess that is how I got my name. At the shows they called me Frosty Britches when they announced my place, but my friends simply called me Frosty. My mother told me...when I was a little colt that a star decorated the middle of my forehead, and I wore one white sock on my left hind foot. Like most of the foundation Appaloosas of my time, I soon developed pink skin with dark spots that were hard to miss circling my eyes, nose and private parts. My hooves were vertically striped, and white sclera ringed my brown eyes, these traits are attributed to my kind of horse, the Appaloosa.

***********

Strange visions began to haunt me the spring that I turned two. It was at this time that I became a gelding. The vet gave me a shot to put me to sleep. My head felt heavy, and everything became fuzzy. I braced my legs so that I would not fall over, but he gave me another shot. Finally, I sank to my knees in the front paddock, and then rolled over on to my side.

I woke up stretched out in the sun, but I was no longer in the front paddock of the boarding stable in Ohio. Instantly, panic set in. I didn't know where I was. I tried to stand, but my legs were shaky like the legs of a newborn foal. At first, I thought that my confusion and weak legs were a result of the double whammy of shots that had put me to sleep. After I gained my feet, I struggled to focus my eyes. My terror began to grow, and threatened to over take me.

_High on a hill over looking a crystal clear river, I blink my eyes to clear my vision. On the opposite bank graze hundreds of horses most of them easily recognizable as Appaloosas. Behind the grazing herd I see snowcapped mountains. Had the vet given me too much tranquilizer? Am I dead, and is this horse heaven? Frightened out of my young mind, I want to go back to Marcie. But I don_ ' _t have a clue how to get there._

