Poncho or Frank

Poncho after a nice bath, brushing, grooming and tacking up

Poncho

There comes a time in life when you just have to do certain things.  Our family came across one of those times.  We managed to lease a little acreage to spend some time on when we were not working.  As a young family, we worked a lot it seemed, so it was a natural that we needed a place.  A place where we could listen to the wind blow through the mesquite trees, and a place that was quiet enough you might catch a bird song or two. We had found that perfect place.  Not big at all and not totally ours, as it was leased. But, it was a place we could get away and enjoy things we are supposed to enjoy.

That place just needed a horse.  With a young son added to the family, we needed a horse.  It was just something we had to add to the place.  Not just any horse, mind you, but one that would become a member of our family.  We had to have the right horse for the job.  Our extended family joined the search for that horse with our parents counseling patience; the right horse will come along.  It seemed this search would go on forever.  We found a colt that looked right, but when we tried the trailer, there was no way that horse would ever step foot in there.  Trying to get a high spirited colt into somewhere that high spirited colt does not want to go can be a disaster.  Before the colt or anyone got hurt, we decided to back off and let that colt spend some more time in the owner’s pasture.  The colt owner wasn’t too happy that we decided against the colt, but it was best for all around.

And then, along came Poncho.  I know, Poncho translated to English means lazy.  I learned this much later.  My brother called me with the news that a man he knew had a horse and we should take a ride over to see if we might like to buy him.  My dad went with us to see that horse.  Pulling up to the horse pen, a horse whipped his head over the fence and commenced to stare us down.  That horse was sizing us up.  The horse was a real nice looker and he knew it too.  I did not think that was the horse we were coming to look at because we had a price range, and that horse was way beyond our price range.  We talked to the horse trader for quiet a while to get the low down on the horse we came to see.  The horse we are going to look at had been on his ranch for a while, and this fellow was selling everything.

I don’t know if you have ever dealt with horse traders before, but they can tell you stories that will have the hanky out to wipe away tears in a hurry.  This trader was one of those kinds of fellows.  He really hated to sell this horse.  The horse came from a ranch in Mexico, his name is Poncho and this trader supposedly had him for several years, and it was just really busting him up to have to part with the horse.  My dad, who knew a few things about horse traders and horses, wanted to take a look at the horse.  Blow me down; the horse that stared us down on the way in was the horse named Poncho.

You really need to be careful when you enter the pen that contains a horse you know nothing about.  Depending on the temperament of the horse, you could be exiting the pen quicker than when you came in.  That wasn’t the case with Poncho.  He walked right up to us as if to introduce himself.  He nuzzled all of us and took a step back.  Dad talked Poncho into letting him look at his teeth.   For my way of thinking, they were certainly all there.  We looked, we felt, we picked up this foot, then that foot, we trotted Poncho around the pen we did a fine job of looking at that horse.  Dad said yep, this is the one if we can get him in the trailer.  Poncho walked right in to that trailer like it belonged to him and no one else.  We had a horse!

Poncho seemed to like our little spread.  He really needed a big pen and a barn to get out of the weather, so we built one.  My brother and I were digging post holes one day and I looked over to see what my brother was doing, since I had finished the last hole.  He was bent over cleaning out a hole with Poncho leaning his head over my brother’s shoulder to make sure all the dirt was cleared out of that hole.  After all, this was Poncho’s home. After the construction, we called dad over to take a look.  Dad liked it, and he asked if anyone had taken Poncho for a ride.  Well no, we have been busy building.  Dad saddled Poncho, and took off down a little roadway.  Instantly, Poncho moved into one of the most beautiful gaits that a horse could have.  It was a thing of beauty to cause your jaw to drop, to see that an old horse could move like that. Later, when Dad came back and unsaddled, he told me Poncho was one of the best horses ever.  He was not sixteen years old like the trader told us; he was more like six years old.  Dad said that horse had been in Mexico, and grazed on land where there were a lot of rocks.  You could see that in the horse’s teeth.

Also, he said that horse had been misnamed.  Poncho is Spanish for lazy, and this horse is anything but lazy.  Dad said he needed a new name.  Even so, Poncho seemed good for us.  The horse seemed to answer to that name.

Our little family had a lot of fun with Poncho.  That horse really liked to roam that mesquite filled little pasture.  I saddled Poncho up one day to ride in that pasture and I swear that horse knew every single tree with a low hanging branch.  Poncho would walk under one of those and either just stop, or walk on and turn around to see me flat on my rear end because that branch knocked me off.  That horse’s idea of entertainment was to keep me flat on the ground as much as possible.

Time continued on and our little family got so busy and the town grew out to where our spread was located, and we had to make some decisions about Poncho.  We found a really nice stable with a huge arena for exercise.  This was a perfect place for Poncho. The stable owner told me there was a young lady that fed the horses, and would exercise them if it was all right with the owner.  I said that was just great with us.

I stopped at the stable to check on Poncho a number of times.  That horse was really in his element there.  He seemed like he fattened up real nice.  His coat was a nice, shiny red, and I swear somebody had polished Poncho’s hooves. His mane and tail had been cared for perfectly.  He was really something.  I did notice however, there was a sign over Poncho’s stall that had Frank written on it.  I asked the stable owner about it and he said my Dad had stopped by and had a discussion with the young lady caring for that horse, and they decide Frank was that horse’s real name.  So Frank it was.  He also told me that we were approaching a serious problem.  The young lady was falling in love with Frank, and Frank was falling in love with the young lady.  He invited me out to exercise time the next day to see what he meant.

Exercise time rolled around, and I was sitting on the top rail of the arena with the stable owner while a horse worked out.  I asked him when our horse would be out, and he said partner you are looking at him.  That cannot be our family’s horse.

Poncho, or Frank, was prancing around that arena with his head held as high as a horse could hold it.  Neck was in a beautiful arch.  The rider had a tight rein.  Forelegs were wrapped.  We never wrapped Poncho’s forelegs!  The rider was sporting an English riding habit.  White pants, the boots, the jacket and a helmet with a little fuzzy ball on top and was atop one of those English saddles that just glowed with polish. That horse had been ridden western style for ever. It was hard to imagine English on a western saddle horse.  After watching the rider take Frank through all of the riding gaits a horse could have, I thought that this looked like a jumping horse for the Olympics. Poncho-Frank-is certainly a show stopper and he knew it.

The young lady’s mother happened by with a wedge of hay in her hands, and asked the stable owner how much longer she will be on that horse.  He told her she just got started, and introduced me as the owner of the horse.  She said that we have a problem.  She has been doing all her daughter’s work while her daughter spent all her time at the stables with that horse.  The young lady has been saving her money to buy a horse, and she is pretty sure that horse she is riding now will be that horse. She hoped one day I would be willing to sell.

After a bit of riding the young lady rode to where we were sitting on the rail.  The stable owner introduced us but I cannot remember her name.  I remember the freckles sprinkled across her nose.  I remember the blonde hair in a braid down her back, and I remember that huge grin when she started talking about Frank.  This young lady was about thirteen years old and was on a mission to love a horse.  She told me everything I needed to know about Frank.  There was clearly a bond between the two.  While she was talking, Frank never moved.  He had that stare down look in his eye that he had when we first saw him in the trader’s pen.

It took her a while of talking before she really got down to business. I think she might have been a little concerned about the answer if she asked the question.  Yes, there was an elephant in the room.  Finally, she told me she had been saving her money to buy a horse.  She had spent some of it to buy the saddle, because it seemed to fit Frank, and Frank seemed to really like it.  Those English saddles are not cheap. She had spent some of her savings on the riding outfit because it kind of went with the saddle.  She said she didn’t know how she looked in it because she never looked in the mirror while she was wearing it.  But, she said it seemed to brighten Frank’s day.

She was worried that she had overspent, and might have to save a bunch more for a horse…especially a horse like Frank.  She said these horses are worth a lot of money, maybe even thousands.  She had done some research.

I had to ask.  Since you have spent your savings on the saddle and on the outfit about how much do you have left over for a horse?  She said that is just it, she had only fifty five dollars left over, and it is going to take a long time to save up enough to buy a horse like Frank.  Well, young lady, you know you have to buy feed and hay on top of that, don’t you.  She said she knew it, and she planned on working at the stable for the rest of her life. The stable owner was listening in, and told her that she would have a job for the rest of her life if she wanted it.

There was more than enough time to think this over.  I told the young lady that she had a little too much money for Frank, because I was thinking of selling him for fifty dollars. Well, we had a little crying jag on our hands now.  She became the proud owner of Frank, she called her mom over to get the money and get it fast before he changes his mind.  Mom got her fifty dollars and they young lady handed it to me with a hug.  Mind you she was still mounted on Frank, and I was sitting on the top rail of the fence.  She finished quickly with the hug and told Frank to go, and go they did.  While she was riding, I handed the fifty dollars to the stable owner and told him to give her the western saddle we had in the tack room to use for the feed bill.

I will always remember that picture of a young woman proudly riding a beautifully groomed horse.  Forelegs wrapped, head held high, beautiful arched neck, mane and tail in perfect shape.  That picture to me is worth a lot more than fifty bucks.