The Backstory: Part 3

Ransom assimilated into the herd quickly, becoming best friends with Filly, the bay Morgan mare. She whinnied for him whenever I took him down to the arena. We spent our first week doing ground work in the round pen. He was four and had already been started, but had sat unused in a pasture for nine months, so some review was in order. He gave a bit of bronc action at first but he quickly settled down to business, and it wasn’t long before I threw my leg over for the first time.

Early on I ponied him on a staff trail ride to the Tin Cup campsite. Gypsy, a piebald mare I had started two years before, tolerated his antics. They were tied together at a tree while we sat around the campfire. I looked over just in time to see Ransom fall while standing tied to the tree. He leaned his entire body against Gypsy and when she staggered sideways, his feet somehow went out from under him. It was one of the most comical, klutzy things I’d ever seen.

Fortunately, he was more coordinated under saddle. His trot was a little bouncy, and he had trouble with his right lead, but I loved him. He progressed rapidly because of his calm demeanor. Nothing seemed to faze him. One day I pulled out a flag and a tarp to work on desensitization. He complacently pulled the tarp around like he’d been doing it his whole life. And the flag? Yawn. On our first trail ride, he stopped obediently and watched without anxiety as the other horse walked on ahead. Soon we were venturing out by ourselves, and he wasn’t spooky or barn sour.

View from new trails

Ransom was doing so well that by the time summer camp started, I trusted him to take out trail rides. I rode him one or two rides every day, lead or drag, when we took out the campers. Almost every ride, some kid claimed, "I want to ride the spotted horse." It gave me guilty pleasure to be able to say, "Sorry, you can’t ride him. He’s my horse." I’d been waiting my entire horse career to be able to say that. Growing up riding lesson horses, it was hard to share my favorites with lots of other people, to watch the beginner riders make mistakes on my beloved Manzanita or Sonny. Selfishly, I couldn’t wait to get my own horse because I wouldn’t have to share. He would be mine.

At summer’s end, it was time for the big move. I’d scouted out my new city, finding a boarding stable with reasonable rates, pasture board, and access to trails. Ransom was the last thing to move. Having borrowed a truck and trailer to use, I made my first solo trailer haul to bring Ransom to his new home. The first order of business was for him to meet the electric fence. Naturally, his reaction was sudden, but it only took once for him to understand how it worked. He settled into his new home and I settled into mine.