The First Encounter
The interminable blare of my alarm roused me unkindly from my sleep. Groggy and blurry-eyed, I snatched my phone from the bedside table and shut off the alarm, laying back with a heavy sigh. Squinting in the darkness, the phone's screen so bright my eyes watered, I checked the time. 6:00. Groan. Yet I could feel the excitement and butterflies rising in my stomach.
Today I would pick up my mustang for this year's Mustang Makeover at Cottonwood Wild Horse Ranch. I was a long time supporter of the ranch, and every horse I owned on my personal ranch, Long Valley Stables, was once a resident at CWHR. Last year, I entered MM and received my lovely mare Wildfire, but did not place - and I only had myself to blame for that. I promised to do better this year. I carefully rolled out of bed, trying to not disturb my husband, Mitchell. We owned LVS together, but he wasn't as into it as I was. Mustang Makeover was not in his comfort zone. Maybe next year. I was happy that I had passed on my love of horses to my young daughter, Anna. She is rather advanced in her abilities, but I told her to sit out MM this year. I felt it was better for her. She complained, but she is quite young and I wasn't sure she was ready. In the years to come I may step back and let her try her hand.
I peeked outside the bedroom window and watched the quiet darkness. I was surprised to see what seemed like endless fog, which hindered my view. I walked away, pulling open dresser drawers. I dressed swiftly, choosing a worn pair of jeans, a short-sleeved plaid shirt, and my pair of dark blue boots. I choose a black belt with rhinestones on it, and a buckle from when I won a large-scale barrel racing competition. I ignored my makeup bag and swiftly pulled my hair into a ponytail, and then through the back of a brown ball cap with 'Don't Mess With a Barrel Racer' written across the front in pink cursive. I raced down the stairs, not about to spare any time. I had already hitched up my four-horse slant-load trailer to my pickup last night, so I just had to grab my supplies and go.
To my surprise, I found my daughter, fully clothed in jeans, boots, and a shirt with a horse printed on it, leaning against our fridge. "Anna, what are you doing?" I whispered, "Why are you awake?" She played with her thumbs and smiled shyly at me. "I wanted to come with you," Anna replied. I looked at her, "I am the entrant, Anna. You understand that, yes?" She stopped me, "Yes, yes, of course! But I can still come pick up the mustang, right? I know I can't enter this year. That's fine. I just want to see." I sighed and motioned toward the truck. "Thank you, Mom!" She said with a grin, and I smiled back slightly. She ran right to the car. I followed slowly, grabbing a granola bar and a water bottle on my way out.
Outside, I walked out to the barn and greeted the horses, pausing to look inside the empty stall beside my mare Wildfire. Before the end of the day, a new horse will find their home in that stall. I grabbed the pack of supplies I had made up last night, and walked back to the car, which Anna had already started. I checked the time. 7:30. It would be as much as an hour drive to Cottonwood, and I figured we could stop for a small breakfast.
I buckled my seat belt and changed to car's gear to 'drive.' I pressed gently down on the gas and made my way down our long driveway. Anna spoke to me, but I wasn't quite listening. My mind was on the competition, the mustang, my plans. And as we turned onto the main road, I prepared myself for another adventure.
- - -
It was a little past 9:00 when we got to Cottonwood. We had made multiple stops, for food and gas and then some snacks. And traffic had been pretty bad with all the fog. I liked to be one of the first there for the check-in, which started at 9:00, but most people came later. By the time Anna and I pulled in, a few more trailers were parked to the side. Immediately, I noticed the large "2015 Mustang Makeover" sign plastered across one of the barns. I parallel parked my large trailer and hopped out, leading Anna to the barn where I was greeted by a young woman at a table. Our exchange was short, mainly about paperwork and the process, and then I was taken outside my a different person, an older man. He told me some mustangs were in their stalls, but were allowed to graze in rotating shifts. Mine happened to be outside. I motioned for Anna to follow. He entered a pasture and asked me to wait outside while he found my mustang. I quickly fished around in my bag and handed him a halter I had purchased for the new mustang, and he then walked off. I had been told I was given a gelded male, #865292, but not much else. I liked it that way - surprises are wonderful.
"So what do you think he'll be like?" Anna asked excitedly. "I don't know," I replied softly, watching the fog intently, until a large silhouette took shape. Anna grew quiet.
The gelding came into view, his legs shrouded by fog. His eyes were a beautiful brown color, dark and mysterious. His black mane was medium-length, and flowed slightly in the gentle breeze. As he came closer, I noticed his color to be buckskin roan - gorgeous. I entered the area and walked to meet the gelding. "What an incredible creature," I murmured. The man leading him handed me the lead. "You probably read this on the profile card you were given at check in, but watch for his kick. He seems to find bucking at everything and anything a game," he warned. I had not yet looked at the card, to keep it a surprise for me. "Well then we'll just have to work on that," I said, "Thanks. Come along, Mustang." I tugged softly on the rope and exited the pasture, walking towards the trailer. Anna ended up beside me, simply staring at the mustang.
"Open the trailer for me, could you?" I asked her, and she jogged ahead. There would be plenty of time to gawk at him later, but now we had an entirely new task at hand: getting him on the trailer.
The interminable blare of my alarm roused me unkindly from my sleep. Groggy and blurry-eyed, I snatched my phone from the bedside table and shut off the alarm, laying back with a heavy sigh. Squinting in the darkness, the phone's screen so bright my eyes watered, I checked the time. 6:00. Groan. Yet I could feel the excitement and butterflies rising in my stomach.
Today I would pick up my mustang for this year's Mustang Makeover at Cottonwood Wild Horse Ranch. I was a long time supporter of the ranch, and every horse I owned on my personal ranch, Long Valley Stables, was once a resident at CWHR. Last year, I entered MM and received my lovely mare Wildfire, but did not place - and I only had myself to blame for that. I promised to do better this year. I carefully rolled out of bed, trying to not disturb my husband, Mitchell. We owned LVS together, but he wasn't as into it as I was. Mustang Makeover was not in his comfort zone. Maybe next year. I was happy that I had passed on my love of horses to my young daughter, Anna. She is rather advanced in her abilities, but I told her to sit out MM this year. I felt it was better for her. She complained, but she is quite young and I wasn't sure she was ready. In the years to come I may step back and let her try her hand.
I peeked outside the bedroom window and watched the quiet darkness. I was surprised to see what seemed like endless fog, which hindered my view. I walked away, pulling open dresser drawers. I dressed swiftly, choosing a worn pair of jeans, a short-sleeved plaid shirt, and my pair of dark blue boots. I choose a black belt with rhinestones on it, and a buckle from when I won a large-scale barrel racing competition. I ignored my makeup bag and swiftly pulled my hair into a ponytail, and then through the back of a brown ball cap with 'Don't Mess With a Barrel Racer' written across the front in pink cursive. I raced down the stairs, not about to spare any time. I had already hitched up my four-horse slant-load trailer to my pickup last night, so I just had to grab my supplies and go.
To my surprise, I found my daughter, fully clothed in jeans, boots, and a shirt with a horse printed on it, leaning against our fridge. "Anna, what are you doing?" I whispered, "Why are you awake?" She played with her thumbs and smiled shyly at me. "I wanted to come with you," Anna replied. I looked at her, "I am the entrant, Anna. You understand that, yes?" She stopped me, "Yes, yes, of course! But I can still come pick up the mustang, right? I know I can't enter this year. That's fine. I just want to see." I sighed and motioned toward the truck. "Thank you, Mom!" She said with a grin, and I smiled back slightly. She ran right to the car. I followed slowly, grabbing a granola bar and a water bottle on my way out.
Outside, I walked out to the barn and greeted the horses, pausing to look inside the empty stall beside my mare Wildfire. Before the end of the day, a new horse will find their home in that stall. I grabbed the pack of supplies I had made up last night, and walked back to the car, which Anna had already started. I checked the time. 7:30. It would be as much as an hour drive to Cottonwood, and I figured we could stop for a small breakfast.
I buckled my seat belt and changed to car's gear to 'drive.' I pressed gently down on the gas and made my way down our long driveway. Anna spoke to me, but I wasn't quite listening. My mind was on the competition, the mustang, my plans. And as we turned onto the main road, I prepared myself for another adventure.
- - -
It was a little past 9:00 when we got to Cottonwood. We had made multiple stops, for food and gas and then some snacks. And traffic had been pretty bad with all the fog. I liked to be one of the first there for the check-in, which started at 9:00, but most people came later. By the time Anna and I pulled in, a few more trailers were parked to the side. Immediately, I noticed the large "2015 Mustang Makeover" sign plastered across one of the barns. I parallel parked my large trailer and hopped out, leading Anna to the barn where I was greeted by a young woman at a table. Our exchange was short, mainly about paperwork and the process, and then I was taken outside my a different person, an older man. He told me some mustangs were in their stalls, but were allowed to graze in rotating shifts. Mine happened to be outside. I motioned for Anna to follow. He entered a pasture and asked me to wait outside while he found my mustang. I quickly fished around in my bag and handed him a halter I had purchased for the new mustang, and he then walked off. I had been told I was given a gelded male, #865292, but not much else. I liked it that way - surprises are wonderful.
"So what do you think he'll be like?" Anna asked excitedly. "I don't know," I replied softly, watching the fog intently, until a large silhouette took shape. Anna grew quiet.
The gelding came into view, his legs shrouded by fog. His eyes were a beautiful brown color, dark and mysterious. His black mane was medium-length, and flowed slightly in the gentle breeze. As he came closer, I noticed his color to be buckskin roan - gorgeous. I entered the area and walked to meet the gelding. "What an incredible creature," I murmured. The man leading him handed me the lead. "You probably read this on the profile card you were given at check in, but watch for his kick. He seems to find bucking at everything and anything a game," he warned. I had not yet looked at the card, to keep it a surprise for me. "Well then we'll just have to work on that," I said, "Thanks. Come along, Mustang." I tugged softly on the rope and exited the pasture, walking towards the trailer. Anna ended up beside me, simply staring at the mustang.
"Open the trailer for me, could you?" I asked her, and she jogged ahead. There would be plenty of time to gawk at him later, but now we had an entirely new task at hand: getting him on the trailer.
