Tag: stampede

He Rode Tall

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He needed to dismantle the walls that kept others out. He
needed to use words to heal rather than hurt. If he was able to
accomplish these three objectives the new Joel Hooper would
appear, he thought; or, maybe the real Joel Hooper would surface
for the first time. Whatever it was, it would be quite a
transformation.
After a light lunch and some very thorough horse grooming,
Tanya and Joel saddled up their mounts and led them to the
warm-up arena. Over the last few months, Joel had been
reminded that saddling up was much more than simply throwing
a saddle on the back of the horse. First, Joel brushed the buckskin.
For the show, Tanya had told him to pay special attention
to brushing the gorgeous black mane and tail of the buckskin
gelding. Then, he placed a riding pad on the horse’s backs, and
over that, a show blanket. It was only then that the saddle was
placed on the horse’s back. Next came the boots, not Joel’s but
the horse’s. First, Joel placed the bell boots on the front feet of the
horse to protect the coronary band, just above the hoof. Then he
added the splint boots above each of the bell boots. Splints boots
were intended to protect the area between the knee and the
ankle. Moving to the rear of the gelding, Joel fastened the skid
boots to protect the horse’s fetlocks from burning as they come in
contact with the ground during the sliding stops. It was only once
that the pads, blankets, boots, and saddles were in place that Joel
loosened the halter and gently positioned the bit in the buckskin’s
mouth and quietly moved the bridle into position.
Joel had been wearing his spurs for most of the morning. He
had come to love the sound of the rowels jingling as he walked.
Despite his early years on the ranch, Joel had adopted an urban
attitude toward spurs, seeing them as something that was harsh
and unnecessary. It was once he had returned to the ranch and
worked the horses with Harry that he quickly came around to the
reality that spurs weren’t the weapons as others had seen them.
Rather than weapons, the spurs were tools, and the last thing he
would want to do was aggressively spur a horse.

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He Rode Tall

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Excerpt

stands that were crowded with all kinds of people visiting and
catching-up with each other since the last show. At the canteen,
Joel ordered a large coffee and then found an empty table at the
edge of the eating area to sit at and ponder his dilemma. He sure
didn’t want to sell to that no-good Buck Smith, but maybe that’s
what it would have to come down to. Joel thought that he should
have talked to Tanya sooner about the money problems, but it was
his pride that held it tight inside him. It wasn’t fair to her the way
she found out. She had done an exceptional job training the pretty
little palomino and he knew that she had high hopes for the filly.
There had to be something he could do to fix the situation.
“Joel.” It was Tanya, and her tears had been replaced with a
fresh smile. “I want you to meet my friends Morgan, Jesse, and
Sue Ellen. We are going to head into town and catch a movie or
something. Want to come along?”
Joel was relieved to see that Tanya had recovered so quickly.
She was obviously pleased to have connected with old friends
from the rodeo circuit.
“Well, do you want to come?” Tanya repeated.
“Oh no, you kids go. I want to hang around and make sure that
the horses are all bedded down for the night. But hey, have fun.”
Tanya and her friends hurried out of the arena. Joel couldn’t
help but think what a special person Tanya has become. His feelings
were nothing romantic—now, don’t get silly. She was just a
real good friend who happened to be female and nineteen years
old. Oh yeah, she was one heck of a horsewoman.
They had only been friends for a couple months, but now,
their first meeting seemed so long ago. He still remembered
when she had asked him on her first visit to the ranch, “Are these
horses just pretty, or do they ride too?” He was sure he would
never forget that. Harry and he had been proud of the good
schooling they were giving the three-year-olds, but that afternoon
when he first saw Tanya ride one, then another, and finally a
third horse, he recognized that she was taking them beyond
where he could even dream of, into another dimension.

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He Rode Tall

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Excerpt

was down to his last seventy-five dollars. And if they were going to
be able to buy gas to get back home, he had to be very careful with
the little bit of cash that he did have.
Joel and Tanya had just finished tidying up their supplies
adjacent to the stalls and were giving the horses one last look
when an attractive, middle-aged woman dressed in fancy western
wear approached them. From her looks, Joel guessed that
she had never cleaned a stall in her life. He only wished that he
could say the same for himself—in the last few months he had
done enough stall cleaning to last a lifetime. Helping Harry
change the bedding in the stalls was more of a workout than
what city people would get at high-priced health clubs. “That’s
it,” Joel thought. With a chuckle he told himself that if the
horse business didn’t work out he could always convert the
Circle H into a health and fitness center. One thing was certain,
Joel was in the best physical condition that he had been in
for years.
“You the owner?” the lady asked.
“I am,” Joel replied.
“Mary Lou Schwartz. Is the palomino for sale?”
Joel looked at Tanya and, as he saw the word “No” forming on
her lips, stepped up and replied, “Well now, I guess everything is
really for sale at the right price isn’t it?”
The shock showed on Tanya’s face. As she started to protest,
Joel continued, “What did you have in mind?”
“I was looking for a young reining horse that could eventually
join our broodmare band. This little girl might fit the bill. She’s
nicely put together and seems real sweet and gentle. How does
5,000 dollars sound?”
“Too low” is what Joel thought, but he bit his tongue, knowing
that the offer was just a starting point. He asked, “Would you like
to see her papers?”
“Sure. You are probably going to tell me that she is some kind
of a great-great granddaughter of a Doc Bar or something like
that, aren’t you?”

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He Rode Tall

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He’s probably just starting out, Joel thought. He guessed that
the doctor was a city person who was using the small community
to get started in the profession, with the intentions of moving to a
bigger city when he had more experience and had paid off some of
his debts from school.
After a brief explanation of the accident he had in the pasture
with the big buckskin, the doctor told him to take off his boot, his
sock, and roll up the leg of his Wranglers. As he leaned forward to
get a closer look, the young doctor asked, “Related to Edward
Hooper?”
“Yes I am. He was my father.”
“Thought so,” the doctor replied as he continued to poke and
prod at the ankle. Joel wasn’t sure if the young doctor was really
examining him or just buying time to think of what to say next.
“Well, Mr. Hooper, it looks like your ankle is on the way to a full
recovery. From what I can tell, nothing is broken. A few more
days and you should be back in the saddle again. How’s the
pain?”
Joel was surprised to hear himself replying, “Not bad.” In fact,
his ankle was hurting like hell.
The doctor, having treated his share of cowboys in his short
career since graduating from medical school, quickly translated
“not bad” to mean “it is hurting like heck, but I’ll be darned if I
admit it to you,” and offered Joel a sample box of Tylenol 3s, “just
in case it hurts you might want to take a few of these.”
With that, the doctor turned to the door, “Have a good day,
Mr. Hooper.”
“Thank you, Doctor. How did you know my father?”
“Mr. Hooper, you might not be aware of it, but not only have
you just been attended to by a doctor but also by the Montana
State Team Roping Champion. Two years in a row now since
coming back home from medical school in Seattle. When I was a
kid here, I did pretty fair at the high school rodeos as well. I roped
off a horse your dad sold me. Even back when I was a kid, my
father always said that there was only one place to go …

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He Rode Tall

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brush not ten feet beside him. In an instant, he realized that,
with the wind blowing away from them, the deer didn’t hear or
smell the horse and rider headed their direction. No sooner had
the deer fled in a scurry of dirt and brush than the buckskin
jumped, nearly out of his skin. One moment Joel was sitting solidly
on the back of the buckskin and the next they were both ten
feet to the right, with Joel experiencing a launch akin to take-off
on a NASA space mission.
With a power that he could hardly imagine possible, the young
horse had rocketed forward, leaving Joel behind. In actual fact, it
would have been better if he did get left behind, but Joel’s left boot
stuck in the stirrup. And with the force of the jump, his boot had
slipped through the stirrup. Now he was being dragged at breakneck
speed across the rock-strewn hillside. His foot was supposed
to slip out of the boot and free him from danger but what
was supposed to happen just didn’t.
Spooked by the deer, the buckskin gelding blasted up and out
of the coulee, racing to the barn. Joel knew that this couldn’t last
for long. There were just too many boulders between there and
the barn, and the odds that he would hit at least one were pretty
good unless he did something in a hurry as he bounced along on
his back, dragged by the horse and only inches from the pounding
hooves. In a flash, Joel imagined his exposed cranium hitting a
granite boulder at twenty-five miles per hour. With one cry he
asked, pleaded, begged, and commanded the horse to stop with a
desperate “Whoa!”
As a boy, his dad had told Joel that anyone could stop a horse,
sooner or later, by pulling back on the reins, but his dad showed
him an unusual technique—dropping the reins to the horse’s
neck and asking it to whoa. Right here, right now, he was glad
that he had worked so hard with the gelding on exactly this
maneuver. But practicing in the round pen and the arena was one
thing; Joel was about to discover how effective his training would
be in the wide-open space of the pasture.

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He Rode Tall

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But Joel had a feeling that even that would be considered a
steal, and if he had agreed, those two would be in a bar before the
end of the day sucking back beer and chirping about how they
took the dude out at Circle H for a ride.
Since he had the briefcase open, Joel thought that now was as
good a time as any to take a closer look at the parentage of his
livestock. After separating out the remaining older mares, he lay
all of their registration papers from the American Quarter Horse
Association in front of him on the kitchen table. Although he
didn’t know it, he was looking at the living history of some of the
greatest breeding ever.
Just like the old mare that he had just sold, the other matriarch
of the remuda was also a daughter of the legendary Doc Bar out of
a Peppy San mare called Peppy Jane. Her own name was Doc’s
Peppy Jane, confirming the identity of the other older mare.
If that kind of breeding was so valuable in a twenty-one-year-old
mare then the daughters had to be equally valuable. Especially if
they were young enough to still be putting colts on the ground.
And as he scanned the papers, that is exactly what he saw. Absolutely
every one of the other ten mares in the remuda were daughters
of either of the original Doc Bar mares that his dad had
brought up from Denver. With only ten mares besides the other
own daughter of Doc Bar, Joel’s guess would be that his dad had
chosen to keep just the absolute best fillies to include in the
broodmare band.
After clearing the table of the registration papers for the
broodmares, he turned his attention to finding the papers for the
three-year-olds that he and Harry were currently training. After a
little more rummaging through the briefcase, Joel found the
papers for each of the dozen three-year-olds. The first one he
spotted was the filly out of the old blonde mare, and sure enough,
it was the pretty palomino he had just finished the morning with;
Joel had a feeling about the way she was handling herself. He had
convinced himself that when he had a chance to look at the
papers that he would discover that the last three-year-old …

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He Rode Tall

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The palomino was sharp this morning. She was really listening
to him and reacted nicely to the slightest requests he made
of her.
Must have enjoyed her day off yesterday, Joel thought. After
enough circles Joel wanted to see what the filly had learned. He
ran her down the pen, sat back, said “Whoa,” and was rewarded
with a deep sliding stop. Then he brought her front end around
180 degrees and asked for a departure with a right lead. She
sprung into a canter and headed in the opposite direction, exactly
as she was supposed to. As if to confirm the quality of the performance,
Joel searched for Harry who was standing off to the side of
the corral loosening the cinch on the horse that he had just ridden,
and all the time had been watching Joel work the filly. Harry
responded with a nod.
By now, the truck had pulled into the yard as Joel had finished
up with the filly. Sliding off of the palomino’s back, Joel headed
to the barn. The strangers, two men in their thirties,
approached the far side of the corral, nodded to Harry and then
addressed Joel.
“Reckon you’re Edward’s son.”
“Reckon I am,” Joel responded in a countrified tone that surprised
even him and which he had caught himself using the other
day in Great Falls. If he was right, he was starting to sound more
like a cowboy than a professional engineer with decades of experience
in maritime engineering.
“We have been regular buyers of horses from your dad over the
years. We thought, if you didn’t mind, that we could take a look
over what you had for sale this year and see if there was anything
here that interests us.”
“How many horses have you bought from Dad?” asked Joel.
“We’ve each bought two a year for the last four years,” quickly
replied one of the visitors. “We would’ve liked to buy more but
your dad always seemed to have more buyers than horses so he
would only let us trailer out of here with two each.”

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He Rode Tall

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the way that they were groomed, he guessed all of the stock in
this sale were show horses or show-horse prospects.
Rounding the corner of one aisle and starting up another to
continue his inspection, Joel saw a growing crowd of people forming
outside of the old mare’s stall. Joel was feeling pretty good
about this turn of events. With that kind of interest, he might
even get the three- or four-thousand dollars that Harry predicted
she would be able to attract. That was a lot of money for an old
mare, but darn, she was a real good looker. Joel wandered past the
group of admirers but wasn’t able to pick up on any of the
conversation.
Once the sale got started, time seemed to fly by. After reading
the rules and regulations of the sale, the auctioneer, a gravelly
voiced man in a big Stetson, rattled the numbers off. After a while
a pattern started to emerge. The auctioneer would call for a while
and then a man beside him in the auction booth would stop the
sale and take a few moments to go on about the breeding and performance
record of the horse in the sale ring. The auction would
then continue for maybe another minute or two, depending on
how the bidding was going, before the auctioneer would call out,
“Sold!” As the sold horse exited from one end of the ring another
horse would be led in from the other end and the process would
start all over again. But while the system remained consistent,
the prices didn’t. Joel could see that most of the horses were
going in the five- to ten-thousand-dollar range with the odd one
going over ten. This was encouraging to see, but these were
prized, well-bred show horses or talented show prospects of superior
breeding, and none of them were twenty-one-year-old mares.
In fact, other than the twenty-one-year-old mare, the next oldest
horse in the sale was twelve.
Even at the fast clip of the auctioneer and the efficiency of the
helpers moving the horses in and out, it was the end of the afternoon
when the crowd of 500 or so horse enthusiasts were reminded
that, despite what the catalogue said, there really was one more
horse. Number fifty-one, the old blonde mare was led in.

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He Rode Tall

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In fact, Joel remembered his mother had told him the story in
one of her few but precious letters he received shortly before she
passed away. From time to time, Joel’s dad would have to find
temporary work off of the ranch to make a go of things. It was
always tough to squeeze a living out of the Circle H and the family
had to continually live hand-to-mouth from the meager checks his
dad would mail them. One time, as the story goes, his dad had
been owed some money for work he did on an oil drilling crew
down in the panhandle—the wells came up dry and so did the paychecks.
Joel could remember his mother’s letter saying that after
being away for a month or so, his dad showed up late one day and
left the next. Apparently, he had come home for his rifle. It was a
long drive for weaponry, but I guess if you are going to take the law
into your own hands you may as well use your own weapon. His
mother had said that it was nearly two weeks before his dad
returned, and this time he had two fillies with him—one was a
flashy little palomino and the other was a petite bay.
That must be her, Joel thought. The flashy little palomino
grew up to become the old blonde mare.
The next morning Joel and Harry were ready to roll. And that
was exactly what they were doing; rolling down the highway leading
into the thriving mini-metropolis of Great Falls.
It was still early when they arrived at the livestock yards. The
sale wasn’t scheduled to begin until noon. Given that it was so
early in the morning, Joel pulled the old half-ton over to the side
of the parking lot at the stockyard and backed the trailer next to
the corrals. A quick reconnoiter confirmed that there was no one
around so Joel and Harry proceeded to catch a few z’s as they
waited for the office to open.
“What do you mean?” Joel yelled. He had been woken from his
sleep as the first trucks started to pull into the parking lot, and
after a few stretches,

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He Rode Tall

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The land, the buildings, all of that old
equipment, and the horses. Heck, you wouldn’t even have to
unpack. I’ll write you the check right now and you can cash it at the
bank on the way through town as you head back to the city.”
Joel could have very easily taken the money. Heaven knows he
could use it. He really didn’t have anything that was stopping him
from accepting the offer. And 60,000 dollars could go a long ways
in Costa Rica, or wherever he ended up. Maybe he could even buy
a nice little bar on a sandy beach to keep himself occupied. He
could see himself passing out cool cervezas and renting out
sea-doos to tourists. Or maybe just passing out. That sure would
have been his preferred behavior in the past. But there were a few
things bothering him about the offer. First of all, he just didn’t like
Buck Smith. Secondly, from what Smith had to say, there probably
wouldn’t be a place for Harry in the Buck Smith Ranch Corporation.
Thirdly, the offer just came too easy, and if Joel was any judge
of character, the offer was probably significantly below market
value. Joel was feeling confused. He knew that life was all about
the choices we make, and right now, it seemed as if he was faced
with a big choice. He could either sell the Circle H to Buck Smith
for 60,000 dollars or he could be a stubborn son-of-a-gun and try to
make a go of it in this god-forsaken country.
The consequences were obvious. On the one hand, he could
have the bar on the beach in Costa Rica with the scantily dressed
babes, and on the other hand, he could have a grizzled-up old
ranch-hand and a bunch of horses. What the hell was he thinking?
One thing he knew for sure—right now, standing in the
sparse and desolate yard of the rundown Circle H, there was a
battle going on inside of him between his head and his heart. And
he didn’t know which was winning.
“Let me think it over,” Joel said.
“Think it over. Hell, man. What is there to think over? This is a
good offer and there just aren’t any other buyers for a small
standalone place like this. Besides that, your dad and I had it all
arranged.”

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