#26 Stormy Days...

He came into my life in the usual ranch way, My Cowboy made a deal. 

Making deals were the spice of life for My Cowboy, he didn't really care what they were... just that he made them. It was the art of the "haggle", the art of negotiating, of besting his opponents in this mind game. It was a mock battle to be won and to the victor went the spoils.

The object of this deal stood tied to an old horse trailer. He was actually only part of the deal and had been thrown in at the last minute to sweeten the pot. Now he stood head hung low, with the joy of living sadly gone, quietly awaiting his fate.

"Hello there old man," I softly said to him.

His head jerked up and he turned liquid brown eyes upon me.

I felt the vibrant energy of him and that energy flew across the corral to me. I felt the electric jolt of it and in that instant I fell in love. I fell in love with a horse and he with me.

He was an older fellow, once a proud breeding stallion who, past his prime, was gelded and sold. He was an Appaloosa, the proud bred of the Nez Pierce Indians of the northwest. His registered name was Navajo Storm.

He stood about 15 hands and was the color of fresh brewed espresso. A splattering of white foamed his rump and a splash ran along his shoulder. Strong striped hooves supported a confirmationally well structured body but it was his ears that endeared me. Tiny by horse standards, these perfectly formed ears now focused on me.

When I first walked over to the despondent animal, he seemed an old warrior. Sway backed and slack jawed, I thought him at the end of his days. After our eyes met he changed as if by magic. His chest filled, his back straightened and a proud head was held aloft. It is amazing what love can do.

He became mine to ride and it took all my skills to do so. Beneath my body he was a powerhouse of strength and raw masculinity. I had to sit deep in the saddle and ride with all the finesse I could muster. He would never hurt me but he always challenged me to be my best. Stormer, as I called him, was both friend, lover and master instructor.

But as much as he loved me... he hated My Cowboy.

In small ways he showed his contempt and everyone knew that this horse couldn't stand... that cowboy.

My Cowboy would sometimes take care of the shoeing needs of our horses. Shoeing Stormer was always a struggle for My Cowboy as Stormer made it as difficult as possible. Smart enough to create no overt shows of aggression and draw punishment, he none the less made his feelings clear.

When My Cowboy lifted one of Stormers feet, Stormer would shift all his weight onto that foot and thus putting his full body weight onto the back of My Cowboy. It was a difficult and unpleasant experience for the one shoeing and painful too. Adding insult to injury, Stormer had another trick in store. He waited until My Cowboy was bent double, working on a hind foot, then he passed manure. Directly onto My Cowboy's head.

Stormer had a bagful of tricks which he saved only for My Cowboy but these tricks were his undoing.

My Cowboy had evolved a new ritual. When he discovered a horse had become my favorite, that I had developed a love for the animal, he sold it. One afternoon, I returned from a trail ride to discover my precious Stormer gone forever.

I never knew where he went or what happened to him and maybe it was better not to know.

Over the years I found other horses to love but once it was known, they all left too. Slow to hide my emotions but hide them I eventually did, learning to treat all the horses indifferently. I never knew if it was a form of jealousy or a way of control but my complex relationship with My Cowboy was constantly tested.

To be truthful I loved every horse that came my way, but some... well some were extra special. The most special of all was my old Appaloosa, my Stormer. With him it was a love affair.