Me and the Big K

Even when we were at war, Sonita could still lay some track. Who looks the most pissed off, me or Sonita?

Me an the Big K

“Stay on her.”
“I have been on her all day. We've been around the track about 20 times. I walked through every barn on the place, we toured the grounds, I long trotted her for hours. This is not working.”
“Stay on her. I don’t want you to step off until you finish your last go.”
Broken Bow Nebraska is a beautiful place to be in the spring. Everything is lush and green, the air is crisp and clean. Unless of course it’s settled into the first monsoon of the year and you’re wrapped in humidity thick enough to choke on, wading through knee deep puddles and sliding through the Nebraska mud.
Sonita was soaked through. A steady trickle of yuk trickled down her flanks. She hated being wet. Hated stepping in water or mud. Sonita was pissed. She fully intended letting me know how she viewed the world by screwing me every step of the way through every reining class we were in, every day of the interminable NRCHA show.
The Big K was fed up with both of us. Sonita was working at home in a fairly steady and reliable manner. At shows she continued to be a tail- wringing, spit-slinging freakazoid during her reined (dry) work. I was nervous, whiny and sullen. His standard working theory was that both of us needed to be tired enough to quit caring. So if I wasn't riding another horse I was to be on Sonita. No eating, drinking or rest for either of us.
Pissy though I might have been, I still did what I was told. I was really ready to start placing. If that’s what it took, then that’s what I was going to do. I had been on Sonita just about every minute of every day for three days. I sat on her to coach my clients, I even had my daughter warm up my other rides so I could just dismount, show the other horse, come out and get back on the bitch.
I was tired. I had saddle sores. My feet hurt. I had been wet for 100 years. I really hated Sonita.
She was fresh as a daisy and just as crabby as I was.
There was never a horse that could drag a lead like Sonita. If she chose to change it was clean and correct. If she was busy looking around the arena at the judges, her buddies, the tarps or the sky, she would drag her lead.
A lead change needs to come from the hind legs to the front. A horse and rider will be hit a ½ point for being out of lead if they change late in the back legs. Then, for every quarter circle they travel without fixing that lead they’ll be hit another ½ point. If you make it back to the middle of your circle and the rat bastard horse still hasn't changed in the back you get a big fat zero.
If Sonita didn't change clean she would immediately lay on my leg, block me with her shoulder, and virtually insure that I wouldn't get her stinking hip pushed in until one stride before we zeroed.
Yes, I could have stopped her and started her again. Of course then we would earn a 2 point penalty for a break in gait. On a good day, Sonita could rack up 5 or 6 penalty points before we even got through our second lead change.
So far we had yet to have a clean lead change at this show. She had blown every pattern, every day. The Big K’s reaction was to sign us up for reining on the AQHA side, who was co-hosting the show. So we had managed to suck rocks for not just one organization, but two. Sonita was hotter and higher with every pattern. I guess in her own way, she was pretty reliable.
I had decided early on the last day that riding her to death was not the answer. There had to be some relief for both of us. I began riding her hard in the warm up pen for about 20 minutes before each scheduled break. When the arena was free for open riding I would take her in, have her stand in the middle and wait for her to relax. As soon as she dropped her head I would get down, loosen her cinch and take her for a short break in her stall. Then I would keep my eye peeled to make sure the Big K didn't catch me resting my horse and my tired achy butt. Sonita was walking to the center of the pen and standing quiet every time I rode her in by the end of the day. I upped the ante as the day wore on and would take her in and out of the arena at a walk several times, ending each session by standing in the middle, dismounting and loosening her cinch.
Our last class was going to be a late one. The show had started at 7 a.m. and it was now approaching midnight. We had 60 riders in the novice open ranch class. This was a wildly popular non-pointed class that offered cutting, reined work and a fence run for all horses, any age. It was chock full of ranchers and young trainers. Sonita and I had performed well in the cutting and fence work, but we still had the reined work to go. Shit.
We had a few bright spots. We had cleaned up in the cutting. She had a solid score on her fence work. So even though Sonita's dry work on previous days had driven me to contemplating shooting her right there in the arena, yanking my saddle and heading for home, I had managed to hold off.
The Big K was done with his show. He was wandering around, beer in hand, laid back and peaceful. He was beginning to think he was pretty damn funny.
“Looks like your going to be here until it’s time to load up in the morning,” he said.
“I’m not in the mood, K.” I replied.
“You don’t get to have a mood around me. What’s your draw?”
“43rd,” I tried not to snarl.
“You’ll be done around 2:30 or 3:00 a.m. That’s not too bad. Want a beer?”
“I’ll take that bottle when you’re done with it.”
“What do you need my beer bottle for?” The Big K looked a little glassy eyed and confused.
“I've had to go for about 3 hours. If I have to sit here until I show I’m going to need that bottle to pee in,” I said.
The Big K is an extremely modest man. My only weapon was often the fact that I could freak him out. Red faced he held Sonita while I hobbled off to the can. Then he took off to bed, too tired after his own show to stay with me. I snuck back to my stall and gave Sonita a drink.
I sat on her in an exhausted daze watching one reining pattern after another go by. She stood with her head down dozing. I was too tired to work her. Finally they called draw 35. I rode into the warm up pen and we jogged around to wake up. By the time they called us into the arena we were as ready to go as I could manage.
I walked into the arena. Sonita stayed steady and quiet under my hand. She walked to the center and stood solid and alert, but calm. When we loped off I knew we were golden. Sonita stayed with me through the entire pattern. She moved through her changes with hardly a ripple. She stopped solid, spun like a dream and never looked out of our circle, not even once. Half way through the pattern my beautiful silver path opened in front of us and we followed it to the end.
I dismounted at the end, loosened her cinch and headed back to her stall.
The Big K was standing by the gate, bleary eyed and smiling. I barely registered that he had gotten up to watch my go.
“How about that?” He said.
“How bout that,” I answered.
I tried to stay awake long enough to hear the results. I dozed off in a corner of Sonita’s stall.
“Hey, there’s stalls to get done.” The Big K’s voice cut through my dead sleep. I woke up with Sonita’s head in my lap.
I rubbed my eyes and crawled into the gray dawn covered in shavings. He handed me a cup of coffee and my check for fourth place.
“How bout that.” I wondered as I sipped the bitter coffee.
“I guess we could get breakfast to celebrate.” The Big K said.
I fed and watered my money earning mare and we headed toward the concession stand. I was still swiping away at the shavings clinging to my jeans.
“You know you’re buying,” he added.
“I figured.”