Tally

It was time to sell Tally.

She lived with other horses in a generous pen and was easy to catch.

She was good for the vet and the shoer.

Her ground work was a joke. She was a flippin' circus pony. I could work her in a circle in an open arena, dictate the size of the circle, spiral her in, spiral her her out, control her speed, reverse in, reverse out, on and on, with her completely at liberty and the only motivation a flick of my fingers or a turn of my head. You could turn her left and right and all around on a rope, drag it over legs, through her legs, around her belly and flanks, none of it made her flick an ear.

Tally, of all horses, was teaching me that endless hours of ground work might be good for impressing clients, but in the big picture, had nothing to do with getting a horse broke.

Under saddle  she had three solid gaits, a good stop, decent spins and an easy lead change. She side passed, half passed, over and underpassed.

She would go out on the trail alone or in a group, look at cattle with healthy interest and although wary, was willing to meet new people.

Tally seemed to be at peace.

"She's still not right," my boss said. "There's a look to her."

I just shook my head. He never was one to admit he was wrong.

"I'm not saying she's going to be an easy horse," I explained, "but she's solid."

"Janet, I just don't think she is. She'll do fine if you want to keep her, probably more than fine, but she's not going to do well with anybody else."

"Boss, you know I don't believe in one-person horses. They're herd animals. They get eaten. Animals that live in groups and get eaten don't build solitary attachments."

He shook his head back at me and returned to his chores.

I was spending my mornings giving lessons at a busy stable in the middle of  town. I started taking Tally with me and sat on her while I taught. She dealt with the hubbub of kids, traffic, goats and tourists without much trouble. An occasional snort and cocked ear was about all she had to offer.

On the trail she got snorty when a jogger approached from behind, but there was no bolting, no frantic skitters. She just kept getting better. Tally still wasn't particularly social. She would tolerate an occasional scratch from a stray student, but for the most part would snort, blow and step away from anybody who wanted to "pet the horsie." It didn't bother me though, she had come such a long way from the terror stricken maniac I had started with, I didn't figure it was in her contract to be best friends with anybody.

One afternoon one of my adult students approached me while I was unsaddling and getting ready to head up the pass.

"I was wondering if I could talk to you about Tally," Tim said.

"Sure, what do you want to know?"

"I was wondering if she would work out for me."

I took a long pause.

"Well Tim, she rides well enough, but you've only been riding a year. She's pretty green and can be a lot of horse."

"I know, but she's so beautiful and you know I want to compete in reining."

"She hasn't been shown though, I've been looking for a good rookie reining horse for you." I turned away and loaded my saddle into the tack compartment.

I stepped out of the trailer and turned to face him. "I just don't think..."

My mouth was still open, but nothing was coming out of it. The short, shy architect was gently stroking Tally's ears. Her coarse little hammer head, from forehead to nose, was pressed against his chest.

"You're probably right. I sure like her though."

Tim scratched under her mane and Tally stood, hip cocked, tongue working, with her eyes half closed in complete and total  bliss. It was an expression I had never seen on her face before.

"I tell you what," I said. "I'll bring her out early Saturday morning and you can give her a try."

His eyes lit up and he smiled, not at me, but Tally. His fingers never stopped their rhythmical scratch.