In 2001, I was a lonely single schoolteacher just out of college, living in a little farmhouse in the country with not many hobbies or friends in the area. I remember sharing my passion for horses with my students, and two little twins in my second grade class would say, “Oh, we have a horse! But you can’t ride her and you can’t pet her, Beauty is too wild.” The more they told me about her, the more intrigued I became, as I really wanted to be working with horses, and missed them since I’d left the ranch to go to college.
So one weekend, it was the first of September, I went out to the Sletten’s house to see their horse. Beauty was a three year old Arabian paint with bay colored spots that were roaning out. She was in the barn, haltered, but scared to death. I spent a lot of time just easing around her, brushing her a little, tried the saddle pad on her, and bridled her for a little while. We did some groundwork, but I could tell she had never been handled at all, and she was flighty and scared of anything I did. The kids stood around and watched, eating potato chips and ice cream in their yard, which was littered with old farm equipment and a large variety of noisy animals. I remember thinking it was no wonder Beauty was scared to death.
I went back out the following weekend, and spent two hours in the rain just trying to catch Beauty. She was in a four acre lot with sheep and a pony stallion, and she just didn’t want to be touched. I used the “join up” method, but it took me a long time, wearing cowboy boots that sloshed with rain water every time I took a step. I caught her finally, saddled and bridled her, and spent more time with groundwork and gentling exercises.
The next day I rode her. She was easy to catch and remembered everything from the day before and didn’t even try to run away. I put gunny sack hobbles on her front feet so she would stand still to be saddled. The first time I stepped on her, after leaning over the saddle and pulling her head around, she jumped sideways and I fell off. But the second try was successful, and I rode her all around the four acres, she was light in her face and very responsive, and not scary at all. She never tried to buck, and whenever she tried to run, I pulled on one rein so she made a small circle and slowed back down.
The next day we left the little farm and went out in a neighboring field. Beauty reined really nice from the very start, her little head would just turn side to side, whichever way you indicated, and she was a joy to ride. She had a fast springy walk that I loved, and we trotted, galloped, stopped, turned, and rode beautifully. It felt like instant success, and I was falling in love with her. Now, you have to understand that I grew up on a ranch in midwestern Nebraska where we only rode big registered Quarter Horses, and I knew a good horse when I saw one. Beauty was none of those things…she had poor pasterns, a slight ewe neck, a high head carriage with an equally high tail carriage, strange roaned-out burgundy colored spots, and was only about 14 hands tall. She was not anything to look at. But I loved her.
I rode her on September 11, 2001, the day of the attacks in New York City. And I remember wondering how my life could be so wonderful and peaceful when there were so many terrible things going on that very same hour. I kept a diary of all of my training with Beauty, and I’m glad I wrote down these dates and the thoughts I had, because they take me right back to that place, and make me thankful all over again for my life and my freedom and my ability to spend my days in the Iowa countryside enjoying my horses.
I rode Beauty for a full month, exploring the countryside, riding over jumps and down wooded trails. Then I kind of quit riding her, and found a pony I bought and trained and resold. I bought a black AQHA gelding in February, and spent a lot of time with him, and didn’t go back out to see Beauty. But the Slettens kept telling me she was lonely for me, that she stood at the gate every day after school, waiting for me to come see her. Then the Slettens asked if I wanted to buy her, and said they’d take $300 for her. It was a deal. I bought Beauty on May 27, 2002.
School was out, so I took my two horses home with me to Nebraska to spend a summer on the ranch. My dad laughed so hard when he saw me riding Beauty, her little tail bouncing in the air as she walked, keeping time with my own bouncing pony tail. She was no match to his shiny Quarter Horses, and she got picked on quite a bit in their herd, but she was an absolute pro when it came to working cattle. We were sorting out steers to go to market, and had a big herd in our corral. Dad was running the gate, and he had me ride Beauty in among the yearling cattle and sort out certain ones he wanted. She was better at sorting than any horse I’ve ridden because she was so sensitive and would listen and turn instantly when I told her to. She didn’t have a lot of cow sense, but she was always so willing and quick that it was a joy to ride her. Some of the cattle were bigger than she, but she never lacked for courage against them.
It must have been that winter that I lost Beauty. I’d gone back to teach in Iowa, and my horses were staying in a pasture my landlord owned. It was very hilly and wooded, with creeks running through it, and the horses had plenty of space and grass. I fed them hay each night, and some grain, and one evening only my black horse was waiting for his feed. I knew Beauty was missing, and figured she had gotten out of the fence and gone visiting the neighbor’s horses. I drove around to different places where I knew there were horses, but no one had seen her.
I called the sheriff, but he had no reports of a wandering horse or anyone hitting one on the roads. I began to think she had been stolen, and put in a report at the sheriff’s office. I talked to every horse owner I knew, and tried to spread the word. I couldn’t understand why Beauty would be missing, since my black gelding was by far the more attractive and valuable horse. So one night I decided to cover the pasture on foot. I hadn’t gone far when I found her, fallen into a steep ravine, lying on her back under a large tree that crossed the ravine. I don’t know how it could have happened, but she was dead, either from a broken back or from lying there trapped beneath that sideways tree.
It broke my heart to lose her, but I didn’t spend a lot of time feeling sorry for myself. I had lost a colt in high school to a terrible injury, and spent years blaming myself and crying and feeling horrible, so this time I knew how to handle loss a lot better. I never can find a reason for a sudden and unexpected death. I don’t blame God for it, even though I know He controls everything, and I always feel that He gives and He takes away but He always has my best interest in mind. So when I lost Beauty, I just counted myself blessed to have known her and been the best thing that ever came along in her life.
I have owned many horses, and have ridden hundreds. But of them all, if I could have just one horse, it would be Beauty. I called her my little Ragamuffin or Muffinhead because she was not much to look at but I loved her. I’ll always miss her and wish I could have her back, she was the greatest match for me and I’ll never find another horse like her. I love the memories I have of her, and I’m happy with the way things are. She was the best horse of my life.
