I believe this post will serve only as an introduction to the horse I spent most of my lifetime getting to know, because there are so many stories about Rudy I could fill a whole book with them. Since I was a little girl I wanted a horse of my own, and amid the flurries of growing up with six other siblings on a working cattle ranch, the one theme of my life was always horses.
When I was very young I had chosen a colt for my own, but a couple of years later that colt was sold off with a bunch of others, and my dad told me to choose again. This was a big opportunity for me, as I was older and wiser in my horse knowledge, and I knew I wanted a good riding horse. So I picked the first foal by our Two Eyed Jack grandson stallion and the last foal out of our Three Bars bred Quarter Horse mare, Tasha Jo. This colt was a graying bay roan named Rudy, and I chose him because he acted nice and was built nice.
Rudy was born in 1988. I don’t remember working with Rudy when he was very young. I am certain that his halter breaking and gentling was already done by my older sister Kandra, before I got my hands on him. But Rudy took to riding with ease, and I know I rode him some his two-year-old year. I would have been just twelve years old, and Rudy was my first real endeavor at training a horse to ride. My dad always said that a person ruins the first colt they train, as they have to learn so many things through trial and error and their first colt becomes the guinea pig they learn on. But Rudy had so much potential and natural talent, that the things I did wrong didn’t harm him too badly.
I rode him a little as a two-year-old, and then he was put out to pasture with the other colts to fatten up and grow some more. I remember wanting to work with him and ride him, so I got on my sister’s horse Johannes, and rode out the couple of miles it was to the pasture where Rudy was spending his summer. I caught Rudy and let the other horse go, and used the side of a hill to shimmy up on his back, bareback. The other colts were all getting rowdy at greeting Johannes and welcoming him to their group, and they all galloped away towards the windmill, kicking up their heels. I remember Rudy wanting to run after them, and I foolishly held him back. Then we started trotting, and he started jumping sideways, and I fell off and he pulled the reins through my hands and ran away after them. I can still feel the sting and how my fingers just curled up from the blistering the reins left on them. I walked to the windmill and soaked my hand in the cold water. Then I caught Rudy and climbed onto his back again and made him leave the others and ride on home.
Rudy was three when I really started using him to work cattle, and I remember he didn’t know much about reining. A big mistake I made was not teaching him to give his head to the rein pressure, and I switched him out of a snaffle bit much too soon. I remember going out that winter to bring in cows that had calved and their babies, to the shelter of a tree-lined paddock where they would be fed and cared for, apart from the rest of the herd. Rudy was great as far as behaving and not worrying about his buddies or wanting to turn home. But he didn’t have a clue what the reins were for, and the curb bit really confused him. I remember reaching up and taking the side of the headstall in my hand to turn his face whichever way I needed him to go, and that is how we worked pairs in off the field that winter. We both learned so much, and I will be forever grateful for the patience he always showed me in my beginnings as a rider and trainer, because I could have gotten in a heap of trouble if I’d been on a less willing horse.
Rudy was about four before he became a runaway. My sister Kellie and I were typical teenage kids, and we liked to race our horses once in awhile. She had a big bay horse named Monte whom she thought the world of, and he could beat any of the other horses on our ranch. She wanted to see how fast Rudy was, so she begged me to let her ride him and race me on another horse. Rudy did run well, but after that he was always wanting to run and would find any opportunity to do so. Once I was carrying a lariat rope and the end of it came loose and touched him on the flank, and he was off and running, going about two miles before I could get him stopped. Another time, I was using my sister’s saddle blanket, and it was starting to slip back. I turned in the saddle and reached back to straighten it a little, and Rudy spooked and jumped, throwing me off in a mud puddle, and running away.
I never quit riding Rudy, and never felt scared with him, even when he was out of control. We made it a rule on the ranch that only Dad or myself were allowed to ride him, and before long Rudy was one of the very best horses we had if you wanted to sort or work cattle, because he was so willing and quick and wanted to work hard. He never lagged behind, you always had to hold him back from the cow. If anything, he was too eager, and that was refreshing when you compared him with some of the other lazy ranch geldings. Dad used Rudy quite a bit for roping and ranch work, and any time Rudy would get his head up and start speeding up and feeling edgy, you would hear Dad talking to him in a gruff voice, telling him to settle down and mind his business. My oldest brother always scoffed at me, saying I just wasn’t pulling hard enough when Rudy was running away, and that if it ever happened to him, he would be able to stop him easily. Well, Rudy went through a field of standing corn with my brother soon after that, and almost ran into the irrigation pivot in the middle of the cornfield, with corn so high you couldn’t see where he was going….my brother didn’t brag anymore after that.
I owned Rudy until I was graduating from college and needed some money, and then my Dad bought him from me. Ten years later, I’m regretting that a little, because I would sure love to own him now. He is twenty-two years old now, and still in fabulous shape. I rode him a few months back, while we were out visiting on my folks’ ranch in Idaho. We had some cattle work to do, and like always, I chose Rudy for the job. Flying through the sagebrush after a couple of calves that turned back from the herd, I felt just like a kid again, trusting the horse completely to do the best job possible, even at the fastest of speeds. Rudy has my highest regard, in the world of horses. There is no other like him, and I count myself blessed to have called him my own.
