The Little Endurance Horse That Could

Nick Warhol

 

            Kismet stood alone at the pasture fence, gazing in at the horses being ridden in the large sand arena.  The small, grubby, ragged looking little bay horse swished his tangled tail back and forth at the mass of flies that refused to stop landing on his back.  He usually wandered up to the arena fence from the pasture each day in the early afternoon, since it seemed to be the time of day where most of the horses’ people came to the barn.  His small, dark brown eyes longingly scanned the arena; he sighed a long, slow, deliberate breath that scattered the many flies from his small nose.  There were three riders in the arena, all riding horses that Kismet knew.  He stood motionless as he watched the horses and riders enjoy themselves romping around in the dark, cool, sand of the covered arena.  Kismet noticed his only friend Chico was one of the horses in the arena; he was being ridden energetically by his owner.  Chico is a large, strong, ten-year-old buckskin Quarter Horse.  His man always came to the barn to ride Chico three days a week; he liked to chase cows on the big Quarter Horse in his spare time. The pair also loved to perform these spectacular sliding stops that really impressed Kismet.  Sometimes Kismet would hear Chico laugh out loud as the heavy buckskin and his rider ran full speed across the arena, he would then tuck his rear legs underneath his stomach and slide to a stop, spewing dust and sand all over, as his rider shouted “Yee-Haw!”

             Kismet let a breath out and watched sadly as Sir Thunder danced about with his lady in the arena as usual, performing some exquisite trot to canter transition movements; he did these with a smoothness and elegance not usually seen in a horse his size.  Thunder was a huge, shiny, black horse from Europe; Kismet thought he had heard the horse was called an Olden-something.  Thunder’s lady wore a funny hat and fancy clothes when she rode, but they looked so graceful as they pranced about in the sand.  The horse and rider duo looked like a single being in harmony when they rode in that incredible manner.  Thunder might have been laughed at by many of the other horses, since he was always decorated with tiny ribbons in his mane when he was being ridden.  With Thunder’s size and ability, being ridiculed was never a problem.  All the horses at the barn knew when Thunder was in the arena, since he has such a spectacular presence about him.  Kismet also heard that Thunder’s lady used a saddle on her big horse that was worth as much as most horses cost!  This pair would trailer out from the barn and compete in special events every couple of weeks.  Kismet had always been impressed with Thunder but had never really talked to him. 

            There was Spotty, the little Appaloosa mare being ridden by her young owner.  The young girl loved Spotty so much, Kismet knew.  She was at the barn every day for two or three hours and absolutely worshipped her horse.  Spotty’s owner never really rode or worked the horse much, but that was just fine with the little Appy.  The young girl considered her horse her very best friend; the two spent most of their time just hanging out together.  Spotty was acknowledged by the rest of the horses as one of the luckiest horses at the barn, since Spotty shared the poor life in the pasture with Kismet not too long before.

            Kismet was by far the unluckiest horse at the barn.  He was a very small horse, who had been abandoned just after his birth due to his owner not paying his monthly board.  The little bay gelding was now barely four years old, just over thirteen hands high and had no real distinguishing marks or characteristics.  He had always lived out in the pasture since he was an orphan.  There were usually eight or more horses living out in the big pasture, but they never seemed to stay around the barn very long.  The pasture was known to all the horses at the barn as the worst place to live, since it seemed that’s where the horses ended up who were mostly on their own.  The one exception was Chico, who seemed to be Kismet’s only real friend.  Chico lived in the pasture, but that was because he had grown up in the desert and hated the small stall his owner had tried to put him in.  It was a good thing Chico looked out for Kismet, because the other horses in the pasture didn’t like the small orphan and would take all of his food if Chico weren’t around.  They would continually tease and torment the lonely horse, for no reason other than he was small. 

            The barn itself was a wonderful place for horses to live.  There were many well-kept equestrian facilities; the barn was situated on the border of a regional park, which provided miles and miles of riding trails. Thunder, Spotty and about twenty other horses all lived in nice dry stalls or paddocks and had their bedding changed daily.  They would always get two meals a day of quality hay, plus special grain if their humans requested it.  The barn had two nice turnout pens for horses that lived in stalls and it was here that Kismet was able to talk to some of the horses while they were turned out.  Most of the horses didn’t pay any attention to Kismet; a few thought he was just a runt and that he deserved no special consideration.  Kismet would often try and start a conversation with the horses, since he was so lonely and desperately wanted friends.  Usually they would just laugh at him, or call him “shrimp boat.”

            Kismet stood quietly at the fence on this sunny afternoon, watching the horses prance about in the arena.  He sluggishly turned his head and glanced over at the tack room, noticing a few more people working with their individual horses.  Some of the humans were grooming their steeds, one horse was getting new shoes and another was being fed warm bran mash from a clean black tub.  Kismet looked down at his front feet, which had not been trimmed in over a year.  His mane was all knotted, tangled and full of dried mud.  He shuffled his feet, sighed again and turned to look at the new commotion beside him.  The barn boys were feeding the pasture horses; there was much excitement among the many animals that were anticipating their meal.  It was the afternoon and that meant oat hay!  Kismet started to walk over to where the boys were pitching the hay over the fence, but was stopped in his tracks at the sharp bark from El-Dorado.

            “Back off, Shrimp!” the huge quarter horse growled at Kismet, his ears pinned flat against his head. The nasty horse sneered at Kismet for a moment, then went back to eating the tasty oat hay. 

“You can eat the leftovers, maybe!” snickered Pepper.  El-Dorado laughed as he stuffed his mouth with the fresh hay.

Kismet didn’t know what kind of horse Pepper was; just that he was big and mean.  These two were the worst, and since Chico was not in the pasture at the moment, Kismet would have to wait to eat his dinner again.  He wandered back over to the fence to look in the arena again. Oh, how I wish I had a human, Kismet said to himself, sadly.  He often wondered what kind of horse he was, since he never remembered having parents, or ever having any humans to call his own.   He felt so lonely sometimes and so alone.  He did the best he could to pass the dreary days by watching the horses in the arena and dreaming.   He hung his head and gazed into the arena as he heard Spotty and her young owner laughing together.  A small tear welled up in his eye, rolled down his muzzle and splattered off the ground by his long foot.

                                                *          *          *          *

            The next day there was a lot of discussion and commotion among the horses at the stables.  That could only mean one thing!  There were new horses coming in!  The rumor had spread when Philipee, the curious Welsh Pony, heard the barn owner talking to three women who were visiting the barn a few days before.  Kismet walked over to his spot near the fence, wondering when the new horses would arrive. 

Maybe one might be my friend, he silently hoped. 

Just as Kismet was thinking about the newcomers, a low, throaty rumble sounded in the driveway.  Into the parking area pulled a huge diesel pickup with a big camper on the back, pulling a new three-horse slant model trailer.  Behind it came a huge black pickup with dual rear wheels pulling the longest, nicest trailer Kismet had ever seen.  Just then, Chico walked up to Kismet and dropped a big mouthful of oat hay at Kismet’s feet.

“Here you go, little one,” Chico said. 

Kismet instantly started gulping down the hay, since it was the first time he had eaten in more than a day. 

Boy, that’s good!   Kismet thought, as he wolfed down the tasty hay. 

“Have you ever seen the likes of that trailer?” Chico asked, his dark eyes fixed on the parking area. 

Kismet looked up and nodded in agreement.  His mouth was too full to talk.  The trailer was indeed something to behold: a shiny, silver, four-horse gooseneck, complete with full living quarters.  This rig was nicer than the one Thunder’s owner drove.  The trucks had parked and the three women began the process of unloading the horses. The barn owner walked up, smiled and began helping the women.  He was a big, jolly, ex-cowboy who loved horses and hated to see anything bad happen to any animal. 

The first new horse backed slowly out of the smaller trailer and Kismet knew immediately it was an Arabian.  A fine looking, 14.2 hand, Arabian mare hopped out of the trailer, and after glancing around, she began snorting and sniffing the smells of the new barn. She was a genuine dapple-gray, with a multitude of color flecks all over her shiny coat.  She looked back at the trailer, watching as her friend climbed out backwards down the long, black, ramp.  It was another Arabian, a gray gelding.  This one looked a little older and was more relaxed as it walked past the truck. The mare brought immediate attention from some of the horses at the barn. 

“Whooo-eee, baby!” shouted Pepper from the pasture.  “Look at that honey, will ya?” 

“Oh shut up,” replied  El-Dorado.  “You think you’re good enough for something like that?” 

“Better than you, you old pin head,” snarled Pepper, with his ears back.  The two pasture horses made cat-calls and whistled as the very attractive nine year old mare pranced by with her long tail waving in the air.  She ignored the pasture horses for the most part but it was easy to see she liked getting the attention.

            That was the last sound any horse at the entire barn made for a few moments.  The third horse was being unloaded from the long silver trailer and when those four hoofs hit the ground, every eye at the barn was riveted on the new animal.  Chico watched and breathed out a slight “whew” in disbelief.  Kismet stopped chewing as he stared at the new resident in wonder.  He certainly had never seen anything like this horse before. 

One of the women led the horse by a special lead rope and began to walk him around the barn to help him become familiar with his new surroundings.  The extraordinary animal was a Spanish Arabian Stallion, who stood a true 16.1 hands high.  He was a fire-red chestnut, with four long white stockings on his legs and a full white blaze from his forehead to the tip of his nose.  He had a long, thick, sandy colored mane, and his red tail stood straight up in the air when he moved about.  His head was the shape of an Arabian horse statue; his feet were as big as pie plates.  His legs were so muscled he looked like an equine weight lifter, except that he was totally fit from the tip of his ears to the bottom of his hoofs.  He had a certain air of confidence about him as he walked around, looking at the other horses.  His owner put him in the large turnout, while the other two new horses were placed in the turnout that was adjacent to the pasture.

            Kismet looked at the three new horses and decided to go over and introduce himself.  He wanted to take a chance and thought it would be wise to talk to them before Pepper and El-Dorado had a chance to tell the new horses stories about him.   He slowly walked over and introduced himself to the two new horses. 

“H-hi there, welcome to the barn,” he said shyly, with his tail between his legs and his head held down.  The dappled mare that came out of the trailer first looked over and trotted up to Kismet with a graceful trot the likes of which Kismet had not seen before. 

“Hi there yourself, cutie,” replied the mare. 

Kismet blushed, then looked at Chico, who nickered his approval. 

Kismet raised his head.  “What’s your name?” He was able to ask without stammering.

“Karranduski,” the beautiful mare replied, “but you can call me Dusty.  The lazy, gray, guy over there is Dewars.”  The gray gelding looked over from across the pen and nodded his head at Kismet. 

Kismet got up his courage and asked, “What about the stallion?” 

“Oh, that’s Rhyolyte,” replied Dusty, turning her head to look at the red horse in the next pen that was trotting around in huge circles to stretch his long legs.  “He’s just a big show off, but you should see him go on the trail!” 

“What kind of riding do your people do?” asked Kismet, a bit timidly.

 “Oh, we do endurance,” she replied, almost casually. 

“Endurance?  What’s that?” asked Kismet, his eyes growing larger. 

“You don’t know?” she replied.  “Oh, it’s the best there is.  We get to go out and ride on trails and in the mountains for hours and hours every week; on weekends we get to do fifty and one hundred mile races, sometimes with a hundred or more other horses.”

Wow, thought Kismet. That must be the life.  He was pondering a little bit about what she had just told him, when she interrupted his thoughts.  

“How about you?” Dusty asked the small horse. 

Kismet paused and slowly told her he did not have a human of his own.  He tried to hide his long toes, after seeing her perfectly shaped feet, complete with the newest polyurethane competition shoes. Dusty was very perceptive and understood immediately about the little horse. 

“Oh, I understand,” she told him, in a very soft, sympathetic voice.  “You hang in there.  Any horse as cute as you will get a person.  You just wait.  And thanks for not lying.  I HATE lying.”

Oh, I like her!  thought the little horse as she smiled at him.  She turned around and trotted back over to the gray gelding, who playfully reared up on his hind legs at her approach.  The two new horses began to run around in the pen, playing and laughing together.  Kismet sighed again, turned and walked back over to where Chico was standing. 

            “She seems real nice, and they get to do something called endurance riding,” Kismet told Chico. 

“Yeah, I’ve heard of that,” replied Chico, in a low, mellow voice.  Chico was so cool.  He spoke with a slight Spanish accent, which Kismet thought made Chico intelligent.  “It’s a lot of work, but if you are competitive and are in shape, it’s supposed to be a lot of fun.  I’m not interested, though.  Too old.” 

Kismet listened and thought to himself: Endurance!  He walked back to his favorite position looking at the arena and watched the riders.  Endurance.  Endurance.  Endurance.  He kept turning the word over and over in his mind as he watched the humans ride their horses.

                                    *          *          *          *

            Kismet woke up the next morning to the sounds of a horse screaming, the likes of which he had never heard.  It sounded earth shaking, terrifying and exciting all at the same time.  He quickly ran up the hill to the fence and stared in shock at the horse in the large turnout.  It was Rhyolyte; he was running, bucking and bellowing like his life depended on it.  Kismet watched him race around and around the arena, smashing all turnout pen speed records ever set at the barn.  The dust and dirt flew from his hoofs as he tore around the pen; every horse at the barn was riveted as they stared silently at the spectacle.  Rhyolyte’s owner was leaning up against the fence, she called him over to her when she thought that he had enough exercise.  He stormed up, screeched to a halt and stood there, with his nostrils flaring. 

“I guess you like it here just fine,” she said to the huge horse as she held out her hand.  He sniffed it and dropped his head.  She patted him a couple of times, told him to relax and walked away. 

Rhyolyte gazed around at the sights of the new barn, taking in as much as he could.  There were always so many new things to see and smell in a new place!  As he carefully surveyed his new home, he spotted the small pair of eyes watching him from the pasture. With an explosive burst Rhyolyte leaped over to the edge of the turnout where Kismet was standing.  Kismet looked up and saw the red horses’ head towering above him.  At first the little horse was terrified and thought he should run away, but he didn’t and held his ground. 

“Hey there, little guy!” the huge red horse said in a deep, but friendly voice.  “Dusty told me about you.  How you doing?” 

Kismet was too stunned to speak, he just stood there shaking, looking up at the massive Arabian.  The stallion’s voice was amazing.  It was clear, loud and so very strong! 

“What, can’t talk?  Come on in here, lets have some fun!” hollered the stallion. Kismet watched as the huge horse stuck his head in the pipe fence and lifted it up, three feet above the ground!  “Come on in!” 

Kismet meekly entered the turnout, barely even having to duck his head.  Rhyolyte dropped the fence with a clang, which made a startled Pepper jump three feet.  The two horses standing next to each other in the pen were a comical sight to behold.  It looked like Kismet could almost walk right under Rhyolyte’s stomach.

 “Let’s see what you got!” Rhyolyte shouted as he started running in the arena, but at a much more sedate pace.  Kismet paused for a second, but then started running around the edge of the arena, slowly at first, but picking up speed with each lap.  The huge red horse followed Kismet, shouting encouragement and laughing.  “Come on boy, let it rip!”

Kismet was running as fast as he could go, while the big red horse was barely working to stay behind him.  Kismet was really running and his lungs were straining, but he suddenly realized: hey, this is fun!   He had never been in a turnout and threw up the biggest buck he could muster.  His rear legs flew up and he actually left the ground for a second.  WOW!  He was running and running, all the while Rhyolyte was trotting along behind him. 

“Whoa now, little guy,” said the big horse.  “I don’t think you’re in shape for this kind of stuff.  Feels good, though, doesn’t it?” 

“It sure do-does,” replied the little horse, fighting for breath.  He was puffing and panting like a racehorse! 

“I though so! You can talk!” laughed the stallion.

            Just then Pepper and El-Dorado walked up from the pasture to the fence and started heckling Kismet.

“Look at the midget!  What a joke!  He might finish last in the snail race!  I’ve seen faster mules!  What a spode!  Haw! Haw! Haw! Ha...”  

Pepper’s last “Haw” was cut off by a shower of dirt and the shadow of Rhyolyte towering above him. 

Uh-oh! thought El-Dorado, whose mouth was full of alfalfa hay.  Pepper looked up at the overwhelming stallion and held his breath. 

“Listen and listen once!” snarled the huge horse. “You even think about teasing that horse again and I’ll kick you all the way across the field into the next county.”  Rhyolyte lifted the fence above Peppers head for extra effect.  “Fences don’t mean much to me, got it?” 

“Y-y-yep,” stammered the terrified horse, who immediately spun around and galloped down the hill. 

El-Dorado looked at Pepper fleeing, looked at Rhyolyte holding the fence up, looked at Pepper again, mumbled something under his breath, turned and walked down to the pasture.  Kismet could not believe it and was still trying to catch his breath when he saw people coming.

            The barn owner was walking up to the pasture with the three new woman, a fourth woman and a young girl.  Kismet tried to hide behind Rhyolyte, but the barn owner saw him and asked,  “how’d you get in there, little one?”  He turned to grab a halter to remove the little horse. 

“It’s okay,” said Rhyolyte’s owner. “The big man likes company.” 

“All right,” said the barn owner.  “Now then, the horse I was going to show Molly is out here in the pasture.  I think he’ll make a good horse for her to begin on.” 

Kismet heard this and his ears stood straight up on his head.  A horse to begin on?  For the young girl?  Kismet’s mind began to race, and gathering his courage, he trotted slowly over to the fence and nickered loudly at the young girl.  Kismet’s mind flashed back to last year, when another young girl had come to the pasture with the owner to pick out her first horse.  It was Spotty who was selected, and now Spotty had the best owner at the barn.  Kismet did not realize last year that the girl was horse shopping, now he was not about to let this opportunity escape him. 

Four of the pasture horses came running up to the fence.  Pepper and El-Dorado were right at the front of the pack.  Kismet heard Pepper snicker to El-Dorado, “Hey suckers, here’s where I get out of this muddy hole at last!” 

Not if I can help it, Kismet thought to himself, moving closer to the fence where the young girl stood.

            Molly is a blonde girl of thirteen and the daughter of a good friend of Rhyolyte’s owner.  She was typical of a horse-crazy teenager: very cute, energetic and absolutely dedicated to horses.  Molly was an excellent student and seemed to be one of those rare cases these days; she was a really nice kid.  She had been taking riding lessons off and on for some time and was a good rider, according to her instructor.  Molly’s father had died a few years before, so having their own horse had always been financially out of the question.  Now that the three women had moved to the barn, Molly’s mother could afford to let Molly get more serious about horses, since the three riders were willing to help with some of the expenses.  These women really liked Molly and were excited about the prospect of helping her with her passion.

             Molly paused at the turnout pen when she saw Kismet come trotting up. “Hi Rhyolyte,” she said sweetly to the huge chestnut and then glanced over at the little bay who shared the stallion’s pen.

OH PLEASE look at me!  Kismet concentrated as hard as he could.  Please pick me!  He was not sure how to act. Why can’t horses talk to people?  To appear to be wild was not good, but he did want to catch her attention.  He kept thinking about Spotty’s new life and cherished an opportunity at the same happiness.  Kismet wanted a human of his own so badly!  He did not care where he lived, as long as he could have an owner.  Please! Please!  His heart was pounding with anticipation. A thousand things flashed through his mind at the same time. He stared hard at Molly, who had stopped and was looking at him. The other people had stopped at the end of the corral. 

“Hey Molly! Come on! The horse I have in mind is out here!” 

Molly turned and started walking away.  

No! No! Please! Come back! Come back!   Kismet was desperate.  He decided this was the only chance for a human he was going to get, at least for a long time.  He began tossing his head and running around, following Molly as she walked along the fence. 

            Just then Rhyolyte walked over, put his head down under Kismet’s belly, snorted and lifted the small horse up a foot in the air, dropping him down in full view of the women. 

“Hmmm.  Rhyolyte sure seems to like that little guy,” said his owner.   Molly stopped and looked at Kismet again.  Kismet summoned all the concentration he knew, in order to look at her with sheer intensity.  

Molly took a step towards the pen and said, “You know, with a little cleaning up and some shoeing work, he might look okay.” 

Kismet was holding his breath.  Rhyolyte kicked him gently, sending Kismet sliding right up to the fence, where his nose was a few inches from Molly’s hand.  She stuck her hand out and touched Kismet on the nose.  Oh, she smells so good!” though Kismet 

“Well, I don’t know much about him,” said the barn owner as he walked over.  “He’s been here a long time, but he’s too small for anything useful.  I’ve been trying to sell him, but have had no takers. What are you going to do with your first horse?”

“Endurance!” Molly said, with an excited twinkle in her eye. 

Kismet’s heart skipped a beat.  The pressure was too much.  He was feeling faint!  He stared at Molly as hard as he could. 

“I’d give him to you for three hundred bucks.  That way you can get his feet done and get him some small tack.  I’ll even throw in a very small saddle I have over at the house.” 

“What do you think, mom?” Molly turned and asked her mother. 

“What kind of horse is he?” Molly’s mother asked the barn owner.

“He’s an Arabian, and I have his papers somewhere,” said the man. 

“Well, that’s good,” said one of the women.  “I still think Molly should get an Arab and I like the idea of a small one to start.” 

“I don’t know,” said the woman who owned Rhyolyte.  “He’s pretty small.”  Kismet turned to look at each person as they spoke. 

“Not everyone can have a horse like yours, you know,” the first woman said to the second, with a little laugh.

“I don’t care how small he is, I want him,” said Molly, in a very quiet, but deliberate voice.  “He’s looking at me kind of special, and the other horses don’t do that, except for Dusty.  I like that.  What’s his name?” 

“Kismet,” replied the barn owner, who began to chuckle. 

“I will call him Kizmee,” said Molly, confidently.

            When Kismet heard this, he could not believe it.  He was an Arabian!  And he now had a human!  Just like that!  He was in shock.  Rhyolyte nickered loudly, winked at Kismet and trotted away to see his owner.  The other horses in the pasture grumbled and walked away along the fence. 

Molly took a halter into the pen and slipped it on gently up over Kismet’s head.  He did not remember having one of these on his face before, but would not have cared if she had put a water bucket on his head.  Molly started to pick away at the mud that was caked on Kismet’s head and ears and he realized when she scratched his skin it felt so good!  He was shaking as he stood there next to her and when she patted his head and smiled, another little tear rolled down his nose, except this time it was a tiny tear of joy.

                                                *          *          *          *

            Molly came to the barn every day after school, like clockwork.  She spent almost a whole day cleaning her new horse for the first time, and after that she always kept him thoroughly groomed.   Kismet was quickly moved from the pasture into a big, dry paddock. It was not a stall, but it was the same as Rhyolyte lived in and if it was good enough for the big man, it was good enough for Kismet.   He got to eat his food every day and before long he began to fill out. Eventually he began to look more and more like a horse should.  He had his first taste of a warm bran mash and crimped oats and was astounded at how good it tasted.  No wonder the horses nickered and called out to greet their owners when they saw them coming!  Kismet could not wait to see Molly each day and would be ready and waiting when she got out of her mom’s car.  He could tell when the car was driving up, even when they were a half a mile away.  Molly would bring him his daily carrot and tell him he was a good boy.  It always made Kismet blush a little bit when she did that.  The farrier came and trimmed Kismet’s feet down to a normal size; he tacked the small shoes on with no complaint from the horse. 

“Hmmm, nice strong feet,” said the farrier as he shaped the small hoof with his rasp. 

Molly had been leading Kismet around the barn on a lead rope, teaching him groundwork.  Kismet wished he could tell Molly she had nothing to worry about.  He would die before he let anything happen to her.  They spent a lot of time walking around the barn, making Kismet feel like a prince as he walked by the other horses with his human, while the horses watched in envy from their stalls.  One day Molly took Kismet into the big arena for the first time.  He was so excited at the prospect of this new adventure!  Kismet had watched horses in the arena for so long and now he actually was going in there with his human!  He felt a little pang of emotion as he walked right past the spot he used to stand on at the pasture fence.  This time he was on the correct side of the fence.  There was Thunder at work in the arena and even the giant dressage horse said “Hi” as he cantered by, performing flying lead changes as easily as most other horses walked.  Molly allowed Kismet to roll in the sand; he gingerly knelt down and flopped over on his side.  He rolled over and over, the cool sand feeling so good on his body.  That felt so much better than the sloppy mud or dry, powdery dust he was used to rolling around in.

Molly tied a long rope to his halter and told him they were going to do some “lunching.”  Oh boy, we get to eat up here, too? wondered Kismet, a bit perplexed.  She asked him to walk around her in big circles and he immediately realized what he was supposed to do.  He had seen all the horses up here do this trick and he was ready.  He was quickly trotting around Molly in nice round circles, much to the delight of her instructor.  It felt so good to move!  Kismet’s muscles had begun to develop and he found it so much easier to exercise on a regular basis.  He was no longer out of breath all the time. 

One of his fondest moments was that very day on the way back down from the arena, when Dewars said to him in passing:  “Hey there, little man. You’re starting to look pretty good.  I better tell Rhyolyte he’s in for some competition soon!”  Kismet felt so good after that, he stuck his little tail straight up in the air as he returned to his paddock.  After all, he was an Arabian, just like Rhyolyte!

                                                *          *          *          *

            The day soon came when Molly’s teacher said she was ready to have Molly ride Kismet.  The night before the big day, Kismet really wanted a chance to talk to Dusty, but she was out of town at an endurance ride.  Molly came up early on Saturday morning ready for her first ride.  She turned Kismet out in the small pen for a few minutes while she got ready. 

Chico came over to the fence and called to his buddy Kismet.  Kismet bounded over to see his friend.  He really missed being able to talk to Chico every day, but he was sure Chico understood. 

“Hey little guy, you got it made!” said Chico, with a slow, happy voice. 

“I am so happy!”  Kismet told his friend. “But I’m worried about our ride today. What should I do?  She’s riding me for the first time.  I don’t wanna’ mess up!” 

“Easy,” Chico told his friend.  “All you have to do is relax and do what she asks you to. My only advice: stand still when she gets on and try not to worry about the bit in your mouth.  You’ll hate it at first, but don’t let it bother you.  Lucky for you Molly knows how to ride and better yet, she has a riding teacher.  It’s a real drag to get a rider who has never ridden a horse before.  I still have those welts on my sides from that jerk in Bakersfield that used to own me.  Good Luck!” 

            Kismet did not need to worry.  Molly was a very good rider and they spent the first lesson getting to know each other.  It was a very strange sensation for Kismet to have a rider on his back, but after ten minutes, he did not want her to ever get off.  The young duo spent most of the lesson walking around the sand arena, while Molly concentrated on her body position and controlling their speed.  Molly’s instructor asked Molly to do a little trotting, which Kismet did effortlessly.  As Molly posted the trot with a nice, easy rhythm, her instructor commented on how nicely the horse moved at this gait.  The lesson ended and Molly was so very happy she hugged Kismet, who nickered at her. 

“Thank you, Kizmee,” Molly said to him. “You are going to be a great horse, very soon!”  She put him back in his paddock after cleaning him all up.  Kismet realized that her saddle was a little uncomfortable on his back when she rode, but he did not care.  Kismet was as happy as a horse could be.

              Just then the big silver trailer pulled into the parking lot and out came Rhyolyte.  He looked normal, but he did not quite have the same energy flowing through his body he normally did.   He was put out in the turnout where he rolled around in the dirt; he stood up slowly, shook himself off, and let out a long breath.  It was not until later than evening that Kismet got a chance to talk to his big friend.  They were tied up at the wash rack together when Kismet began questioning the stallion. 

“How did it go? Are you OK?  Tell me all about it!” shouted Kismet excitedly. 

“Oh, I’m fine, just a little tired,” replied Rhyolyte. “We did a hundred mile ride over at Washoe, but got lost near the end.  We had to go an extra ten miles, all up hill.  We still finished fourth after all that and I got best condition.  That’s what my rider wants and I like to help her out.”  Kismet realized the big horse was fine, but Kismet still wanted to know everything about endurance riding. “I’ll tell you, next chance we get,” replied Rhyolyte as his owner walked up and untied the big horse.   She rubbed his neck as they walked off together.

            The next day, as luck would have it, Molly had to go to her cousin’s house in the city.  Kismet got turned out for three hours and Rhyolyte was in the next pen.  The big horse was back to his old self, running around, just not quite as animated as before the ride.  He felt much better since the extra food and a night’s sleep did wonders for him.  Rhyolyte spent an hour or so telling Kismet all about endurance riding while Kismet listened intensely.  Heck- I have never even been on the trail!  thought Kismet.  When he was done, Rhyolyte summarized for Kismet the four most important things he could tell him about Endurance riding.  “First- Any horse can do it, all it takes is heart.  Second- Be smart, use your head, help your rider as best you can.  Third- Never worry about going fast, that will come with time.   Lastly, and most important of all- finishing the ride with you and your rider sound is everything.”  Kismet tilted his head and looked at Rhyolyte.  “Don’t go fast?”  puzzled Kismet.  “I thought it was a race!”   “It is,” replied the big horse, but then changed his voice to a very serious tone.  “But going too fast too soon is what gets horses in trouble.  A good rider will take a long time to get us ready to go faster.”    “Like your rider?” asked Kismet.  “Yes,” the big horse replied, and then smiled.  “She’s the best.  We spent three years going real slow while my muscles and body grew.  It got easier and easier for me as the months went by.”  He paused and looked up in the air.  “I remember my first ride, a fifty at Mount Diablo, I was so sore afterwards I could hardly move.  It took us nine hours, but it seemed a lot longer.”  Kismet was listening to his friend’s words, letting them sink in.  Rhyolyte shook his head and cleared the memories of a long time ago.  “Anyway, you’ll see soon enough, after your first ride.” 

                                                *          *          *          *

            The next few months went by so fast for Kismet he could not believe it.  There was an entire world out there beyond the barn he never dreamed existed.  His first trail ride was quite exhilarating.  He was nervous at first, but kept remembering that Molly would not let anything happen to him.  He jumped hard when the bicycle startled him from behind, but Molly did not like that very much, so he knew he better make an attempt to relax more.  They started walking for an hour, then two, then three, then longer.  Kismet found it easier and easier to climb the hills.  He figured the hills must somehow get less steep the more times you climbed them.  They started trotting and he even got to canter out there!  They went on rides with other horses and Kismet found he never had any trouble keeping up with any of them.  Until they went out for a short ride with Rhyolyte.  Boy, Dusty had been right about one thing the day Kismet had met her.  That stallion went fast!  Molly laughed as Kismet tried to stay with the big horse, but they had to hold back and slow down.   That evening, Rhyolyte told Kismet he and his rider were training for a ride called the Tevis, and that it would be his first try at it.  Kismet wondered when he could do his first endurance ride, but Molly seemed to be in no hurry.

            One fine Saturday morning Molly came to the barn, but instead of preparing Kismet for a ride, she put some strange pink wraps on his legs and led him out into the parking lot.  Kismet wondered what they were doing, until he saw a door on the back of the big trailer open.  Uh-oh, the little horse thought.  We are going in that trailer.  Sure enough, Molly led him to the door and asked him to go in.  Kismet stopped at the ramp and peered meekly inside, but it was so dark in there and there seemed no way out!  He paused at the door, thinking.  Molly hopped inside and asked him to come in.  She had carrots!  He moved forward and without thinking, put his front feet up on the trailer.  Yikes!  thought Kismet as he backed down to the ground.  Molly was persistent and kept talking to him.  Kismet remembered what Rhyolyte had told him: Molly will not do anything to hurt you.  Besides, if Rhyolyte rides in this trailer, I can, too!   He held his breath, jumped in, walked forward and started to panic.  Molly was there, next to him, talking to him, offering him a carrot.  He felt a bar slam shut behind him; he took two steps forward and stuck his head out an open window.  Hey, there’s Chico!  Right at that moment Chico and his owner were walking across the parking lot. 

“Way to go, little guy,” said Chico as he saw Kismet in the trailer. 

“Whoa!”  thought Kismet.  His head was up so high in the trailer, he was actually looking down at Chico as he and his owner walked past.  OK, I guess this is not so bad, decided the little horse.  Besides, the hug that Molly gave Kismet made the trailer seem like a pretty good place to be.  The three endurance woman stood nearby, talking about how they could not believe how easy it had been to get the horse into the trailer.

                                                *          *          *          *

            Kismet’s first trailer ride resulted in the best time he ever had.  Dewars, Dusty and Kismet all got in the trailer together and got taken out to a campground up in the mountains.  The two veteran horses seemed at ease in the trailer and spent their ride eating and watching the scenery go by. This trailer even had small water troughs on the walls.  Kismet was glad to get out of the moving vehicle, but once he stepped outside he looked around at his surroundings in bewilderment.  He was in the forest!  There were huge trees covering the hills, and everywhere he looked there was green foliage.  What are we going to do here?  The other horses seemed perfectly relaxed and were being put into a little portable corral that was being set up by one of the women.  Molly tied Kismet to the side of the trailer and gave him a bag with some wonderful wheat hay inside.  He munched the treat as she brushed him off and put on his saddle.  In a very short time, all three horses were ready to go.  Go where?  Kismet kept asking himself.  He did not see where there was anywhere to ride!   His answer came as Dewars and his rider started out, with Dusty following and Kismet taking up the rear.

“You okay, Molly?” asked Dewars’s rider. 

“Yes,” she replied, “but let’s take it real easy at first!” 

“Of course, honey.  Be sure to call out if you have any problems.”

            Kismet followed Dusty across the parking lot and went right up to the trees.  He then saw the trail!  It was a loamy path that went into the trees; it was the most beautiful trail he had ever seen.  The ground was soft, there was no dust and the trail wound into the forest, like a small, brown, river.  They walked up and down slight hills, across streams and yet the trail went on and on.  The sights, the smells and the scenery were so much for Kismet to take in at one time.  He found himself looking around all the time, but would snap to attention when Molly asked him to do something. 

“He seems fine, let’s do some trotting,” Molly called out to the front riders. 

“Okay, hang on and let us know if we are going to fast,” came the reply.

Suddenly Dewars and Dusty took off at a trot and Kismet immediately jumped in behind them.  He was excited, but kept listening to Molly’s cues.  She did not want him real close to Dusty’s rear legs, but he did not want to get kicked by accident, either.   Kismet felt Molly’s graceful posting each time he took a step and it felt so good to get out and trot like this!  This is the best, thought Kismet. But I wish her saddle didn’t rub my shoulder so much. 

            They trotted and trotted, all the while traveling down this incredible trail in this incredible place.  Kismet’s conditioning program was working and he found it easy to keep up with the other two horses.  After about twenty minutes of trotting, they stopped at a place with green grass and a cool stream running through the meadow.  Molly hopped off Kismet, hugged him and told him he was the best.  She removed his bit and led him to the stream.  The cold water tasted so good!  He drank and drank, not realizing he was so thirsty.

“Look at him drink!” said one of the women. “Excellent!”  She turned and looked at Dusty.  “Why can’t you drink like that?” 

The other women laughed, Dusty looked a little embarrassed and Kismet kept drinking the wonderful water.  He then saw Dewars munching the green grass and joined the gray horse in lunch.  The grass was the sweetest thing he had ever eaten.  He could not believe it tasted so good and started eating heartily.  This is better than wheat hay and its everywhere!   The three riders sat down and ate some lunch, talking about how well Kismet was doing.  After a while they finished their lunch, but all three had to drag their horses away from the grass. 

“How come that tastes so good?” Kismet asked Dusty. 

“Cause it grows in the mountains,” replied the mare.

“Wait till he tries some rye grass in Utah,” added in Dewars. 

“Oh yes, that’s the best grass anywhere, especially around Fishlake,” said Dusty.

They got underway and began trotting down the trail again, only this time in a different direction.  In a couple of minutes, both big horses pulled up to a stop, and Dewars’s rider said, “OK, Molly. Lets give it a try.” 

Try what? thought Kismet.  Molly gently squeezed Kismet with her legs and asked him to go forward, but the big horses were standing still, waiting.  She pressed Kismet on and they were suddenly in front, leading the other two horses down the trail!  Kismet’s eyes got real big and he looked at everything in the forest a little differently as he walked in front of the big horses. 

“You can do it, squirt!” chided Dewars.  “Just try not to spook and don’t kick me!” he snickered. 

Everything in the forest seemed much bigger, and Kismet experienced sounds he did not remember hearing when he was behind the other two horses. 

“Good boy,” Molly told him as she patted his neck. He loved it when she did that.  Kismet saw birds, the trees moving, and the trail seemed to go on in front of him forever.  For no real reason other than it felt good, he began to trot slowly. 

“Go ahead, lets see how he does,” called out Dusty’s rider. 

Off they went, trotting down the trail in front of the other two experienced horses.   Kismet could feel some nervousness in Molly’s hands and seat, but he told himself in his most powerful little voice, Don’t worry, Molly.  I won’t let anything happen to you.  Never!   

Kismet was enjoying the trail more than anything he had ever done before and Molly began to relax more and more.  Soon they were blasting down the trail and even broke into a slow canter.  Kismet found the canter made the saddle rub his shoulder more than the trot, so he stepped back down to the trot for the remainder of the ride.  He even led the two other horses across a huge fallen tree and was feeling smug until Dewars’s rider laughed and said, “Remember when Rhyolyte jumped that tree last month?  That was sure spectacular!”

            They returned to their trailer just as the sun was beginning to set.  It was getting cool out, so Molly put a warm blanket on Kismet and asked him to get into the trailer.  He hopped right in and began eating the oat hay in his manger.  The fresh grass was better, he realized as he chewed.  The horses were quiet as they drove home and Kismet actually fell asleep in the trailer for a while.  He realized how tired he was when he backed out of the trailer.  His muscles were a little sore as well.  He got back to his stall, took a huge drink of water and before Molly had even left the barn he was sound asleep on his nice, dry shavings.

            The next morning Molly came to the barn early and found Kismet still lying down.  He heard her voice and jumped to his feet. 

“Ouch!” he exclaimed.  His leg muscles were sore and he wobbled a bit when he stood up. 

“Hi Kizmee!” Molly called to him as she walked up with her daily carrot extended.  Kismet grabbed the carrot and nickered as Molly slipped the halter over his head.  She led him from his stall and he took a couple of stiff steps.  He walked right out of it and was feeling better when he got into the turnout pen.  He sure did not feel much like romping around, though.  Spotty was in the second turnout and she came over to see Kismet when she realized he was the horse in the pen.  Spotty had a little crush on Kismet. 

“Hi, Kismet.  I did not even recognize you.,” she said sweetly.   “Look at how big you have become!”

Kismet walked over to her and said good morning.  

“I heard from Dusty that you went nineteen miles yesterday. Wow, that’s a long way.  How do you feel?”  

Nineteen miles? Did we really go that far?  thought Kismet.  “I feel okay, just a little tired,” he replied to the little Appy.  He smiled to himself, since that was the exact reply Rhyolyte had given to Kismet after the big horse had done a hundred and ten miles at speed.   The realization of what Rhyolyte was capable of set in and Kismet held his big friend in new light. 

“My only problem is Molly’s saddle.  It hurts my shoulder, and its real sore today.” 

“You are sure right,” replied Spotty, concern showing in her cute voice.  “You even have some saddle marks showing up. You better tell your human the saddle does not fit.  You will be in real trouble if she does not change it.” 

“How do I tell her that?” asked the small horse. 

“Just ask Dewars,” she replied, politely.  It was easy to see Spotty liked Kismet.   “He told me that he was almost crippled by an old western saddle an old owner used to ride him in.”   She blinked at him a couple of times, her long eyelashes flickering.

“Thanks, I will,” replied Kismet, who turned gingerly.  He began walking around in the turnout and found the walking helped his stiff muscles.  Spotty smiled, but then looked sad as Kismet left, wishing he would stay and talk to her a little longer.  “Bye, Kismet,” she said, with a little sigh.

            Molly left Kismet in the turnout all afternoon and by the end of the day he was feeling much better.  She gave him a bath with warm water and used some kind of smelly stuff on his mane and tail.  Some horses whistled at him in jest as he was led around in the sun while he dried, but it was not until he saw his reflection in the side of the shiny trailer that he realized how lucky he was.  His coat glistened in the sunlight and his black mane and tail were flowing in the breeze. 

“See, you could be a show horse, Kizmee,” Molly told him.  He nickered at her and was even more pleased when he returned to his stall to find a big pile of wheat hay waiting for him.   Yes, he was indeed a lucky horse now.

                                                *          *          *          *

            Kismet and Molly continued to ride more and more, but the saddle was causing him more discomfort with every ride.  He tried to ignore it, but it just hurt all the time.  Kismet had not been able to talk to Rhyolyte, Dusty, or Dewars about it, since they had been gone for two weeks at something called a “multi-day” ride in Utah.  I hope Dusty brings me some of that rye grass, Kismet thought, missing his friends.  

He got a lucky break when he was out in the turnout one day when Thunder’s rider brought the big horse down to the pen. 

“Hi Thunder!” shouted Kismet as he ran up to the big, black, horse.  He had not spoken to the dressage horse in a few weeks, since Molly had been spending much of their riding time on the trails.  Thunder never got to go anywhere but in the arena and Kismet meant to ask him about that sometime.  Kismet remembered how excited he had been the first time he entered the arena, but now the trails, and especially the forest, made the arena seem so small.

“Cheers, little mate,” replied Thunder. Thunder’s accent was different, but not at all like Chico’s.  “I ear’ you are becoming quite the trail horse, bloody good show.” 

“Yeah, and I love it!” shouted Kismet.  “Do you ever get to go on the trails?” 

“I used to,” replied Thunder as he looked away and sighed a bit. “But now we just concentrate on our Grand Prix work.  It is so hard to concentrate all the bloody time, but I find it proper. You should try it sometime.  It takes a very different set of skills, chap.” 

Kismet thought for a second and replied, “You know, that’s what Rhyolyte told me about your type of riding.” 

“E’ did?” asked Thunder, surprised, raising his head.  Thunder used to be the most prestigious horse at the barn, until the arrival of the Arabian.  “Whot did E’ say?”

“Oh, he said the work you do is really hard, especially the concentration and intensity.  Rhyolyte hates to concentrate, he just likes to go fast on the trails.” 

Thunder paused for a minute, smiling as he realized he liked the big Spanish Stallion a lot more now.  Thunder started to speak, but paused and looked down at Kismet’s back.  After studying Kismet from above, he said, “Uh-oh, mate.  It looks like you ave’ a right foul saddle problem.  You are showing some white hairs on your shoulder.  Does your rider’s saddle urt’ you?” 

“It sure does,” replied Kismet.  “I’m supposed to talk to Dewars about it, but I haven’t seen him in so long.  I don’t know what to do!” 

“Bloody simple,” replied Thunder.  He found he really liked this little horse- he was so earnest!  “You’ve just to tell your rider you don’t fancy the saddle.  Eventually they notice the white hairs, but sometimes they are so flippin’ stupid they don’t even know it means anything.”  Thunder paused for a second and continued. “You’ve just to tell her it urts’.  Next time she plops it on your back, toss your head a might and back up away from the saddle.  When she strops the girth tight, toss some more and look at er’.  Make a cheery fuss every time she plops it on, and when she takes it off, lick your lips and relax.”

“Are you sure that’s okay?” asked Kismet, after he remembered how much he liked the way this horse talked.  “I don’t want her to think I’m unhappy with her.” 

“But you are, at least with the bloody saddle,” said Thunder, a little impatiently. “You’ve just to let her know you don’t fancy it and she will notice, mate.  Just don’t bite her.  Never bite her, even if you want to.” 

Bite her?  Kismet thought to himself quickly. Never!  “Thanks for the help, I’ll try it next time.  See ya!”  Kismet bounded off across the arena, doing his cute little crow-hop buck. 

Thunder chuckled to himself and said to no one in particular,  “Kids.”

                                                *          *          *          *

            The next time Molly saddled up Kismet for a ride, his good luck stuck with him.  Molly’s instructor was showing her how to adjust Kismet’s new splint boots, while Molly was tacking up.

Okay, Here goes!  he thought as Molly picked up her saddle.  She placed it on his back and Kismet threw up his head, perhaps a little too high.  Molly was startled and almost dropped the saddle. 

“What in the world....” she started to say. 

“Hmmm,” said the instructor.  “He didn’t like that.  Has he done that before?” 

“No, never,” said Molly, concern showing in her voice. 

“Let’s try it again, but slowly.  Here, let me help you,” said the instructor.  She lifted the saddle up and placed it carefully on Kismet’s back.  He raised his head again and shook it, but not nearly as violently as the first time.  The instructor gently tightened up the saddle and then slid her hand up underneath the part of the saddle that rested on Kismet’s shoulder. 

“Oh boy,” she said.  “This is not good.  Molly, come here and feel this.  Stick your hand in here and feel the pressure on his back.”  She did, and even Molly’s small hand could not fit between the saddle and Kismet’s back. “We better get you another saddle,” said the instructor. “I have an old SR custom in my tack room that Steve made specially for a large pony.  Let’s try that one.” 

Molly removed her saddle and led Kismet down to the lower barn, where the instructor had her teaching business.   The instructor disappeared into a large room and returned with a small, dusty English style saddle, but it had strange solid stirrup leathers and a small, western like pommel, but no horn.  She set it on his back and Kismet held his breath.  She tightened the girth and when kismet opened his eyes, he could not believe the difference.   It felt wonderful!  There was no rubbing at all, and Molly’s hand fit between the saddle and his shoulder all the way up to his back. 

“That feels better,” said the instructor.  “Let’s try that for a while.”  

Yes, lets!  Kismet said to himself eagerly.  

            The new saddle made all the difference in the world.  Kismet no longer felt any discomfort and he could barely even feel Molly’s weight on his back.  Even the sheep-skin pad the new saddle used was more comfortable.  One evening while riding in the arena, Thunder told Kismet, “Blimey, I told you so, little mate!”  Kismet thanked the big horse and kept at his arena lessons.  Kismet did not understand why they were working to develop his “carriage,” unless they were going to get him to pull a cart.  He did notice the instructor seemed to like it when he lowered his head and used his rear legs more to drive forward.  He did not care, he loved it when Molly told him “good boy, Kizmee,” and patted his neck.  Pull a carriage?  Heck, I would pull a trailer for you, Molly!  thought Kismet.

                                                            *          *          *          *

            Kismet was out in the turnout pen one sunny day when the three endurance women and the instructor walked up to the fence.  Molly was standing at the rail, admiring her horse.  Kismet looked so good lately.  His muscles had been developing nicely and he had no difficulty keeping up with the other horses, with the exception of Rhyolyte.  No matter how hard Kismet tried, Rhyolyte would just leave him behind.  Kismet was frustrated, but he felt much better after one ride in the forest where Rhyolyte told him, “Hey little guy, have you noticed how much easier it is to keep up with Dewars and Dusty lately?” 

He’s right!  Kismet told himself.  He had not realized it, but the order of the trail rides had shifted to Rhyolyte first, Kismet second and the others usually behind him.

“You just watch out, it’s almost time for you to enter a ride,” the big horse had told Kismet.  It was funny- Kismet had not thought much about an actual endurance ride, since he was having so much fun doing his conditioning.

             The next day the barn owner walked over to the fence and was standing next to Molly while they watched Kismet romp around in the pen. 

“Whatever you’re doing with that horse, keep it up.  I can’t believe how he looks now.  Just last week, some guy was here looking for horses and he offered me four thousand dollars for the little guy. Can you believe that?” He looked at Molly, who looked a little startled, but then she smiled.

“He is not for sale,” she replied in her best calm, collected, grown-up voice.  He had not meant to alarm her.

“You know I would never let anything happen to him, without your permission,” he said as he gently squeezed her arm.

“Yes, I know.  Thank you,” she replied, her voice back to normal. 

Dewars’s rider walked up to the rail.  “Molly, I have some bad news and some good news.  Dusty cracked her hoof after she lost that stupid shoe last week and the vet wants her to take it easy for about a month.  I have an entry to the Lost Eagle 50 next month.  We think Kizmee is ready.  Do you want to try it?  Your mother said it was up to us and we think you and the horse can do it.  What do you think?  You are a junior, so you will have to ride with Dewars and me, but that will be the best for your first ride.” 

Kismet stood there, listening and was actually quivering with excitement! 

“Oh, yes!” shouted Molly.  “I thought it would be another few months, but I KNOW he is ready.  Yes! Yes! Yes!” she shouted.  She jumped into the arena and grabbed Kismet around the neck.  “Are you ready, big man?” 

She called me big man!  thought Kismet.  He whinnied his best yell and slowly backing away from her, ran to the center of the arena, where he performed his biggest ever little buck.  Molly just looked at him, smiling.

                                                *          *          *          *

            The big day was only two weeks away, so Molly spent a lot of time making sure everything was ready well in advance.  She took her new saddle home and cleaned it from top to bottom.  She made sure all her tack was cleaned and she even received a new helmet as a present from her instructor.  Kismet was so excited, he would tell every horse he could about his upcoming adventure.  He wanted to talk to one of the other experienced horses about what he should do, but they just kept telling him not to worry about it and just enjoy the ride.  The riders were the ones who were really responsible for all that stuff.  

On the Friday before the ride, Molly and the two other riders drove up in the big trailer.  Kismet was doing circles in his paddock, he was so excited.  They spent some time loading up all their supplies: hay, water, tack, grain, that wonderful mash, and what seemed to Kismet to be just a ton of stuff.  The horses were going in last; they loaded up in their regular order: Rhyolyte, Dewars and Kismet.  

Dewars kept laughing at Kismet and told him, “just wait till you get a few hundreds in, you won’t be quite so energetic, ‘eh Rhyolyte?” 

Rhyolyte laughed and said nothing, but Kismet saw the big horse wink at him.

            The ride was only a two-hour trailer trip from home and Kismet recognized the area they were parked in.  This was one of his favorite areas, but it had a lot of tough hills.  Molly hopped out of the truck and Kismet noticed she was wearing a new tee shirt that said, “I Love Arabians” on it. 

“I love you, too,” said Kismet out loud, wishing she could understand him. 

The rig was finally parked and Kismet was unloaded first.  When he hit the ground, he could not believe the spectacle he was seeing.  There were trucks, people and horses everywhere!  Kismet just stood still and looked around at the beehive of activity in all the camps.  He had never seen more than the thirty or so horses at his barn and there were at least two hundred horses here already!  There were horse of all sizes, shapes and colors.  Kismet immediately realized most were Arabians and he also noticed that every horse was paying close attention when Rhyolyte was unloaded.  He even heard one big gray gelding that was tied to the truck next door mutter under his breath, “Great. He’s here.  So much for first place.  Maybe he’ll get lost again.”  

Rhyolyte was in his element.  He strode around with his rider leading him, tail straight up, calling out to many horses and looking like the champion he was. 

I wonder why all these mares are calling out to him?  Kismet puzzled to himself. 

“Come on, let’s get vetted in,” said Dewars’s rider. 

Molly untied Kismet and just as proudly began leading him across the field.  Kismet felt just as important as Rhyolyte and felt really lucky to have the champion as a friend.   It seemed like every horse said hello to the stallion as he passed, many spoke to Dewars and he heard a few other horses ask each other, “who’s the little bay?  He came in with the big man and Dewars. Hmmmm.” 

            The three horses got into the vet check line and Kismet continued to take in all the activity.  There were people everywhere!  Some booths had been set up and Kismet saw all kinds of new, shiny tack being sold to people.  He would like to have one of those nice red bridles, he thought. 

There were people setting up large tables for what appeared to be a huge banquet.  Trucks kept pulling in and Kismet smiled when he saw Rhyolyte turn around at the call of another horse in the distance.  “Nuts,” said the big horse, concerned. “Wouldn’t you know.  There’s Fad’s Rowan.  It’ll be a race tomorrow.” 

Kismet watched with interest as the other horses got checked in by the vets.  Each one was inspected and had to trot out to the fence and back.  It seemed to Kismet there was sort of a contest between the horses to look the best during this trot out.  Rhyolyte was next in line and a lot of people cheered and clapped when his rider trotted him out.  The vet just laughed when his rider ran up after the trot out. 

“Yeah, I think he looks okay,” said the vet, shaking his head.  “Has he ever not looked like that?”  

Kismet watched the horse in the line next to him trot and he heard the horse grunt in pain as he trotted.  Uh-oh, thought Kismet.  He doesn’t look very good.  The vet agreed with Kismet’s diagnosis and the rider was not allowed to start the ride. 

Molly led Kismet up to the next vet, a huge man with a dark beard, who had to be seven feet tall.  “Here’s a cute little guy!” said the vet to Molly. 

“Thanks,” she replied.  “It’s his first ever ride and mine too.” 

The vet was poking and prodding Kismet, who took it in stride, but jumped when the vet stuck a thermometer in his rear end. 

“First time for that, eh, little one?” chuckled the vet.  “Okay, let’s see him trot,” said the huge man.  

Molly jogged across the field with Kismet, just like they had practiced many times before.  Kismet bounded along beside her, not pulling on her lead rope at all.  He had his little tail straight up in the air and actually whinnied on the way back. 

“Hey Mitch, that little horse looks better than you do!” joked the vet who was checking the other line of horses. 

“Yeah, he looks great,” the vet told Molly.  “Here’s your rider card, take him over for his number.  Good luck!” 

“Thank you!” beamed Molly. She led Kismet over to a nice lady who called him very cute and looking at Molly’s card, drew a big 1-J on both sides of his rump with a yellow crayon.

“Junior number one!” she smiled at Molly.  

“Cool!” shouted  Molly.  “Number one!”

                                                *          *          *          *

            That evening was one of wonder for Kismet.  He kept thinking about the ride coming up and what it would be like.  There were so many horses here and they all were so big!  He spent the night in his own personal little corral, just like Rhyolyte.  Molly had given him lots of hay and there was even some nice green grass he could munch on as well. 

Trucks kept coming in all evening and the camp was still alive with activity.  Molly and the two other riders had finished eating and were preparing for the morning.  They set up their saddles, filled water bottles and clipped small bags and plastic scoops to their saddles. Kismet wondered what a “hurt-rite monitor” was, but since Molly did not have one, he did not give it much more thought.   He did, however, have his very own red Easyboot.  His was a size one and it felt okay when the farrier tried it on Kismet’s feet last week.

Eventually everyone went to bed, but not Kismet.  Try as he might, he just could not get to sleep.  He noticed all the other horses were either sleeping soundly, or seemed nervous like he was.   Dewars was snoring loudly and Rhyolyte was sleeping standing up.  Kismet noticed the horse tied to the trailer next to him as the gelding who had remarked when Rhyolyte was unloaded. 

“Hi, my name is Kismet,” he said to the horse next door. 

The horse turned and with a long face looked at Kismet and asked, “How is Rhyolyte feeling?”  

“Good, I guess,” replied Kismet. 

“Great, just what I needed to hear,” moaned the other horse.  He turned away and went back to munching his hay. 

Gee, thought Kismet.  What a grouch.  Oh well. 

            Everything was quiet and Kismet actually nodded off to sleep a few times.  He was awakened at 3:30 in the morning by some nut driving around in a truck honking the horn.  Suddenly the camp came alive.  Lights went on everywhere, people started hopping out of trucks and tents; the commotion began to make the horses excited.  There was an atmosphere of electricity in the air that Kismet was part of, yet he did not understand it. 

Molly appeared, gave Kismet some carrots and dropped him a flake of wheat hay.   He was to excited to eat, but he took a big drink of water, since Dusty’s rider really liked it when he did that.  Molly immediately ran off and returned with that darn salty stuff.  She opened up his mouth, which he resisted a little and shot the salty goop down his throat.  Yuck, I hate that stuff.  Those “electric-lites” tasted horrible and always made him thirsty.  He took another drink of water and Molly said “good boy” again.  She was already dressed and ready to go and began to get him ready for the ride. 

He watched the action all around him with excitement.  There were horses running around on those ‘lunch’ lines, people were riding all over the place and there were even some trucks still pulling in.  Dewars and Rhyolyte were ready, but Kismet noticed immediately that Rhyolyte was in a very different mood this morning.  He seemed all business and stood quietly at the trailer, waiting, concentrating.  His manner seemed calm, but one look in his big friend’s eyes told Kismet not to bother him.  Kismet could sense the explosive energy Rhyolyte had inside and was glad he would be riding with Dewars today. 

The riders finished packing up the camp; Molly and Kismet were all ready to go.  Dewars’ rider took a picture of the small duo and Kismet had to blink for a minute after that stupid flash.  He hated that flashing thing.

            It was now time for all the riders to go to the starting line.  Rhyolyte and his rider told Molly and Kismet, “good luck” and left at an energetic walk.  Kismet watched his friend go and knew the other horses were in trouble today.  Dewars and his rider were already mounted when Molly hopped up on Kismet’s back.  It felt so re-assuring to have her up there.  They walked slowly through the huge camp; Kismet had no idea where they were going and was once again very glad to be able to follow Dewars.  They followed a group of horses up a road and came to a clearing where there were almost three hundred horses all together.  It was more than Kismet could believe.  Horses were walking, cantering, bucking, screaming, standing quietly and in general, chaos seemed to be everywhere. 

Some man asked Molly her number as she passed and she proudly said, “Junior number One!”  The man made a note in his book, smiled and told her good luck.  Dewars was acting very cool, since this was old hat to him.  He had completed over three thousand endurance miles and was used to the commotion.  He walked up next to Kismet and told him, “Just stick behind me and try not to be nervous.  The biggest problem will be getting separated from my rider and me.  Your rider is a junior, so you guys have to stay with us all the way through the ride.  And watch out for the other horses- there are a bunch that will kick you for no reason.  They’re just too excited.” 

“Thanks,” Kismet whispered as he moved a little closer to Dewars long legs. 

            Just then somewhere up front a woman shouted, “Ready, set, GO!” 

Kismet felt the electricity move through the crowd of horses.  Some were already trying to go forward, even though they could not move through the herd.  Kismet knew he heard Rhyolyte cry out one of his loud calls, but the sound was very far in front of where Kismet was standing.  The pack of horses started to move slowly and Kismet was now inching forward.  They were walking and Kismet decided he was going to stay glued to Dewars’ tail no matter what.  There were horses all over the place, and they all smelled so differently!  After a minute or so, they actually passed the starter and the road began to open up a little.  It was still dark, but Kismet was able to see just fine.  He trotted slowly along behind Dewars and was very glad he had the big horse there for security.  There were horses passing him on both sides, some looked great, others looked out of control and were running. 

“Just let ‘em go,” said Dewars. “They’ll either be burned out, or you’ll clobber them in the vet check.”

I wonder what that means?  I don’t want to hit anyone, thought Kismet, but he just kept on trotting. 

Molly was feeling confident as they trotted along up the crowded road, just like all the training rides the small team had been on together in the previous year. 

Suddenly Dewars jumped a bit and let out a little squeal.  Kismet looked over and watched as a big chestnut gelding playfully bit Dewars on the rump as he and another horse trotted by. 

“Hey chumpus, whatcha doin’, baby sitting today?  Why don’t ya come out and play with the big boys?”  the red horse said jokingly as he passed. 

Dewars pinned his ears and glared at the horse, then relaxed and laughed.  “You don’t want me out with you today, you looser, ‘cause I’d smoke you!”  Dewars replied to the horse with a grin. 

“You smoke me?  You smoke me?  You’d have to catch me first, turkey!” said the horse as he trotted away up the road.  “Come on, Akebono, let’s lose these guys.” All three horses laughed as the two horses moved on ahead of Dewars and Kismet. 

“Who was that?” Kismet asked his friend. 

“Oh, that’s Shatta and his buddy Ahkiba.  Shatta and I have done a few rides together.  I beat him by a nose at the finish at a fifty in San Jose, a year ago.  He’ll be really something in a couple of years.  I’ll be retired by then, thank goodness.” 

“He reminds me a little of Rhyolyte,” Kismet said.

“No one is like Rhyolyte,” Dewars chuckled.

                                                *          *          *          *         

            The morning sun was shining brightly as the horses trotted strongly down the now empty road; there were still horses around, but it was nothing like the start.  Kismet was trotting along very comfortably when they came to a trot by vet check.  Kismet never even saw it, he just trotted along by.  The big vet waved to Molly and said, “He looks great!  Have fun!”  

They trotted for a couple of miles and suddenly came to a turn that went directly up a steep hill. They dropped down to a walk as they started up the climb.  Kismet was surprised at how many horses they were passing already.  Some seemed to be all out of breath and some were even stopped.  Kismet barely even felt the strain of the hill and actually went up along side Dewars.

“Take it easy, kid,” Dewars told him. “You’ll want to save yourself for the last loop.  It’s a tough one.  I have a feeling it’s going to get hot today and I hate the heat.  Just be glad you have done as much conditioning as you have.  See all these other horses?  They’re not in good enough shape for this.” 

Kismet dropped back behind Dewars and continued walking up the hill but he wished he could do some trotting.  They were definitely passing lots of other horses.  Dewars whispered to Kismet, “see that big, clunky Morgan over there, the one struggling to climb?  Look at the salty white foam in his sweat.  I feel sorry for him.  He won’t make fifteen miles, but lucky for him the vets will pull him.  Thank goodness for the vets.”

Kismet started wondering if that was where that salty stuff Molly had fed him went, but as they climbed up the hill, suddenly a large owl flew up off of the road right in front of Kismet.   He jumped and Molly lost her balance.  She almost fell off, but Kismet jumped back in the other direction to keep her on his back. 

“Whoops!” shouted Molly. “That was close.” 

I’ll say.  That sacred the heck out of me, Kismet said to himself, his heart still pounding. 

They made it to the top of the long climb and set off down a long dirt road.

Dewars’s  rider called out to Molly  “six miles already.  How are you doing, Molly?” 

“Just fine,” replied Molly. She looked down.  “How are you doing, Kizmee?” she asked him. 

Just fine, he told her in his thoughts.  

They kept trotting down this long road and even did a little cantering when they got to some small hills.  Kismet loved to canter up slight climbs and he did so this time, right past Dewars.   They rode together for a few more miles, until Molly saw a sign that said Vet Check Ahead, 1/4 mile. 

“Hold up, buddy,” Dewars’s rider told him.  The two riders hopped off the horses and began to lead them into the check.  They walked a few minutes until they arrived at a big park with horses all over the place.  It looked like a horse shopping mall!  There were ride workers listening to horses hearts with those cold discs, there were people pouring water on their horses and there were vets with those thermometers Kismet did not like.  Molly took Kismet to a water bucket and he took a drink.  “Good boy,” she told him again.  Dewars drank his entire bucket. 

They walked up to some ride workers and Molly put that cold thing under his armpit and listened to his heart.  Kismet thought about what Rhyolyte had told him about needing heart to do endurance.  Maybe Molly was checking?  

Dewars’s rider looked at a watch on her wrist and shouted out “P&R!”  A guy came over and listened to Dewars heart, nodded and said: “sixty.”   “Is he down, Molly?” asked Dewars’s rider. 

Molly listened, looked at her watch and beaming, said “YEP!”  The man came over, listened to Kismet’s armpit again and looking startled, listened a second time.  “Forty four,” he said, with what sounded like a little disbelief.  “Very impressive,” he told Molly, who was all smiles. 

Kismet wondered why there were people throwing water all over the horses all around him. Maybe they were too dirty?  Molly led Kismet over to the vet area and there was that same huge vet once again.  Dewars went to another vet, but the big man checked Kismet out and after his inspection, asked Molly to trot him.  They did and Molly returned with a perfect scorecard.  They walked over to an area with food where they met Dewars, who was already there, eating. 

“Forty Four, huh?” Dewars said. “Not bad.” 

Just then they realized the first place horse was leaving the check already and was heading back out on the course.  It was unmistakably Rhyolyte.  The big horse called out, “Hey, Dee!  Hello, little man!” to the pair as he cantered past on the road. 

Gee, he looks unbelievable, thought Kismet. 

Dewars raised his head in acknowledgment as the red horse flashed by.  A lot of other horses in the vet check looked at Kismet a little differently after they heard the greeting from the champion.  “Man,” Dewars said to Kismet.  “He’s already thirty minutes ahead of us.  Can you believe that guy?”

            After eating for about 30 minutes, they rode out of the vet check at a walk.  Dewars’ rider was talking to Molly and Kismet was listening carefully. 

“Hey Molly, did you see how many horses we passed in that check?  That’s why it’s so important to have you horse in shape.  Kismet was at 44, can you believe that?”  She laughed and continued.  “I checked with the timer when we left.  We entered the check in two-hundred and third and two-hundred and fourth and left in one-hundred and fifty first and fifty-second.  That’s how you do endurance riding!”   The woman was very happy, so Kismet decided 44 must be good, although he was not sure what it meant.   He still wondered what that “hurt-rite” monitor was for.

They started trotting again and now the road was almost clear of horses.  Some horses would catch up and pass them, but they caught up to more horses than passed them.  It was beginning to get warm out and Kismet was a little concerned when he noticed Dewars was sweating a little more than normal.

             The ride turned off the main road onto one of Kismet’s favorite trails and he dashed in front of Dewars. 

“He wants to be in front,” said Molly. 

“OK, just keep it slow and walk when you get to rocks, hikers, or other obstacles,” shouted Dewars’s rider. 

Kismet was in his element now and was really enjoying the ride.  He was trotting along strongly; he kept reminding himself how wonderful it was to have that new saddle.  He led his big friend for the entire seven miles of the trail and did not spook at anything.  He even walked right by the old rusted Buick that was lying next to the trail. 

They turned down a road that led to a steep downhill.  Both riders hopped off the horses and led them down the hill.  “I love it when they do this,”  Dewars told Kismet.  “Sometimes I even stop at the top of big hills and look at my rider.  She gets off and walks me down.  Nice!”   Kismet was walking along down the steep hill and then realized he was approaching the start area again.  They walked into the camp and stopped at another vet check.  Here was that same large vet again.  How does he get around so fast?  Kismet wondered. 

Molly was listening to Kismet’s armpit again and proudly shouted out “P&R!”   A woman walked up and put her listening disc under his arm and this time called out “Fifty-two.” 

Fifty-two? thought Kismet.  I thought I was a forty-four.  

Molly was about to take Kismet to the big vet, but she noticed Dewars’s rider pouring water on the big horse’s neck.  They walked over and Kismet asked Dewars, “Why is she doing that?  Are you dirty? And how come I’m a fifty-two this time?”

“That’s your heart rate, dummy,” said Dewars.  “Fifty-two is still very good.  If you are under sixty-four it means you can go on.  I’m not down yet, I guess, so they are cooling me off with water.  It’s getting very warm out here and I still feel hot inside.  That’s why it takes me so long to cool off. ” 

Just then, his rider said  “P&R, Please.”  The woman took his pulse and it was also fifty-two. 

“There, now I’m down,” he said to the little horse, sounding relieved.  “The further you go, the longer it takes sometimes.  How do you feel?” he asked Kismet. 

“Okay, I guess.  I’m a little tired, but not bad.  How close are we to being done?” 

“This is the half way point, twenty-five miles,” Dewars replied.  “The limited distance horses are already done.”

Twenty-five miles!  I have gone twenty-five miles!  WOW!   

The large vet checked Kismet again and he was given another good report, but this time was given a “B+” for impulsion.   Molly smiled at her little horse as she led him back to the trailer.  Kismet noticed Molly was walking a little slower than she had been in the morning as well.

            There at the trailer was Rhyolyte, but his rider was just swinging up into the saddle, getting ready to leave. 

“How you doing, Dee?”  Rhyolyte asked Dewars as the two horses walked up to the trailer. 

“I’m okay, but I’m hot.  I don’t know why it seems so warm out here.  How are you, and where’s that Fadjur horse?”  

“Yeah, it’s real hot out today, and the air is much more humid than usual.  That’s what the vet said, anyway.  I feel good, but we haven’t been going as fast as we have in the past.  Fad’s Rowan is about five minutes behind me, and that darn Warpaint’s not much further back, but we’re still leading.  I sure hope it gets cooler.” 

Rhyolyte’s rider was ready to leave the lunch stop, but Rhyolyte stopped at Kismet’s water bucket to take a drink.  The big horse wanted to talk to his friend and he knew his rider would let him drink.  He was right. 

“Well, what do you think so far, little man?”  the tall horse asked, between huge swallows of water.  Kismet had his mouth full of bran mash- he really loved it with the oats mixed in. 

“I think this is the most fun I have ever had, but I’m getting a little tired,” the little horse replied. 

“You look fine,” replied Rhyolyte, “and just remember to drink every chance you can.  Your rider will probably slow down in the second half, but be sure to take care of yourself.  If you start to get really tired, slow down, but keep going as consistently as you can.  I know you can make the finish.”  The big horse paused, finished swallowing some more water and turned to leave.  “Look at how many horses have dropped out already,”  he said, scanning the camp, with a worried sort of tone.  He turned and trotted over to the out-timer.  Kismet just mumbled his good bye, since his mouth was full of mash.

            The sixty-minute lunch break really refreshed Kismet.  He felt worlds better after he finished scarfing down his mash.  He did not realize he had already eaten a whole flake of oat hay as well.  He took a long drink of water and Molly appeared with some more of that salty stuff.  Yuck!  he thought as he swallowed the salty goop.  It must be important, or she would not be making me eat it, he reasoned.  

Molly was putting his saddle back on and she gingerly cinched up the girth.  Kismet did not budge, he liked this new saddle.  He looked over at Dewars, but the big horse was asleep.  Dewars had not eaten much at the lunch stop and that had his rider a little concerned.   His rider began to get him ready to go and he woke with a start as his saddle was plopped on his back.  Kismet was worried about his friend, but assumed Dewars knew what he was doing.  The two women led their horses over to the out timer and Kismet felt his legs give a little when Molly hopped on.  They walked down the trail for a few minutes, then started trotting slowly up the road.  Kismet led Dewars out of the camp along with two other horses that had joined up when the duo left the lunch stop.  This made Kismet feel even better, since he was now leading three big horses.  After about 3 miles of slow trotting, the group of horses stopped at a creek for water and Kismet knew Dewars was having problems.  The big gray horse was moving all right, but he was dragging himself. 

“Are you OK, Dewars?” asked Kismet as the group started to walk down the trail. 

“I don’t know, something’s not right.  I just don’t have any energy.  It’s so darn hot out here.  I think I can make it, but let’s try and keep it slow, okay?”  

“You got it!” said Kismet to his friend. 

They started trotting again and as luck would have it the trail was heading down a long, downhill valley.  This made it easier on the horses, but it was now the middle of the day and it was getting unbearably hot.  Kismet still led the three horses and could tell the two other new horses behind him were not interested in going much faster, either. 

The group came to the end of the valley and started up another long, steep climb.

“This is the toughest part of the ride, Molly,” Dewars’ rider said.  “We need to take it real easy. Dewars isn’t feeling right and I notice you’re posting a little slower.  Are you all right?”

“My knee hurts a little,” replied Molly, “but I’m not stopping.  Kizmee feels good, too.” 

“He looks good and is moving well,” replied a man who was riding one of the other horses.  “How many miles does he have?” he asked Molly.  Just then the four horses walked past a trail marker with a mileage sign on it.  It said 36 miles. 

“Thirty six miles!” beamed Molly proudly.  “This is his first ride!” 

“That is amazing,” the man chuckled.  “I would have guessed he had done a lot of rides.  You have done a great job with him.”  This made Molly smile and she reached down and patted her horse on his neck and told him he was a very good boy.  

            The third vet check was located at forty miles-  Kismet knew Dewars was not going to make it.  They had been walking for the past couple of miles and Dewars’s rider was very concerned about his heart numbers being to high.  She had one of those “hurt-rite” monitors and now Kismet understood what it was for.  Dewars looked very tired to Kismet, but the big gray horse kept on going. 

They walked into the vet check alone, since the two other riders had gone on ahead when Dewars slowed down.   The riders went directly to the water and poured cool water all over the horses’ necks and backs. 

Oh Boy, that feels good!  thought Kismet.  He stood there, enjoying the refreshing water being splashed over his body.  He took another long drink and here was Molly once more with the salty stuff.   Who cares,  thought Kismet.  It’s worth the salts to drink the water.   

Molly put the measuring disc under Kismet’s armpit again and smiled.  “Sixty!” she announced proudly.  A nice P&R worker came over and took the horses pulse. 

“That’s what it is, dear,” she said.  She took Molly’s rider card and scribbled on it. 

Dewars was in trouble.  His pulse was seventy-six and it had not changed after five minutes. 

“I’m pulling him,” said his rider to the P&R worker, with a sound of confidence in her voice.  “I love this horse and he’s just not feeling right today.”  Dewars hung his head and rubbed his nose against his rider’s shoulder.   I love you, too!  he told her in his horse thoughts. 

“Molly, I’m pulling Dewars.  We’ll have to find you another sponsor to take you in.” 

Just then the man who rode with them from lunch walked over and said,  “Ma’am, I would be honored to escort this fine young lady to the finish of her first ride.  That is, if she won’t mind riding with my friend and I.”  

“Okay Molly?” asked Dewars’ rider. 

“Sure,” replied Molly, “but I hope I can make it.  My legs are really tired and my knee hurts.”  Kismet heard this and was worried, but then Molly looked at him and stroking his mane, said  “but if I’m asking Kizmee to do this, I had better be able to go along for the ride.” 

“What a trooper,” said the man’s friend, smiling.

                                                *          *          *          *

            Leaving Dewars behind in the shade, they left the check at a walk, since this was the toughest pert of the ride.  It was a long, steady climb to the top of a mountain ridge. After the long, slow uphill climb Kismet made it into the next vet check, where they found that giant vet once again.  Molly liked him and waited in his line.  The big vet began speaking to Molly. 

“He’s still looking good, but he might be getting a little tired.  He also has a little cut on his left front, but it looks superficial.  I see a little swelling in the fronts as well.  There is a big climb just before the finish, so take it real easy.  The last vet check is only three miles from the end.”  Molly could not resist it- she gave the huge vet a hug.  He patted her on her head and smiled. 

Molly and the two new riders walked over to the out-timer and Kismet spun his head around when he noticed a big bay gelding with a small crowd of people hovering around him.  It was Fad’s Rowan and he was out of the race.  Rowan was upset- he had only lost a stupid shoe and the easyboot had fallen off. 

“What a rotten way to lose a race,”  the big, beautiful, bay was saying to another horse standing nearby.

“Oh, yeah, right,” replied the other horse.  “You think you could have taken the big man today?” 

Rowan just looked at the other horse and said nothing. 

Kismet wondered how Rhyolyte was doing and hoped he was still all right.  It was at this point Kismet realized what a true test of a horse this sport was.   It took good luck, a dedicated rider and a lot of conditioning to be able to even finish.  The out timer was impressed with Kismet as well, since Molly and Kismet left the forty-mile check in sixty-first place.

            Kismet left in high spirits but he missed Dewars.  He was able to keep up a steady slow trot, even though he could feel the effects of the heat and the distance on his legs.  His muscles were beginning to ache but he kept up his relaxed pace.  No matter how I feel, I can’t let Molly down!   He was determined to make it to the finish.  

It seemed to Kismet the miles were getting longer, yet he seemed to be going the same speed.  He found himself counting his hoof steps as they hit the ground- the rhythm seemed to help pass the time.  He looked at the other two horses that were behind him from time to time.  They seemed to be in some sort of hypnotic state.  They just trotted along, looking at the road in front of them.  They both looked better than Dewars felt, Kismet was sure of that. 

Molly asked if they could walk for a while and the man said  “sure, no problem.”  She was tired, her knee was hurting but they kept on going.  They would trot for a couple of minutes and then walk. 

They rounded a bend and Kismet saw the big climb they were headed for.  All I have to do is make it up this hill!   I can do it.  I can do it.  I can do it!   He began plodding up the steep grade, taking every step carefully. There were slippery rocks to contend with and he did not want to trip.  His leg muscles were tired, but still he climbed.

Up, up they went, slowly through the hot afternoon air.  Molly was just sitting on the saddle and was glad her horse was walking.  Kismet could feel his lungs working and was breathing harder than he usually did.  His spirits were raised as he caught up to and passed three other horses that were just dragging up the hill.  

A little higher! A little higher!  

The trail seemed to be growing longer the further up he climbed.  He wanted to stop, but Rhyolyte would not have stopped.  He kept plugging away at the hill, one step at a time.  His mind flashed back to his first trailer ride and how amazed he was at the forest trails he rode on for the first time.  He remembered how sore he was at the end of that ride.  That was nothing compared to this!  He thought of the barn and wondered what Chico was doing.  I see why you said you were to old for this, Chico,  he thought to himself.  He stumbled a bit on some rocks and caught his balance easily. 

The trail seemed to be leveling out and he was catching up to some more horses.  He actually started to pick up the pace a bit, when the horse her new sponsor was riding called out “what’s the hurry, bub?  Cool your jets, we’ll get there.”  That comment made Kismet feel even better. 

Boy, this is weird, he thought.  I sure wish I had some of that salty stuff and a drink of water.  

Molly suddenly perked up when she saw the sign that said Vet check, one-quarter mile.  She was too tired to get off and walk, so she asked Kismet to carry her in. 

I would carry you back to the start, if I had to, he wished he could tell her. 

            They arrived at the vet check and Molly was disappointed to discover the big vet was not there.  There were only a few horses here and the atmosphere was much more relaxed than the first check had been.   Molly hopped down and led Kismet to the water trough.  He felt like he drank ten gallons of water.  Water had never tasted as good and it perked him up quite a bit. He wanted some more of that salty stuff, but he did not know for the life of him why. 

Molly was tired and sat down in a chair while the workers took his pulse- a nice woman gave Molly a can of cold soda.  Kismet wished someone would pour water on his neck, but he guessed they had forgotten, or Molly was too tired.  His pulse was sixty and once again the vet liked the way he looked.  It took Kismet a couple of steps to trot for the vet, but he gritted his teeth and trotted, although slowly.  The sponsor’s horse was being real lazy, but they let him continue after whacking him on the butt to make him trot out.  The other horse had to wait for almost 15 minutes for her pulse to come down.  Kismet didn’t mind- he was happy to eat all the hay he could chew.

The sun was beginning to fall behind the hills and Molly’s sponsor said they better get going.  Only three more miles!  And they were downhill!   Molly was walking very stiffly, but she hopped back up into the saddle and started down the hill.  Kismet would have liked her to walk on the ground along side him, but she was too tired.  He found the downhill steps were kind of difficult and made his shoulders sore.  He did not care, though.  He was going to finish! 

They slowly walked down the grade and after what seemed like an eternity, they rounded a bend and saw the camp in the distance!   There was only a mile to go!  Kismet suddenly got very excited.  He did not know why, but just seeing the finish made him perk right up.  He picked up the pace and the man asked his horse to match Kismet’s fast walk.  Kismet actually started trotting and Molly had to fight to post, but she did.  When they rounded the final corner, Kismet burst into a canter and much to the amazement of Molly, they ran across the finish line!  Many people started clapping and cheering and Molly was grinning from ear to ear.  

They stopped and Molly was greeted by her two riding partners.  There was Rhyolyte’s and Dewars’s owners and they were laughing and clapping as loudly as they could. There were many people all around, smiling and congratulating Molly and her horse.  Molly stepped down and stumbled a bit.  She turned around and with big tears running down her cheeks, grabbed Kismet around the neck, hugged him and told him she loved him more than anything.  Kismet looked back at her and fighting back his tears, he nickered softly at her.  At that moment, he felt bigger than Rhyolyte and was certain life could not be any better than this.

            Molly was limping quite a bit as she led Kismet back to the trailer.  Kismet was more tired than he had ever been in his life, but he walked back briskly.

Get back up on my back, he told Molly in his horse thoughts when he saw her struggle to walk. 

He saw Dewars resting next to the trailer, asleep on his feet and Rhyolyte was walking around in his corral.  When Rhyolyte saw Kismet, he let out a huge bellow that caused every horse in camp to turn and look.  That was all Kismet needed.  He could see how proud Rhyolyte was of him. 

Molly took his saddle off and collapsed into a folding chair while Dewars’s rider gave Kismet a long bath.  He just stood there, savoring the cool water.  He did not remember much after that, because three minutes after his bath, he was sound asleep in his own private little corral.

                                                *          *          *          *

            Molly was very tired after the ride, but endurance riding was burned into her soul forever at the awards barbecue.  It turns out Rhyolyte had won first place going away and also took the coveted best condition award.  He won another beautiful blanket to add to his collection.   Every rider who finished received a plastic water bucket as a completion award.

The ride manager and the huge vet were announcing the names of the riders and presenting them with their awards, beginning with first place.  When they got to fortieth place, they paused.  The big vet spoke.  

“I have a special award for the horse and rider who finished in forty-first place.  This was not only the horse and rider’s first ever endurance ride, they started today’s ride in two hundred and ninety-second place.  This horse looked very good throughout the day and his rider kept at it no matter what.  These two deserve a special round of applause, since they also won the award for first Junior and best condition Junior!” 

Everyone in the crowd stood up and started clapping and cheering, but Molly was sort of asleep in her chair.  She had no idea he was talking about her!  Dewars’s rider helped Molly stand up and with a slight limp, Molly walked up to the front of the crowd.   The crowd was clapping as the big vet handed her a bucket, then a beautiful red bridle with a shiny new bit, some boxes of horse cookies, some horse shampoo, a lead rope and to top it all off, the huge vet handed her a brand new black blanket with huge gold letters embroidered on it that said:  Lost Eagle 50 Mile Endurance Ride, First place Junior, Best condition Junior.  And underneath those words read:  Kismet.  Molly had tears running down her cheeks as the ride workers piled the stuff in her arms. She had trouble carrying it, so the big vet picked her up off the ground and carried her, in his huge arms, awards and all, back to her chair. 

            Kismet had slept right through the awards ceremony and had no idea they had won until he woke up while the women were getting ready to go home. 

Rhyolyte walked up to him, gave him that same friendly little kick and said,  “way to go, Big man. I knew you could do it.  Wait till Dusty hears!” 

Kismet got a little choked up when he realized that was the first time Rhyolyte had not called him “little” man. 

Molly piled her prizes up in the trailer and took her horse for a walk.  At first, Kismet’s legs were wobbly, but he stretched out nicely after a few steps.  Molly was still limping, but she walked proudly through the camp. She let him graze on the nice green grass for a while before they began the trip back home.  Quite a few horses said congratulations to Kismet as he walked along side Molly, his very own human.

                                                *          *          *          *

            Kismet was a hero when he returned to the barn that evening. When the trailer pulled into the parking lot, all the horses were anxious to know how the ride had gone.  Dusty was shouting for Dewars and was a little worried when she saw him come out of the trailer very slowly.  She realized he was fine when he called back to her. 

Molly and Rhyolyte’s rider put the matching first place blankets on the two horses and they had a small parade through the barn.  Kismet began to follow the big horse, but Rhyolyte gave him a friendly “shove” up front and then fell in behind Kismet.  The small horse held his head high and his tail straight up.  All the horses were cheering and even El-Dorado and Pepper were impressed.  Chico was standing in the pasture, beaming like a proud parent.  Kismet was wrong about one thing, though.  At the finish line of the ride, he told himself life could not be any better.  It was better: right here, right now.