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.