Exile from Rivendell

God, how I loved this barn.  My friends were awesome, our horses were great and happy and boy, did we know how to throw parties.  The Christmas parties were the best. Once a year, the owners would host an awesome holiday get together in the best of places!  Fun, games, good food and drink and friends made up our family of equine enthusiasts…

Nothing could touch us.  Well, yea.. pretty much nothing.

Another bad day .... one crisis after another at home and work only made me long for the weekend to get to the barn and shake the week off my nerves…as if things couldn’t get worse…I received a phone call from my trainer…Our barn owner was in trouble with the law… why, where and when was not my issue, nor my concern.  My only thoughts were of Dakota… what were we up against and what will happen? In short, the conversation got very grim and rapidly declined with every  word. We had decisions to make and fast.  We were not sure what would happen to the property and all that was on it, horses included.
The legal trouble our barn was in was well known throughout the horse community.  Little did I know the extent of the issues

The phone call from my trainer was heartbreaking and extremely nerve wracking.  All I knew was our entire barn was moving out. I knew no one in the area and was torn between going to a small, backyard barn recommended by my trainer or left on my own to find a safe haven closer to my home. Many phone calls and tears later, I decided to go with the backyard barn and a few acquaintances from the barn of whom I really wasn’t close with.

Sharon’s phone call saved my life and unbeknownst to both of us, would change our lives forever.

My close friends were serious riders. They went on trail rides, loped through fields, played kick ball on horseback and  twisted around barrels.  They did all the normal things people do that comes with horse ownership. Sharon and I watched.  They mentioned cows and Team Penning but I still didn’t understand what that game was really about… but they did that too. On occasion, a well-known cutting horse trainer, Tom Riley, would bring his herd of cows to our barn.  Everyone was so excited and it was a huge event when he did so.  They were so elated to dance through cow pies on their snorting, hyped horses, chase cows and call it fun! I was lucky enough to miss the certain times the cows would make an appearance.  I am sure witnessing such nonsense would surly make me second-guess my very existence and  question the mental health of my bizarre friends.

On a Wednesday afternoon my  Sharon called “Michele, we are all going to Tom Riley’s barn.  Sue, Donna, Ted, Elaine and Me.  I spoke to Tom about you coming with us.  Please call him right now because there is only one stall left and he is waiting for your call.”

Hesitant, I called.

I didn’t really know what to expect or what to say.  Having many dealings with trainers, barns and the nightmare of worrying if my horse was in good hands all came back. 

His voice was gentle and very professional, yet a twang of a gruff Texas cowboy was evident.  I briefly explained the story and requesting a stall was effortless.  He already knew of me and was more than accommodating.  In fact, his words were “You are welcome to come with everyone, and don’t worry about a thing.  Your horse will be fine.” I closed the call with a grateful thank you and his response was simple and kind. “You Bet”

Everyone knew this guy and seemed to love him.  What did I possibly have to lose? I was with my crazy cow friends and more importantly, with Sharon.  So the decision was made and off we went.

MASS EXODUS

We all thought we had time before we had to leave, but another harrowed phone call from Sharon told me otherwise. All we knew was this legal issue was big.  Our trainer thankfully was not involved but was also devastated at losing her  friends and livelihood.  Sharon’s voice was strained and audibly shaken.  “I don’t know what’s happening but there are helicopters circling the barn.  We are afraid that things may be confiscated.  Please come now, we’re packing up.”

Thank God I had an understanding boss. I left work immediately and frantically took a wild ride up to the barn.  The long drawn faces wet with tears and furrowed concerned brows shook me to the bone.  I didn’t understand the degree of fear they had but rapidly knew it was serious. The scene looked like a frenzied garage sale or better yet, the mall on Black Friday! Everyone was grabbing tack, saddles, mounting blocks, lead ropes, halters and anything that was not nailed to the walls…well, in fact that stuff too. All this was amidst helicopter blades thumping overhead.

We were scared. In silence, we loaded our horses one by one onto trailers.  As we stood in line, literally to be next, the scene from Lord of the Rings came to mind. I remembered the first day pulling up to this beautiful barn.  The name was spiritual and had deep meaning.  I will not mention it because the events that happened hurt many people and torn apart many lives. Some of you reading this know and understand. The name of the barn came from Lord of the Rings (my all-time favorite movie) … well, that’s what I thought and believed.  It reflected Arwen, the Elven Princess, known also to her people by this barn name because of her unparalleled beauty. It was significant for me and I loved it.  This evening was that of Arwen leaving Rivendell.     With her family of Elves in tow, she too, had to leave her hallowed ground for a better, safer place.

 We were so sad, hurt and worried where this next adventure would take us. We were together and that’s what mattered.  Our horses would be safe and we would all figure it out as a family.

The electric iron gates opened for the final time. Trailers rolled up the road leaving nothing but a cloud of dust and memories behind.  We all hoped that our trainer would be on her feet soon enough and we would all be back under her guidance. The elves would return to Rivendell!!

…Not so fast…