RHO Horse and Cattle Company

Well, here we are… A brand new world and a fresh outlook on life.  Although Sharon and I were pretty upset about leaving our old barn, we were happy to be with all our friends and our horses were together as a herd.  All the others though, were strangely elated to be with Tom.  I couldn’t figure out why just yet.

Sharon was ok with this whole thing.  There was nowhere else to go and she actually LOVED the place.  Me?  I was still upset over losing my old trainer and my home at Rivendell.  It takes a lot of energy and effort explaining why I own a horse but can’t ride to a new trainer… blah… blah… blah…

Rolling into RHO was an experience.  Up the driveway was a big, beautiful house on the hill. Laura and Stan lived in this stately thing overlooking the property.  Miss Laura, as I was introduced to her, was the “H” in RHO.  She was a kind, friendly, petite little thing who obviously knew her way around horses.

  

As I came over the crest of the hill, I saw a big barn, a large field, a HUGE outdoor arena and plenty of pick-up trucks. The barn and grounds were really beautiful.  The stalls were big and clean.  Each horse had a Dutch door on the outside and a center aisle window as well.  The horses in the stables all belonged to us and made themselves at home real quick. 

I can remember my first meeting with Tom Riley.  My first impression then still holds true today.  He was a gentle man, extended his hand and said welcome to the barn. He asked me to pick a stall, of which I chose the last stall on the end which was bright and airy and looked over the driveway.  Plus…Sharon was next to me.  He was a handsome, gruff cowboy with a long grey ponytail peeking out from an outback cowboy hat that had seen better days.   His shirt was pressed and white, jeans ironed and boots with spurs that looked like they intended to do serious damage…. Um... SPURS?  What the hell?  This guy is serious business.  All I knew was that he ran this barn and he at least LOOKED like he knew what he was doing. He was so nice and seemed genuinely happy we were all there.  He literally took us all in on the “spur” of the moment and was gracious about the whole thing.  We were a motley bunch that had been through the mill and back. Tom was extremely proud of this barn and was happy to show me it!  He prided himself on being a cutting-horse trainer.  He opened the huge sliding back door of the barn which revealed huge open fields with happy horses romping through fields of green.  People brought their established horses in for a tune up, others were young and in a program and some were just his brood mares.  What amazed me was at the opening of the door… heads popped up over the clover, ears forward, and like a trained army, slowly horses were making their way across the field. “They think it’s feedin’ time” he said with a huge grin! This was a training barn... not a boarding facility. He trained cutting horses and was  proud of it.  I wasn't about to tell him that it really was a dream of mine and Ritchie's to actually own a cutting horse... and actually do that stuff.  It was just that, though.. a dream. 

His face lit up when he smiled.  He was very professional and straightforward when he explained his old cowboy methods and rules of his barn.

So, imagine my horror when my questions were answered….

Blankets?  Nope, don’t believe in blankets.  A horse isn’t meant to be blanketed.  Not healthy for ‘em.  They need to be natural.  Let ‘em grow a healthy coat. They’ll be plenty warm in the Winter. You don’t need no fancy stuff here.  You can put one on, but just know that we don’t take ‘em off or put ‘em on, it’ll get chewed up out there, believe me when I tell ya.

I wasn’t about to explain to this cowboy that my horse loved her purple blanket and never EVER got it dirty or “chewed up”.  She would never allow it…. And shedding out a wooly mammoth in the Spring isn’t quite my thing….

Wash stall?  Nope, just tie your horse up over there on the fence.  The hose reaches.

Fly mask?   Nope, don’t need it.  Flies get up under ‘em and cause more damage, believe me when I tell ya.

I wasn’t about to explain to this cowboy that my horse loved her purple fly mask and it matched her fly sheet.

Worming?  Yup, I do it.  I have my own schedule and mix. Don’t need any of that other stuff.  My horses are on a schedule and if you want, I’ll put yours on.  Never had a problem, believe me when I tell ya.

Oh boy … ‘nuff said.

Tack Boxes?  Sure, you can put ‘em in the aisle.  Don’t need too much stuff though, all ya need is a brush and I got everything else ya need right here, believe me when I tell ya.

How was I supposed to explain to this cowboy that my tack box was purple and I had matching purple brush sets, sweat scrapers, combs, hoof pics, cowboy magic by the gallons and treats galore??

Tack room?  Yea, there’s some saddle racks right in there and bridle hooks.  You can set them down anywhere ya want.

Ok, well, this cowboy would figure out which saddle was mine by the purple cover

All and all, I was ok with the rules of his barn.  I never blanketed Satin or any of my horses for that matter.  Somewhere between English and Western, I started believing in all that nonsense.  

 Honestly, Dakota really did like that blanket and seriously, she never got it dirty to the point where it was destroyed.   

A wash stall is nice, but not necessary… 

Fly masks are important... or so I thought… 

Worming is important... we'll talk about that one

This cowboy would get used to my purple tack box (I hoped)

 I didn’t ride much so it didn’t matter where my tack was.

After all was said and done, I was relieved to know that despite all the  rules of this crazy cow horse barn, my horse was in the very best of hands because his theories on horse care and feeding were awesome and I totally agreed.

How do I tell my new potential trainer that I have a horse, but I don’t ride? I came with all these people who couldn’t wait to get to the cows.  Where the hell did I come from and how am I going to fit here?   So, I tried to explain my saga to Tom Riley and he patiently listened and believe it or not... understood my fear.

From day one, all he said was    “we’ll get cha ridin’, believe me when I tell ya”. 

I thought to myself…Yea, well... no I don’t think so…people wear hats and spurs here…I am NOT doing this.. Believe me when I tell ya….

That would be a miracle, I said.

His response?  “You Bet”