Friday, August 8, 2014

Barbed Wire Babes


If not for my friends, I wouldn’t be riding.  Yea, well, Tom Riley is responsible for me actually RIDING, but I wouldn’t be where I am now if it wasn’t for all of them.
I am so grateful to Sharon for dragging my ass to RHO.  I am so grateful for Sue, who put in long, grueling hours of counseling me …I am so grateful for Donna, who amidst the needless drama I create for myself…always makes me laugh.

Then along came Allison... the newest member of the BWB and one of RHO’s top riders. A gutsy, unafraid true cowgirl who was extremely kind and patient with me.  Allison taught me to just enjoy the ride...don’t think about it... just ride.

Allison has been with Tom a long time.  She rode almost any horse he asked of her and did well on every one of them.  She was a strong player in the cow arena and someone that everyone wanted to team up with.

We embraced Allison and we became five.

I continued to ride Dakota (With boots on) and actually did improve.  I just couldn’t shake my nerves.  I did get some confidence back though.  I don’t know what possessed me, but one day, I asked Tom if I could just ride one of his horses… like… a small one… a dead one even...…that didn’t move.

He called out to his son… “Justin, saddle up that Peaches mare, will ya”

OH HELL NO. HELLLLL NO….  PEACHES?  ARE YOU FRIGGIN NUTS?

Peaches came from our old barn. Need I say more?  But what I didn’t know was Tom had her in training from the beginning.  He re-conditioned this horse to become an unbelievable Team Penning athlete.  Well, Team Penning horses are kind of used to going fast... yea … fast. She was a beautiful mare, fine boned and healthy with big kind eyes.

“Tom, I don’t think I want to do this anyway... forget it, I changed my mind… no seriously, really… forget it”

“Listen, I’m not gonna put you on a horse that I don’t trust. I matched everyone up here with their horses… This horse is great and she’ll only do what you ask her, she rides to your level,  believe me when I tell ya”

Literally knees and arms shaking, I got on Peaches with the mounting block.  She stood quiet and gentle.  I liked her size and just the way she felt under me.  She was comfortable and smooth.  Tom walked to the center of the arena and we began a lesson.

We walked and did a little jog.  Tom prided himself in the way he trained his horses.  They all STOP on a dime.  He made me stop, back up, jog a little more and stop her.  For the first time since Satin, I finally felt like I was riding.  I was elated and this was an entire new world.  SO THIS is what they meant about a Tom Riley horse!!!!  I couldn’t get her to go though.  She was so kind and really knew that I was…in all actuality, a beginner.  Tom stopped me and said... “Here, put my spurs on, you’ll see a difference…believe me when I tell ya”

Spurs?

Spurs.

Really?  Did you just meet me?  Do you know me at all? Like, who are you?

Spurs.

So, he put them on me… to me they were these huge metal extensions of my ankle with rowels that resembled a pizza cutter with points... yea... that big…but really, they were just normal spurs.. That looked like those ninja flying discs that would kill on impact….

“Now, don’t dig into her side, just tap her.  Git used to em first”

So I tapped and she moved… inside leg, outside leg, left turns, right turns and a world of difference.  Amazing.  Yes, I was ready to lope and we did.   All around the arena.  She was awesome.  I was unafraid and able to really control her.  She listened and responded.  This was amazing! I learned more in that one day than I had in all the years of riding. The one thing, though, that every rider wants to do is make their trainer proud.  Tom Riley was the happiest when we were.  I couldn’t take the smile off my face … but to see Tom beam at the fact that I actually rode was overwhelming!

“Well, how was that?”  He laughed his hearty laugh and knew I was hooked.

I rode Peaches all the time… or at least when Sue or Laura didn’t use her.  I hoped every weekend that she would be available. 

She was. This one particular Team Penning day, she was. 
 “Michele, you’re Pennin’ today.”

Penning.

Penning.

OH HELL NO. Really? Did you just meet me?  Do you know me at all? Like, who are you?

Penning? Like with cows.. and people?

’UBET. Put yer big girl panties on and cowgirl up.”

No one said NO to Tom Riley. Ever. No one.  

I remember looking over at Sharon.  Now, if you know Sharon, you know her face before she gets hysterical .  Her eyebrows go up.. her eyes gleam, her mouth opens  and wails of a  huge aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh   hahahahahahahahah  and unending laughter begins.  She looked at me… with the face…the horror and disbelief on my face must have been priceless…. All I heard was that uncontrollable laughter.

Thanks Sharon, What the hell do I do now?

Well, you don’t have a choice… she said… while she wiped away tears of  laughter.  Good Luck….

Sharon.. I could always count on her for support.
Sue looked at me in disbelief, Donna laughed and Allison just said "go for it girlfriend"
OK, so I went for it.

The team was called. I don’t remember who I first rode with, but I do remember Tom announcing that it was my first time and my team was there to support and teach me.

Into the cows I went when he called the number.  Where is it and what the hell do I do when I get it? Just chase it.. get behind it. So, I got behind it... JEEZE.. what the hell was coming out of that animal?  What the hell?  I found myself spewing out cow calls  that sounded like a cat in heat.  What the hell was that out of my mouth….. and did it really scare the damn cows into moving? What the hell was this about?  Grown people chasing cows..
 Get the wing... I got the hole.. what? 

Nonetheless, I was hooked.  It was a blast.  What a difference a real trained horse makes.  So me… along with my barbed wire babes were hooked on cows, the horses that drive them and the trainer that makes it all happen. 

My next call to Tom Riley was desperate.  “Tom, find me a cow horse.  I can’t do this with Dakota and I really want to ride”

He laughed.  UBET.

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