Shartlesvillesburgtown?

It’s show time. When Tom Riley says we’re going to a show, we go.  In fact, when Tom Riley says we’re doing anything, we just do it. So the weeks prior, we practiced and listened and practiced some more. This was my first sorting show outside of our home arena.  I was scared to death and so leery of what this whole thing was about. 

After weeks of preparation, we were ready.  Early morning grooming, loading up and strategically deciding the order of our caravan, the RHO crew took to the road and set out on the show scene.

 

 

 

 

Shartlesville…  no, Shartlestown… Shartlesburg?

Whatever.  It was a far hike to the end of the world... or Pennsylvania... whichever came first.  Where the hell are we now, Sharon?

Donna and Sue ahead, Sharon and I behind…and horse tails flying out the back of trailers.  Tom’s stock trailer was filled and occasionally I would pass and just wave to my Chill.

Sue, like a mother hen, worried about Peaches in the trailer for 200 miles... back and forth cell phone calls... and thumbs up signs all the way... we arrived safe and sound.

So, we rolled into the show grounds, trailers bouncin’ and horses neighing… I, with my good luck beautiful shirt Donna lent me, sparkled spurs and a crystal belt, I climbed onto my Chill

Wait... lemme fix the mounting block…

SO, with crystal belt…wait... block adjustment…

So, with Courtney and Sharon silently hysterical at the sight of me… I finally climbed up on Chill and paraded into the arena.

 

Tom and Sonita

This show was different.  Although we were competing against each other, I was still a wreck.  Sue kept telling me... “It’s just another day at the barn... and it’s just with each other.  Let’s just get out with one cow… clean... and take our time.”

The people … Thousands of them… well… no... HUNDREDS of them...

Well, no… a couple hundred maybe… one hundred.

The cows… They were show-quality, insane and quite different than ours. They scattered at the sight of a horse.  One cow was so crazy that it literally climbed the wall and got its leg caught in the rails.  A show-stopper for sure... 6 cowboys and a herd change later, we entered the arena.

Donna, to me, was the star of the show.  She kept our times, kept our places and certainly kept us in order.  With Sharon by her side, we were always aware of who was next and what was happening. We were on our own.  Tom wasn’t able to tell us what to do or even yell out calls of encouragement.

So, we went on instinct and what we learned.  It was a blast and so rewarding to see us all together and doing so well.  For me, this wasn’t a public competition, but a personal one.  I just wanted to see how I stood up against everyone else.  As usual, I was slow, but there wasn’t a choice with these cows.  Slow and steady…

We were near the end of the day.  All of us exhausted and hot. It was Sharon who came up to me.  Michele… you’re in second place… if not third… you’re definitely third.  You won.

Shut the hell up Sharon… Typical of her to bust my ass.

“No, I’m serious.  I wouldn’t joke right now.  You won.” The look on her face told me she wasn’t kidding. IT was half elation and half stone cold serious

No friggin way…. And sure enough I came in third.  THIRD PLACE…

First-Tom, Second-Don and THIRD ME? 

Hugs from my BWBs and congratulatory wishes from my barn… this was priceless!  Sharon, I think, was happier than I was! 

But, to see Tom and Courtney’s faces… smiles beaming... was  worth more to me than anything. 

So, as I collected my winnings, (enough to pay my entry fee) like a fool I stood there and cried…quietly and into my Chillie Mare’s soft mane, I cried.  I thanked HER for doing it all because it was her.  She’s a cow horse and knew all about this crazy game.

I was just along for the ride.