The Prickly Pear Chronicles

 

Jack and Nitro 

1-20-2021: If you can't ride a horse – buy one.

It's been awhile since I took the time to blog. I'm not sure where I left off or what I did between then and now. It's like that here in Arizona. One day blurs into the next. If there were grass in this desert – not much would grow under a snowbirds feet.

The weather has turned south with not much improvement in the future-cast. Riding was limited to a short ride here and there between rain and wind. It's enough to make a snowbird bat shit-crazy...and impulsive. What the hell if you can't ride a horse... buy one.

In reality, the decision to acquire a young colt to raise was not an impulsive one. It was part of my plan when I sold J'Lo. I wanted a horse colt under 1 year to start from the ground up while Jack is in his prime. He's great with baby animals and has towed more horses than a lead mule on a pack string.

I had been looking around in Idaho before coming to Arizona. Nothing caught my eye locally. I figured on looking around when I came south. I followed up on a few leads sent my way and checked on -line. Searching for a horse on-line is not much different than on-line dating. People can say whatever they want and with the proper lighting and angles...every flea-bitten nag can look like the next Brad Pitt of the show ring.

Two weanling horse colts showed promise. A 10 month bay with appendix breeding I'd found on Ranch Horses of Arizona and an 8 month black AQHA ranch bred horse colt listed on Dream Horse.

The bay was located in Mesa – the black in Benson. It was a good opportunity to show Randy, a friend my sister and I grew up with, the old town of Tombstone. Randy is more the Harley riding, four-wheeling, spend the day on the lake fishing kind of guy. He was about to be exposed to more things equine than he new existed...or feared.

I told him from the start that if he was hanging out with me, I'd be throwing him on a horse. He was willing to swing in the saddle under one condition: “You don't get me bucked off in a pile of rocks and I end up paralyzed the rest of my life.” The best I could do was promise to put him out of his misery should that occur. So far he's ridden with me twice. That's once more than most of them.

Before I'd left to check out the colts – Dave asked me at least four times if I wanted to take his bumper pull. I said no. I was too impulsive. He gave me the Dave look: “So – your going to drive four hours there...four hours back....and turn around and do it all again? I again said thanks, but no. I didn't want to be tempted to buy something just because I was there. There is a good chance that Dave knows me better than I thought. He just shook his head and rolled his eyes: “OK young lady...you do what you want.”

I picked Randy up at his motel on my way through Wickenburg and the equine scouting trip began. We stopped in Mesa to check out “Enzo,” the bay appendix. He was playful, curious and inquisitive. He had a beautiful, free gate as he floated around the pen with head held high. Maybe a little too high? Jack can be high headed at times. It's not a deal breaker and it's something that can be overcome for the most part.

Enzo's owner acquired the dam not knowing she was bred. She said they knew of the stud but didn't have pictures of him, only a copy of his papers. Both the dam and sire are nicely bred. Enzo's papers were being processed. Papers don't mean a huge amount to me. I would take conformation over papers. I really liked Enzo. He was personality plus. I think I did the right thing by not borrowing Dave and Cindy's bumper pull. Otherwise I'd bring home every horse between Wickenburg and Tombstone.

I hadn't planned to see the black until the next day. It was still early and patience isn't one of my virtues. I sent the owner, Ariel, a text. She agreed to let us look at him when we got to Benson. I pulled up the black's Dream Horse add to refresh my memory. They called him “Riff.” A head shot that wasn't anything spectacular and his papers. I don't know a lot about blood-lines – but I recognized the majority of his. He was working ranch with some cutting and reining mixed in. I don't believe papers make a horse. I believe the human partner, positive experience and wet blankets make a good horse.

The moment I laid eyes on the inky black with the white star dead center of his forehead, I knew I'd be going back for that trailer. He moved with his head low, ears forward and eyes alert. He has a nice head – not too big and not too small. He's stocky, big boned and will have some height to him if he's anything like his mom and dad. Damn you Dave Crandall. Do you have to always be right?

Ariel rides, breeds and trains ranch versatility. She handled him like the ranch-girl from Texas she is. She didn't try to convince me he was a completely trained 8 month old that could halter himself on command and poop gold nuggets. She taught him to respect her space first and foremost – then to neck catch and lead. He's had his feet trimmed once – which he didn't like all that much - but she said he gives up pretty fast and his first trim was a good experience. He walked in and out of a stock trailer that she fed and watered him in.

He came up to me, let me pet him all over before walking off to retrieve his ball. I guess he wanted me to throw it but was content handing it to me. He was proud of that ball. He reminded me of a black lab retrieving a duck for his hunter. “Look what I brought you!”

I watched him interact with Ariel's little boy. He nuzzled him but didn't offer to bite or hurt him. Ariel said she often finds the boy and colt curled up together in the barn asleep. They call him Riff. I believe that is derived from “Drifter.” I will likely call him Nitro Drifter. Drifter when he's being good. Nitro when he's being bad. Like all good parents, I shall call him by his full name of Nitro Drifter when he's in serious hot water. Once you name something, you are pretty much screwed. I had purchased Nitro Drifter the moment I saw him.

I had to at least make the appearance of not being impulsive. I told Ariel I would let her know by the next day if I'd take him or not. Yeah right...like I hadn't named him already. I took a melatonin in hopes it would help me sleep. It didn't. I was too excited and anxious.

We would spend the next day touring Old Tombstone under the delusion it would give me time to think about it more and possibly talk myself out of any further equine transactions. Yeah right.

1-21-2021: All thing's OK and Details, Laurie May!!

We ate breakfast at “The OK Cafe.” Pretty much everything in modern Tombstone is called “The OK” something or other. I can't say for certain what Wyatt or Doc would have thought about The OK Cafe – but the food was good and nobody got shot in a gunfight. After breakfast, we wandered over to Old Tombstone to look around and do a little shopping.

Last year I bought a Bullhide cowboy hat at the Branding Iron in Old Tombstone. It's the only cowboy hat I've found that I like. I hoped to find another like it. I purchased one of the same brand and similar style. It's not exactly like the original, but that's the way it goes. It never fails...if you find something you really like – you should by a dozen because they will inevitably stop making it. It's one of the unwritten laws of the universe.

Randy migrated to the least likely shop to have existed in the days of Doc Holiday and Wyatt Earp: A Harley Shop. We found several shirts with graphics that incorporated Old Tombstone. One graphic depicted a stage coach being pulled by 4 souped up Harley's. I'm sure Doc rolled over in his grave when the lady rang them up. One shirt cost more than a gunfighter back in the day made in a month. As I sit here wearing mine – I'm thinking they are worth every penny.

You can't go to Tombstone without stopping in at Big Nose Kate's for Margarita's. A One man band entertained the lunch crowd. I smiled when he sang “El Paso.” It was almost as good as me and Blake's drunk karaoke version. Almost.

I made arrangements with Ariel to stop on our way back to see Nitro. Maybe he wouldn't be as gorgeous. Maybe he grew a third eye or huge donkey ears over night! Maybe pigs would fly and I would give up horses and fireball and become a socialist. I confirmed my decision, Ariel accepted my offer and I'd be picking up my new horse next week.

I dropped Randy off at his motel and headed for Aguila more excited than when I left. I had no more than stepped out of the truck when Dan steps out of his trailer: “Laurie May!! Get in here and fill us in on all the details!” Good hell...I assume he's talking about the horse?

They were finishing up dinner when I stepped into their LQ. I didn't realize how hungry I was until Teri made up a plate of pot roast, carrots and potatoes and slid it across the bar to me. I filled them in on all the details, horse details that is, between stuffing my face. I thanked them for dinner and for taking care of my horses and dogs while I was gone.

I was exhausted. There's something about this horse trading thing that wears a girl out. I'm not the best traveler, either. However, Tombstone isn't the worst place a person could visit three times in 2 months. The Prickly Pear Margarita's alone are worth it.