Our horses are getting older, and we’ve been talking about finding a foal to bring home and raise up so he’ll be ready to ride in a couple of years. Waiting until next year would work better, we said, because I’d have more time and we hoped the cattle market would get somewhat better. We were just going to look. Right.
Driving the hundred and fifty miles into Kansas on one of a few weekend days we have ‘free,’ brought us to the farm and ranch where some of our other horses came from. J.R. and Carroll and their family are good people. They are down-to-earth, everyday folk. I was immediately comfortable recognizing some kindred. We looked at the stud, Cicso, and heard about all of his show credits. His head came over the rail for the same scratching all horses love.
Working our way up to the barn, we began the process of ‘just looking.’ It was over as soon as the little buttermilk buckskin came out of his stall. The gentle handling he’d had all his life to this point showed in his sweet disposition and in the soft eye he turned to us. Leading him out of the barn and into a small pen where we could see him move clinched it, especially when he was so curious about my phone taking his picture.
Yes, we looked at the grullo colt and the two other foals, but the deal was done on a handshake and we drove back home deciding on names. Bullet, the buttermilk buckskin.