The Horsepower Homestead

My trainer knew a lot of horse people. He had worked with Mark Rashid in his younger years, before moving out of the Western riding circle, away from rodeos and broncos, and into the calmer, smoother world of flatseat and Dressage. I had been a student of Mr. Bee's since I was 10. And one day, during the summer, when I was 16 years old, I was spending nearly everyday at the barn. I had gotten my drivers license a few months before school let out, and I was putting it to good use. Mr. Bee ran a small hippotherapy program, an equestrian therapy program for special needs children. I spent a lot of time helping him with the kids. In return, I rode nearly as much as I desired. Mr. Bee and I had been working with Barrister most of that summer. Barrister had been with us for a year. He was steady, calm, and bomb proof. We had trained him to lay down, so I could put wheelchair bound children on his back without lifting them. Our wheelchair ramp/mounting block was still under construct...

My Trainer took me out to an auction house when I was 15 years old. My dad came too. We were there to help my trainer find a new lesson horse. His mare was getting old, and needed to retire. My trainer was also my coach, my lesson instructor, and a dear family friend. We affectionately called him Mr. Bee, as his last name started with a B, and was challenging to pronounce and spell. There were horses crammed into pens. A small round pen surrounded by bleachers and a single wide trailer served as the office. I wandered the pens, trying to find any good options. And there he was. He looked like a giraffe. In a sea of hides and horses, crammed into pens together, his long red neck extended like a flag pole. His head held high above all the other ranch horses, I swear it felt like he was looking right at me. That's the one. That's the one I want I told Mr. Bee. He nodded. He went into the Auction house office and ten minutes later he came back, paperwork ...