Dudley Stables

Last night I had a dream about a horse.  I could feel its course black mane and when it ran I loved seeing the muscles ripple below the tan skin. Waking up, I began thinking about why I have always liked horses.  As a little girl, I remember reading books about horses. Then, when I was around thirteen years old, I would go to Dudley Stables in Greeley, Colorado and stand on the split rail fence to pet their solid necks and long noses. To me, their oval shaped eyes and long eyelashes were beautiful. One day the owner asked me if I wanted to help around the stable and he would let me ride the horses for free. I agreed because I did not have five dollars to ride a horse for one hour. Working during my summer vacation, I  enjoyed the smell of leather, manure and straw.

My job was cleaning out the stables, hanging up the bridles, and sometimes feeding the horses. There were about six horses and my favorite was a large, bigger than the rest, buckskin by the name of Buck. The other horses were heavy looking, wide-backed horses.  If Buck was not available, I would ride the other horses and felt every step they took. Even though it was a bouncy ride, I used to like to get the horses to gallop. All of the horses did pretty much what they wanted to do.  They would decide when it was time to return to the stable and no matter how hard I tried to get them to continue, I could not turn them because their thick neck was like steel. All the horses sensed when the hour was up and would return to the stable whether I wanted to or not!

One day, a man wearing Levi jeans, a white western shirt, boots and a cowboy hat, was speaking with Mr. Dudley.  As I cleaned the stalls I could hear parts of their conversation.  It sounded as if the  cowboy (which if I had known then was a typical Marlboro type) had two thoroughbred horses and wanted to board them with Mr. Dudley.


The next morning I found two reddish-brown horses at the stable.  The man stood beside one and seemed to be talking to it.  He smiled and asked, "How would you like to help me out with my horses after you are done with your chores?" I asked what I would have to do and he replied, "Just ride. They need exercise and I can only ride one!" By 10:30 I finished cleaning the stables and told him I was ready.  He asked if I had ever ridden before.  I told him I rode all the time on Mr. Dudley's horses. He said, "My horses are very sensitive.  You just need to touch them with your knee and they respond." I pretended to understand what he meant and he helped me up on one of the horses. I followed him out and he headed to Island Grove park where there was a race track. I followed and right away I realized that the horse was different. I felt as if I was sitting on a rocking chair, smoothly moving along. There were no bumps or jerks, no bouncing,just a gentle movement. Once when I thought I was slipping, I pressed my right knee against the horse and he automatically turned.

At the track we ran, walked, and trotted the horses. I loved hearing the rythmic thudding of the hoofs as I galloped around the track. The difference between Mr. Dudley's horses and the cowboy's horses was like night and day! We then walked the horses back to the stable.  Every day I would help the cowboy exercise his horses.  He would give me advise on riding like if a horse bolts, move reins back and forth causing horse to go in a circle and stop his forward motion. Always wear boots and never raise your voice but speak softly to the horse. Don't come up behind a horse because it could scare him. Talk to the horse, they enjoy hearing a confident voice.

Years later, I was on a bridle path that went through an old river bed.  A piece of paper flew up and spooked my horse.  The horse took off and all I could do was hold on to the saddle horn.  Weeds were smacking me on the legs, sand was being kicked up, and I was scared but I remembered that I needed to begin trying to turn the horse.  Gently I moved the rein left and then right and the horse began to slow down.  When I finally had him going in a large circle he had calmed down but my heart hadn't!

Once, a horse decided to return to the stables and turned while I thought we were still going forward.  I went flying off and skidded in the gravel, enbedding my hands and knees with tiny rocks. I was crying and and picking out the rocks from my knees when my riding partner said, "Get back on."  "No," I replied. "Get back or you will never ride again." I got on and the horse walked back to the stable. It was as if he knew he had done something wrong.

The cowboy and I parted ways when my mother, hearing unpleasant rumors from my aunt, decided I was too young to be seen riding with a grown man.  I was forbidden to return to the stable and I stopped helping Mr. Dudley.  I had enjoyed the time I helped with the horses and even now I like seeing horses and all that they can do.

Riding in Estes Park

I satisfy the part in me that loves horses by watching movies like Black Beauty, Flicka, Seabiscuit, War Horse, Ruffian, or Secretariat.  Or, like last night, I'll dream about horses!