See Horses

My grandparents Miner had a small farm near Indian Head, Pennsylvania. They raised chickens, hogs, a few cows, and in the early days of their marriage horses. I remember that they had horse drawn plows, hay rakes, cutter bars, and a farm wagon. The first story of Granddad Ray Miner’s horses was told to me by my mom, Sybil Miner Beck. Granddad would ride his horse in from the field and tie it in the shade of a cherry tree while he ate lunch, then he’d return to work. Apparently as a toddler, I came up missing. My mom and Gram Rebecca Rugg Miner searched, but stopped when they saw me beneath Grandpa Ray’s huge black horse. This horse was very skittish and wouldn’t allow anyone but Ray to approach without it stomping and rearing. They called Granddad who rescued me.

Another horse story I can actually remember was about a pale horse named Pet. I don’t know if she was old, but her coat was faded a watery blue-gray hue. Grandpa Ray would hoist me and another cousin up onto her broad back and he would lead Pet along the lane to the barn and back before he put her back into the traces and went back to work.

The next story about horses (and a mule) occurred while our church group was on a tenting tour of the West. My wife Cindy Morrison Beck talked me into going on a horseback ride at a ranch to a campsite at the trail’s end where a chuck-wagon would fix a hearty breakfast. It sounded great. There was one concern. Cindy was very short, mostly because her legs were not long. Clam-diggers or peddle-pushers looked like full length pants when she wore them.

She was to ride a mule named Festus. The ranch hands shortened the stirrups as much as possible, but Cindy’s toes barely touched the inside of the loop on the saddle’s stirrup. One ranch hand patiently explained to her how to sit and how to use the reins. Festus must have sensed Cindy’s uneasiness and possibly her misplaced feet, because he began to shift his feet. When he raised his head, Cindy panicked and pulled back on the reins. Festus reared up. Without being firmly seated and having her feet secure in the stirrups, Cindy slid off the mule’s back and onto her backside. Cindy rode a Jeep to the trail’s end for breakfast and waited for the rest of us to arrive. Because her bottom was injured from the fall, Cindy rode “Side-saddle” in the van on the return trip home to Pennsylvania the entire time leaving the task of driving up to me.