pages 244-245

Pages 244-245

                Jim put a riding bridle and saddle on him.  This made him look even cuter with his body so short.  He then got into the saddle riding around quite a bit to see if he was gentle enough for me.  Showing no signs of being anything but a good little mule, Jim helped me into the saddle.  How easy he was to ride, almost like sitting in a rocking chair, but his withers or shoulders were so small, it seemed as though the saddle was practically on his stubby little neck.  And too if he put his head to the ground, one wouldn’t feel very comfortable. And when lowering his head to eat he’d have to spread his front feet apart to be able to nip the grass.  Jim sheared and trimmed his extra long tail too, giving him more of that mule look.  He was just about as cute a trick as you’d find.  I rode him quite awhile, then having work to do, Jim took the bridle off, tying him to the rack of hay for riding later.  I was quite happy over it and thought much about it as I went about finishing up my mornings work.

                Beauty was fine too but not a very easy saddler because she was a trotter and buggy horse.  Jim’s plans were to break Billy Fortune, Beauty’s colt to be a saddler, thinking from his gait and way of walking, he’d make a good one when old enough.

                I was quite pleased with what I had, but I knew there would be times when Jackie would have to do his bit on one end of the rail or gang plow.  Jim had plans already for getting a well fitted pad and collar and fixing a half set of double harness for him.  As he said, only to work him when needed for I think he had fallen for Jackie in a big way the same as I.

                After dinner Jim went up to burn more sage, He was in hopes of getting this bench ready for the plow, so it could be turned over while the ground was still moist and to harrow each plowed strip to preserve and hold it in the ground.  I watched him ride one of the horses across Shirley Creek and up the hill on the opposite side.

                After washing up the dishes I took in the clothes, sprinkled and put in a basket what was to be ironed, folded the rest neatly and put them away,.  Thus that wash was over with.

                So I layed down and rested for about an hour.  Later stirred up the fire and put on a batch of chocolate fudge.  When done, poured it in a plate, setting it to cool while I read through a magazine.  When cold, I cut it into squares, placing it in a paper sack for easy carrying, slipped on a jacket and with my candy mounted Jackie, and was off to the bench.

                I began to figure he was smart right from the start, the way he dug his sharp little hoofs in when we went down the hill from the house and across Shirley Creek.  I guessed he didn’t care much for water the way he carefully stepped in and out of it.  It was running somewhat fast with debris washing in around his feet.  He was a bit shy, giving a sly sidelong look at it passing between his legs, seemingly happy at getting out of it.  Started to quick steps up the long sloping hill to the bench, digging his sharp toes in the clay-like foothill.  He continued the uphill climb.

                The air was filled with smoke from the burning sage, seeming to settle down all around us.  Finally we reached the top with the big jackrabbits dashing in front of us and chipmunks cheeping madly, running for their holes.

                We rode over to where Jim was.  He helped me off, tied Jackie to a sagebrush.  There we sat down on a nearby pile of brush to enjoy the candy.  Getting up once in a while to light another fire.  Jim said, “you notice the smoke coming back to earth?” “yes,” I answered, “I took note of that coming up the hill.” “Well, there’s a storm brewing,”  he said.

                Sure enough clouds began to settle around the mountain peaks and after an hour or so we were rewarded with a few drops.  Rain was a blessing and welcome in that country whether a few drops or a downpour.  We took it and liked it.  Jim said, “we’d better take off, I am not sure what we’ll get.  Could be anything from a wind laden with a few drops to a soaker.”  He helped me into the saddle, jumping on his horse we were on the move toward home.

                As we went down the winding sloping road, I began to feel a little leery.  What neck Jackie did have, seemed to have disappeared.  The only thing visible were his long ears above the saddle horn.  The saddle seemed to be riding up on his small withers.  Jim rode up beside me taking my arm saying . “you’ll be alright.  That saddle can’t slip any further, especially as tight as the girth is.”

                That little sure footed mule was really picking his way with a steady step, almost sitting on his haunches to keep his head up level with the rest of him.  I would have patted him on the neck to encourage him, but I was afraid to reach for something I could hardly see.  The slope became more gradual the farther down we got, letting Jackie straighten out a bit.  There was one thing he was making sure of though, that of getting his rider safely down the hill.  He was such a quiet, soft furry little fellow.  I hugged him around the neck several times after we were home, rubbing his pretty face with my hand from his forehead down to the soft tan muzzle of his nose.

                After Jim took the saddle off, I curried and brushed his coat of hair, which he enjoyed but evidently what I had done only made him want more rubbing.  He laid down, rolling over three times before getting up.  Jim said, “you know that denotes and extra good mule.”  We had never seen him do that before.  Jackie was all mule and a good one. 

                The rain we thought was coming did not materialize in our valley.  It followed the mountain range, but it must have been a good one for the clouds still hung low.  “We could get some yet,”  Jim commented as we strolled to the house with arms around each other.

Our home, though far from the mad rush and turmoil of the big cities and small towns and somewhat marooned in this valley.  Of many dreams and wishes, where the winds blew softly and sometimes madly, and where the coyote’s howl haunted us night after night, the rushing of Shirley Creek going by to its end in the flats, the night birds cry from the canyon, the lonely hours and the pleasant ones, all spelled home.  We were young, full of life and loved every minute of it.