There Is More To Our Story

Howdy Folks,

With perked ears and sad eyes, Blackie watched as the truck drove away. Her long time friend, Chance called out in fear. Dust soon swallowed the trailer, but the whinnies continued. Blackie raced along the board fence, head held over the top board, running as fast as her old legs could manage. She answered the calls with all the breath she had, and ran faster, ever faster, but soon the truck and the whinnies were gone. Straining over the fence she looked far away, far into the setting sun where her friend had gone. Blackie stood well into the night, searching the horizon for her friend's return. Which deep inside she knew would not happen. There would be hay at the barn, there always was, but tonight she would eat no hay.

In her long years Blackie had watched other friends leave. Too many. Sometimes it was she who was taken away. The first time, she was running free with her mama, and the others. She hardly remembers her mama, but she remembers that horrid, hot terrifying day. It started like any other, scampering about playing with the other young ones. Then the run came!

Chased from all sides, there was yelling, panic and pain. Blackie still feels the pain in her feet, and her chest from running so many miles trying to hard to keep up. Her legs were too short, she lost sight of mama, and she cried out. Like today, trying to run and call at the same time.

She never saw her mama after that day. Or her other friends. It was her first ride in a crowded truck. Tonight, looking over the fence for Chance, she remembered that first ride. A long ride, she remembers how thirsty she'd become. How tired. Where is mama? She'd cried out as long as she had voice.

The ride took her to a place so different from before. She'd never been inside, the air was tight, smelled and felt so strange, and there was so much noise. She had her first lessons there, human lessons. It was hard, at first, to understand humans, but after a while she learned to accept them. Even love some of them. For a while she played there, outside with new friends. Frolicking in the big fields was almost like being home again. It was there she was taught many new things, human things. Some were very fun, some confusing, but she always tried her best. In the evenings she and her new friends would gather together, groom each other and help each other understand. Blackie was different from the others, they had all been born right there. They seemed to learn faster than she, but the friendships they forged were just as real as the friends she'd left behind, before the big chase.

She walked from the fence, just far enough so she could lie down. If the truck and Chance came back, she would be right here, waiting.

It had been a long time since Blackie had thought of those early friends, but tonight she remembered each of them. That first summer, long ago, in the new place, had seen each of them leave, one at a time. Where were they tonight? Blackie stayed two more years. She had her first foal there. Those sweet months with her baby by her side, those are some of her fondest memories. She would have two more foals, each at new places. Each one she left behind as she was taken to new places.

Blackie rolled onto her side, stretched out her neck, heaved a heavy sigh. She thought of those babies. She wondered where they were tonight.

She pulled her tired legs under her, stood and shook. It always feels good to shake. She gave another look far away, and got lost in her thoughts. She thought of the places she'd lived. She remembered the friends she made along the way. She thought of the children so proud to ride her. For a wonderful few years she'd been proud to teach children to ride at the beautiful farm in the mountains. Those were fun days, and she'd had great friends there. Horses and human. She met Chance there. Chance told her his stories. She told Chance, her stories. They understood each other.

One day, she and Chance were loaded together, and they came here. For a while they taught children to ride here too. Then no more children came and it was just she and Chance, and Michelle. Michelle was nice, perhaps the kindest of all the people she'd known. There had been some bad places, and people, over the years, but here with Michelle things were very good. It was peaceful here.

She would miss Chance; she knew he would miss her. Perhaps he'll go to a place where there is a woman like Michelle, who can hear him. And know there is more to his story. There is always more to our stories, and we can tell them, if people listen. 

Blackie laid down, stretched out, and closed her eyes.

Gitty Up ~ Dutch

"Independence Day" - the second in my Grandpop series.

Howdy Folks,

This is the second in my Grandpop series - You can read the first - "Perhaps I've Just Lived Too Long (HERE) - Many Coffee Clutchers really enjoy visiting with Grandpop. I hope you will too.

"Independence Day"

The grandchildren sat transfixed by the old man. In a semi circle under the massive oak they watched and listened as his tired voice told grand stories of his youthful days, before he'd gone to the big war, when he was a cowboy on the vast ranges that still surround them here in the Texas panhandle. His three old mares had joined us too. They stood behind him almost asleep. I chuckled when I thought they'd heard all these stories before. So had I.

The Coffee Clutch family

It was pleasant under the big tree, even though the thermometer on the side of the weathered barn told me it was just under 100 when we'd strolled by it on the way to Grandpop's story tree.

Grandpop was deep into the story about the time he and his best friend, Tex, who didn't make it back from the war, were asked to escort a special lady from the train station to the ranch and got caught in a thunderstorm that had them holed up under the wagon for 2 hours. "Boy howdy," I heard him say, "She was sure enough as mad as a hornet. Why you'd have thought Tex and me had conjured up that big blow just to ruin her travelin' dress." He paused and looked around the circle of young faces. "I think it was the first time I ever heard a lady cuss." He chuckled. "And she was good at it too."

I looked back at the gathering of folks between the house and barn, too far to hear any of their voices. Smoke was drifting up from the campfires where steaks were grilling, and a few games of horseshoes were going on. Looked like guys against gals. I could see cousin Fred boring everybody he could lasso, bragging over his new Cadillac.

I remembered when I sat under the tree listening to Grandpop's stories. He never told any stories about his time in the war, at most he'd mention it took him away and he married Grandma the week he got home. He'd use that as a lead into how they set out together to build this little ranch, and raise a family here, 3 boys and 2 girls. "Why when we bought this little chunk of land there wasn't even a single building on it." I heard him say.

I'd be turning 60 in a few months and I thought about how much this tiny ranch and that old man meant to me. His horses, his stories, his advice. I cupped my face so no one could see the tears swelling in my eyes. I thought about all the years I was too busy to come home for his big Independence Day shindigs. A pang in my gut told me I'd not get those visits back. Those were lost chances. My wet eyes surveyed the smiling faces watching him talk and an uneasy feeling swept over me as I wondered who would be the family's anchor when he was no more. We all came to him when we were troubled. And when we had the biggest news to share.

Independence Day wasn't the only big shindig here at Grandpop's ranch, but I always thought it was his favorite. At some point one of the children would always ask why he liked 4th of July so much. Of course as I grew older I sensed that he steered the conversation in that direction so he could tell them. "This is the only country in the entire history of the world to be founded on the principle that everyone is equal and that the independence of everybody was what matters the most so everyone can be whatever they want to be." It's that freedom that makes our country so wonderful he would explain. Of course some of the youngest wouldn't totally understand until they heard the stories a few times. It takes a while to understand what's truly important, I suppose.

I thought again of the years I'd missed Gandpop's shindigs. It does take a while to understand what's important, and I understand now sometimes we need to lose it a little before we truly understand.

Somebody at the barn jerked the rope on the dinner bell and yelled, "Come and get it!" Bouncing to their feet the children yelled in unison, "Come on Grandpop!" I took his hand, helped him to his feet, and for the first time ever I noticed how frail he'd become. How tired his eyes. A shiver ran through me. A small panic. Who will tell the stories under the big oak when he's gone? Will anyone remember?

Gitty Up ~ Dutch Henry

You can read the next (3rd) Grandpop story, "Grandpop's Horse" (HERE)