Rowdy’d unseat me and run back to Baxter’s, but when I got tired of walking three miles to the stable or riding double on another gal’s horse, I learned how to stay on. I paid attention to his twitching ears and the feel of his body. When he tensed up, I talked to him. I couldn’t afford a saddle so I rode bareback, which strengthens your legs and gives you balance.

Anytime I mowed grass or did jobs around the house, my folks forked over the dollar so I could ride Rowdy. If I had no money I’d go just to brush him and talk to him.

Once, on my birthday, I got to rent him for five hours straight. We packed a little lunch, the horse and I did, and went out to the pasture to run around. Rowdy kneeled in the grass and I jumped off. He pawed in the crick and rolled in the water. We ate our treats and napped in the shade of a big tree.

MY PAINT HORSE

One day Keith Baxter said, You know, I’m going to sell that horse. He said he’d sell him for a hundred dollars.

I ran home and cleaned the house, trying to suck up big-time before my mom got off work. She worked really hard and my dad worked really hard — he was a Korea War vet. They paid seventy-five dollars a month to rent the house we lived in.

My mom said, Ask your father. My dad said, In a week you’ll be sick of him — you’ll be chasing boys instead.

Then my mom asked Gary Goldberg what he thought. Gary was a great horseman with a stable in Storyville, a few miles away. If it was too hot or the flies were bad, Gary’d refuse to rent you a horse, whereas Keith Baxter was happy to take your money. To my mom, Gary Goldberg said, I don’t think it’s a good idea.

A week later I was riding Rowdy, crying — I thought it was the last time I’d see him. Baxter and my mom were watching me from the side of the corral. Then Baxter cupped his hand around his mouth and yelled, Well, what do you think of your new horse?

After that there were boarding bills to pay — we kept him at Keith’s — and feed and tack and vet bills, too. My mom, she sacrificed a lot of her own little life so that I — I had to get the horse.

KIND OF FUNNY, A REAL CLOWN, AN ORNERY SON OF A BUCK

Any chance I had I was headed to Baxter’s. We’d get out of class early in a blizzard and I was on my way in the snow. Five miles out — I rode my bike until somebody stole it. Then I walked or hitched a ride with other people from the stable.