The Stables

I started “working” at a riding stable when I was 12 or 13 and spent my weekends there through most of my teen years in Southern California. The stables had a rustic charm built on acres of mostly desert and scrub brush at the base of the mountains. We had a a string of 30 or so horses that we would choose ten a day to groom, saddle and rent out to customers during the day. We also had a racetrack training center in the back with barns filled with racehorses that would train there and run at Santa Anita and Del Mar. 

One of my friends out there was “Larry”. Larry was a great horseman and at the age of 14 would often breeze racehorses in the morning for the trainers at the track. It was his ambition to become a rodeo roping cowboy.  Every where he went, he carried a rope and would throw the rope from his horse in beautiful poetic motions roping and releasing, roping and releasing. He would rope mailboxes, cactus, and whatever from the back of his Appaloosa, Kheo. At the end of the day after the horses had been un-saddled, washed, and fed we would take our horses and ride up into the hills full of orange groves. We could smell the orange blossoms and hear the peacocks calling as the sun went down. We would usually ride until late at night and would often get back at midnight and sleep on the hay stack with dogs, Australian Shepards, Toughy and Weaver.

One night we were riding in the hills, Larry on his Appy, Kheo and me on my rogue horse, a big black thoroughbred. Larry would ride and rope as went along. We came across an old shotgun shack late at night and a dog came running out barking at us so Larry being Larry decided to rope the dog! And he did and the dog started yelping and all of a sudden we heard the clamor of the screen door and a men yelling incoherently at us and the sound of rifle firing at us! Bullets whizzed by my head and the horses took of running at a full gallop! I grabbed a handful of the horses mane and held on the best that I could. And here was Larry dragging that poor dog. After we outrun the gunfire we stopped and with a flick of his wrist Larry released the dog from his rope and the dog ran back home whimpering.  We had to find a different way home back to the stables that night but what an adventure it was!

Note: pictures are illustrations.