Baxter Black: New horse serves as reminder of lost friend

I traded for a new horse a while back. He’s a buckskin, 11 years old by his teeth, no papers, 15 hands and sound.

It wasn’t long after my friend, Tom, had been diagnosed with cancer. It was a bad one. He was younger than me and, by outward appearances, a healthy man. I included him on my prayer list and occasionally called.
I put my new horse into the string. He had come from a ranch in California. They said, “Try him out. Don’t know much about him, except he’s supposed to be gentle.”

Tom’s condition continued to crumble. During each call I made, he described the treatment he was on, its expectations and alternatives. We also discussed his sister, who was in another hospital suffering through a cancer problem of her own. Tom was part of the “Circle of Hands and Hearts” that kept her spirits up.

I received this horse sight-unseen. The first 10 yards out of the corral, he stuck his head between his knees and started pitching. I let him get in a couple of bucks worth then clamped down. He’s never tried again. On our first trip to the ranch, he was a little nervous. There was a lot of snorting, stopping, jumping sideways and asking directions on his part. But as soon as he figured it out, it was okay.

Tom was the kind of person who often served as part of the foundation in his community’s enterprises — a quiet, God-fearing man who worked behind the scenes to get things done. He shared the credit with modesty and addressed missteps or obstacles with firm resolve, regardless of who was to blame. He was like an offensive lineman, protecting and clearing a path for the flashier MVPs in the game. It took a while to get to know him.

Well, months have gone by and I’ve made a lot of circles on the new horse’s back. I’m getting used to his character. He doesn’t really care to be petted. He’s touchy about his head. He stands there waiting while I dump hay in his trough, just watching. He cooperates when I shoe him, doesn’t kick or lean on ya’. I have a term for big-footed, cover-the-country horses like him: Nevada slogger. Nothing delicate, nothing fancy or, in a word, strong.

I got the word yesterday Tom had passed away. It hurt. A lot.

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