Father, Sons & Horses

Marshal and Walker

by Carol Wilson

I found my husband in the barn. He wasn’t expecting me, but when I called his name and he turned, I could see the silver trail of tears tracking down his tanned, weather-beaten face.

Rex was choked up, but managed to tell me he was preparing to put Walker in his final resting place. Burying the last of our sons’ first horses with dignity and love was the final thing he could do for this life companion.

Walker was born on this ranch and lived here his entire life. Rex was the one who found the gangly sorrel wobbling behind his mama when he was just hours old. Rex was the first to handle the young colt. It was he who gentled him and trained him. Rex put the first saddle on Walker, taught him to rope, and taught him to follow a cow.

I rode Walker for several years before he became our youngest son’s horse. Walker didn’t have the saddles or years to be an ideal horse for a young cowboy, but he bonded with Marshal in a way he never had with Rex or I. They rodeoed, went to horse shows, dragged calves to the fire, and covered endless miles on the ranch.

Walker was better behaved with Marshal than he had been when I rode him. When Marshal and Walker day-worked for one of the most demanding ranchers in the county, the crusty horseman told Rex, “Marshal and that sorrel horse can do anything together.”

Marshal became a man riding Walker, and when Walker became too old to carry him safely, Marshal turned him out with the other retired horses, to live out his days running free on the ranch that had always been his home.

Walker was the youngest of three horses out of Rex’s mare Jenny. Those three brothers, Kip, Liberty and Walker, carried our sons through their youth into their teenage years. They gave their strength and heart and courage for our sons, and their love was returned, many times over.

At the time, we just thought we were providing our sons with good horses. From the perspective gained over the last 30 years, however, we realize that we were choosing the equine partners who would help these boys become men.

Rex was the rancher who welcomed these gangly colts into our lives. It was his hands that taught the horses that men would love them and treat them well. Rex trained the horses, as he trained his sons, and when the time was right he put them together. In the final, quiet moments of Walker’s life, Rex slipped his arm around his neck and softly whispered, “well done, my friend.” 

As light fades from the sky and I listen to the sounds of Rex digging Walker’s grave, I think of the father’s love. He taught both boys and horses about patience. Love. Gentleness. Respect. And strength.

This afternoon, as we remembered the moments with our sons and their horses, we marveled at God’s providence in providing our family with Kip, Liberty, and Walker. I wrapped my arms around my husband and we both sobbed.

Then Rex straightened and went to bury Walker, his son’s horse, just as he has buried Kip and Liberty. And I pray that our sons know just how much their father loves them.

The Wilson Brothers: Justus on Liberty, Kendal on Kip, and Marshal on Walker