Isn't It Romantic

It was our one year anniversary of marriage and Ed was bound for a horse sale two states away.  I could not go with him because I was big fat pregnant and my nonexistent bladder would be counter productive to traveling in a timely manner.  There is no glamorous way to describe the last trimester.  There just isn't.  Ed going alone to a horse sale can be dangerous.  He buys horses like I buy shoes.  He may take two horses to the sale and come home with five.  With no supervision, I was concerned.

When he pulled back into the ranch with a trailer full of horses, I was not surprised.  I stood there counting as he unloaded them.  I stopped counting when a small grey mare backed out.  I grabbed her lead rope and began walking her to her new home.  She was so friendly and sweet, like a big dog.  When I asked Ed about her, he said not to get too attached.  There was a list of reasons:  a) She's a mare. We don't ride mares.  We aren't breeding mares.  She didn't fit in his horse "program." b) He had all ready sold her on the way home sight unseen to his brother.  A deal is deal and there's no crawfishing. c) If I really wanted a horse, he would get me whatever I wanted, but not THIS one.  The wheels were turning in my head.  Reminding him that our anniversary was the next day, I asked what he was planning on getting me.  He stopped and without saying a word flipped out his phone and called his brother to tell him he had not bought a horse. 

Over the next year this mare and I became fast friends.  She would nicker at me whenever she saw me coming out of the house and I enjoyed grooming her.  Ed had named her "Tinkerbell," which was not a compliment.  He didn't like her pedigree, her big head, her small frame...oh...and she was a mare.  When I declared that we needed new carpet at the ranch house, he told me if I sold her I could use the money for the new carpet.  We didn't get new carpet. 

When she turned two it was time to break her to ride if she was going to stay.  She was staying.  Ed was concerned I had made her too much of a pet and she would be indignant when he tried to train her.  He lead her in the round pen and saddled her.  She stood there.  He stepped on her and I held my breath, waiting for it all to be my fault.  She squalled a little, took two steps backwards...then stopped...then walked forward waiting for further instruction.  Ed was shocked she was being so easy.

The breaking of Tinkerbell continued over the next couple of months.  An envelope arrived from the American Quarter Horse Association.  It held the registration papers for Tinkerbell (Tru Truckle).  They were in my name and that made it official...she was MY horse.  The more Ed rode her the more he appreciated her work ethic and her speed.  She became his favorite horse to ride and I started referring to her as "the other woman" when he would buy special bits, elaborate hand braided mecate reins, and dote on her with extra feed.  Some women may object to their husbands having another woman in his life.  This one is okay with me.  I loved her way before he did.