May 5, 2024
Sunday dawned crisp and windy. An overnight rain left the land refreshed and glorious. Spring's flowers were getting ready to emerge in a big way.

The girls studied the landscape from the relative comfort of the Jeep. Grace thought she saw something move.  She edged the Jeep slowly along the rock ledge, hoping for a better view.  Late afternoon shadows played on the moving grasses and flowers.  Then Skye saw it too.

Moving shadows. Darting across the loose, rocky soil, horse shaped, curving with the contours of the land.

Grace rolled the Jeep forward more, trying to get a better look. Skye looked down over the edge for a moment.
"Whoa Grace, whoa..."

They saw the mare first. A big mare, a liver chestnut sabino, big head, big feet, big body. She was no minuscule mustang.  Her foal followed on her heels, a little copy of its mother, but with different facial markings, less body white, and big ears on a small head. The girls saw them for just a fleeting moment, and then the foliage, lush with spring, obscured their view, and the mare and foal slipped out of sight.  The girls, bundled in their ponchos, watched and waited, but the land fell still and silent again.

Back in the shelter of home, they pondered what they'd seen.

"I think we can say with certainty that something is happening with the wildies" Skye said. "And it just keeps getting more interesting."

"What though..." Grace replied. "Is this just the way of it? Herds aren't really sleepy and stable, they're dynamic and constantly changing and this is normal...or is something upsetting the balance."

Skye didn't have an answer. And today's sighting certainly didn't make anything more clear.

May 10
It was more or less suddenly high spring.  Flowers were blooming everywhere.
Skye could hardly watch the trail ahead for wanting to see the flowers. Grace was more focused on the changing sky.

Popcorn flower was one of Skye's favorites. There were so many varieties, from miniscule, low growing flowers to tall, showy shrubs. She had to get a better look...and carefully, because a tarantula wasp was also checking out the flowers.

Clouds were building quickly in the west. A T cell, Grace surmised. And then she heard a sound.

She'd never heard anything like it before, and it was coming toward them. A shrill vibration, almost like a racing drone; and then she saw it. It was no drone, but two birds, a pigeon flying for its life with a pursuer close behind, the air being ripped apart by the blinding speed of their flight.

The pigeon flung itself into the shelter of a thick pine tree and the pursuer swerved left. Chase over.

The predator circled, flying past the girls again at a much slower speed. A peregrine falcon.

"That was amazing!" Skye said, excited.

"Yeah it was. These clouds are pretty amazing too. Let's head back to the ranch."

"Oh man, we've got hours before dark. Besides, I'd love to see some lightning."
"Have you ever seen lightning up close?" Grace asked. "It's pretty scary. It's awesome and impressive for sure."  A little reluctantly, Skye submitted.  Probably nothing would happen, probably there would be no lightning.  But it was one of the things Grace was cautious about, so they headed toward home.

Grace had gotten accustomed to the helicopters working in Chilao, as had all the horses and dogs and everyone else. Men flying through the air tethered to a line was hardly reason to pause any more. As they rode back, the helicopters were coming in, carrying their various human and inanimate loads.

"Do you suppose the line workers are coming in because of the clouds?" Skye asked.

"Coincidence, I think" Grace replied. "It's near day's end on a Friday. I think they want to be in their cars and trucks and heading home at 5 PM. But if it wasn't almost 5 PM...yeah, they might be coming in to let the storm pass."

And the storm passed over...leaving a little rain somewhere down the mountain, leaving the night sky clear, dissipating as suddenly as it formed.

May 18
Wait until the afternoon, they told Skye, or go out in the morning, the light is better then for taking pictures.  Well, it wasn't exactly early morning or late afternoon, but Skye decided to give photographing the flowers a try.

There was only going to be one way to do these flowers justice, and that was getting down on the ground with them.

The boss's old camera was fickle, but when it chose to focus on the same things Skye wanted to focus on, it was amazing.  The day ws deliciously warm, the air was cool.  All was quiet and peaceful.

Even the invasive cheat grass was a work of art to view through the lens.  Skye found tall, slender stalks with green and white stripes and a bulging, unopened flower. A lily of some sort, Skye guessed.  It was easy to lose herself in the beauty. Beauty all around.  

Shadows played on the landscape.  Skye was distracted by a shadow that seemed to be moving. She looked up from a bed of yellow and white flowers.  With a clatter of hooves on stone the shadow turned and moved away.

Skye tried to follow with the camera. Formidable foliage stood in her way.  But she was sure of what she saw. It was Petrichor. At last. And then he was gone.

She could hardly wait to tell Grace. No. Maybe just show her the pictures...and watch the look on her face.  Her beloved Petrichor, whom they had seen little of in recent months...Grace would probably know exactly how long it had been since they'd seen him last...alive and well.

May 19
Evening shadows were about to envelope the mountain.  Grab and Skye had gone on foot to Mustang Rock.  The presence of wild horses had been foretold by their domestic horses, so the girls moved cautiously, trying to stay out of view, hoping to get close to the wildies without being seen.  Skye crept up a stone slope soundlessly.

"Can you see anything?" Grace whispered.

Skye could. Barely.

And then so could Grace.
"A goldie" she whispered.

Highlander caught wind of the girls.

"Palomino?" Skye asked.

"Dun?" Grace responded with a question.

"Dunalino?"

Grace smiled. "I don't know. Time will tell."

The herd moved away, slowly.  Red bugler penstamen made a thin cover. But somehow, the girls could tell Highlander wasn't going to charge them.

th dun mare was a good momma, protective and attentive to her young foal.

"It's a colt!" Sky said softly.

"Yes it is."

The girls watched until the horses moved out of view. This was the first foal born to Highlander's band, and he was unusually calm. No need to mess up a beautiful moment by pressing in too close.  The trees captured the day's last light as the girls headed back to the ranch.  The horses slipped away into the rugged land.


May 20
Skye was both frustrated by and falling in love with photography. Armed with the camera, all the world becomes a subject...even if tracking that subject as it does some unusual...or perhaps unexpected...behavior is difficult.  So it was as she tried to follow a red tailed hawk in what appeared to be the slow motion pursuit of a raven.  Sworn enemies, it seemed impossible that the hawk could be doing anything other than warding off the raven while expending minimal energy.  At the opposite end of the size spectrum, her next subject was a hummingbird.

It was high spring and the skies were busy, with all nature of things.

Grace had grown accustomed to the helicopters, as had most everyone. Still, it wouldn't be a day to expect wild horses to be hanging around.

The girls took a walk to the seasonal stream below the fire station. The local rivulets of water would dry soon. They had been so fortunate to have water for this long. Best to honor it with their attention while they could.  Each amazing detail, from minute flowers and mosses to water insects.

The dogs in the water roused an unexpected resident, a tree frog as they are commonly known.  People flying through the air was becoming a common sight.

"I think they're taking a video!" Skye said.

"I think you're right" Grace said. "It's not an every-day view to get a video from, that's for sure."  

Skye waved, wondering if in fact they were in the video. And off to work the linemen  went, flying through the air.

Skye found a flower she'd never seen in Chilao before.

"I think it's a kind of mallow" Skye said.

"One of the boss's friends will know" Grace assured her

May 25
Late afternoon in Chilao, and calm for a holiday weekend. The girls listened, looked.  Precious and Missed A Spot were equally attentive, in their mature, calm way.  Grace just had a feeling.  The horses were focused.

There! They saw him. Just for a fleeting moment, but unmistakable. It was Petrichor.

They rode carefully down the rock escarpment to where he'd stood moments earlier. Grace swung a leg over Spot's neck, smiling. She whispered to Skye.

"Hold my beer."

Skye saw a flash of purple in the flowers, mingled in the red.  A hummingbird.
And then other movement.  But she couldn't say anything.  She didn't want to startle anyone.

Grace moved quietly down the rock face.  Out in the open now, Grace could see to the stream, a trickle of water still flowing.

Skye could see Petrichor's band, less the black mare she called Thorn.

And Skye could see Petrichor.

As Grace moved quietly over the rocks, a lizard came toward her, stretching itself on the rock she was traversing, nearly at her feet. And instead of moving away at her approach, it just stayed there. The lizard closed its eyes for a few moments and appeared to be napping.  Completely comfortable with her. Almost touching her boot.  It was fascinating, and unusual behavior, and Grace was mesmerized by the intricate detail of the lizard's coloring that allowed it to blend so seamlessly into the rocks.

Precious, Skye's mount, let out a short, warning blow, breaking the lizard's spell. Grace spun around.  Petrichor was behind her.

There was a lot of prancing around, ear flicking, tail swishing, every now and then a loud breath.  The stallion had a lot of little scars and scrapes, but overall Petrichor looked healthy. Then she noticed his eye. Something was different.

The right eye looked fine.  He came in slowly. Very slowly.

Grace moved her hand ever so soft and slow. He followed with his head until she could get a better look at his left eye. It was streaked with areas of blue, interlaced with golden brown. it wasn't completely milky or cloudy.  The eyelid and surrounding skin was unscarred.

He stayed with her. Perhaps for a minute. Perhaps two or three minutes. Longer than he'd done in the past.  She touched his nose.  They exchanged breath.  He was both active, moving his ears, lips, tail, feet...and yet exuding a sense of calmness.  

And then he departed.

Petrichor ignored Skye and her mounts. They watched quietly as he passed by.

Skye rode down to where Grace stood, with Spot in tow.

"As soon as you started heading toward the creek he came up behind you" Skye said. "That was pretty exciting."

"Yeah it was."

"Did you see a rattlesnake or something?"

"No," Grace replied, "it was a lizard. The craziest thing Skye. This lizard just came up and decided to hang out with me."

"You are popular with the wildlife today."

It was a lovely ride back to the ranch, on every level.
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​

May 3, 2024
It was Art Night at MIM.  The arena was all set up, the sand footing smoothed, the easels carefully placed.  The equus prints by Phariss Sacha had each been removed from their protective coverings, and adhered to their backing boards.  The easel paintings by Katy Niles made a strong, colorful, balanced contrast. Skye's deer family and two of her watercolors of trees were also on display.

Seeing the turnout and how everything came together made the considerable work of art night feel worthwhile.  Anahit and Lousin introduced Grace and Skye to two of their friends, Crustal and Heather.  Riders and stable hands milled about, along with many of Grace and Skye's dogs.  It was going to be a good show.

May 4
Show day at last. Grace kicked it off with a one woman grand entry on her beloved Windy Boy.  Skye watched them fly down the rail. Windy Boy was Grace's favorite horse to ride when she first came to the ranch. The two of them still had a special bond.

And then a calf tore down the rail! Whose calf, they really weren't sure, but he was cute, and he could move

English events came first. Skye watched a young girl who couldn't have been older than nine or ten put her pony over jumps with all the style of a veteran rider, and an eager smile on her face the whole while.  Hunters and jumpers. Glorious horses. But a lot of work to put up and take down the jumps and change the course.

English english english. It went on for a long time.  There were some beautiful horses in the arena.  English games. Other english. It was all fun to watch.  It was all pleasant and friendly, but there were some seriously competent horses and riders in the arena.  

Finally, in the afternoon, the western division began, and Grace got to ride for Tara Reich's stable.  The calves seemed to know they were up against a horse they couldn't outmaneuver.

And at last, the calves got their little bit of limelight.

Barrels.  Poles. Grace felt sometimes like she might be better off just to sit down and hang on. There wasn't much this horse couldn't do on her own.  Roll backs and slides as smooth as silk.

Tara's western pleasure horse was equally responsive...on a completely different level.

Skye wandered outside when there was a lull in the action. It was so hard to be inside all day, even it it was a horse show. She watched a bank of clouds moving up the mountain and felt the moist chill it brought with it. It would be a cold night.

Back inside the arena, Grace was putting the finishing points on the horse who would take the high point performance challenge title.

Then Dahlia slipped comfortably into the saddle, looped the reins around the horn, and using only her weight to guide her horse, made an impressive mounted archery exhibition.

Skye loved the other regalia class. Mulan reminded her of Mikki.  And the medieval warrior was breathtaking.

​It had been a long day, but a really good one, especially for Grace, riding GTFO Imposter Syndrome to the performance high point championship.

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April 4, 2024
Peering down from the warmth of the big red truck, Skye saw the tiny tracks of a hopping rodent in the snow.

"I've never loved the Pavement Queen as much as I do this morning" Skye said.

Grace smiled.

"Wouldn't be so bad but for that little breeze. It'll warm up quick though. Not a cloud in sight."

"Are we going to the track day with the boss?"
Grace thought for a moment.
"Honestly, I'd rather stay here and hold down the fort."
"You mean look for Petrichor" Skye said, smiling.
"Yes. I would really like to find Petrichor."

"Just right now, I would like to find Petrichor from the warmth of the truck" Grace confessed.

The day had been lovely - but as finding Petrichor, or any wild horses for that matter, the girls had been unsuccessful.

"You know there's an eclipse tomorrow" Skye mentioned as the sun made its final appearance on the horizon. "We won't be able to see much of it from here though, I guess."

"We could try" Grace said.

April 8
The wind blew in strong, icy cold gusts and Grace struggled to keep her feet and focus the image.

"Where'd that camera come from?"
"The boss gave it to me. Said it was her first digital camera. And she thought it still worked okay."
"Well, don't point it directly at the sun."
"Actually she said she didn't care if I did, but I should be careful of my eyes."
"Good advice."

Grace struggled in the wind with a white sheet of cardboard, trying to focus the image of the partially covered su on another, much larger piece of white cardboard.

"I can't get it quite perfect. But you can see it, right?"

"So that's the moon shadow on the top?"
"Yup."
Skye tried to photograph the pinhole image, but Grace was having trouble getting it to come into good focus.

"Well, I can sort of get it" Skye said.
"When is our next chance to try again?"
"In twenty years" Grace replied.
"Oh. Well. I guess don't need to keep your pinhole device handy then."

April 13
It was a wind-blown mist...like being inside of a cloud. Skye decided to take the camera and a couple of dogs and go for a walk. How bad could a little mist be?
But as they faced into the wind, the mist came in harder, stinging cold and driven by gusts of impartial wind. Skye tried to get a picture that would do it justice, but it was difficult. Soon her hands were beginning to feel numb.

And soon the mist became rain.

Skyre retreated to the warmth of home.

"We haven't been riding all month!" Skye exclaimed, hair slicked down with moisture.  "And that was the most miserable walk in the rain I think I've ever taken. It was freezing cold and painful!"

"Maybe tomorrow will be better. But you know, as soon as the rain is done, it'll be hot, and there will be a thousand biting insects, and rattlesnakes and coyotes and bears..."

"I know. There's maybe one or two days where you can lay on the green grass and take a nap...and then it changes..."

"Thursday was nice" Grace reminded Skye.

"It was! And then Friday was cold! See what I mean?"

"We'll see what tomorrow brings. If the weather isn't cooperating maybe we'll ride in the arena or something."

"By the way, have you noticed who found the lower bunk bed?"

It took Skye a moment.  

"Vinnie?"

"Yup. He looks pretty comfy."


April 14
The air was still, and cloud cover muted the colors of dawn.

Crazy's band looked fit. The foals moved confidently in front of their dams.

Highlander and his mares were not far behind. In much the way Highlander had shadowed Petrichor, he now seemed to be shadowing Crazy, but with a slightly greater distance between them.

The girls emerged above the horses, in plain sight, but also safe. It was good to see the wild ones again. But the absence of Petrichor and his band left a hole in Grace's chest. Skye loved him too, but not the way Grace did.

The snow began to fall again.  The girls retreated to the arena, where Anoush, Anahit and Lousin found them.

The arena was no warmer than the air outside, but it was dry.
"I think I need a therapist" Skye exclaimed.
"Naw" Grace  said,  "the boss runs around in her pajamas all the time. You're fine."
"No, that bridle! It has more buckles and straps...and then I got it it all done and I realized I attached one of the reins backwards..."

The english bridle Luna wore was far more complicated than any western rig.

"It's okay" Grace reassured. "You did a great job. I think the...cavesson?...could be a little higher, but don't even worry about it."

"What is that for?"

"Ground work, I believe. You can put a long line on the nose band and use the reins to set the horse's head, or let them be loose."

"She's very nice" Anoush said of Luna. "Someone has definitely put some some work into her."

Grace noticed that Anoush wasn't posting at the trot.

"I couldn't get the left stirrup to adjust" Anoush explained. "It's okay, this is good practice for me. Skye is this your saddle? It seems the stirrups were set for someone about your size."

"Oh no ma'am" Skye said, laughing. "I wouldn't have a clue how to sit in that saddle."

Anoush rode Luna a bit longer before encouraging Skye to give it a try. Skye's feet were a little wide in the stirrups and her reins were a touch loose. But her seat was good. Comfortable. Natural.

"Create a little bit of contact with her mouth through the reins. Just ever so slight. She's very responsive. Point your toes more inward. Beautiful. Very nice."

"Now bring her down to a walk using only your weight in the saddle."  Skye knew how to do that. Luna immediately dropped to a walk as Skye released the reins. "And there you are" Anoush said, "riding on the buckle."

The snow came in thick flurries all afternoon.

"For my next equine experience, I'm going to try trick riding" Skye told Lousin and Anahit.

"I looked everywhere for your trick riding rig that you used with La Barilla for the review" Skye said to Grace, "but I couldn't find it, so I made another one. Do you think I could try it?"
"On who?"
"How about this guy?"
"Uhhh...maybe..."

Clay was a good horse. If he had any quirks, Grace hadn't encountered them. She helped Skye into the saddle, then watched as she fitted her rig over the saddle horn.

"I think you made the same mistake I did Skye. It's too short. And that leather is super thick. Where'd you get that?"
"The boss. She thought it might have been upholstery leather. It's like water buffalo or something. Super thick."

Grace looked at her mount. His eyes were calm. "Clay no matter what, you just hold still."

Grace was right. The leather was too thick, and too short. Getting from sitting to standing was the hard part. And not using the reins for balance. But then, after a few false starts, Skye did it.

Clay kept all four feet planted.
"Let's call this success" Grace said.
"Okay!" Skye agreed.

At last, the cold won out, and the girls were content to call it a day.

A good day, by all accounts. Perhaps they would find Petrichor soon.

April 15
The helicopters were working as close as Skye ever remembered. She convinced Grace to come out with her and watch.*

It was impressive, to be sure.

"Is that little helicopter the kind they use for wild horse round ups?" Skye asked.

"The ones I've seen in pictures are usually even smaller. Bubble shaped and very manueverable."

""Would our wildies even know to run away?"

"I think they'd get the idea when the helicopter started approaching them. And then once one horse starts running, they all run."

Skye thought about it for a while. "Our horses...Francis's horses...I think we can be pretty sure they were originally Francis's horses...they wouldn't know about being chased by a helicopter, would they? They have no freeze marks. Don't they always get freeze marks if they're captured?"

Skye had a good point.

Grace replied.
"So, if our wild horses are Francis's wild horses, unless there were new horses added to the herds recently, these horses would be several generations removed from the original horses she rescued and brought to her sanctuary."

"And as much as I don't really care for having the helicopters around here" Grace continued, "I wish I could get a ride in one and go look for Petrichor."

April 20
It was suddenly spring...insects and all.

Grace and Skye rode the familiar places, looking for signs of wild horses in the quickly fading light. They came up empty handed, although any time spent on a horse was usually good.  They would try again tomorrow.

April 21
On Sunday, as the sun slipped low into the western sky, the girls headed to Mustang Rock.

Skye had an eerie sensation.
"I feel like we're being watched" she said.
"We probably are" Grace replied. "It's going to be dusk in a moment, so all the night things are getting about their business."

The moon was brilliant in the soon-to-be-dark sky.

"Is tomorrow the full moon?"
"Tomorrow or the next day" Grace replied.

Ladyhawk was doing a lot of dancing around.
"She sure is antsy" Skye said.
Grace watched. Ladyhawk was always a lot of horse, but she did seem even a bit moreso tonight.

And then they saw something moving through the rocks, a shadow against shadows. The mare Skye named Thorn.

They hesitated for a moment, and then followed her.

The mare was not interested in letting them get too close. She broke into a gallop, and with a clattering of hooves on rock scrambled up a steep escarpment to the top of the rock formation.

"Did you see that?"  Skye shrieked.  "That horse is nuts!"

Nuts might have been an understatement. Grace stood in the saddle, looking for the other horses she'd hoped the black mare was leading them to. She strained to hear. But all she heard was the occasional clattering of Thorn's hooves on the rocks above them.

The black mare spun around to take a last look at her pursuers before disappearing into the fading light.

The sun slipped behind the mountain, the cool, soothing sound of running water trickling into the girls' consciousness.

They paused for a moment on their way back to the ranch to take it in. Seemed like spring was here now, and the sound and sight of running water all around might soon be a memory. For a moment, the creek's melody took Grace's mind away from her thoughts of Petrichor. But only for a moment.


April 29
Outside, the day was picture perfect. A cool morning warming gently under a clear blue sky.  But the girls were inside, helping the boss get ready for the upcoming horse show.

"I like them so much better out of their protective sheeting" the boss said of the Sacha Phariss prints. "I know it's going to be a lot of extra work, but I think I want to take them all out of their plastic sleeves and mount them onto their backing boards. Otherwise that reflection...it's just so distracting."

The boss turned to Skye.  "Do you think I'm being too OCD? Should we just hang them in their plastic and forget about it?"

Skye was watching the foals in the arena introduce themselves.  She was much too distracted to have an opinion.

"Grace" the boss said, "why don't you answer? I'm being too OCD, right?"

"I love my job and I love my life" Grace responded. "And you aren't wrong, the reflection definitely takes away from being able to appreciate the work. Whether or not that makes you OCD is...ummm...outside the limits of my expertise. But it sounds like you've already made up your mind anyway, and the plastic is coming off. "

The boss smiled. Then she frowned. "They might get dusty. That would be terrible."

Grace replied quickly this time. "We can wet down the arena."

The boss smiled again. "Yes we can."

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​

March 23, 2024
Skye stood and stared at the english saddle pad, in awe of its ornateness, its finery.

"You can get closer" Grace said. "It won't bite you."

"That is the fanciest saddle pad I've ever seen. And it's pink!"

"We have a white one too."

"Who made these?"

"StudioMaire."

"I've never...how are we going to keep these clean?"

Grace didn't have an immediate answer, but after a fair pause, she responded.

"Very carefully."

March 24, Just before dawn
There was more of a crunching sound beneath La Barilla's hooves than Grace was comfortable with. The snow wasn't soft and snowy.
She saw tracks, and guessed them to be fox...not the long-ranging, single foot trot of the coyote.

They went slowly and carefully. The rising sun would quickly warm the ground.

There was no sign of the wild horses that Grace so longed to see.  As the air warmed, the frozen snow melted, but before it made its journey all the way back to liquid water, it became a bit more slippery. Grace decided to turn around, and take a path back that was still mostly in the shadows.

That path took them near a snow melt pool in the fire break.  La Barilla's hind legs slid in the saturated soil, and kept sliding, folding under him. He began slipping sideways.  He scrambled.  Grace leaned forward over his shoulders, gave him his head, hoping somehow she could help him balance, but the ground offered no traction.  La Barilla's hooves slipped out from underneath him, and he plunged into the icy pool.

Grace pulled up her right leg, then let go of the reins and went into the water. The soil was incredibly slick.

A layer of ice covered the surface of the water. La Barilla was pressed against it, all four legs beneath him. Little more than a depression left by heavy equipment, the hole and the water were deceptively deep.

La Barilla lurched forward, scrambled up the steep bank, almost to the top, before slipping back into the water. If Grace could get him to go back out the way they'd fallen in...

He lunged forward again. Thrusting with his whole body, stabbing front hooves into the soft soil like anchors, every fiber focused, deliberate, determined. He scaled the slippery bank.

La Barilla seemed no worse for the wear. Grace was none too sure on her own feet, in boots not made for walking on water, but she decided to walk La Barilla home nonetheless.

In one of the outdoor arenas, Anahit and Lousin's mom greeted Grace cheerfully. As she got closer, she sensed a bit of concern about Grace.

"Is everything well? Where is Skye?"

Grace took a deep breath. "Everything is good. Skye wasn't feeling well, and then she stayed up all night watching documentaries on the arctic, the antarctic, and the origins of life on earth. I can tell you that, because I couldn't see the screen, but I was often listening."

Mom laughed. "Is she going to be a biologist?"

"Maybe" Grace said. "She's very tuned in to the environment, on a big-picture scale. So I went out for a ride this morning without her, and we fell in a water hole. Totally my fault. I chose the wrong path back."

"On this horse?"

"Yes."

Mom studied La Barilla for a moment. "He appears to be just fine. Did you get hurt?"

"Nope, just wet. And I was so concerned that La Barilla might have gotten hurt, it took me a while to realize he was also soaking wet under the saddle, and get him untacked."

As Grace spoke, the cloud cover thickened, and a cool breeze moved restlessly across the arena. Mom noticed Grace's pants. They were wet to the top of her legs.

"I think you should put your horse in a nice dry stall and then do the same for yourself. Go inside and get out of those wet clothes."

She was probably right. Grace wanted to show her the retooled english saddle, and the beautiful saddle pads, and ask her many questions...including what she liked to be called, besides mom...but perhaps this wasn't the morning for all of that.

March 31, Easter Sunday
Grace and Skye made their way to the tack room during a break in the rain.

"Still think going barefoot to keep your shoes dry was a good idea?"

"I don't know" Skye giggled. "I can't feel my feet."

Sitting atop the pink and white english saddle pads, Grace found herself being stared at by a giant stuffed Easter bunny.  The Berber saddle on the next rack held an Easter basket, from which peered gingerbread men.  "Hoppy Easter"  tea the card in front of the basket.

"From the boss?" Skye asked.

"Nope. Dear Grace and Skye, we hope you have a wonderful Easter, and Skye, please get well soon. Stay warm! Anoush, Anahit and Lousin."

Grace surveyed the Easter basket. "No shortage of love in here."

"Anoush! What a pretty name! And now she knows we have these fancy new saddle pads."

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March 16, 2024
Grace lay bundled in her blanket, watching the dance of the pre-sunset clouds through the window.  Skye was already napping.  A cold breeze and higher than normal humidity left both of the girls chilled at the end of the day.  Grace's mind wandered to thoughts of the wild horses. They had seen Crazy's band.  They had seen the bachelor stallions with the blue-black mare and her foal.  But no Petrichor.  

The boss said she had something she wanted to share with the girls, and maybe they could get together tomorrow.  Grace was curious about it.  But she also wanted to keep looking for Petrichor.  Perhaps in the morning when the chores were done, they could ride for a while.  Then meet with the boss.  Hopefully with good stories to share.

March 17
No sooner had the girls saddled up, the wind began to blow.  The weather was unsettled.  Big clouds in the distance, blue skies overhead, and a restless wind that you could hear approaching through the trees.  It was forceful and erratic, shaking the trees in one draw and not the next; then suddenly coming upon them with little warning.  It was exhilarating, and from time to time quite unpleasant.

The girls pressed slowly into a rocky shelter where the wild horses often hid from the wind.

"Did you hear about Tanner's dog getting chased by coyotes?" Skye asked.

"I didn't.  Is his dog okay?"

"She is.  She outran them.  A pair of them.  Probably the same pair we've seen a couple of times.  I guess they chased her right up to the house, and then they saw Tanner and took off.  It was night time."

"The wild things really own this place by night"  Grace said. 

They waited for the wind to relent, but it didn't.  Eventually, they left the rock shelter and headed back to the ranch, empty-handed as horse sitings go.

The arena was adorned as if for a horse show, with the little table they used as a judging station propped in the southwest corner.

"What's all this?"  Skye asked.

"The boss asked me to bring a laptop and a table down here so she could share a story with us."

"Oh. Hey.  Like reading with dogs at the library...except we're reading with horses!"

The arrival of the boss was announced by the entrance of Contessa and Tosh.  The boss put a thumb drive in the laptop and settled her hindquarters on the table next to it.

"You will recall that I've been looking for the owner of the Great Danes since last June"  she began.  "And I never really gave up. That they are chipped and so I have their owner's name, and a phone number, and I've called, but I've never made contact with anyone.  Well.  I met a woman in Lancaster.  She had been a docent at the Antelope Valley Rural Museum, and she had a manuscript, an anthology that was never published, written by a dear friend who had passed away.  And she said the name sounded familiar."

The girls brought Angel into the arena, using him to try out the english saddle.  The girth and stirrup leathers had been replaced by Donna Allen.  Grace wasn't a thousand per cent sure she knew what she was doing, but she tried to divide her attention equally between the boss turned story teller and the horse more or less under saddle.

The boss continued.

"The woman found her friend's manuscript and shared it with me.  But she literally would not let it out of her hands, so I had to re-type the story as she read it to me.  The anthology is called 'Real Pioneer Women of the Modern West', and this story is dated July 12, 1980.  The title is 'Saint Francis of the Mustangs'."  

Outside, the clouds danced.  The air was unstable, the wind lulled, then gusted.  It was beautiful.  One of the most beautiful days ever, perhaps.

The boss cleared her throat, put on her narrator voice, and began. 
"Francis Loop Caldwell is the youngest woman in this collection of pioneering women, but she is every inch as worthy as any other.  And quick to point out that her story is really not so much her own.  She is her father's daughter.  She is the product of everything that he was, and in her own words, 'You cannot tell my story without telling his.  I was forged by my parents, my mother and father both, but especially by my father.  He was the real pioneer.  I am just his daughter, trying to live up to his legacy'."

"Her father's story was shaped by The Great Depression, and The Dustbowl.  The son of first generation Oklahoma farmers, William James Caldwell was eldest of four boys.  Life was hard, but come 1930 with the first year of the drought, it got a lot harder.  Few people had savings to live on if their crops failed.  They just prayed for rain and held on as best they could.  1931 and 1932 were no better, and the winds intensified.  Livestock perished, and farmers faced famine and foreclosure.  William had been given a pair of young Belgian horses in the spring of 1932, Jim and Jeb.  They were beautiful animals, but their owner couldn't feed them any more, and didn't need them.  Horses were quickly being replaced by machines for plowing the fields."

"In 1933, the mass slaughter of livestock began.  Millions of animals were killed, some of them in an attempt to stabilize market prices, and some of them because they were already dying the slow death of starvation.  Jim and Jeb were thin, but William made sure they had water, shelter from the wind, and as much feed as he could find for them. In February, William's father told him it was time to let Jim and Jeb go."

"The next morning, well before dawn, William led his beloved horses out of their shelter.  He lay a make-shift set of saddle bags - two potato sacks tied together at the top with all of his belongings inside - on Jim, and he swung up on Jeb.  They headed west, to California."

" 'Okies, that's what folks called the people leaving their farms behind and heading to California' Francis explained.  'It was about 1,700 miles, and my dad figured it would take them about one hundred and thirteen days.  Belgians aren't known for their speed, and his horses were already a bit on the thin side.  So his goal was fifteen miles a day.  He would walk part of it, and ride part of it, and switch back and forth with his saddle bags.  A lot of people weren't very nice to him.  Okies weren't thought of in a good way.  They were treated pretty bad.  Even other Okies would talk down to him.  Tell him to get with the times.  The days of horses were over.  But then there were also kind folks.  They took pity on Jim and Jeb.  They'd let him stay overnight on their property and share what food they had with dad and the horses.  He said it seemed like every time he thought they just couldn't go on, something good would happen.  Some human angel would come to their aid, or they would find a bit of pasture grass and water'."

" 'At first my dad was going to head to the San Joaquin valley.  There was rich farmland there and the hope was that the Okies could make a new start there.  But then somehow he heard about Santa Anita, the race track.  Brand new, not even completed yet. It was all a gamble, you know?  No one knew what their future held.  There was no guarantee that the San Joaquin Valley would be the next bread basket of the nation.  So he gambled.  And he started heading toward Santa Anita.'"

" 'Jim and Jeb were tired, and really thin.  My dad was tired, and really thin.  But he started coming across horse people.  A very different kind of horse people.  Big money horse people.  But they saw the love my dad had for those poor horses...and they saw beyond the bones, those were good horses...they saw there was a story there, and they were intrigued.  A couple of folks stopped to talk to my dad, and pretty quick word got around that this man had walked out of Oklahoma with his horses to save them from being slaughtered.  And he was trying to make his way to Santa Anita.  And where he was.  And someone with a horse trailer went out looking for him, and they found him, and picked him up...dad and his horses, so skinny they both fit in a trailer designed for race horses.' "

" 'The rest of it is really a bit of a Cinderella story.  My dad got hired to do just about everything.  Jim and Jeb got fed and put up better than they'd ever known.  He'd seen my mother early on, and for him it was love at first sight, but he knew that along with his story came the stigma of being an Okie.  So he laid low.  He learned the lingo of the horse racing world and tried to lose his Okie accent.  He gained some weight and got some good clothes.  He was too big to be a jockey, but he could exercise horses and he wasn't afraid of the really excitable ones.  Eventually he would ride a horse for my mother's family, and they would be introduced.  They married about a year later, and I was born the following year, in 1936'."

"Francis would have a charmed childhood, until December 1941.  William James Caldwell joined the US Army Air Forces.  He trained to be a fighter pilot, and embarked on a tour of duty that lasted until 1945.  Upon his return home, his love for and skill with horses was rivaled by a new passion - aviation.  His aeronautic skills were sought after, particularly as a stunt pilot. And that, Francis explains, is how she got her name."

'Loop was my dad's nickname after the war, because he was known for doing aerial loops.  The nickname was made popular by one of the main characters in a Shirley Temple movie, Bright Eyes I think it was, and it stuck with him for the rest of his life.  So my middle name - Loop - that's in his honor. It is now my legal middle name.' "

" 'While my father was away, my mom began breeding and showing Great Danes.  They aren't particularly fierce dogs, but I think she took comfort in their size and presence, what with my dad being away.  And it just happened that in the 1940s and 1950s, the Great Dane was extremely popular, so she was quite successful with her dogs, and of course, she had the best of the best bloodlines.' "

"Today we know Francis by a different nickname - Saint Francis of the Mustangs.  Francis has worked tirelessly to address the plight of the west's wild horses - in America and Canada - not only by appealing to legislators for better herd management practices, but by creating her own wild horse sanctuary in the southern Antelope Valley.  It seems a far cry from the horse world of the race track, and of course it is.  But for Francis, it is the continuation of a journey that began with her father."

" 'When I was fifteen years old, we took a family vacation to Canada, near Alberta.  And we saw wild horses.  Wildies, the locals called them.  They were small, and tough, and built like miniature draft horses, but with small nostrils and ears and less dramatic profiles.  They were clearly draft influence mustangs.  The offspring of discarded heavy horses, turned loose to fend for themselves with the wild herds when their owners no longer needed them. And they were under fire, literally.  Ranchers saw them as competition for grazing, and the governing bodies didn't want to deal with them.  I will never forget what it felt like to see them.  The rush of excitement I felt.  The longing...to do something to help save them.  It was a pivotal moment in my life.  I had to do something to insure that wild horses could remain on the western landscape.' "

" 'Creating a sanctuary was a dream...I think every young girl dreams of having her own private herd of wild horses, don't they?  But over time I realized there were horses that were going to be euthanized or sold for slaughter if no one stepped in to save them.  Good horses.  Not that any animal deserves the fate we humans often assign them...but there are really nice horses out there that aren't going to enjoy a long or good life if someone doesn't adopt them and then treat them well.' "

" 'So we began buying land.  Mountainous, rugged parcels.  Big parcels, preferably with surface water, which is fairly rare in southern California mountains.  And of course the parcels needed to be connected. We are currently looking to purchase one more parcel, a large parcel, that includes a water source and a good sized grass meadow.  When that purchase is complete, we will have a substantial sanctuary.  We won't be able to save all of the horses that need saving, but we will be able to save some, and that is significant. ' "

"Don't go looking for a big sign swinging over the driveway to Saint Francis of the Mustangs Sanctuary.  Francis prefers to keep her herd of 'wildies'...well...wild...and out of the public view.  Not that she doesn't wish to share them with the world and with every horse crazy young girl. Nothing would please her more than to instill in others the love for horses that she has in her own heart.  But first, the horses themselves need to be safe.  It will be a while before the sanctuary opens its arms to the public."

" ' We are witnessing the continued demise of the horse in the lives of the people, all over the world, really.  And it's a big loss.  It's a loss to humanity, to our spirits, to who we are as humans.  My father witnessed it first hand and first-generation as the mechanized plow replaced horsepower.  Today we witness it across the American west, as horses become a nuisance species, having no value to the powers that now manage the land.' "

"And for that vision, that courage, and that commitment, though Francis may be young, she is truly a real pioneer woman of the Modern West."

The boss closed the laptop, smiled, and pretended not to be emotional.

Later in the evening, Grace and Skye drove in silence to Manzanita Campground to watch the sunset. 

"Dang, we need sunglasses" Skye said, too short to benefit from the visor.

Grace parked the truck, drew a deep breath, and exhaled.

There was another long silence.

"This is going to sound crazy" Skye finally said.  "But I feel...like...connected somehow to Francis. It's so weird. I can't explain it."

"I get it"  Grace said.  "I feel it.  Like literally in my chest. I feel it.  We are connected to her.  Directly.  Through the dogs.  Through the horses.  Our wild horses are almost certainly her wild horses.  Through..."

"Through Petrichor"  Skye blurted out.  "Maybe Petrichor was one of her favorite horses.  Maybe that's why he's sort of not really that wild."

Grace looked at Skye, parted her lips several times as if she was going to answer, finally shook her head.

"I don't know."
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March 1, 2024

Skye walked into the tack room to find the towering life-sized sculpture The Bremen Town Singers by Kitty Cantrell in the middle of the floor. 

"Hey! What's this doing here?"

"Getting ready to be shipped to Washington."

"It sold?"

"It did."
Skye ran her hands along the blue ticked hound.

"That's so cool. And...I'm gonna miss this doggie-o. I think this is the best thing I ever painted."

"Well, then I guess we better paint some more things."

March 3
The rain had stopped. The sky was dynamic, with bits of blue sky swallowed in seconds by dark clouds. Skye pressed forward, the sound of horses just ahead, and Grace forever falling behind.  The girls pressed themselves against the rock face as they approached the wild horses on foot, trying to stay out of sight for as long as possible.

"Am I stepping on Dudleya?" Skye whispered.

"No, I think that's some sort of buckwheat. Carry on."

They found a ringside seat to watch the action, but they were rather exposed, and not holding the high ground.

The commotion was Storm and Rain Man, and appearing a few moments later, The Newcomer. 

The two big stallions were more or less always sparring. When Rain Man spun around to use body weight against Storm, it became evident that the three bachelors had company...the dark mare with the grulla foal that had previously been with Petrichor. And unlikely as it was, the smaller, younger stallion was the one by her side.

None of which made any sense. The girls watched, speechless, as the horses milled about, moving ever closer.

"We're a little close for comfort" Grace whispered.  

After a few uneasy moments out in the open, and quite close to the stallions, the girls pulled back, retreating the way they came.

"That's the mare and foal that turned up with Petrichor, right?" Skye asked. "She came along right after the black mare, Thorn."

"Yes." 

Skye was expecting more than a one word response.

"Grace are you okay?"

"I'm slightly dizzy."

"Like fainting dizzy?"

"No, I'm not going to faint. Or fall. I'm good, everything's good."

"Well" Skye continued, "I totally have no clue what we just witnessed."

"Me neither."

Back in the warmth of home, the girls tried to make sense of the scene that had unfolded in front of them.

"What color do you think that mare is?" Skye pondered.

"I'm not sure. She's so dark. But not jet black. She could be a grulla, a super dark grulla...but grulla is kind of like roan, it's a mix of light and dark hair. She looks almost blue. Like maybe she's a dark blue roan. But again, where's the white hair?"

"Do you think she's related to the dun stallion?" Skye asked, and then, "No, wait. I have a hypothesis."

"Let's hear it."

"She's not related to any of them and neither is her foal so she has to protect it, you know, in case a stallion comes after it because it's not his foal. So she's hanging close to the young stallion because he's probably less of a threat than the bigger, older ones."

Grace thought about it for a few moments before she answered.

"Skye that is as good of an explanation for what we witnessed as any I could think of. I'm baffled about the whole thing. Where are these dark horses coming from...and where are all the horses we're familiar with? Where's Petrichor?"

March 10
Frost colored the landscape white, giving in to green with the sun's first rays. Somewhere on the slopes above, a deer sounded with a warning snort, then vanished into the chaparral.

The grass was thick, the ground saturated, rivulets of water were everywhere.
The sound of moving water softened the beat of soggy hooves, both wild and domestic

They saw the foals first.


The wild herd was relaxed. For the first time in memory, Crazy looked unruffled, and unaware of their presence.

The mare they called Lady Godiva was playing with the foals. 

Grace motioned soundlessly to Skye. The girls turned north, away from Crazy's band, leaving them in peace.

They searched the winter landscape for signs of Petrichor's band.

They rode past the draw where once Petrichor had left his herd to come and greet Grace. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

They headed back through the boulder-strewn landscape where the wild horses often came in the summer months, perhaps to enjoy the shade of the canyons, perhaps to catch insect-relieving breezes, or perhaps for some reason the girls might never know. But the land was bare of wild horses.

Back at home, a box awaited them on the table.

"What do you think it is?" Skye asked.
"I don't know" Grace responded, "but it's the same box your Christmas present came in. We definitely know how to recycle around here."

"So you don't have any idea what it is?"

"Nope. But it seems like most of these packages are for you. So go ahead and open it."

Skye made short work of revealing the contents.
"Oh yeah. It's for me."

"You were never good as a liar. Let me see what's in there."

 In the box were pewter horses.  Volo and Pimento, a mustang mare and foal sculpted by Maggie Bennett.  Skye was particularly enamored with the foal.  Skye was silent for a long time before she finally spoke. 

"Wow."

Grace nodded, silent. Wow, indeed.
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February 2, 2024
Grace and Skye came back up the mountain, a river of clouds coming with them.
They'd been gifted a truckload of equipment. Literally. Judging by the clouds, they might be needing some of it sooner than later.

The clouds were moving swiftly, rolling, peaking, tumbling, making mountain shapes, river shapes, flowing fast across the sky. The wind was strong and the air was cold.

Grace took a moment to absorb it. Before whatever it had in store came to earth. 

"It's beautiful" Skye said. "And a little crazy. I bet we lose the internet."

"I wouldn't be surprised" Grace said, frigid fingers fumbling with the door. "Dang it's cold."

February 6
After 48 hours of rain, on the morning of the sixth, it finally snowed. 

It was a wet snow, too wet for taking out horses, and so instead, Skye finished her NaMoPaiMo horse from 2023, a bay brabant Deborah McDermott resin. She was particularly pleased with his eyes.

Grace worked on and off on her NaMo horse. The technique she was trying was...different.  She was attempting a mulberry grey for the first time, using colorful undertones of yellow and magenta.

"He looks like a decorator right now" Skye said.

"Right? We could have left the horn on and painted it gold."

The barn cats had come in...all four of them.   You could always tell when it was properly cold out.  Mousing was put on hold for a while in favor of lounging on Skye's bed.

Skye's wall hanging was also coming along.  It looked almost identical to its original version;  a very dark bay American Saddlebred.

"I think I'm almost done" Skye said. I ended up working light over dark again! I'm going to touch up the darks and the mane and tail and do the details and call it done."

"No white markings?"

Skye shook her head.  "I'm not that good at white markings."

"Okay."

For a while in the afternoon, the sun burned through the clouds and the snow quickly slipped from the tree branches to the ground. But then it began to fall again, soft, silent, steady.

February 7
There had been some snow overnight.  A mixture of powder, and wet snow that had frozen.  The big red truck would need digging out.  

"Whoa! Come back broom!"
Skye fell through a layer of crust, onto softer snow beneath.

"Guess Michelle Sepiol sent us shovels and brooms just in time" Skye said, pulling snow down from the hood of the truck.

There was a lot of snow.  The part that had become crust made the task of getting the truck uncovered without scratching it rather tricky.

"Let's take a break" Grace said. "Give it a couple hours. Let the sun melt some of this."

Grace started heading back to the house. Skye took few more swipes at the snow. It was heavy, but the layer that had hardened was thin, and if she hooked it just right she could pull whole sheets of snow off of the truck.

The girls returned late in the afternoon, as the cloud cover increased. The truck was mostly exposed. They cut away a little more snow in front of it, and gave it a go.  But the ice won.

"Now what?" Skye said.

"I think we'll be better off in the water."

"Man, look at all this grass. And it's only February."

"Yeah...no one is going hungry this spring" Grace replied.

And just as well that they'd gotten he truck loose, because as evening came, so did another storm.

February 8
A thick layer of fresh snow covered the landscape. Highlander's small band had become separated from Petrichor's herd, and they headed toward familiar territory, where the grazing would be lush.

The small streams were iced over. The snow was deep and difficult to navigate. The dun mare clambered up the snowy bank, away from the ice, but only momentarily.  The deep snow was challenging in its own right.

Where drifts of snow had covered the frozen stream, the going was easiest.  The dun mare looked for those easy passages.

The larger streams bore no ice. The water was cold and occasionally deep, but it would eventually lead them down into the relative shelter of a grass meadow.

Back at the ranch, Grace and Skye took a moment to get pictures of Skye's completed horses. She had started them for NaMoPaiMo in 2023. And now, finally, a year later and just eight days into February, they were done. 

Grace decided to take La Barilla to the indoor arena. Skye accompanied her. Ladyhawk's blanket made all kinds of swooshing noises as they road, but Ladyhawk kept her head. La Barilla stopped here and there to paw the snow, as if perhaps it would be enjoyable to roll in.

"Where do you suppose the wild horses are?" Skye asked.
"Hard to say" Grace responded. There was so much rain, and I think it rained harder in the lowlands than it did here. But then the snow came. So which way would they have gone? Up for the rain, down for the snow?"

Crazy's band made their way along a seasonal stream, northwest of the sheltered meadow. 

The mare Grace and Skye called Lady Godiva picked her way through the water, which was sometimes deep. The mud made from rich soil acted like suction cups around the horse's hooves, but there were also narrow sand bars which provided better crossing.

Following her lead, the herd traversed the sand bar, single file.  It was a quiet time in the forest.  The roads were likely closed.  The wet snow was not ideal for traveling, but they did so entirely unbothered.

February 16
Grace's current NaMoPaiMo horse was challenging her a little bit.  The girls examined it in the tack room.  It didn't look like a yellow and purple decorator model any more, but it wasn't exactly going along to plan, either.

"So now his two sides aren't even" Grace said of her NaMoPaiMo horse. "I'm not sure how they came out so different, but I think I like the lighter side better. So...now what."

"You could put the disappearing dapples back on the dark shoulder..."  Skye suggested.  "Or maybe when you finish the mane and tail...it will just all come together..."  It was always difficult when something went too dark.  There wasn't always a way to fix it.

Anahit and Lousin came in quietly, their mom in tow...welcome but wholly unexpected.

"This is our mom" Anahit said.
"Hi mom!" Skye replied.

"Hello, I hope we aren't...oh my goodness, what is this?"

"It's a horse Grace is painting" Skye volunteered.

"It's beautiful! I did not know you are an artist!"

Grace took a deep breath and got ready to say something along the lines of not really considering herself an artist. Skye jumped her lines.

"He's almost done. I think he's going to be amazing."

"I think you are right!"

February 18
The boss, Grace, Skye, Anahit, Lousin and mom gathered at one of the outdoor arenas on Redbird Ranch.  Clouds poured across the sky. The boss seemed almost apologetic about the new horses.   They were big, one a predominately white pinto, one a more color-balanced pinto, both lovely.

"Grace, is he a medicine hat?" Skye asked of the white one.
"Uh, yeah, he's very minimal but I think he's got color in all the right places."

There was a lot to take in. Sights, sounds, smells...the big white horse seemed to be absorbed with processing his whereabouts.  He was friendly enough...just in sensory overload. Grace wondered if the dampness of everything accentuated what he could smell. 

The second giant hay burner had a different approach to gathering information. He was more active, engaging with everyone and everything in his new surroundings. He had a big, loose stride and a kind face. 

Skye liked both of them. The sun broke through the gathering mass of clouds, illuminating the drafters with a sort of magical glow.

While the new horses had everyone's attention, Skye noticed the boss going in a different direction. She followed quietly as the boss circled back toward the turn out pen with a third equine. He wasn't flashy like the drafters. But he was a drafter too. He seemed to be taking in his new surroundings by...meditating.

"I can't explain it Skye" the boss said quietly, "but I am just in love with this guy. Like we needed another mule, right?"

Skye wasn't quite sure how to respond. 

"He's super chill" the boss continued. "You can pet him. Heck, you can probably ride him without a bridle. He's comfortable here. You can see it in his eyes."
His color was intriguing.  He had some characteristics of a mouse dun mixed with wild white markings and belgian shades of chestnut. And the calmest demeanor, and sleepy eyes. 

And then the cloud layer thickened, the sun retreated to the west, and the rain came.  Everyone retreated to their respective shelters.

Grace looked at her NaMoPaiMo horse, the paint still wet on his mane and tail.
"I really wanted to finish him tonight, but I'm making a mess" she said. "My hands just don't have it tonight."

"You've got like ten days to get it done" Skye reminded her. "You've got this."

Skye turned her attention to the english saddle that was sharing their space.

"What's the plan for this?"

"Did you see the girls' mom eyeing it when she was in the tack room?"

"Oh yeah, huh. I forgot about that."

"The last time...the only time we've used it is to school La Barilla on the long rein. The stirrups are still run up, and I swapped out the girth for one off of a bareback pad. It needs a new girth. And I don't think we have one that will work."

"And obviously mom doesn't ride western." 

"I'd say not by choice. People who ride english can usually ride western just fine. I just thought, you know, it would be nice to have a saddle ready."

"Totally."

February 25
Grace finished her NAMoPaiMo entry, a mulberry grey Andalusian that looked actually quite a lot like her reference horse. Skye hung one of her sheets on the wall behind the table, and fumbled with an LED fill light to get light in the horse's eyes for his "I Did It" picture. 

"Do I really need to be in the photo Skye?"  Grace still wasn't brimming with confidence on this latest piece.

"Yes please."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Look at me and smile."

"I can't. That light is so bright I can't even see you."

"Oh, oops...umm okay, then look at your horse."

February 26
Monday morning dawned cloudy and grey, but there was no wind, so the girls set out for a ride. A red tailed hawk circled them as the left the ranch proper.  Skye rode the new mule, which for now they had nicknamed Tex, and Grace rode La Barilla.  They were a bit of an odd couple as mounts go.

Grace was unusually quiet.

"Are you okay?" Skye asked.

"Yeah...I'm all right. I'm kind of tired. Like by the time I was done saddling him I was tired. We should trade mounts."

"Are you serious?"

Grace thought the idea through. Probably everything would be fine. But she was the only one who had ever ridden La Barilla...unless Skye had ridden him before, and if she had, Grace couldn't remember...maybe on the trail wasn't the right place for their first ride together.

"Sure" Grace finally responded. "Soon as we get back to the ranch."

It was quiet. Save for the hawk and the occasional songbird, nothing stirred. The air was damp and Grace felt a bit chilled.

"You know who I'd really love to ride?" Skye said. "That appaloosa mare. The fast one."

"Firebird."

"Yes!"

"I'm sure that would be fine. But can we do it another day? I'm pretty certain it's going to be raining soon."

In the turn-out arena, Grace held La Barilla steady while Skye got settled.

The saddle seat was a little big for Skye. Beneath her, La Barilla was active. Somewhat collected, slightly hesitant, forever a lot of horse. Skye wanted to shift her butt in the saddle, but she didn't want to set him off. His ears were flicking back and forth, waiting for a cue, any cue. Grace started to suggest Skye lower her hands, but she stopped.

In a few moments, Skye dropped her hands, and somehow found her place in the saddle.  Grace moved back, ever watchful, and let the two become acquainted, 

Skye was beaming. She was doing it. She was riding La Barilla.  The certainty of more rain kept the ride brief, but it was a good ride nonetheless.

At home, Skye was energetic and chatty.

"Do you think the boss would help us get some pictures of our models?  I think we should enter them in a photo show or two.  Are you going to sell yours?"

"Maybe? I mean sooner or later there's going to be too many horses in here, and something's bound to get knocked over."

"I'll make room in my studio! We can keep some of them there. And then rotate them!"

"Okay" Grace said, without a scrap of enthusiasm.

"You should rest" Skye continued. "It's gonna rain anyway. You can tell me you're okay, but your giant heart dog doesn't lie. You aren't feeling good."

And sure enough, Baron was right next to Grace.

And so began the rain.
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​January 15, 2024
"We should move just a little closer" Skye said. "We really can't see much from here."

They waited, and waited...and then all at once it began. The branches had been limbed from the downed trees and put into piles, and troughs dug around the piles. Hose line ran throughout the area. The ground around the piles had been moistened. There was surprisingly little sound.

After a few minutes, the flames licked skyward, heat signature bending light.

And then, in not so long, the visually impressive part was pretty much over. The tree limbs they'd gazed upon daily were converted energetically into ash that would fertilize the soil.

January 20
"So why are we heading to the arena?" Skye questioned.
"Take a guess."
"New horses."
"Good guess."

There was just one new horse. She was pretty.

"Ohh...what's her name?" Skye asked the boss.
"I don't know. She might need a new name. But she's not a rescue."
Skye laughed. "What's her story?"
"If I have it right, she was a halter horse in her youth, and she's done some performance, but in the past couple years her owners really haven't done much of anything with her. I guess you could say we rescued her from boredom."

There was a long silence. Skye seemed content to watch the mare move about. Finally the boss spoke up. 
"You can ride her if you want Skye."
"Do you think I can ride her in a bosal?"
"I'm guessing you can. And if not you'll know pretty quick."
Skye was off to find a suitable headstall. The boss turned to Grace.

"I think I told you I was looking at some horses for Skye."
"Yes" Grace responded.
"This is one of them. Actually, this is the only one. Twitch sold, and there's another mare that sort of reminds me of her but I'm just not in love with her, and then there was a mustang. But the mustang...she wasn't interested in engaging. You could just feel it. Or maybe we just didn't bond. I don't know. I hope Skye likes this mare."
"She's got a kind eye and a beautiful head" Grace said. "Let's give them some time to get to know each other."

Skye returned with a bosal. The mare was calm and responsive. She was smooth, and easy to sit.

"I'll be back down in a little bit" the boss said. Grace nodded, absorbed in watching Skye and the black mare. They looked very relaxed together.

Time would tell.

​January 24
Grace and Skye hadn't really given NaMoPaiMo a lot of thought this year. Until now.

"Okay," Skye said, "I think we're setting ourselves up for possible failure here. It's not just that your drafter is completely unprepped or anything, it also needs a mane and a tail. Have you ever prepped a 3D printed resin before?"

"No" Grace admitted. "And the printing process does have a unique texture. But it's a really smooth print, and it's a solid print, so, hopefully it's durable."

"Mine...if NaMo is returning to its original format, mine don't count anyway. The Saddlebred isn't a three dimensional horse and finishing your NaMo horse from last year doesn't count. We're not going to get a bunch of likes this year. You might, but I won't."

"Funny you should say that" Grace said. "About the likes. I watched a program last night on the creation of Facebook's like button and how it literally changed the world."

Skye was silent. Grace continued.

"At first it was an amazing and wonderful communication tool. It allowed people to show support for each other. It increased communication and interaction acrooss the Facebook community. But it also quickly became a marketing tool. A way to focus news and target products at you. A way to use what you liked to dictate what you experienced. But then worse...it also became a self worth epidemic. People go out of their way to create content to get likes, to validate themselves. And it's addictive. At first five likes is very gratifying. But then you want one hundred likes. You develop this insatiable appetite for recognition and if you don't get it, you suffer because you are a failure. Unpopular. Not as good as everyone else. For young people, it's devastating. It's dangerous. Between that and bullying, kids have committed suicide."

Skye was still silent.

"We all want the likes. We all want to be influencers. That's natural. But when we start linking our self worth to the fickle whims of the browsing public and the bored pandas, that's dangerous. Do you want to find a different NaMoPaiMo project?"

There was another quiet pause.

"No. I want to finish these. The Saddlebred was gorgeous, remember? Just...not primed right. This time I won't try going dark to light. I'll just do it...normal."

"What about the big guy? He's really nice Skye. I think you can do it. I think you can finish him.""

"I'll try."

"Good enough."

January 29
First light in Chilao. Dawn was anything but silent. Firefighter crews were already at work somewhere in the campground, making ready for the camping season, making ready for the fire season. 

The new black mare seemed engaged and unruffled. 
"What does her face say?" Skye asked.

"She's taking everything in with interest. Like she's reading a great novel but with her whole body. I think she's happy."

The morning was lovely. Warm for January. The predicted winds had gone somewhere else to blow. Birds were stirring. The girls rode on a westerly course, into the rugged terrain where often they found Petrichor, Highlander and the other stallions and their bands. Today there were no wild horses.


They took their first glimpse at the picture rocks without the old coulter pines shadowing them. There was another tree that would soon need felling. There were pockets of tree die-off here and there, despite a very wet year. Beetles caused some of it, but sometimes it was a mystery.

"You know, today we understand that trees and plants are connected to each other below the soil, and share nutrients and information" Skye said. "So maybe this tree was dependent on the other trees and now that they're gone, it can't survive."

"Maybe" Grace said. "But using that same body of research, those trees that were dying would at some point have given their last energy to their surrounding offspring."

The answer wasn't obvious. Sometimes trees died suddenly, and it was hard to understand why.

The girls meandered back toward the ranch. 
"We haven't been on a long ride in a while" Skye said. 
"Let's plan one" Grace replied.

The boss had brought some things to show Skye down to the indoor arena. So the girls brought Skye's herd there to turn them out. 

"I made them" the boss responded. "A long time ago. Nineteen or twenty years ago. I wrote a novel called The Wisdom Walkers. It was about how these two women traveled across the world to meet each other. A long time ago. 74,000 years ago. So to help work out the details of how they would have done that, we did some miniature journeys. Mikki and I."

"Mikki? Our MIkki?"

"Yes. One of the main characters in the book is based on her, really. So we took herds of horses and a pack train through Vasquez rocks. I made these saddles, out of clay, because I didn't know anything about sculpting apoxie and I don't know how to work with wood."

"Me neither!" Skye chimed in. "I tried and...it's hard! I gave up! But wait. If it was 74,000 years ago, why were they riding horses? Horses weren't domesticated yet. Were they even tall enough to ride?"

The boss laughed. "Not really tall enough for Mikki. She's so tall, all legs. But the basis of the story is that we humans were a lot more advanced in some ways than anyone recalls or understands, but the eruption of the Toba volcano wiped out most of us, and our societies. It's thought that after the Toba volcano erupted humans could easily have gone extinct. Our numbers were in the thousands after that. And of course that kind of loss means the loss of knowledge."

"So in the story, Mikki's people were already here in the Americas and had been for who knows how long. Mikki loved that. If I can find the pictures we did...they were done with a film camera, so somewhere I have actual printed pictures...if I can find them I'll show them to you."

Skye examined the interior of one of the saddles. It had cracked and taken the leather with it. The boss went on talking, animated by the memories the saddles brought to her.
"They saddles are heavy and not shaped right. They aren't worth anything, and I'm not going to keep them. If you want the beadwork and feathers off of that saddle, I'll cut them off for you."

Skye looked at Grace. Grace nodded. "Take them."

"Don't worry" the boss continued. "Grace told me how you feel about saddles in general, I'm not trying to pawn these off on you. But you can have the beadwork if you want it. The thought was that 74,000 years ago we might not have had the technology to make seed beads from glass yet, but we could probably have made crow and pony beads."

Outside the forest hummed with human activity. A prescribed burn at the base of the Vetter Fire Lookout was going well, the weather perfect, the wind cooperating.

When Skye looked closely, she could make out firefighters all along the ridge line, monitoring the burn.

And line workers flew through the air, dangling from helicopters.

"Could you do that?" Grace asked Skye. 

"Oh man! That would be totally exciting!" 

"It pays really well too. Edison puts people through line worker's school. They have tuition grants and special programs to train people to do line work. I don't know if 'line work' is the right name for the job..."

"Aerial Technician."

Grace laughed. "Yes. Of course. Aerial technician. What was I thinking."
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January 7
It was forty degrees in the arena. The girls had an unexpected audience - Anahit and Lousin. The boss beamed when she saw the first horse that the girls had chosen to bring in. Skye gave the opening keynote speech.  Shades of Jolie, a registered buckskin shire mare.

"Good morning, Happy New Year and welcome to our review, which I like to refer to as 'The Art of Grace.' We're here to take a look at where we've been, where we are now, and perhaps even touch upon where we are going. When Grace first came to Redbird Ranch there was some focus on getting horses trained, conditioned and in the show ring." Skye paused. What truthfully came next was the realization that Grace had no real interest in the show ring, on any level, but she was very good at handling horses. And for the bosses' part, she would rather buy horses than spend money on show quality tack. Maybe too many horses. 

The boss crinkled her face, still smiling.  That bit about too many horses.  Probably true.

"As we began to work as a team, Grace's strength as a trainer and handler become increasingly evident, and our focus began to shift toward the development of each individual horse, and a sense of what Redbird Ranch would come to be all about. Wisely, wonderfully, and through thoughtful leadership, we have come to focus on the preservation of some of the equine world's rare and genetically endangered breeds, and no horse could express that more beautifully than Shades of Jolie, who also happens to be doing well in the show ring in breed halter."

Grace spoke on behalf of Firebird, the appaloosa mare, who was quite eager to stretch her legs. 

"You might think this is an unusual choice of horses for us to present since we haven't spent a great deal of time finding her performance niche, but we give you Firebird because we think she exemplifies an excellent appaloosa sport horse. We're excited about moving forward with horses of this calibre. I should also mention that she did recently place at the top of her class in halter."

The boss seemed quite pleased so far. 

There was a moment of frigid silence while Skye dragged the very heavy ground poles into the arena and Grace fetched the next horse, Ono, the paint stallion.

Grace spoke on behalf of Ono.
"We present Ono because of his stellar progress. He arrived green-broke, and with a bit of an attitude."

"This was not the easiest stallion to bring around. But he has come around. He is and is becoming a wonderful all-purpose western horse, and he has a good head on his shoulders once he decides to give it to you." 

Grace decided to speak for Jesse too.  The fiery little palomino tore across the arena.

"Jesse will always be one of my favorite horses. He is all heart and courage. He was one of the first green horses that I worked with and he remains one of my favorites."

​Jesse had been a gift to the boss form a very special friend, Richard Rodman, days after her dear friend Jesse Gutierrez passed away suddenly.   So the boss shared Grace's fondness for his heart and his fire. 

"He is versatile, sure footed, willing and honest. I love this little horse, and I think he is a great ambassador for the American wild horse, whether from Mexico or the United States, and he has shown successfully in a number of disciplines." 

Grace was on a role, and spoke for the Lipizzan mare, whose name escaped her at the moment.

"We present to you this lovely mare as both a nod to your taste in horses, and to the good work we have been able to do with her leg injury. She has made a complete recovery, and is sound for work under saddle, or breeding, or both." 

The boss lit up with a wide smile to see Skye riding Loch'sha with only a neck rope. Loch'sha was hands down one of her favorite mares of all time. Once again Grace spoke.

"If horses are going to remain in our lives as we race ahead in the twenty first century, we'll need more horses like this, horses for ordinary people; sensible, sure-footed, versatile, great companions and stellar mounts. Loch'sha has had some performance placings, but we feel her highest and best value is as a real horse...one that can work cattle, navigate trails...or pull a broken Jeep back to the ranch..."

Skye finally got a chance to speak when Grace returned to the arena with the big, pearly Akhal Teke  stallion, Gunner.

"We present to you Gunner, another one of Grace's beloved sort of golden stallions. He's a stellar example of his breed and a testament to the stamina and strength of the Akhal Teke. His fiery personality makes him a ride for the experienced, but his willingness to bond to and work with his handler, also a hallmark of the breed, is what allows Grace to do this..."

"...Liberty longing. As we move toward the goal of preserving the best bloodlines of genetically threatened breeds, Gunner is a great example of accomplishing those goals."

Skye continued as Grace rode the next stallion.
"Relampago en la Pampa. This green broke stallion was one of the first horses Grace rode when she arrived, bareback, just as she rides him now with a rope halter! This Mangalarga Marchador stallion is another great example of preserving the best of a genetic legacy. And of course, Grace likes to show off that she really CAN ride bareback."

Skye was silent as Grace rode in on La Barilla, letting his action speak for itself. There was something leather across the saddle horn...some Spanish regalia? Skye had never seen anything like it before.

Grace and La Barilla executed the side pass. Skye began her narrative.

"No review would be complete without this golden stallion, La Barilla. He is believed to be one of the last if not the last horse from the central valley of California, descended from a wild herd of pure Spanish palomino and buckskin horses, last noted in the wild around 1920. His heritage then would likely be Lusitano, but as you can see, he retains some little bit of wild...a wild that Grace has brought under saddle with poise and elegance."

And then Grace started moving around in the saddle. Skye had no idea what Grace was doing. She fell silent.

The purpose of the leather became clear. But it was too short. Genius, but too short. It should have been long enough for Grace to brace her knees and maybe even her thighs against the pommel of the saddle. Skye held her breath as Grace pulled her feet into the slits in the leather, and then, with some effort, pulled herself up onto her feet.

La Barilla's ears flicked and swiveled. He took very measured steps. As if he was trying to balance Grace. Grace struggled to keep her balance without pulling on the reins. A rope tied to the horn that she could balance with...that would have been a great idea.

And then for a moment, they got it. Grace stood, knees slightly bent, and turned La Barilla slowly in a circle.  One hand on the reins.  One hand free.

And a moment was enough. The stirrup slits were tight. Grace struggled to free her boots, opting to dismount as soon as she had gotten the left boot free.

After a tense moment, the applause. There may only have been four spectators, but the cheering and clapping was thunderous.

"Believe it or not" Skye said to Anahit and Lousin, "that was not the finale', even if it should have been. There is one more act, and it's mine."

Skye disappeared for a moment. She returned with...not a horse.

The bosses' eyes grew wide. 

"May I present to you Toro Toro Taxi. Now what in the world do we have to do with this? Nothing really. Your interest in rangeland management, in alternative methods to the beef industry, to humanity and to the future of the planet...that is what this Raramuri Criollo bull and his offspring represent."

"And he is beautiful, and we love him, now that I am not scared to death of him any more. Now that I have learned that the Raramuri are not only better suited for the land, but also raised to be companions. by the people who share their traditional name."

"Your efforts to encourage the cattle industry to adopt a more sustainable animal, better adapted to the environment, and producing a more tender and higher quality of meat, is very admirable. But I implore upon you to consider an even greater environmental step. Bring back the buffalo."

"Not beefalo. Not buffacows. Buffalo. Buffalo once roamed every part of this land. They were an integral part of the environment. Their slaughter was the beginning of the demise not only of native people, but of the land itself. The health of the land depended on its herbivores, perfectly adapted to the harshness of this beautiful country. Restoring that balance and preserving the genetic diversity of the buffalo is critical. Bringing back the buffalo would heal the land. Respecting the buffalo, honoring the buffalo...that would be healing on so many levels. Don't get me wrong. We love this guy. We don't want to eat him! Please keep him! We love your commitment to doing what's good and what's right. Consider this. Bring back the buffalo."

​Skye paused.

"So, in the immortal words of Shirley Temple...'And that is it, and that is all. Thank you for the use of the hall."

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January 1, 2024
Dawn came with a chilling wind that Grace would not normally have opted to ride in. But according to the ranch horses, there were wild horses in close proximity, so the girls ventured out. Saturday's rain was frozen into the soil, making the ground hard and the going slow.

The mosses and lichens glowed green, invigorated by moisture, carpeting the rocky terrain. 

Somewhere in that rocky terrain, there were wild horses. But where.

Petrichor's harem, six strong, took shelter from the wind in a narrow draw, concealed from view by the rock walls.

"Can you hear anything?" Skye said softly.

Grace listened. Watched her mount's ears. Peered hopefully ahead. Nothing.

Highlander and his band saw the girls coming. They slipped through the rugged rock passage, and away.

The girls wanted to keep looking, but the wind pushed back on them.  Eventually, they turned back.

At home, Grace and Skye watched the Rose Parade on the laptop.
"Wouldn't it be so much fun to ride in the Rose Parade?" 
Grace considered it. 
"It would be, but it would be an awful lot of work too. I mean, for us, pretty easy really...we're about as close as you could hope to be."

January 6
The girls had been down the mountain all morning with the boss. Skye noticed the black capped bird first. 

Then they both noticed the tree.

The wind was cold. They knew the tree was coming down. There was a great deal of work going on in Chilao to make the inhabited areas safe from wind, fire and heavy snow. Still. The skyline would never be the same.

"I wish we could have seen them fell it" Skye said. Grace thought about it. "Yeah, me too, but maybe it's better we didn't."

In the late afternoon, everything went still. The wind stopped. Clouds covered the sky and the humidity rose. Beset with a little touch of melancholy, the girls decided to tend to their feelings with a ride. Woodpeckers, scrub jays, western bluebirds and various insect hunting birds were all that stirred. The band tailed pigeons had finally gone back to the Visitors' Center on the other side of Chilao, where the staff kept them in an ample supply of seed. 

La Barilla did an unexpected about-face.

Petrichor's bay mare and her foals moved into the clearing. The mare hesitated for a moment, then continued on, slowly, watching the girls, but unafraid.

Grace strained to get a glimpse beyond the black mare i Petrichor's band, Thorn, as La Barilla became increasingly difficult to hold steady. There were two more dark horses that they had never seen before.

The bay mare's foals noticed the Vanner filly.

The Vanner filly was equally curious. The foals began moving toward each other.

"Oh, this could be interesting" Skye chirped, "and I'm along for the ride..."

And then Petrichor swept in, putting himself between his band and the Vanner filly.

His herd, swollen now to three mares and three foals, took heed, turning away from Grace and Skye and moving back toward the cover of the chaparral.

The Vanner filly returned to her nickering mother, looking rather pleased with herself. Petrichor and his band slipped out of sight.

Back at home, it took a little bit for the girls to get warm.
"I don't want to take my coat off" Grace said as she scanned her emails.

"Yeah but that was worth getting cold and stiff! That's the closest we've ever been to the foals I think! And the new mare and foal! And you can tell it's cold out when the barn cats would rather stay in a room full of dogs than in their own beds."

Grace was silent, staring at the computer screen. 
"What's wrong?" Skye asked.
"I'll read it to you" Grace responded. "It's an email from the boss. 'Hey Grace, tomorrow is supposed to be barely above freezing and windy. Remember that review I was hoping to do in the fall? Let's do it tomorrow.' "
It was Skye's turn to fall silent.
"Tomorrow." Skye finally said. "We don't even have a day to plan. I had so many ideas. I wanted to make it like a show you know, and I wanted to speak for you, because that would be the traditional way to do it...you know, not you bragging on yourself but me speaking on your behalf...and I wanted to show pictures..."
There was a long silence.
"We've got all night" Grace finally said. "We'll pull it together."

Grace and Skye caught the last moments of the sunset. Clouds swirled and danced and made their way up the mountain. The cold crept quickly into their hands. 
"Do you know which horses you want?" Skye asked.
"Pretty much. It'll be about half-half mares and stallions."
"So how do we split the talking?"
Grace thought about it for a moment. She started to answer and stopped. Finally she spoke.

"We could spend a lot of time trying to figure that out and have it all change the moment we get in the arena. Let's just both decide what we generally want to say."
"I like that. We'll keep it fresh."
"Organic" Grace smiled.
"Real." Skye replied, smiling. "I like that."

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