Friday, December 21, 2007
Horse Sense
“There’s never been a horse that couldn’t be rode, never been a man that couldn’t be throwed,” is an old cowboy truism that never changes.
Daddy was a wonderful story teller, and all his cowboy stories were from real life, the life he loved and remembered with relish. He had left home at the age of 13, working on area ranches, especially the Merrill spread, with no dream greater than owning a good horse and saddle. He could relate the name, coloring, personality, and bucking pattern of every horse he ever rode. Before local rodeo became organized, owners of especially bad broncs would bring them to Flomot, gather a crowd, throw up a rope corral, collect a “purse” and Houston Gunn was given the chance to show his stuff. Pictures of his bronc-riding prowess can be seen in the Cowboy Hall of Fame in Oklahoma City.
The Motley-Dickens County Reunion was first held near the waterfall on Pease River near the little town of Roaring Springs, an unusually beautiful place for arid West Texas. Rodeo activity was held in the sand of the mostly dry river bed, with onlookers standing on the cliff above. Some of Hute’s kin lived in Dickens County, and this was their annual get-together. Later it grew into the Old Settlers’ Reunion, which still happens in Roaring Springs every summer, now having a rodeo arena, dance floors and other concessions.
Later, at the waterfall, a swimming pool was built, a dream land for kids during the years I was in school, and now part of a private club. No more rodeo in the sand.
When I watched Daddy break a rodeo bronc to ride in the early ‘50s, I didn’t know his style of “breaking” wasn’t the norm. He used kindness to tame the wild mare in only a few hours. Before sundown that day, Dink and I were riding her double.
As a child, it seemed to me that Daddy’s love for horses was stronger than what he demonstrated for me. But years and wisdom finally showed me that giving up his favorite way of life to raise a family took a very special kind of love.
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
cgtrent@att.net
Daddy was a wonderful story teller, and all his cowboy stories were from real life, the life he loved and remembered with relish. He had left home at the age of 13, working on area ranches, especially the Merrill spread, with no dream greater than owning a good horse and saddle. He could relate the name, coloring, personality, and bucking pattern of every horse he ever rode. Before local rodeo became organized, owners of especially bad broncs would bring them to Flomot, gather a crowd, throw up a rope corral, collect a “purse” and Houston Gunn was given the chance to show his stuff. Pictures of his bronc-riding prowess can be seen in the Cowboy Hall of Fame in Oklahoma City.
The Motley-Dickens County Reunion was first held near the waterfall on Pease River near the little town of Roaring Springs, an unusually beautiful place for arid West Texas. Rodeo activity was held in the sand of the mostly dry river bed, with onlookers standing on the cliff above. Some of Hute’s kin lived in Dickens County, and this was their annual get-together. Later it grew into the Old Settlers’ Reunion, which still happens in Roaring Springs every summer, now having a rodeo arena, dance floors and other concessions.
Later, at the waterfall, a swimming pool was built, a dream land for kids during the years I was in school, and now part of a private club. No more rodeo in the sand.
When I watched Daddy break a rodeo bronc to ride in the early ‘50s, I didn’t know his style of “breaking” wasn’t the norm. He used kindness to tame the wild mare in only a few hours. Before sundown that day, Dink and I were riding her double.
As a child, it seemed to me that Daddy’s love for horses was stronger than what he demonstrated for me. But years and wisdom finally showed me that giving up his favorite way of life to raise a family took a very special kind of love.
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
cgtrent@att.net
