A Buckin' Tuesday

I ride out at a barn way up Pima Road near Cave Creek three to four times a week. My trainers are Peter and Susan Witte who are a brother sister combo; of course at the age of ten when I first started riding with them I thought they were husband and wife. I discovered about a year later that Peter was indeed gay. Oh the things children are oblivious to. Who could blame me though? The two argued just as a normal married couple would who worked together, but no, I later realized it was normal brother sister banter, something they did very often…

“I’d like to see you try and get on him Susan,” Peter said to his sister just as I arrived for my Tuesday morning lesson. So I asked, “What’s this all about?” Peter responded quickly and explained that Susan did not think he was capable of riding the young colt so early in the spring, and that he was not quite settled into his new surroundings. Just as I thought, the two were in the middle of some huge disagreement, throwing around saddle pads and spurs, trying to explain who was right and who was wrong. “Well, what colt?” I asked. Susan responded with, “Oh, well, it’s the utterly immature Drako Afire baby that just arrived off the hauler from back east last week.” I knew just the horse they were talking about. After being around the horse for less than a week, I had already decided that the bay colt with its black main and tail was without a doubt green, but with Peters training abilities I thought he just might be able to get the job done and tell Susan off.

I love both Peter and Susan dearly, but Susan does tend to be overly dramatic quite often and thought maybe she was just overreacting about the situation. “Fine Peter, throw your old man rear up on that horse and just wait until you end up face down in the dirt!” Susan yelled across the barn aisle. The two are always so entertaining together, and anyone who knows them in the horseshow business would certainly agree.

So, after being saddled up for only about the third time ever, Peter grabbed the colts halter and led him out to the bull pen where he rides all of the babies, and carefully bridled. I went out to the middle of the ring with Peter to hold the horse while he got on, and Susan stood on the opposite side of the rail waiting for him to be thrown I am sure. Peter hopped up with no problem, and the horse moseyed off in one direction when Peter pulled it another; something that is very common during the first ride. It was actually going quite well, even though the two were just walking around in a circle. Then, much to Susan’s delight, something startled the colt in the bushes, and all hell broke loose. Peter held on tightly to the main as Drako tucked his head between his hocks and wildly kicked his back feet up in the air. The two did this uncontrollable dance for about fifteen seconds until Peter came unglued. “What the hell did I tell you, you idiot?” Susan yelled as she jumped over the railing. I ran to grab the horse to calm it, and brought it back to the barn while Susan helped Peter up to his feet. Susan happily asked, “Did you have a nice trip?” Covered in dirt, Peter replied “Yeah, see you next fall.”