Twins Should Have Ponies

Growing up in a family of 14, counting parents, sure was fun. Challenging at times, to be sure, but fun. My twin brother and I had Shetland ponies from the time we were about age six, and we had more darn fun with those things.
I got the first one. My dad just knew I had to have a horse or I would die. He managed to get me my very own horse when I was young. Only thing was, he never managed to pay for her. The man she belonged to, Doug Lay, came and repossessed her after we had kept her about a year, and dad hadn't made a payment. Dad had good intentions, but raising 12 kids took every penny he could earn working as a ranch hand. We were so poor we couldn't pay attention.
As you can imagine, dad was nowhere in sight when the man came to get the pony. I caught her for him and handed him the lead rope. Between sobs, I told Mr. Lay that I had broken her to ride while she was there, and I hoped that was ok with him. He said it was quietly, and then backed his pickup up to a bank, from which Bell jumped into the stock rack and rode away, as I stood dying.
I don't remember how long I cried, but I tried to take it in stride, because I knew horses had to cost money, and I didn't have any. I think it was only about six weeks later, and Mr. Lay came driving back in our yard in that same old pickup with the stock rack and the same black and white pony in it. This time, he jumped her off and handed me the lead rope.
"I want you to know," he said, "this is your horse, and you have access to any horse in my herd." I was so excited. I just couldn't believe it. The man probably had 50 horses in his herd, but there was only one I cared about, and I was holding her. I guess he couldn't get the thought of my pitiful little face out of his mind. Anyway, during the six weeks Bell was back at his place, she had managed to find a boyfriend, because about a year later, she delivered a sweet little filly foal. I gave her to my twin brother, so we could each have a horse. Of course, it took another two years before he could ride his, but I shared with him while we waited.
Bell was half Shetland and half thoroughbred. She was mean and she could run. She loved to jump sideways just to see if she could unseat you. She never did know how to buck very hard, but she would crow-hop to show her disgust sometimes. In addition, she would bite. One day she reached out, quick as a flash, and bit a button right off the front of my shirt. Made quite a bruise on my chest, too. Good thing I was still flat chested!
Dale's pony never got as big as Bell, but she could keep up. In fact, she had most of her dam's bad habits. Dale named her Cherry, I guess because she was somewhat red.
We would always water the ponies on the way back to the barn, because if we didn't, then we'd have to carry water to them. They got in the habit of stopping at the creek to get a drink when we crossed it. Cherry's favorite trick became trying to run back to the barn, but suddenly turning and ducking her head in the creek. Sometimes Dale would go flying off into the creek if she did it too suddenly. I would laugh because it was funny, but that would make my brother furious. I learned to stifle that laugh, because if I didn't, he'd always find a way to pay me back. Like when giving me a leg up bareback, he'd give a bug push at the last, and I'd go tumbling over the other side.
I was trimming hooves on a five-year-old mare today and she was giving me a tussle, and I sure was wishing my twin brother was here to hold her for me--or, better yet, do the
trimming. She pulled back and broke three lead ropes, so I finally had to give her the belly-rope treatment. That's where you take a lariat rope and circle it around their bodies just behind their front legs, then run the rope up between the front legs, through the halter and tie it off just a little shorter than the lead rope. When they set back, the rope tightens around their girth. They don't do that too many times, although she did it about six times before she finally realized she was not going to escape again. Then the pedicure could proceed.
True to form, just as I finished that big project, my horse friend from Cheyenne came driving in the yard! I think he sat up on the hill and watched until I was done. Naw, he's a truck driver who had just gotten in from a long haul, and he was pretty bleary-eyed. If he'd have stopped very long, he'd have been asleep.