My oldest grandson and I were going down the highway recently when he asked me where it was that I had seen Rush many years ago. I pointed the very spot out as we passed it. Then he wanted the story. I had raised Rush out of my favorite mare of all time, Lily. She had been a stellar saddle horse herself and had earned the right to raise some foals. I’d bred her to stud that I really admired, and the resulting foal was a tall, leggy sorrel colt, three white feet and a strip. Man, he was really put together, right from day one. This colt was going to be my last good gelding and keep me mounted for the next 20 plus years, just like his mama had. His name came from one of my priceless old cowboy friends. Jim had, back in the day, raised many Remount horses. He said that he never had held one back but had kept his word to the government that the geldings by the Thoroughbred studs they put out with the mare owners would all be available for the Remount program. That is, until he started a big three year old Thoroughbred gelding that checked all the boxes for what Jim thought the best horse he’d ever dream of should have. He named the colt Rush and kept riding him. Every day he liked him better. He was 16 hands, weighed about 1100 pounds and moved so smooth and easy that Jim just couldn’t believe it. He was a sorrel with three white socks and a strip in his face. As a four year old, the inspectors came to view the geldings for the Remount service, and for the first time, Jim hid one out. He kept Rush for himself, but, for the next 75 or so years, had a pang of guilt every time he spoke of the horse. But indeed, he’d been Jim’s horse of a lifetime out of many hundreds of horses. So, I named my future saddle horse Rush and hoped he’d be as good as Jim’s Rush had been. He was growing up big and strong, with a keen head, perfect neck, long sloping shoulder, big withers, deep through the heart, short back, long hip, and straight legs. Everything I’d dreamed of. At two, he was a handsome colt. Unfortunately, when Rush was two, I was forced to sell him to pay medical bills. I hated it. It was with a heavy heart that I loaded him onto the trailer of the new owners and watched them drive away. For a year or two, I was able to keep track of him somewhat, and was dismayed to hear that he’d become a bit of a knothead to them and was spoiled. Then I heard he’d been sold. I knew the guys that bought him, two cowboy brothers who were good hands, and I felt better about it because I knew they’d straighten out his bad manners and get him back on track. They did and really liked him. He sold again and I lost track of who had him. That’s the risk when you raise one you fall for too hard, and I had surely fallen for that long legged colt. But, time passed and he was “mostly” forgotten. One day I was headed to a neighboring town and was driving down the highway thinking of the errands I needed to run, plus looking at hay fields, cattle and anything else of interest along the road. I noticed some horses in a little pasture by the road and as I went by and looking closer, I saw him. It was Rush. It had been over 10 years since I’d seen that two year old colt leave, but I knew my Rush, even though he was much bigger and older. I didn’t stop, since that’s bad manners to go petting on someone else’s horses, but I went on a mission to find out who the place belonged to. In a week or so, I’d learned who had him and via a mutual friend, had been invited to stop any time to see Rush, or Barney, as they called him. The next time I went that way, I pulled into the place and the owner was home. We visited a bit and then walked out to the horses. As they approached, I knew him like I’d know my own kids, then the brand verified what I already knew. It most certainly was Rush. The horses walked up to us and Rush zeroed in on me. He sniffed me from head to foot while I stroked his neck and shoulders. He remembered, absolutely. The owner said he needed to take them through a gate into a new little pasture, so we took off walking, Rush right by my shoulder. The other horses went through the gate, then took off at a trot for the fresh grass. Rush stayed with me. We went and turned on a water tank and headed back to the gate, with Rush still staying right by my shoulder. I petted on him some more, then let the owner “sort me off” at the gate and close it. Rush stood looking over the gate, staring at me. It about choked me down to walk away. The owner told me that I could stop and visit any time, whether they were there or not. It was awfully nice of him, but I knew it was too hard for me and probably for Rush, so I just admired him from the road as I went by. About a year later, I got a call from the owner and he offered Rush back to me. He said he knew that that’s where he needed to be, as it was clear we were pards. His wife loved Rush, but had a terrible time getting on him due to his size. We made a deal that included the trade of another gelding I had and a stack of money. Worth every dollar. So, over a decade later, I finally got Rush back. He was again spoiled, but a month or two on a yearling outfit receiving and doctoring steers with my son on him brought him around and he came back to me at last. My Rush. All and more than I could have ever dreamed the first time I saw that lanky sorrel colt. Reliable, honest, funny, smart, bold, tough and kind sum him up. The same horse every time he’s cinched up. He’s 23 years old now. We’re both getting past our prime, that’s for sure. Six years ago he became the trusted mount of my then six year old grandson, so I haven’t ridden him as much. He’s packing another grandson now, and there’s just something about putting a child I love on a horse I love and trust completely, that is maybe even better than riding him myself. I foresee my toddler granddaughter having him as her first horse in the near future. I’m sure glad I spotted him along the highway that day over a decade ago. I believe the Lord knew we needed each other and put him back in my life again. He’s been my last good, no, make that great, gelding. He’s home to stay.
Jan was raised on a ranch in far western South Dakota. She grew up horseback working all descriptions of cattle, plus sheep and horses. After leaving home she pursued a post-graduate study of cowboying and dayworking in Nebraska, New Mexico, Montana, Wyoming and South Dakota....
