My Dad told me this story years ago and I’ll try to share it with you as I remember it. He was a boy at the time, around eight or ten years old, and had been hired to help a friend of the family do some stock work. The man’s name was Willis Rice and he was an older gentleman, and someone who my Dad admired greatly. His horses were known far and wide, and every one that Dad had ever seen was a tall Thoroughbred type, deep through the heart, big withers, and built to go all day and still have more horse left after a 40 mile circle. Most of them were bay or brown. Mr. Rice was known as a fine stockman, horseman, and cowboy as well, so getting to spend a whole day in his employ was quite an honor for a young boy. Dad had been picked up the night before with his saddle and had spent the night at Mr.Rice’s so an early start could be made. They were up very early and Dad was sent out to get the saddle horses in while Mr. Rice made breakfast. He was pretty excited to get to ride one of the Rice horses that were well known for being some of the best that had ever drawn a breath of air in eastern Colorado or about anywhere else. He considered it the high point of his riding career at that point. He was told to catch and ride the night horse and saddle him with Mr. Rice’s saddle, just as it was on the rack, and that Mr. Rice would ride that horse for that day. Taking a lantern, Dad went to the barn, heart racing over getting to ride a Rice horse at last. When he saw the horse in the pen, his disappointment was huge, for the horse didn’t fit the picture of what he thought it should be. The horse was a tall brown gelding, gentle, friendly and with good feet and legs, but, with the worst sway back that Dad had ever seen in his young life. Having been raised by a horse trader father, he had seen about everything at the Denver markets, so had seen a few. The horse looked like a freak, but, he was the only horse in the corral, so Dad saddled him using the stack of saddle blankets there to fill the hollow of his back, and led him out of the barn. He climbed on and rode out toward the pasture in the dark, still very dismayed at the horse under him. His feelings quickly changed about the horse as he had never been on any horse that moved so easy or so smooth. The horse had a very good handle on him, a light mouth, and was responsive to Dad’s every request. The saddle horses were found by the horse, not Dad, as it was still dark, and after several short runs, they were finally in the corral. The speed and handle on the horse had impressed Dad very much and he vowed he’d never been on anything even close to that good. His day spent riding another of the Rice horses didn’t disappoint him in the least, for it also moved like a dream and handled well. But, for some reason, he remembered less about the “perfect” horse he rode all day than the one that he’d viewed as a freak when he first saw him. He clearly understood why Mr. Rice rode the sway backed horse and considered him his top horse. The old adage “pretty is as pretty does” was shown to be true that day.
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....
