Water Horse
- August 19, 2026
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- Jan Swan Wood
Posted in: Featured, Ranch Life, Uncategorized
Being the youngest of the family with quite a gap between them and me, I was usually alone and
perfectly capable of finding ways to entertain myself. I roamed the ranch and knew every bend of the
creek, draw, gully and ridgetop on the place. My friends were the dogs, cats, horses and other livestock.
There was a small dam out in the horse pasture that I enjoyed splashing around in. It was shallow on one end with a gravel bottom. I waded in it up to my knees but not deeper as I was petrified of water. I couldn’t float or swim, so it was probably good that I was so cautious. On hot summer days though, even
knee deep felt good.
Out in the horse pasture were the saddle horses we used on the ranch. They hung together in a bunch
except for one horse. He was hardly ever with them, seeming content to stay to himself. His name was
Rusty. He was my dad’s horse. He was well broke but in no way was he ever described as a pet. Rusty
was goosey, grabby, snorty and quick.
One hot day I was wading around in the edge of the dam trying to catch frogs when I saw Rusty approach the other side of the dam for a drink. I didn’t pay much attention to him in the heat of my frog
hunt until I looked up and he was standing at the edge of the water not 10 feet from me. He had his ears
up looking at me. I said hi I suppose, and he stepped into the water and came over close to me. I pet his face, astonished that he had approached me at all. I walked into the water a ways and he followed me.
As most horses of that era did, Rusty had his mane roached except for his foretop and a big tuft on his withers. Holding onto that, I worked my way in deeper and he kept pace with me. Feeling brave with a
horse to hang onto, pretty soon I was pulling myself around him, holding onto his body when I couldn’t
reach his neck or wither tuft. I’d go around his head or duck under his neck and work my way down his
side, around his hind quarters and back up to his head.
Without him to hold onto, I believe the water would surely have been over my head, though I didn’t
experiment and find out. It was deep enough that it was halfway up his shoulders and I wasn’t that tall
myself. He seemed to be enjoying my company as much as I was his and we played in the water for a
long time. I don’t remember now how I conveyed that I was done with my “swimming”, but I did and he
walked back out of the water. We parted company and he went back to grazing and I headed for home.
My clothes dried on the way and no one ever suspected I had been up to my neck in the dam.
That summer we repeated this as often as I was at that little dam and he came to drink at the same time. Perhaps he looked for me, as I did him. If the other horses were there though, he didn’t come close.
When Dad would have Rusty in to ride, he was all business and the same snorty, watchy horse he had
always been and never let on that in the water we were pals.
I’ve often wondered why he did that. I know why I did. I was a dumb kid. He never acted like he really trusted people of any kind any other time. But for some reason, he let down his guard to play in the water with a little girl.
He never tattled on me and I never let on that I knew another side of him. If the folks had known I’d have gotten my hide tanned. I’ve kept our secret for all these years, until now. Rusty’s been gone for decades but I look back fondly on him, my playmate at the little horse pasture dam. The only time I haven’t been afraid of water.
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Posted in: Featured, Ranch Life, Uncategorized
About Jan Swan Wood
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....