And, a few more showers. The storms just ain't quite gettin' it, leastwise, here local. They're shapin' up and the squalls they come, but so far just showers; keep our fingers crossed.
And, speakin' a crossed fingers, I guess I done some, over the years. Toward the end a that year, up there in Utah, I headed back to New Mexico; give my own go with the young horses. I'd saved a buck and bought a pickup, for $100. Tore it apart, evenin's and put it back together. Found an old stock rack for my horse, a cage like deal, slips in the back a the pickup, borrowed a saddle from a friend, loaded up the young Ute Mustang, Ben and I had found and headed South, maybe $100 in my pocket; roughly enough ta get there and, maybe, eat for a couple a days. No worries.
No way, I was really ready, take on the colts a New Mexico, not ta mention the owners; a whole slice a the deal I did not yet appreciate. But, both Ray and Tom, had confessed, on more than one occasion, that really it was the horse that taught 'em. And, I'd found their words, solid. I'd found my bridge 'tween the inner and outter; what I knew in my heart and what I could live in my life and that was that!
And, we made it! Tubby, my Ute mustang, alternated 'tween the grass I'd put up front by the wind break I'd fashioned, over the cab and lookin' round, over the top at the world flyin' by. Occasionally, whinnyin' at some horses pastured along the way. Distress or bliss over his curious situation, sailin' along in the bed a that old pickup, most likely a toss up, or some combination. But, we made it.
I'd been a long day, some 400 miles, I figure, time we pulled in to the drive of an elegant Santa Fe home, on the edge a town. Good friend of a good friend; artist woman I'd met in Albuquerque, some years back, had asked this friend if I might pass a night or two, while I looked for work. I'd met him, also, back then and we'd had a pleasant conversation or two. Handsome young fella, very political, worked with the social services, and since had moved on up into circles of influence. I'd been told, he wouldn't be home and to make myself so, he, returnin' late that night. I can't remember, for sure, if the question of a horse, had come up.
Anyway, I was beat and Tubby, needed out; whether it was bliss or distress, comin' down, he'd had enough. The yard was fenced and in the wanin' light, appeared quite natural, like a nice small New Mexico pasture. I backed him off a the truck onto a nearby ditch bank that come pretty close ta meetin' the tail gate I'd lowered. I turned him loose in the yard, give him a flake and a drink and found my way into this beautiful adobe house; latterns lightin' the walk, old polished tile leadin from the patio in through a large oak and glass door. I further, found my way into the this gently sparklin' kitchen, full of every convenience, discreetly tucked in to the, seemingly seamless world of counter and cabinet. I found a note, next to some milk and cookies he'd left out, all tightly wrapped in plastic; "welcome, see you in the mornin; there's a mattress on the floor in the livin' room". I gladly accepted, milk and cookie and found my way in to the livin' room; elegant sofas, glass coffee table, the same fine polished tile and a large fireplace, old river rock, stacked to the ceilin', where it met these large varnished pine poles fannin' out like the spokes of an old wagon wheel, slopin' down to the back wall, decorated with a few, fine old spanish paintin's. It was somethin', but I was wooped. I threw my hat on a nearby chair, pulled off my boots and vest, didn't even think a gettin' in bed, pretty as it was; fine sheets and blanket, wrapped around a nice mattress, sittin' on a beautiful navajo rug, like a work of art. And, that was it; jeans and all. Hot and sticky, smellin' a horse, there I slept, ' till dawn.
Have a good evevin'!
Best,
jeune
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