The Heart of a Lion, Part IV

Finally, part four.

Nine months after the colic surgery, Macho paces up and down in the little pasture he used to rest in. The dull roar of the Bobcat backhoe is the only thing breaking the routine serenity of another Mesa Ranch day. Cindy stands by the gate, her hat hiding her face. She's crying. Wes is beside her. Macho is only a scarecrow now. It's finally the end of the trail. His kind eyes still glitter with determination, but that is the only thing that is the same about him.

Immediately following his surgery, the incision became infected. Macho spent several more days at the clinic, and was given a high powered antibiotic to fight it. Less than a month after returning home, Macho was still weak and still losing weight. When Dr. Franklin examined him, the news was ominous. His kidneys were failing. Thorough research revealed that the kidney failure was caused by a reaction to the antibiotic.

His coat, once brilliant now looks like an old penny. The magnificent, sculpted body is now jagged and bony. His head, so keen and alert, barely clears the ground. He paces like a big cat, but it is taking all the strength left in him to keep from folding into a heap on the ground. This is goodbye to the horse whose destiny didn't wait for him. No amount of try could delay death.

Macho was put down and buried in the paddock that he always used be turned out to run in.
The pacing figure is now nowhere to be seen. The pasture is empty, except for Cindy and Wes, walking together away from a fresh mound of soil. Macho is gone.

Sherry Evans' heart sank when she learned Sadie was not carrying Macho's foal. Sherry had been given a free breeding to Macho as a birthday present. The colt out of her mare, Poco Peppy Concetta (Sadie) would have been able to do anything, be anything. Tears stream down her face as she stands with one hand resting on Sadie's pale, cream colored back. "I knew better than to hope for too much," she says slowly. "It was a great hope and dream to have a colt out of such a classy horse as Macho Little Lena, but it wasn't God's will at the time," Sherry says. "I felt like he had a heart that was out of the ordinary. If I had a colt out of him that had a heart like him, then I'd have a once in a lifetime horse."

"It's heartbreaking," says Walt Evans, Sherry's husband. "Macho was an exceptional cutting horse, exceptionally athletic, exceptionally talented at reading cattle. He had a future in front of him."

The loper stirs and reaches for his pocket where his cell phone is ringing. The nap's over, it's back to the whirlpool on another blue-blooded cowpony. The crackle of the microphone prepares its audience for the announcer's voice, "Thank you, boys. We're gonna pick up with Little Blue Tutu owned by Janet Keller, A Lil Tachita and Albert Rolwing Jr. be ready please."

There is a hush in the coliseum while the sounds of the warm up pen continue in a monotonous flow. The cutting world goes on spinning today just as it did when Macho was a rising star. New faces and new horses make the headlines now. But if you were to mention the name of the bright colored cowhorse, you can be sure someone would remember him. In Wes's words, "Macho, he goes down in the books. He'd been dealt a terrible hand. Sometimes things aren't fair. But he had the heart of a lion."

A Little Out Of Hand

Dear PHC folks,

It won’t be long before we all part ways for the summer. But before we get to that, every one of us is staring down a couple of weeks of difficult reading, writing and test taking. If you’ve got the stomach read through the rest of my letter, I hope you’ll notice that though it is true that all good things come to an end, it’s also true that all bad things come to an end, too. Allow me to illustrate this point by telling a true tale that took place in western New Mexico in the winter of 1999.
My family lived in a one-room cabin in the Gila National Forest. We were taking care of cattle on the Cox Canyon lease, which is about 7,000 feet elevation. We didn’t have running water or electricity, and the only way to get water was by hauling it in a 250 gallon tank from a spring-fed water trough about seven miles away. Usually, mom and I would use five gallon buckets and dip the water out of the trough. But dad figured it was time to stop working so hard and start working smart.
The day before the ‘catastrophe’ happened, my dad went in to town and purchased a small water pump-complete with a rubber intake hose. He also bought a nice, long cloth hose (like a fire hose without a nozzle) for the output end.
The ice was five or six inches thick on the trough that morning, and the wind was cruel and sharp. Mom and dad took the feed truck-loaded with the tank and the pump-and went off to get water first thing. About two hours later, they pulled up to the cabin and mom got out, appearing an unusual shade of blue. When I got closer, I noticed the 250 gallon tank was empty…and mom was soaking wet. Dad had a ridiculous grin on his face that only flashed when mom’s back was turned. Here’s what happened:
They arrived at the trough and backed the pickup close enough for the hoses to reach, lowered the tail gate, and primed the pump. Once the ice was broken, they were ready to fill the tank. Dad stayed on the ground to man the pump and the intake hose, while moms only job was to make sure the output hose didn’t kink and the water went in like it was supposed to. The pump started. The stiff intake hose jerked as water was drawn in to it. Water filled the cloth hose and travelled quickly down it to the opening at the end. The pump sputtered, so dad reached over and adjusted the choke. The pump sped up and began drawing more water faster. Suddenly, the cloth hose was endowed with a crazed intelligence. It leapt out of the tank and slapped mom across the face. She reacted too late, and fell backward into the snow. The crazy hose proceeded to flop and writhe all around mom, who didn’t lay there long. She jumped up to lay hold of the wild hose, but her efforts were futile. She chased it only to get close enough to be blasted with ice cold water. She dived for it only to be smacked in the back of the head by it. Somewhere in the fray she lost a glove and her glasses. This violent escapade lasted for several minutes, amidst her shrill protests and shocked exclamations each time she was doused with icy spring water. After the initial panic reaction wore off, she received an epiphany: she could escape. So she hid around the other side of the truck only to have it reach underneath and soak her snow boots through. Eventually, she made it to the tailgate and shut off the pump.
And where was the would-be hero of this errand-gone-wrong? He was laughing- twitching and convulsing on the tailgate of the pickup, only an arm’s length away from the switch that could have prevented the disaster entirely. Dad was laughing so hard he couldn’t even lift the intake hose out of the trough. Mom was miserable. She was dripping wet in temperatures around 15 degrees (don’t forget the wind chill factor!). And like every feed truck on every ranch I’ve ever been on, the heater didn’t work. Mom suffered all the way home. Dad suffered too-from having to hold laughter in the whole way.
Well, I hope that story makes you chuckle. I figure it was worth telling if made you smile. Here in the next few weeks, when your assignments and tests seem to be treating you like that hose treated my mom, don’t let it dampen your spirits. It won’t be long before you’ll be able to look back and laugh about it.

Your friend,

Cheyenne

Readers Thinking Out Loud

Here are some readers remarks that I thought everyone might like to read. Both of these ladies live and work with horses today, and both of them have their share of stories. After reading through this blog, they shared with me some of their thoughts.

Charity comments on ranch life:

“I have to tell you, being raised on a ranch gives you a certain amount of appreciation for the land and the hard work that goes along with it. It's just that when you're out there pushing cattle or working in a branding pen, you have a stronger connection to how God wanted us to live, you appreciate the environment and the animals and the weather and the people that are with you more. Unless someone has lived like that, I think they just don't get it and we may come across as a bit arrogant sometimes, but that's not the deal, it's just that we know it's a better way of life. I remember hating having to get up and go feed or get up and go throw hay when the snow was blowing so hard you couldn't see, and I hated not being able to hang out with my friends in town, but now that I'm grown, I can understand the desire to be away from everything in town and the drama that goes along with it.” - Charity Underwood

Cindy talks about technology:

“Not too sure what a blog is, I guess…I’m assuming it’s what you like and what goes on in your mind and you put it out there for all to see. Sure is different from when I was your age. I just saddled up and rode off into the wide open spaces, looking for a wild yearling to rope and tie down; a good horse to ride; and to live as far away from civilization as I could. Didn’t even have a phone-never dreamed there would be a cell phone and for sure a computer and what they can do now! Even my mother and father can use one. I’m sure if they thought about it, they would’ve felt like they’d been thrown into a science fiction movie, or something like it. Imagine growing up in the 1940’s like they did, WWII, with the Great Depression just over and seeing all that has transpired since.

Even my generation has been exposed to ‘speed-of-light’ transitions. Text messaging??!! It works for me-if I have glasses and lots of time. I like it better than holding a cell phone next to my ear while I’m trying to get work done. My days of squishing a phone between my chin and shoulder are over. The neck is done in. Besides, when you talk on a cell phone that way, the other party hears this muffled sound. You can’t hear a thing, and the horse you are trying to blanket just boogered, whirled and almost killed you.

Other times the dang cell phone falls out of your pocket (which you forgot to snap) because your reins were in your hands and the horse was jumping away from a cow, so you just slipped it in your pocket without even hitting the end button. This fragile piece of wondrous technology sometimes lands in the water trough. Either way, it’s pretty hard on the little critter you can’t live without, and at the same time you just absolutely hate! You have to grab that little rascal as quick as you can, shake it, disassemble it, hurry! Stick it and it’s battery in the refrigerator (of all places!) to dry. How long can you live without it? One hour perhaps? Put it back together and check for messages!! I noticed a lot of young folks wear their pockets out pulling that cell phone out just to look to see if they have a had a call. Slaves to a cell phone, all of us.” -Cindy Smith

Thank you, ladies, for letting me post your comments up here. And thanks for reading, too.

The Heart of a Lion, Part III

‘The Heart of a Lion’ is a four-part series about a brave horse, good people, and life lessons. This is the true story of Macho Little Lena…

As a three year old, Macho was preparing for the NCHA World Championship Futurity. The cutting world started to buzz about Rice's prospect of winning on the little bald-face stud. Rice was confident and pleased with the young horse, but his training style was extreme. "Ronnie pushed Macho past the limit, like a Marine drill sergeant," Wes said. But Macho took it all in stride. Amazingly, Rice didn't put Macho through anything the little horse couldn't handle. "He was one of the only sound horses of all of them. But that kind of thing takes it's toll," Wes said. Macho didn't win big like everyone thought he would. After his time with Rice, Cindy and Wes brought him home.

Macho's next stop was with Mike Mowery, another world champion trainer. Mike showed Macho and really liked him. Cindy started showing him in the Non-Pro division while Mowery showed him in the Open division. All through Macho's career, he made the finals almost every time. But it wasn't a win every time.

Cindy continued showing Macho, while the cutting world looked on. Macho became one of the most popular horses. "People would always ask about him and come and watch him," Cindy said. There was something about that little horse that people would always notice, something in his manner and in his eye. Cindy and Wes were sure that even if he didn't win everything, he would become a great sire. Macho's future was bright. He had even paid for himself in his five years of life, earning a total of $104, 599.06.

One morning before leaving for another show, Cindy took him down to the arena for a practice work. He was perfect, she'd never seen him so good. He was doing everything right, he was "just awesome". So she took him back to the barn and put him up, hooked up the trailer and went up to the house to get herself ready to leave. When she came back to get him, she could see something was wrong. The look he gave her was trying to let her know he wasn't doing good.

Cindy trusted her instincts. She checked for a fever, and sure enough, he had one. She called Warren Franklin, their veterinarian, who came within two hours. He diagnosed the problem as a severe colic, and told Cindy she'd better get Macho to a clinic. She and Wes loaded him up and took him to a vet clinic in El Paso. Surgery took place immediately. Macho spent 10 days in the clinic, and came home to recover. But something wasn't right. He got an infection in the incision, which cost some extra recovery time. But that was only the beginning of the end.

Weeks passed. Franklin came out to check him, and revealed to Cindy and Wes that Macho's kidneys were in bad shape. There wasn't much of a chance that Macho would live for another year. So they did their best with special feed and excellent care to get him healthy enough for breeding.

Macho hadn't seen a cow since that morning Cindy worked him, the day everything fell apart for the little cowpony. Cindy and Wes cancelled their show schedule. This was a big sacrifice, their other horses needed to be out showing. But for Macho, they couldn't risk not being there in case his condition worsened. There was a slim chance he would make it and his kidneys recover. They hoped and hung on. It wouldn't be right to give up now. They remembered what he was, what he promised to be. They just couldn't give up.

Look for Part IV.

The Heart of a Lion, Part II

‘The Heart of a Lion’ is a four-part series about a brave horse, good people, and life lessons. This is the true story of Macho Little Lena…


Wes and Cindy Smith of Mesa Ranch in Nogal, New Mexico have been in the cutting horse world most of their lives. They've raised and trained hundreds of horses, but one horse stands out in both their memories. They called him 'Macho'.

Macho Little Lena, a shiny copper-colored stallion with blazed face-started off right. He was the son of a respected daughter of Dual Pep and the great Smart Little Lena, mammied up to a recipient mare and catching everybody's eye from day one. His conformation was one thing that made people take notice of him. Underneath a glowing sorrel coat was balanced build, square on all four legs, but clearly not bulky and not stiff. Every muscle was smoothly sculpted and curved just right, the length of each line matching every other in proportion. He stood on four strong legs that were set just right under him and appearing a little long for the shortness of his back. He had a refined but bold head, kind, sparkling, clear eyes, and tiny little ears that never missed a thing.

Those that knew him say there was a unity of mind and body in this horse, every thing he was thinking was evident in his movement and posture. He was always alert, but never nervous, sometimes ornery and strong-willed but always teachable. He was the cream of the colt crop in 2000 and was likely to stick around as a stallion. There was never any doubt that this horse was going to make a name for himself.

Wes Smith has been a bronc tamer all of his life, and he knows good horses. He knows how horses think, how they move. He reads them like a poet would read his own poems. Macho stood out in his mind because he was so easy to get along with. "When I broke him, he acted like he was already broke," Wes said, " He was just kind all the time, like he was saying to you, "How can I help you and what do you want to do?" Wes describes Macho as "a little big horse."

Wes starts all the colts on Mesa Ranch, and has seen every one go on to the next stage of training. The temperaments of horses are not something Wes would overlook. Macho impressed him from the beginning. "Anything that you showed him, you show him one time and he'd act like he'd already done it before."

Once Macho was started, he handed him over to Cindy, who soon realized Macho was far from ordinary. "Every morning when I got up, I couldn't wait to ride that horse. He just made every day special." Cindy said. His early days under saddle were no trouble, though he was a little playful, he simply "melted in your hands". Cindy understood then that she was dealing with something special.

The day finally came for him to get started on cattle. He was afraid of cattle at first, so afraid that he could not be made to come within a few yards of one. It was just Macho, Cindy, and one cow in the round pen. Other colts usually take several minutes to notice the cow, and it may take days for them to lock in on one. But not Macho. "There was nothing else in the world except that cow, he was glued to that cow, " Cindy said.

Cindy urged him a little closer, and every muscle in the little horse wanted to run. But he obeyed, with his big eyes open even wider. The cow started to trot. Cindy sat still. Macho started to trot, too. The cow sped up. Macho sped up. The cow stopped. Macho stopped.

All this time, Cindy didn't have to give Macho a single cue. He stopped on his own. That first day on cattle is what stands out in Cindy's memory. After that, she knew he was going somewhere. "I couldn't say that I trained him, because he was just such a natural," she said.

When Cindy and Wes realized how much natural cow sense and athletic ability Macho had, they knew he couldn't stay at home in New Mexico if he was going to make it big. The promise in the colt helped them decide to send him to Gerald Alexander, a Texas horse trainer. When Macho was finished there, Cindy decided to turn him over to two-time world champion, Ronnie Rice. Macho's talent and Rice's winning record were sure to be the combination that would send them to the top.

Read how Macho's career developed and fate delt its blow in Part III.

The Heart of a Lion, Part 1

'The Heart of a Lion' is a four-part series about a brave horse, good people, and life lessons. This is the true story of Macho Little Lena...


People shuffle up and down the hallways of the Will Rogers Coliseum in Ft. Worth, Texas. Somebody's heavy footsteps and ringing spurs come down the concrete steps. It's another day at the National Cutting Horse Association (NCHA) World Championship Futurity, just one of the many big shows that attract the nations best cutting horses and trainers. The winnings in 2006 add up to 4 million dollars. Perhaps that's one reason why some prefer to call cutting the new 'sport of kings'.

Beyond the steps, a unique little world greets the eye. In one of the fold down chairs, a loper (exercise rider) takes a siesta. His sand covered feet resting on the chair in front, hat hanging down over his eyes, arms crossed over his chest. He has probably been up and working since 3 o'clock this morning. His serenity is not disturbed by bawling cattle or the creak of leather and the jingle of gear.

The warm up pen behind the judges' stand resembles a whirl-pool. Forty or fifty horses go around and around, all in the same direction; the ones on the inside going slower while the outside horses are running, turning the mass of horseflesh like a grist mill. Horse sweat fills the air with a balmy salt-smell. There are people talking, horses breathing, and cattle coughing-- all blending into a harmonious hum. Horses tied to the wall doze off. Someone's fresh horse takes a couple jumps, everybody hollers until the fun's over. That will mean a good hour of loping, at least, for that pony.

Not far from the resting loper is a stroller, empty, parked haphazard across the isle. On one side a diaper bag and a tooled leather purse are hanging, on the other a hackamore rests limply, one rein on the floor. A pair of chinks and a baby blanket lay across the front of the stroller.
Welcome to the cutting horse world. This is a world that revolves around horses. It is built on families, but it runs on honest work and a lot of money. There is nothing more valuable here than a loyal friend and a good horse. People put in long hours not for fame (though, perhaps, for fortune) but for the thrill of seeing that horse win, of watching him triumph. This is where the horse they've spent the last 3 years crying and sweating over, the horse that they've invested thousands of dollars in, is weighed and measured.

In Part II, meet Cindy and Wes Smith and their horse, Macho Little Lena.

The Joke Was On Him This Time...

I have a beautiful golden-colored palomino horse at home. His name is Joe. Through the course of his life, he’s shown more of a sense of humor than most people.
We were expecting him to be born around the middle of April, 1997. So April Fool’s morning, I woke up and thought I’d play a trick on my mom. I looked out the window, grinning, and said, “Oh, look Mom! There’s a new baby colt!” She came to the window and saw what I saw: nothing. “April Fool!” Ha ha. The joke was on her. But when we got up to the barn, we were both surprised. There was an ornery bow-legged colt standing behind his ma, blinking his brand new eyes at us. The joke was on me.
I remember when Joe was an awkward, long-legged yearling. He somehow tangled himself up in a barbed-wire gate. When I saw him standing in the wire, I panicked. “He’ll be sliced to pieces!” I thought. But as soon as I got close to him, he gave me that look that said, “Ha! Fooled you!” and sprung out of it like a deer. Not a scratch on him. The joke was on me again.
When he was a two-year-old, I started riding him. On the fifth day of his ‘kindergarten’ training, we were going up a rocky hill. Joe thought it was fun to go really slow, so I reached back and spanked him with a rein to tell him I wanted more speed. Without warning, he and I were up in the air. When we came down, he sucked backward and I had nowhere to land but right on my head. My not-so-graceful landing had knocked the wind out of me, and while I was gasping for breath, he stopped and gave me that look again. If horses could chuckle… When I finally caught the prankster, he was sorry. But I could see a little satisfaction in his eyes that his prank had been a success.
But you know what they say, “What goes around, comes around.” Joe, apparently, is no exception to that rule. One fine morning in late March, the horses came in for their grain. We have five saddle horses, and they are all big buddies. But that day, they were giving Joe plenty of room. He couldn’t get close to any of them and as a result he was pretty offended. His friends were giving him the cold shoulder. I thought this was a little unusual, but when I came within 30 feet of him, I understood why. The prankster had somehow gotten sprayed by a skunk. The joke was on him this time!
Sometimes we learn a lesson best by noting someone else’s mistakes. So take a lesson from Joe and remember what Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 10:12, “Therefore let anyone who thinks he stands take heed lest he fall.”