Three Fillies, continued ...

We were all mighty hungry by now, so we left to grab a bite at a convenience store in Estancia. Dorothy got on the pay phone with Melody, who agreed to loan us her truck and horse trailer.

At Melody's, Dorothy, Diana and I were all that could fit in the truck cab. Since I was used to backing trailers, I drove us back to buy the champagne gold filly.

When we returned it was near sunset. This time a short, barrel-shaped peroxide blond with a red gash mouth answered the door. She told us she was Christine McCoy. She said, "I just unloaded a truckload of new orphan foals," and gestured at a group of foals huddled along the pasture fence closest to a stack of alfalfa bales. Goats were climbing on the haystack.

"What happened to their mothers?" I asked.

"Sent to slaughter. Sometimes they send them to slaughter only hours after foaling. I save lots of foals from slaughter."

"Where do you find them?" I asked.

"Oh, here and there."

Dorothy looked McCoy in the eye. "I'd like to buy the small filly. The one for $150."

McCoy shook her head. "For a starter horse, you need this Appendix Quarterhorse colt." She pointed to a tall, well-built bay she had just unloaded. "Just $400."

I objected. "Appendix Quarterhorses are bred for the race track. They are for experienced horse trainers only, not a girl who barely knows how to ride."

"How about this grulla for only $350?" She pointed out a stud colt, gray body with black mane, tail and stockings.

Diana turned and looked out at the the pasture where the filly she had halter broken stood. "I want the gold one."

McCoy frowned. "She has steep withers which will give her a jarring trot."

"No," I replied. "The filly has perfect withers and a smooth trot."

"This filly paces," scowled McCoy. "It's really uncomfortable to ride a pacer." (Pacing is where the front and rear legs on the same side move in unison.)

"She paces!" Dorothy and I exclaimed in unison. We knew that horses who pace are smooth to ride. They also are rare.

Diana echoed us. "She paces!"

McCoy still discouraged the purchase.

We drove away in a state of confusion. After a few miles Dorothy announced, "We're buying the filly." I backed the truck and trailer into a driveway, got it turned and headed back toward sunset and McCoy's dismal ranch.

Dorothy wrote the check and gave it to McCoy in exchange for a written receipt. Dorothy, Diana and I turned toward the pasture gate, Diana carrying the halter.
McCoy called out, "Wait. You can't get her now. It's too dark. You might run them through a fence."

"We'll come back first thing tomorrow," replied Dorothy.

"Wait, I don't want you coming by unless I'm here."

"So when will you be in?"

"I don't know. Tell you what." A grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. "For $25 I'll deliver her to you."

Dorothy agreed.

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