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
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
"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."