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Shadow

By T. C. Wadsworth

It started to snow outside, and hoping for a bit of diversion from
the typical Minnesota winter weather, we decided to go to a horse
sale in town. We watched with interest as the fancy horses with
shiny coats came parading in. Some had glitter on their hips or
festive red and green ribbons in their manes because it was just
before Christmas. There were horses of all colors, shapes and sizes,
and everyone was in a bidding frenzy.

Lots of people were going to get expensive horses for Christmas it
seemed. Some of the animals had experience working cows and some had
experience in the show ring. Others could earn their keep by pulling
a sleigh. Eager to own the finest prospects, a number of people in
the crowd were bidding hundreds and even
thousands of dollars.

"Here's a four-year-old sorrel mare, 15.3-hands high, with forty-two
halter points," the auctioneer bellowed. "Her bloodlines include
Sonny Dee Bar, Tender Six and Zanzabar Joe. Do I hear five thousand,
five thousand one, five two?"

I was fascinated by the spectacle. Every magnificent horse that came
through had a story and bloodline that the auctioneer read.
The crowd would "ooh" and "aah" in response and then the bidding war
would begin. A couple over here, then a man over there and a lady in
front of me all bid on the same horse, until he was "going, going,
gone!" Then the next horse entered and the process started all over
again, taking at most, ten to fifteen minutes per horse. Fifty to
sixty horses were sold that day.

Eventually, they got to the last one, a skinny little black pony.
The crowd roared with laughter. The pony was led in by a fifteen-
year-old boy, who sat on her and then jumped up and down on her
back, proclaiming, "She's broke to ride." She had big
brown eyes under a long forelock that was full of dried manure and
weed seeds.

"She's going to take some time to clean up," the auctioneer
stated. "And she needs a few groceries to fatten her up."

Then, looking around, he asked, "Anybody know the story on this one?"

One of the helpers whispered something into his ear and he
announced, "The owner forgot about this one out in the pasture and
now he wants to get rid of her. She is not registered.
There's no pedigree that we know of. Okay, who will give me three
hundred for the old mare?"

The crowd was still laughing.

"How about two? Okay, one! Will anybody give me fifty bucks for her?"

The crowd continued to snicker at the lonely, forgotten little pony.

"Okay, get her out of here!" he told the boy who led her in.

So she turned her head as if to say good-bye then hung her head and
walked out. The boy put her back in her stall and proceeded to help
the new owners with their horses. One by one, the horses clip-
clopped by her stall to meet their new families. The lonely little
black mare just hung her head.

Every time a person walked by, her ears would perk up and she would
raise her head in anticipation that maybe, just maybe, someone
wanted her. But then there would be only more snickers and the sound
of fading footsteps. Finally, she would drop her head. The pony
turned around so she didn't have to watch the
other horses parade by.

It broke our hearts to watch this. We just looked at each other and
nodded. Randy went one way and I went the other. We found the
auctioneer and said, "Will you take ten dollars?"

He looked at us, puzzled, "For what?" he asked.

"The little black mare," we said excitedly.

"SOLD!" he said with a shake of his head and a smirk.

Without access to a proper horse trailer, we loaded her into the bed
of my Toyota pickup, and to a chorus of titters and guffaws, headed
for home.

For the last two years of her life, Shadow had the neighborhood kids
begging to ride her, brush her or just be by her side, dreaming of
the adventures tomorrow would bring for the both of them. We laugh
when we remember the faces of those folks at the auction and the
sight of the dirty old pony in the bed of our pickup. But the joy
and the laughter we had sharing life with
Shadow far exceeded the laughter at the sale barn that night.

This Magic Moment
 

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