Dreams, new direction, horses

When I first saw a horse. it was probably in a field someplace in Minnesota in the early fifties. Even as young as four, horses were an obsession. I was all about cowboys and horses. When I was older, my Dad said I was born crawling toward horses.

Maybe that’s why my first ride on a horse imprinted so strongly in my mind. My dad pastored a church in Clitherall, Minnesota. I didn’t understand why my folks were going away for several days. My older sister got to stay with a friend while I stayed with a farm family To this day, I don’t remember one thing about the stay itself, which must have been fine since I hold no negative memories.

When my folks brought me to the farm, I looked up and there was this wonderful, to me, chestnut horse standing in the corral. I paid no attention to anyone, just walked toward the corral. Next thing I knew I was put on the saddle. Could I grin any bigger? I don’t even recall if they walked the horse, though I suppose they did. My folks could leave,. I was just fine. When they returned, I had a baby brother.

When we moved to Wisconsin, I got to watch Roy Rogers and Dale Evans and other cowboy shows on a friend’s TV. Even at school age, I did more than watch. I studied how the horses were ridden, how a person got on and off. Of course, my time was limited and I didn’t often get to pick which shows Carol, my sister and I watched. After all, it was Carol’s home. (Saturday mornings was the Mickey Mouse Club.)

I loved fairs that came to town, especially if they brought real ponies. If not I’d ride the Carousel, pretending I was galloping across the plains. I can’t tell you my excitement when my dad announced we were moving west to Wyoming. I saw my dreams coming true.

I discovered, Dale, our neighbor who went to school with Karin and I, had a paint named Rocket he pastured just across the road from us. Oh how wonderful to be able to ride. Dale’s Mom often let my sister and I ride even if Dale wasn’t home. I had already started praying for a horse of my own when five years later we moved to rural northwest Kansas.

After I joined 4-H, I was told about a program where horse owners placed mares with members of the 4-H. Those chosen had to care for the mare. But the deal went further. It was up to us to breed the mares we cared for. The mare would be returned to the owner after the resulting foal was weaned. The foal was ours free and clear.

I was given a beautiful tall chestnut mare—a retired Saddlebred show horse. The parsonage was on a farm worked by church members, so there was plenty of pasture for animals. I usually rode the mare with only a halter and bareback. I had so many dreams for myself and the new foal I impatiently awaited. I studied and learned everything I could about horses in general and the mare and foal. I even traced them way back to original stock. It was an exciting time. Until it hurt to get up in the morning.

My limbs were stiff and sore. Riding that mare became a chore--not a dream. Dad took me to the doctor only to discover I had juvenile rheumatoid arthritis—something fairly new that doctors didn’t know how to treat. The disease was relentless and in a few months, I was sidelined into a wheelchair. I no longer rode. When the foal arrived, I could only watch and dream while Dad cared for the pair until the mare was returned to her owner.  

Pain was unrelenting and stays at different rehab centers never quite handled that pain though I did learn ways to be more independent. Meanwhile I directed the training of my colt. Dad or Mom would put me next to the fence so I could watch. I wanted to give up, but I had a colt. How could I give up? I kept trying to overcome and do what I could do. I also kept learning about horses from my research.

We brought my horse with us when we moved to Iowa and another country church. My colt still wasn’t all that trained. I graduated high school in Iowa. Though at the time, Dad didn’t have a church in Nebraska, we moved to Kearney so I could go to college. I was doing pretty well, though I still couldn’t walk. My sister and husband took my colt to Kansas where he was trained and, since I had no place for him in Nebraska, was sold east as a polo pony.

That was good motivation to try and get better. I dreamed of going east to find my horse. During college years I met Dr. Ellis, an orthopedic doctor, who took an interest in my case. I went from college graduation to massive reconstructive surgery that used the brand-new knee joints along with other surgical procedures. During those years, my writing ramped up. I often used horses in my stories. From real-life experience and my study, my horses were “real.”

Though I’ve needed many other surgeries over the years to continue to walk, I look back thankful for the horses in my life, including Secretariat, whose story also encouraged me, and my special colt, who provided the motivation not to give up.

 © 2025 Carolyn R Scheidies
Published Kearney Hub 7/24/2025

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