The Black Stallion

When we were first married, my husband managed a ranch near the Jackson Mountains about an hour drive from Winnemucca, Nevada. It was a dream situation for us, setting up our first household together and working outdoors.

One day we set out to look for stray cattle. We were riding horses that one of the ranch owners had borrowed from a neighboring ranch (this is a story I shall share later). We rode up into the canyon looking for cattle. The cows seemed to be hiding, because we couldn’t find them. It was steep country and the horses had a workout. We were about ready to head for home after one more mountain. . . it’s always one more mountain.

As we reached the crest we spotted wild horses. A black stallion and his band, consisting of one mare and a yearling. The moment the stallion saw us he galloped at top speed down his mountain and up ours to meet us. He was the prettiest mustang I had ever seen with a long black mane, a sweeping tail and a star on his forehead. I instantly thought of the book Fury that I had read as a child. He came fairly close, about twenty feet. He wasn’t too troubled by the presence of humans, but once he could smell our horses (geldings) he reared several times and snorted, shaking his head. I can imagine his frustration at racing up and down mountains to meet such a disappointing offering. Once he decided there was nothing there for him, he raced away and back to his tiny band.

It was surreal to be so close to such a beautiful wild horse. I was surprised at his boldness, because I thought he would run when he saw people and then as he got closer I had worried that he might charge us. It is an experience I will always remember.