A handful of years ago, I was searching for any way to keep horses in my life. I had recently met Tom and he didn’t yet understand the full scope of the horsewoman he’d found, as we were pretty dang broke. I was lucky enough to stumble onto a small program way out in Beavercreek, a wonderful community which some of my greatest friendships have since blossomed from. I was able to kick the budget enough to afford a partial lease, one ride a week on a goofy chestnut quarter horse. His name was Raymond, and he liked beer and making silly faces and had the smoothest canter ever.

Every weekend I would ride Raymond up the road from the barn, past the frisky cows at the corner, and slip into the woods in search of miles asaddle. He never spooked, except at this one sun silvered stump that had probably been in that spot for twenty years, and even then it was a slow slide to the left, impossible to fall off. He eventually made me a better rider when I finally accepted that a treeless saddle wasn’t doing me any favors.

My absolute favorite Raymond story came from our first camping trip up on Mt. Hood one summer. A few friends and I wanted to squeeze in one last ride before heading home, so we all hopped on bareback and strolled out of camp. We were enjoying a short ride, then decided to trot a fun little zigzag section to keep ahead of the mosquitos, which were insane that time of year. I sat the first and second turns, then Ray went left and I slid off his right side, comically slow. I watched his big red booty jogging slowly away from me and tried not to panic that a horse that wasn’t mine was heading off into the wilderness without me. As is my habit, I had treats stuck in my breeches pocket, but only a tiny little baby carrot. I shouted Ray’s name as my friends halted behind me, and broke the carrot in two. He was already a good 50 yards away but had slowed to a walk…and I’ve learned you never, ever chase a horse that’s already on the move. By some forest or equine luck, I’ll never know, he heard either my call or the carrot, and I swear he swung around and happily jogged right back to me, all for a tiny carrot. Crisis averted via carrot (and hungry gelding stomach)!

Whenever I needed a confidence booster, I visited Raymond, and he shared that smooth, uncomplicated, reliable canter with me, a thing of joy and freedom. He gave me my first sidesaddle ride, something I would never have attempted on any other horse. Raymond made it look fun and doable, that perfect little jog trot of his smooth as butter for a completely unfamiliar way of riding. He gave Kade lead line rides and strolls on the little Summerglen trails in the snow, Kade all bundled up and Ray following me, always careful of his important riders.

I know Raymond was a generous soul, sharing his gifts with so many in that slightly goofy, always willing way of his. I only wish I could give such an epic redhead a better tribute than this, that matches his generosity and steadiness. He was one of those quietly amazing horses, truly one of the best I was privilaged to share time with. May his memory bring joy and many a campfire story.

“If you wanna love me
You don’t need a rope
You just need to know
Good horses come home”