Truthfully, I was enjoying riding him even though the shows were stressful, and though he could be flaky - my nickname for him at the time was "The Lunatic Horse". I was only allowed to ride him a day or so before a show - S would "tune us up". So there was no real "getting to know you" time, but still I could appreciate his level of training and his wonderful naturally collected gaits. And given how clueless I could be, he was a pretty forgiving horse - which I appreciated as well.
He didn't sell that year. And he was still having lameness problems. I'm not positive, it was a long time ago, but I believe she had his hocks injected again.
The following year our show career together didn't begin well. It was a blustery April morning, and just as we entered the ring the wind came up and the three flags on the entry booth, which was right next to the ring, snapped. It sounded like guns going off.
Our entrance was spectacular; I think we covered the entire circumference of that ring in about two seconds. I finally got Dusty down to a close approximation of a walk-jog; he was on his tiptoes with his eyes bugging out. He was definitely not the epitome of "push button".
They closed the gate, and the class started. I think it was "Palomino Pleasure".
"Trot or Jog, please."
As soon as the announcer uttered those words, we took off at a gallop again.
I realized that our pinning in this class was not to be, and when I managed to bring him back to a more controlled gait we moved into the center of the ring to get out of the way of the saner horses... where Dusty proceeded to rear and hop around about four feet from the judge. I don't think the judge was happy - he kept glancing over his shoulder, which no doubt made it difficult to judge the class.
In the interest of safety - the judge's in particular, and everyone else's in general, the ring steward let me out of the ring as quickly as they could.
Luckily for me, S had her own dramas going on with her baby, Tuffy. She'd put Halter Class makeup on his face and he'd proceeded to wipe it on her beige Stetson. She was NOT amused, but since I was on Dusty, her all-suffering husband took the brunt of the abuse.
Happily enough, the judge we nearly squashed, despite his brush with death, actually liked Dusty. He pinned us in the rest of our classes - though to be fair Dusty *had* settled down and was being his usual pretty-moving self, so it wasn't completely surprising.
Dusty and I muddled through that season, and we endured a little less abuse because S was showing Tuffy so didn't have the time to obsess about what I was doing wrong. About half-way through it, she made me an offer: she'd trade Dusty for Bonnie Scamp plus money. I didn't think I could do it at first; but she said Bonnie would have a forever home, I'd see her every day.
So I bought Dusty. And though we finished out the season and won Year End awards for Palomino Pleasure and Quarter Horse Hunter Under Saddle that year, he never showed again - and I'm pretty sure he didn't miss it. He was 13.
While all this was going on, around 1993 or so S and her husband had sold their place and bought a place with more land, further north and west in Massachusetts. She was supposed to get an indoor but they weren't able to afford it right away.
The horses were cozy enough in a temporary barn building, but that wasn't *her dream*, and she was making every one in her general vicinity miserable about it. I'm almost positive a lot of her behavior at horse shows and in private was due to her deep disappointment about not having her indoor and attached barn, and I'm truly surprised her husband didn't divorce her back then.
Anyway, in another fit of pique, she kicked Dusty and I out of her barn soon after I bought him, and I moved him to a place in Groton where he learned to be a regular horse. Though our first trail ride was less than auspicious, it was soon obvious he loved his new life.
Part Trois, to follow...
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