story # 8

Horse Auction

by bob gottlieb

copyright © 1978-2012 Bob Gottlieb, all rights reserved.

The day was a mainline fix for all those who really lived their life.  We piled into the old beat-up Ford Falcon, and drove a couple of towns down the road to an Amish horse auction.  The corn fields of Ohio were just beginning to show the green shoots of spring that inevitably follow a winter's snow. They whipped past our blurring eyes in our hurried journey.  The windows were wide open to let the heat out of the crowded car, and redirect what stray currents of the wind they could.  It was summertime temperatures burning through an April day.  We didn't care about the wind carried dust in this farming country we were charging through.  It was an attempt to dry the sweat that rose in direct proportion to the soaring needle of the thermometer in the packed car.   Five adults and 3 children bouncing down the road in the overloaded car with no shocks and worn-out, over-loaded springs.

It was a day that impregnated itself into everything that was alive. The sun was up on high and the corn was just jumping out of the ground in an attempt to surround it.  The trees were hurling energy to the new buds, and flowers seemed to spring forth in full bloom before your eyes from the rich brown/black earth.  The wind sound, rising with the ever-climbing speedometer needle of the car, acting to take the place of the broken radio.  Blasting the wind's rock and roll in our ears.

The dust of our sliding stop in the gravel parking lot of the Fair Grounds blended with the dust raised by the throng already there.  It was swirling into clouds and then breaking apart to regroup into new patterns created by the shuffled feet of all the people milling around the livestock.   The animals raised their own clouds of dust and odors when they were herded from pen to pen, finally to be moved into the show pen for the inquiring and acquiring people to bid upon.  Though it was billed as a horse auction, there were all kinds of livestock in the parade before the sometimes reluctant to buy public.  There were cattle ready for the feedlots, some for the dairy herd, weanlings and older cows.  Chickens, pheasants, and also birds that would become pets; squawking colorful parrots, singing lovebirds, and others I didn't know.  Pigs of all sizes, ages, shapes, and descriptions, some cute enough at the moment to be pets, and some going upwards of 500 pounds that didn't want to be moved and displayed their displeasure with a menacing force.

Then, there were the horses.  Just about all breeds were represented, though there was a prevalence of draft horses, with a good mixture of the Percherons, Clydesdales, and a number of Shires, of rippling musculature definition, for use on the farm.    It was Amish country and a great number of horses were for pulling the buggies, including some teams that were matched for color, size, and/or temperament.  As well as one team of burnished copper sorrels with beautiful flaxen manes and tails that just glowed with care and health.   They seemed to float over the ground displaying a well-deserved pride in their electric appearance.   Using horses of all colors, ages, and sizes.   I sat and watched all parade into the ring.  Those that were driven had shinning well-oiled and polished harness, attached to wagons that glistened with care and love.  There was equal self-esteem displayed by both horse and owner.   The most pleasing thing was they all were in good weight, none of that skeletal starved look more common to auctions in the east or far west.  These horses showed the signs of care which comes from an understanding that many times you must depend on your horse as a tool or possibly for your life, so it is in your interest to keep it in good condition.  I was happy as a horse owner/lover just to watch and see the care.  Don't get me wrong there were a few that showed ribs carved into their sides deep enough in which to bury your fingers, or had hooves that were so overgrown they couldn't walk properly, but as an overall picture they looked good.   A cornucopia of the horse world on display.

We had gone separate ways to pursue our own fancies with vague assurances about meeting at the car in a few hours.  I was a spectator on this expedition not wanting to increase my baggage.  Generally a futile attempt to defy my packrat nature and keep possessions down to a minimum.  I was enjoying myself watching the variety of people alien to my experiences, their dress, manners, and mannerisms opening different pockets of memory gleaned from photos and readings I had retained.  I was just appreciating the way the day presented itself in this land of fecundity intertwined with hard work.

At the appropriate hour we converged on our old faithful to see whether we were going to continue with our explorations or head back down the road.  We were in the midst of a divided opinion discussion and waiting for Rita to make her belated appearance.  Clark and I were the most intrigued by the experience and wanted to see more.  We had grown up in different areas of the country, far from the exotic pictures painted in our minds today.  This was a new vista opening for us.  Rita finally showed and had a surprise for her eldest son, Ben, whose birthday was in two days.  She had on a lead a very good-looking pinto pony.  The immediate love on Ben's face told the whole story to anyone who used his or her eyes.  Howard was upset on two counts; firstly he hadn't been consulted, and most importantly was where were they to keep it.  Their backyard was not big enough; the nearest place he could think of was several miles distant and would cost money, which they were quite short of at the moment.  It would also necessitate an inconvenient drive.  Rita's arguments were to point to Ben's face that was locked in a duel with the sun in the radiance department, and to say,  "He only cost us $6.00!”   They went round and round with Howard complaining of no money and no job.  Rita saying over and over that there had to be a way to keep it.  Circles of their reasoning were being worn into our minds.  I took over holding the pony while they discussed it from all the angles. Finally they headed off in separate directions on individual missions in some kind of agreement.

Clark and Jill were left with the children and I had the pony.  The children, but especially Ben whose birthday was the next day, were very calm and quite in control of themselves despite all the adult tumult and excitement.  Nathan, his younger brother, was jealous, and happy and hyper-excited all at the same time.  I didn't know what was happening, and I stayed out of it.  I was just walking with the grazing pony in this yellow dust that had decided to apply itself to everything and was now swirling everywhere.  Imbedding itself in throats and eyes, bringing forth tears and coughs in uncomfortable abundance.

The pony had grazed a fair sized circle when Howard appeared with a big grin on his face, and his heart smiling a hole through the dust. He was almost dancing with his excitement.  His feet kicked up more of the dust, except a breeze was steady and blew it away from us, his energy was contagious.  Simultaneously emerging from the crowd to join us was Rita, whose rapid running walk had them arrive at the same time, but the spot we occupied couldn't hold two so highly energized people.  They kept bumping into each other with their desire to be the first to tell us their version of the news.

Finally Rita told Howard to go first.  He had been saying ladies first, but did not contain his excitement well enough to suit Rita, and she didn't like going first because of gender.    She put her foot down.   Howard was so direct he just blurted out the story of the purchase of a pony trailer and saddle for $20, and how he had thought of a convenient place to keep the pony.  Rita, ever the impulsive person she is, even after she had told Howard to go first simultaneously told us she'd sold the pony to a woman she'd met just after she'd bought the pony, that had expressed great interest it.  She'd happened to bump into her again, and pleaded with Rita to please sell her the pony because her daughter loved it, and her birthday was in two days.  Then the woman had offered her $20 for it and when she saw the hesitation in Rita's face had raised her offer immediately to $25, the promise of a good home, an invitation to her daughter's birthday party for Ben, and riding privileges for the future.

Our little circle just stood there quiet for about 10 seconds, each with their own thoughts, various degrees of that open mouthed absolutely stunned gape showing up on the different faces.

I don't know who started laughing first, it really doesn't matter, it was the trigger for all of us.  We laughed from that deep down spot that forces everything else out of the body, that cleans the body of all that should not be in it.

When we had stopped laughing enough to talk, Ben said it was OK with him as he wasn't that keen on having a pony.    He didn't want to be a cowboy anymore, but a fireman.  He also said he had learned some responsibility with a puppy he had gotten for Christmas, and cleaning up after a pony would be even worse.  He was quite a wise and aware child, who was very capable of expressing his true feelings.  Nathan was disappointed but silent.

Clark started juggling these three multicolored balls he had bought.

Howard hadn't paid for the trailer, so when Rita walked the pony to the lady, she told her about Howard's purchase and where to complete the deal if she was interested.  It was decided to let Ben spend $10 of the money as he wished, and the rest would go in the bank.

Then we all piled in the car still chuckling and shaking our heads, and bounced down the road to a friend of Rita and Howard's to go swimming, after a stop at a store for appropriate refreshments.

Somehow it was the fitting end to a day that worked as hard as it did to make things grow from the earth, in that small Ohio town.

 

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