Back in the day, my husband rode a horse named Smokey—a big grey gelding with long legs, a show-horse head, and a tail that swept like prairie grass in the wind. He stood 15.3 hands and carried himself with quiet pride. Not flashy, not fussy—just honest, like a good day’s work.
Smokey was a seasoned bridle horse, the kind you didn’t have to second-guess. He knew his job, and he did it well. One spring afternoon, while pushing cows from one field to the next, they ran into a swarm of bees. It happened fast. Smokey took a sting to his right eye. He bucked hard, whirled in panic, trying to shake the pain loose—but the damage was done. He lost sight in that eye.
Most horses would’ve changed after that. Pulled back. Shied away. But not Smokey. He adjusted, adapted, and never once flinched on his blind side. We learned to greet him with a soft hello, just so he’d know we were there. He never stopped trusting. Never stopped trying.
These Ol’ Hand horses—they’re rare. Built from grit and grace. Smokey was one of them. And my husband never stopped being proud to have called him a partner.
An Ol' Hand
Back in the day, my husband rode a horse named Smokey—a big grey gelding with long legs, a show-horse head, and a tail that swept like prairie grass in the wind. He stood 15.3 hands and carried himself with quiet pride. Not flashy, not fussy—just honest, like a good day’s work.
Smokey was a seasoned bridle horse, the kind you didn’t have to second-guess. He knew his job, and he did it well. One spring afternoon, while pushing cows from one field to the next, they ran into a swarm of bees. It happened fast. Smokey took a sting to his right eye. He bucked hard, whirled in panic, trying to shake the pain loose—but the damage was done. He lost sight in that eye.
Most horses would’ve changed after that. Pulled back. Shied away. But not Smokey. He adjusted, adapted, and never once flinched on his blind side. We learned to greet him with a soft hello, just so he’d know we were there. He never stopped trusting. Never stopped trying.
These Ol’ Hand horses—they’re rare. Built from grit and grace. Smokey was one of them. And my husband never stopped being proud to have called him a partner.