Lessons come in all shapes and sizes. Some of us remember when they came from places other than YouTube. Sometimes, they were wrapped in stories that we could pass on to keep the knowledge going. A case in point is a young boy looking for something to do in rainy weather; weather too wet to ride his dad’s colts. His dad sends him to Fort Worth, to check out the saddle shops and do something productive.
The kid strikes out in the stockyards. Everybody knows his dad. Nobody has time for a kid underfoot. Someone sends him up North Main towards Saginaw to pester Price McLauchlin. Probably thought they’d never see him again. The kid’s dad has a Price saddle, so he knows that they’re good saddles.
Price, being the nice guy he was, gives the kid the time of day. When the boy gets to the part about not wanting to get paid, that he just wants something to do, Price is sold. The next morning, Price shows the kid a mountain of leather scraps by the back door and shows him how to run a clicker. By noon, the good stuff is boxed up, the bad stuff is swept out and the kid has some cash in his pocket. The afternoon is spent quietly sweeping around the saddle makers, watching one braid a horn and another skive a ground seat. For Mark Hurley, the lessons had begun.
Mark was raised on a small horse operation in Denton, Texas. His parents, Cecil and Ann Hurley, were Quarter Horse trainers. They were well known on the show circuit, both showing halter and pleasure horses and for Cecil’s judging.
Cecil taught Mark a lot about the horse-training business. Cecil also taught him which people to stay away from. Ann started Mark riding English when he was three years old. It
