Dreams, Hope and Tears

By M. J. Nooy

A journey I will never, until my last breath, forget.
Mike was a horseman and game huntin wrangler for High Country Outfitters, based in Joseph Oregon. You couldnt miss Mike. He was your typical six-foot rancher, wearin a white straw hat, sandy brown hair, long sleeved plaid shirt tucked in to his Wranglers, and dark tan colored cowboy work boots. Mike looks real good with a dark brown mustache or even a three or four day growth on his face. The women would actually quiver if he looked their way.
Mike wasnt a cowboy; he was a horseman. He said hed rather ride a horse than drive a car. Oh yeah, this guy was probably born one hundred years ago, in another life.
I was the wild march hair, and he would be the field of wheat that would only bend when the wind blew. One thing about it, he knew he was the chosen one to calm my patootie!
Let er Buck!
Mike and I had a specific type animal in mind. We were interested in a strong spirited stallion to enhance our herd. We werent looking for just a Kiger Spanish Mustang. As we walked and observed, we just couldnt put our eye on the One.
Pen number ten.
H-o-l-y cow! It was like clouds opening up to the heavens. He didnt move, but he turned his head in our direction and looked eye to eye with Mike. It was a very majestic feeling. Mike said, Oh yeah!
They split the Band of Mesteno in 1975, and this colt was foaled in 1976. He was Mestenos Ambassador.
This stallion was separated from his band, his family, that he had risked his life for, to protect till the age of fifteen. You wouldnt want to rope that son of a gun unless you had a Mack truck on the other end.
Mike will touch me ever so gently. I start to weaken at the knees and literally quiver, but he holds me tight with those big strong arms and caresses my body with those hands. Hell be on me like bears on a berry bush. He had my Wranglers to my knees. Oh yeahhhhhhhhhhh, Let er Buck!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 2, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462853809

M. J. Nooy

I was born in Pendleton Oregon. Pendleton has one of the largest Rodeo’s for the NFR in the United Nations. My great grandmother, Mama Eads, walked the Oregon Trail, and claimed the first homestead in Baker Oregon. My grandmother, Pearl Hall, retired from the Frontier Saloon in Pendleton Oregon. This is what I am about, to the bone. I wrote this story because I want others to know what kind of a person my husband Mike was, and the only way I could do that was to put my real self in the words. As you can see from my background I am very down to earth, compassionate, sensitive, and kind to any living thing. Communication to the animal kingdom is a must in my life. If it wasn’t for the animals around me, I would not be able to encompass the real true meaning of life. Thank you God for your creations. I hope you all enjoy what I have to share. There is more to come. Thank you again. MJ Nooy

Book preview

Copyright © 2011 by M. J. Nooy.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011905635

ISBN: Hardcover 978-1-4628-5379-3

ISBN: Softcover 978-1-4628-5378-6

ISBN: Ebook 978-1-4628-5380-9

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including

photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

96586

This is dedicated to the late

Michael J. Nooy

1964–1998

Pendleton, Oregon

type embellishments.tif

There are pictures of me sitting in a saddle on a big white horse when I was a little girl, about four or five. My little brother Kenny is thirteen months younger than me, and he is walking around the back legs of this horse. It’s funny that I don’t remember that particular incident, but I do remember going to my Aunt Marquita and Uncle Sam Porter’s ranch, which was located in Pilot Rock, Oregon. It was just a place I loved to go. And of course, I was given my first pony. My Uncle Sam had two kids from a previous marriage, Marlene and Sam Junior. One or the other would be chosen to give Georgie rides through the barn house on her pony.

Image4812.JPG

Georgie is me. My middle name is Georgette, so the family pet name is Georgie. Sometimes Georgie Girl; sometimes Gorgeous George. I don’t know! My mother, LaDonnae, told me they all just knew I was going to be a boy and my designated name was going to be George. It is my mother’s father’s name, and I guess I was his first grandchild.

And then there was that barn house. All I remember is on one side was the house area with knotty pine walls and always the smell of Aunt Marquita’s cookin’. On the other side of the entranceway were stalls with hay in um and saddles on stands and the wonderful smell of horses. It seemed like you’d open these big sliding doors that you could drive a truck through and look toward the other end, which was another door to get out. That has never left my mind to this day.

That was the beginning of my dream. As I grew up, every time we’d play cowboys, it would never be cowboys and Indians; it would be cowboys and wild horses. Guess who was always the wild horse. Oh, yeah—me. I just couldn’t stand it. I had to be able to use my arms and pretend I was raring. I even allowed other kids to put ropes around my midsection, and we’d run around like they were ridin’ me. I’d whinny and paw; sometimes I’d kick! As I got older, probably elementary school, in every field we’d pass, I’d point out the horses. I hoped I could have my own someday.

On my thirteenth birthday, my stepfather Ray, told me to go milk the two cows we had. I thought, Golly, on my birthday?! Oh well, at least I got to see how the baby calves were doin’. I was kickin’ rocks on the way to the barn, and Lady, our Australian shepherd, decided she wanted me to throw a couple sticks. All of a sudden, Ray hollered out the back door, Georgette! Are you going to milk those cows?

Ya know how ya look up at the sky and it’s one of those calm blue skies with maybe one or two small puffy clouds, or how about when you go to the coast and you know you’re going to see ocean for miles and miles, how about . . . ? Okay, okay, so I got to the barn door, and I was lookin’ down ’cause there might be some calf caca. I opened the door, took a step up, and looked up kind of at the same time, and . . . I almost passed out!

There staring at me was this beautiful beige and brown gelding. He was Hackney and Welsh cross, so he was about thirteen hands tall from hoof to whither. His name was Patches. I’m tellin’ you I don’t know what it meant then, but after a little time, I realized Patches and I had bonded. When we met eye to eye, it was like two old souls reunited. I had this warm feelin’ come over me, I mean, my mom and stepdad were talkin’ and laughin’, but I have no idea what they were saying. Ray already milked the cows. Needless to say, one of my dreams came true!

Image4818.JPG

About a year and a half later, my mom and stepdad wanted to sell the house and move to a nicer house. Well, I was in junior high; I was not paying attention to their decisions. I was having a ball. After school, a couple girlfriends and I met up with other teenagers, all on horseback, and we were just ridin’ all over the place. Sometimes we’d ride double, two kids on one horse. Most of the time, we were ridin’ bareback. We raced or rode through the ponds that were made by old rock quarries, so we got all wet, or swim while the horses graze on dry grass. One of the things I loved about Patches was that I taught him to stretch out, so he’d be lower to the ground. It took a couple weeks, but he was very cooperative. It was much easier to jump on his back.

The bus always dropped me off a few yards before the house. One day, I got off the bus and was walkin’ along with a couple other kids when we noticed a horse trailer on the side of the road and