I love stories. Everyone has one. I find something especially beautiful in the relationships we share with our horses. Each partnership is entirely unique yet universally understood by fellow equestrians. Blessings, challenges, big dreams and little moments—they all combine into an incredible story that leave a rider forever changed.
I love learning, capturing and telling your stories, so I thought I’d share mine, too.
I didn’t need a horse. I was less than a month into my freshman year at Purdue University, living on campus without a car or a job.
I really didn’t need a horse.
Until Herbie’s curious eyes met mine, and his coat shined in the sun, and our worlds collided and my life was never to be the same.
Then, I needed a horse. This horse.
He’d arrived in the trailer of a friend-of-a-friend’s, a knowledgeable horsewoman with an eye for good buys. Three years old, short and scrawny, Herbie was greenbroke with some cattle exposure … perfect for an overconfident 18-year-old with grand plans of putting on miles and reselling for profit, right? I stroked his mane. His nose snuffled my hair. He came from good bloodlines, but I’m not sure it mattered in that moment—I was smitten.
The rest of the day is a blur in my memory. We test rode. We talked prices. Herbie snuggled. We shook hands, signed papers. We even made a visit to a local open show, where Herb quietly took in the sights like a seasoned pro instead of a green broke colt in unfamiliar hands.
Late that night, while the loudspeaker and crowds buzzed in the background, I cradled Herbie’s head and stroked his crooked blaze, still in shock at how suddenly my life changed.
Common sense told me I didn’t need a horse. Nine years later, I’m glad I didn’t listen.