Operation "Back in the Saddle"

Fat and Furry

Day one of “Operation Back in the Saddle” went just as planned.  I went out early this morning and pulled Solo out of his stall.  He is fat as pig, wooly like a Shetland pony, and fresher than the veggies you’d find at a farmers market.  I decided it wouldn’t be a bad idea to pull him out, brush him off, and let him stand saddled and tied for an hour or two.  Solo, registered AQHA Solano D Or, is a horse that I am very fond of despite his little “quirks”.  He has a tendency to buck a little bit when he's fresh, he squeals like a mare when he's "upset", and he has the biggest personality that I've ever seen on a little horse.  We bought in him in 2005 at the Red Bluff Bull and Gelding Sale held in Red Bluff, California every January. 

               

I’ll never forget that memory with my dad…perhaps that is why that horse is so special to me.  I was going to school at Chico State and living with my dad at our winter ranch.  I was convinced by my boyfriend at the time to head up to Red Bluff with him and all of our friends.  Apparently, it was one hell of a good time and one hell of a wild party.  Being freshly 21 years old, drinking beer and running amuck was what I loved to do best (next to roping of course!).  As I was walking out the door with my things, I asked my dad if he wanted to meet us up there.

 

Before I continue on with my story, I need to delve into a little bit of family history.  My dad was a horrible alcoholic for many years.  After a lot of things went wrong in his life (divorce from my mom, losing visitation rights from me, etc.), he quit drinking.  He did it with no help what-so-ever, cold turkey.  I was very proud of him, but what I saw him go through during his detox time, was one of the scariest things I have ever seen in my life.  He battled with depression and eventually secluded himself from many of his friends and family (except for me), only dealing with people when he absolutely had to…or when he went roping.  Not too many people that knew him, knew what he was going through.  He was very good at slapping on a smile and making everyone laugh with his jokes and stories.  When all this went down, I was about 10 years old.  As I got older, he got better and better and we really started doing a lot together.  By the time I was 18, he and I were going roping together every weekend. 

 

So, I asked him if he wanted to meet me up in Red Bluff.  His response was simply, “No, I don’t want to go hang out up there with a bunch of drunks.  But you go, have fun, and be careful.”  I hugged and kissed him goodbye, told him I loved him, and left for my weekend of fun.  During the Bull and Gelding Sale, there are a lot of other events that happen.  There is a huge trade show, stock dog competition and sale, they show the horses in cow work, roping, and dry work, and they show and sell cattle for a whole week.  I was walking through the trade show and found a nice pair of boots that I had to have.  As I walking back through the Pauline Davis Pavillion where they were showing the horses in dry work to put my boots in the pickup, I heard that laugh.  It was a laugh that couldn’t be duplicated.  It was my dad!

 

He was talking to a family friend.  I walked up to him, shocked, but so happy that he came.  That afternoon, I blew off my partying friends, and we walked around and looked at every horse that was for sale.  We had a sale book and we walked around with our “wish list”, deciding which ones (if we actually had money) that we would bid on.  As the sale was getting started, I grabbed my dad and we stopped at the sale table to get a number.  “You never know,” I told him.  “One might come through that we like that we can get for cheap!”  Number in hand, we started walking around the sale ring.  Now, the Red Bluff Bull and Gelding Sale is one big party.  There is a bar on either end of the arena and the sale ring sits in the middle.  People from all over cram into that arena and it is typically shoulder to shoulder people, making it tough to get around.  Dad was doing well visiting with everyone and I wasn’t holding back on my cocktails.  I would come back and check on him and hang out with him every hour or so.  At one point, I came back and he was bidding up a roan horse that we both really like earlier that afternoon.  I didn’t think much of it until he got up to $4000.  My dad was not one to spend money freely.  You could call him a tightwad and it would be a completely accurate term.  And he definitely never spent money on horses.  The most expensive horse we owned, he bought for maybe $1200.  I remember thinking to myself, “I hope he hasn’t taken up drinking again!”  Despite my shock, I was on a drinking mission myself…blame it on being 21 and selfish.  I told my dad we were headed to the bar and we started making our way to the door.  As I was walking out of the pavilion, I heard the announcer say, “Congratulations, Lacey Maddalena of Chico, California for your purchase of Solano D Or.  $6100.”  Everyone looked at me.  My face was white with panic.  Had I dropped my sale number?  No way my dad spent that kind of money on a horse!  I waited by the sale office and saw him headed my way.  He had a huge smile on his face. “Well, he said, I bought us a new horse!” 

 

I had no words.  I was completely in awe.  But as it started to sink in, I really started to get worried.  I knew my dad better than anyone.  I was waiting for him to come down off of whatever adrenaline high he had and realize what he had done.  Surely he would go into a depression and regret spending that money.  I kept asking him, “Are you ok?”   He smiled, wrote out his check, and handed me the halter they gave him.  “Let’s go see our new horse!” he said, excitedly.

 

As we walked out of the pavilion, he pulled me aside.  “I don’t want you to worry about me,” he said.  “I’m not going to get upset about this.  I talked to our accountant a while ago and because of some of the projects we worked on this year, I really needed a tax write off.  Let’s just call this horse an executive business decision.”  Hearing him say that really put my mind at ease.  We walked out to the stall where his brand new, prize horse was eating his dinner.  Dad walked in before me.  “Well, he’s not very big, is he?  Looked bigger in the sale ring.  But I guess he’s just a baby…only a two year old.  He’ll grow up nice.”  He laughed, more to himself than to anyone else.  I walked in and the horse pinned his ears and came after me with his mouth open, squealing like a stuck pig.  “Nice horse, Dad!”  I exclaimed.  “He’s scrawny and he has an attitude!”  "I'll take care of that later" he said.  We both laughed about it and then I slipped off to the bar while he drove home to get some sleep and get the horse trailer. 

 

Ridin' Solo

The next morning, I woke up bright and early to find my dad in the warm up arena riding his new pony.  “He’s kind of a fresh little shit,” he said. “But he’s damn sure broke pretty.  I think I’ll call him Solo.”  From then on out, he and Solo were a matched pair and practically inseparable.  I never saw my dad be so easy on a horse before.  He was really getting soft in his old age.  The horse was a character for sure.  Dad could do anything with him.  He would even lead him in through the front door of the house and feed him junk food!  The horse was spoiled rotten.  When my dad died, I knew I couldn’t sell him.  But, I had never ridden him either.  I started legging him up the spring after my dad had passed away.  Solo would have been 4 or five then, I guess.  I really liked him and he became my number one horse to ranch on.  But he was still pretty tiny, not big enough to make a head horse. 

 

Years have passed.  Solo is now coming 11 years old.  I really haven’t done as much with him as I should have.  He has done a lot of sitting in the pasture the last 6 years.  I either had another horse to rope on or I was taking a hiatus from roping altogether.  Either way, I haven’t put enough faith in him.  He has really grown up a lot in the last few years.  I’m looking at him now and realizing that he has enough size and heart to be a head horse.  Last year, my ex-boyfriend heeled on him a little.  He had high hopes for him and even offered to buy him from me, but I absolutely could not bring myself to sell him.  As a matter of fact, I have convinced myself that I needed to sell him several times.  I always had some sort of reason.  He needs to go to someone who will use him.  He needs to go to someone who heels better than I do that will love and appreciate him.  He needs to go to someone who could win on him.  Not only was I doubting my horse, but I was seriously doubting myself.

 

After riding cutting horses for a year, my riding has greatly improved.  Things that used to make me nervous while horseback, no longer do.  I decided to give him another shot.  I started logging my roping sled around on him and he took it really well.  On my birthday, I made the decision that I would go roping…not just for me, but for my dad.  I felt like I must be really letting him down by not doing his good horse any justice.  I hadn’t roped in well over a year.  I started out on the heel end and things went well.  But, I am NOT a heeler.  My confidence roping lies in my heading.  It is where I am most competitive and where I know I can win!  There were a lot more heelers practicing that day versus headers so I decided to give Solo a shot on the head end.  To my surprise, he was fantastic!  I had been worried and not putting faith in him for no good reason.  I had been walking around with a negative idea and my head and I was proved completely wrong.  Maybe it was God telling me that I could handle the challenge.  Or, perhaps it was my dad, touching me on the shoulder and telling me that I could do it.  Either way, I am so happy that I didn’t sell him.  

 

Puppies!

So here I am.  It’s the end of December and I have made a commitment with my best friend to rope with her in the Reno Rodeo All-Girl.  I have a little over 6 months to take this horse that I have hauled to one practice roping and make him a finished head horse.  I know this is not going to be easy and I’m going to have to commit a lot of my time to this.  But, thanks to quitting my job, I have all the time in the world.  I have a little money saved up to help me pay for feed, rent, and pay my bills.  Next month will be a good month for me.  I have been offered a job where I will make a good chunk of money just for working the month of February.  Plus, I am selling my American Bulldog puppies, so my nest egg will be comfortable for a while.  This is the first time in a long time that I have committed to team roping.

 

After letting Solo sit saddled for a about an hour while I made some phone calls and ate breakfast, I went outside to lunge him around.  Lunging him is nearly impossible.  He is literally the laziest horse on the planet sometimes.  I would rather take my chances of him bucking me off then try to get him to lope circles from the ground.  I don’t know what I’m so afraid of.  The little turd will buck, but not very darned hard!  I climbed on him and away we went.  Every time I climb on his back, I remember why I love him so much.  He is such a smooth ride and he is so broke.  He just has this style to him that is so unique.  I really do love riding him.  We took off at a lope through the neighbors hay field.  As I was loping past my neighbor’s house, I saw him standing on the front porch talking on the phone.  I don’t have an arena at my house, but they do and they rope all the time.  I’m really hoping that one of these days I’ll lope past there and they will invite me over to rope.  I don’t know if it’ll ever happen, but a girl can dream.  It didn’t take long to get him tired and after about 3 laps, he was done.  It’s going to take about two weeks of exercise to get some of the fat burned off of him and get him in shape.  His feet are a little long and it probably wouldn’t hurt to get him shod, if not just trimmed.  I am planning on heading up to my cousin’s house and roping with her family for about a week very soon.  They have 3 kids, lots of horses, and they rope every day that the sun is shining and the arena is dry. I think it’s just the start that I need to get rolling again.  No pressure, just practice and fun.

 

I have a game plan.  If I stick with it, I know that I will be successful.  For the first time in a long time, I’m not doing this for my dad or to impress anyone.  I am only doing this for myself and my love of team roping.  It’s so much more than just a hobby.  It’s a part of who you are.  It’s a lifestyle.  And I can’t wait to be back!

An Old Story with a Fresh Beginning

I don’t consider myself a cowgirl…but the actual cowgirls that I look up to and admire tell me I am.  So here’s my story.  I was born on September 18^th, 1984 in Sierra Valley California.  My dad was a third generation commercial cattle rancher and my mom grew up in southern California in a family where horses and cattle were second nature.  I guess “cowgirl” is just in my blood.  I have a picture sitting in my living room on an end table right next to my couch that shows me at about two weeks old at my first calf branding.  I was sitting on a horse before I could walk…it was my first and favorite mode of transportation.  No matter what I do or where I go, horses and cattle will always be a part of who I am.  Growing up, there wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think about horses.  But in my mind, being a cowgirl isn’t just about loving horses.  It’s about knowing horses, it’s about loving that western lifestyle that comes with growing up on a ranch.  It’s not just about riding and roping, but it’s about raising livestock as a way of life.  Horses are a love and a passion, but they are also a tool. 

 

I guess my first real cowgirl experiences came from running around with my dad. He was the ultimate cowboy.  He could rope. He could ride.  He was rough and tough.   But most of all he loved me and he taught me almost everything that I know about being a cowgirl.  Most kids looked forward to Christmas and birthdays…I looked forward to summertime buckle ropings where I got to run around with my friends horseback and compete in barrel racing.  I looked forward to calf branding season because I got to rope and help mug calves.  Those were our social events. 

 

Growing up in this lifestyle wasn’t always easy.  I was expected to be tougher than most girls.  If I cried, I had to sit in the pickup.  I didn’t complain because I was a kid who worked in a freezing cold snow storm or the blistering heat of summer.  I worked sick, I worked hurt, and I worked tired.  But the fact of the matter was I worked.  Ranch kids don’t grow up indoors.  The house is a place where you eat your meals and you lay your head down to rest after a long day.  But I never complained.   I just sucked it up and did what I had to do because the alternative was always worse.  But I thank God every day that I was raised that way. 

 

As I got older, I started really focusing on competing in rodeo.  Unlike most girls, I didn’t care for barrel racing all that much. In my mind, they were a lot of pretty girls who were filled with drama.  Most of them did it for the attention, not for the love of the sport.  I loved to rope.  Team roping was something that I could do with my dad every weekend and we enjoyed traveling to ropings year round.  I’m not ever going to say I was the best in the business, but I definitely possessed a talent and by the time I was a senior in high school, I was winning at some pretty good sized ropings.  I was never the girl that had expensive horses.  Our horses were ranch horses turned rope horses that we never paid more than a couple thousand for.  While some of my friends were riding $25000 animals, I was competing on an 18 year old buckskin horse that my dad didn’t get along with so he gave him to me.  Don’t get me wrong, that horse was the best rope horse I’ve owned thus far.  He took me to a higher level and I learned so much from the time I spent on his back.  But, it wasn’t long before he was ready to retire.  I worked all summer for a neighbor ranch running cattle and saved enough money to buy a new head horse my sophomore year of college.  When I tried him, he had been drugged to calm him down without my knowing.  I roped great on him so I paid the people the money, loaded him up and hauled him to college. The next day the drugs wore off and he spent a few hours trying to buck me off.  When I called the people to ask what the deal was, their exact words were, “well, if you’re scared of him, bring him back and we’ll refund your money.”  If you’ve ever known a real cowgirl, you know that “scared” is a word that leaves a very nasty taste in our mouths.  I ended up keeping the horse despite my better judgment.

 

Scooter was a bronc for a long time.  He took a lot of work and I ended up wasting a year of college rodeo trying to get him to a level where I could compete and win on him.  Eventually he became just that, but he always had some quirks that made him nearly intolerable to be around.  I rode that horse and won for about four years before I finally sold him for twice what I paid for him.  That left me horseless yet again. 

 

I spent the next few years focusing on school.  I always rode and continued to work for my dad on our ranch, but I wasn’t roping much.  In the summer of 2006 I bought a big bay horse from an ex-boyfriend to use while working for the Sierra Valley Ranch.  We were running roughly 3000 head of mother cows there so I needed at least 2 good mounts of my own along with my string of ranch horses provided by the outfit I worked for.  Baker was another counterfeit bronc.  He may not buck for weeks and then all of a sudden nothing at all would set him off and he would pitch.  He was a pain in the ass, but I loved him.  Unfortunately, despite my love for him, he was never a competitive rope horse.  I ended up selling him for practically nothing to the ranch I worked for.  When the seasons turned and winter rolled around, I was laid off.  I decided to take my chances in Utah as a trail guide.  My dad was sad to see me go, but so proud of me for getting out and seeing the world.  As I was finishing up the season there, I received the news that my dad had unexpectedly passed away.

 

I’ve always been a cowgirl, I guess. But it never really meant anything to me until my dad was no longer around.  At 24 years old, and the sole heir to my dad’s estate, I took over our cattle ranch and everything that came along with it.  There were a lot of expectations from people for me to run the ranch just as he did.  It was so hard.  I had so many questions and really no one to turn to.  My dad had a lifetime of experience running the ranch and all of a sudden I was expected to know everything that he knew.  I feel like I made a lot of mistakes.  But no matter what, I never gave up.  I tried like hell to keep the ranch going and at the end of the day, it still is.  When I first took over, we were running 300 head of cattle for someone else.  I took over that duty and despite the many people who wanted to see me fail, I succeeded.  But after a year of stress and nearly working myself to death, it was a task I no longer wanted to participate in.  My dad always used to tell me to go do something with my life.  Don’t become a lonely old rancher like him.  I saw myself becoming that more and more every day.  I had secluded myself from family and friends.  I missed roping desperately.  I felt like I was letting my dad down by giving up on something that both he and I were so passionate about. I decided then and there that it was time to get back in the saddle, literally. 

 

I went out the next day and bought a decent little mare to rope on.  From then on, I was going to ropings at least twice a week.  I would drive hours upon hours in terrible weather just to go practice.  I was roping excellent and was winning regularly.  But life without my dad overwhelmed me, and I started to drink away those sad feelings that I hid deep down inside.  I missed him more than words could ever describe.  It felt like there was a gaping hole in my chest where my heart used to reside.  I got into a little bit of trouble at a rodeo one spring, and it finally set me straight.  By this time, I was 25 years old.   I know someone was watching over me, because despite the fact that I had gotten into some trouble, I was offered a great job selling cattle supplement and I was on the right track to success.  By my 26^th year, I was running the ranch, working for a successful company, I owned my own home, built a nice roping arena in my backyard, had a great boyfriend, and I had bought myself a jam up head horse prospect.  I had, what I thought was, the perfect life. 

 

Maybe it’s just me, or maybe its cowgirls in general…I don’t know, but I got restless just like I always do when I’ve been in one place too long.  My jam up head horse prospect that I had spent a small fortune on coliced and died one rainy spring morning, I fell into a small depression which put a strain on my relationship, my boyfriend and I broke up, my mom got sick and was hospitalized, my best friend was in a horrible car accident that left a friend dead and her incarcerated…I’d had enough.  I called my aunt and uncle and asked them if they would like to lease the feed on my ranch from me.  I knew if they leased the feed, I could make financial decisions from a distance and I could go out on my own and find myself.   I sold my hay equipment which was always a source of much frustration anyway, I packed up my horses and my dogs and I moved to Texas which is right where I am at today.

 

When I first moved out, I was waitressing for $2.15 an hour and barely making enough to pay my rent.  But it wasn’t long before I found a job riding cutting horses for world champion cutting horse trainer.  He was an old guy, on the verge of retiring, but a legend in the cutting horse world.  Working for him was both a blessing and a curse.  I learned a lot out there, but it was long, hard hours, little pay, and most of the time, even less appreciation.  I was working 6 days a week and 10 or more hours a day.  But I was happy to be busy and to be horseback again.  The months crept by before I realized that I was watching life pass me by.  I was spending all my time working myself to death at a job that I had no future at.  I began to get restless after about a year.  I decided to let the job go and try my hand elsewhere.  As I write this, I am currently unemployed with the promise of another feed sales job that is said to open up very soon.  My plan is to take this time to work on some projects that I have always wanted to do as well as pick up that rope again and get back in the arena. 

 

It has been two years since I have roped competitively.  When my good horse died, all that I had left was a crippled mare and a young horse that belonged to my dad that had only been ranched on.  I tried a few horses, but none fit me and I decided to quit heading and switch ends to heeling, using the horse that I already had versus buying a new one.  Although I show some talent there, heeling is not my favorite.  When I moved out here, I promised myself that I would be going roping all the time whether I start heading on the little horse of my dad’s or I went out and bought a new horse.  After riding cutting horses every day for a year I decided to try my hand at heading on my little horse.  As it turns out, He works just fine.  He has a long way to go to get me down the road, but I am going to make it work.  No one has ever handed me anything and I don’t expect it to happen now!  Although everything happens for a reason and God has a plan for everyone, I feel that we are the conductors of our destiny.  We have to be active and can’t just sit around waiting for life to happen to us. 

 

In two weeks, it will be the start of 2014.  I have already received my application and sent my money in for the 2014 Reno Rodeo All Girl Invitational Team Roping.  It is one of the biggest and best all girl ropings in the United States and I plan on winning it this year.  It’s going to be hard work and I have to be dedicated, but if I have to beg, borrow, and steal to get there, I’m going to do it.  I have already received several offers from friends to borrow their horses in case I can’t afford to haul my horse out or in case he’s not ready by June.  I have a little over 6 months to prepare. 

 

This is real cowgirl stuff.  I am a woman who has not roped competitively in two years and has entered up in one of the biggest women’s ropings in the US.  I have one horse available to me to practice and compete on and so far I have turned only 3 steers on him…ever.  I am not supported financially by anyone and I am currently technically unemployed.  I truly am risking it all for something that I love.  I plan on documenting my journey with video, blogs, articles, and photos.  I hope to have a steady following of people that will possibly lead to future funding for other projects that I am involved in.  I am a girl with many dreams and I feel that is a huge part of who cowgirls are.  We are dreamers.  It’s something in our souls that leaves us restless and always wanting to do more and go just a little bit farther.  I constantly worry to myself that I may never be satisfied with my life…that I will always have that desire to keep going and never idle calmly.  But, I don’t know how to be any different.  I leave a lot of things up to God and I trust that He knows who and where I am supposed to be.  I also know that He made me who I am for a reason and I am not meant to sit around and do nothing all day. He made me in His image and I am perfect in His eyes.  That means that the path I am walking is the right one and all I have to do is keep following my heart.

 

As I finish writing this, I am filled with hope. My future looks bright.  I can’t help but be happy that I am making an attempt to do all the things that I have ever wanted to do.  To some, it may seem like a lot…to others, it may seem like nothing at all.  But, I’m not doing this for anyone but myself.  When I take my final breath before I meet my maker, I want to exhale knowing that I lived my dreams.