Arizona
If you have spent your life with horses you can appreciate the dream of waking up and having the next great horse standing in your barn. Horses that perform heads above all others, no matter their area of expertise. I have been privileged to ride some great horses through the years but you can count them on one hand. Great horses are few and far between so we cherish them and remember then long after they have passed. But what about good horses? The ones that do their job willingly, never cause any strife and stay healthy throughout their career. I recently lost one such horse and think his story is a worthy of telling.
I remember the first time I saw KC Bull. It was in the spring of 1984 and Tommy Ryan was riding the two-year-old for the first time in Dude and Barbara Noble’s round pen on 6001 E. Bell Road. This is the same spot where Southwest Equine Medical Surgical Center stands today. The Noble’s bred their girls’ good Youth mare, Soleros Jewel to Bull Parker, the result being a gray colt that Tommy Ryan wanted to keep as his personal turn back horse. Another piece of the story was that KC was named after my close friend Debbie Cooper’s daughter, Caycee who was just a toddler at the time. KC had everything I wanted; good looks, gray color, breeding and a history I could relate to. After pleading with my mother, we bought KC that very day and brought him home shortly there after.
KC and I became a team. He was the kindest, gentlest horse I had ever been around. I believe that Bull Parker foals were ahead of their time when it came to changing leads, and KC was no exception. We soon started showing in Western Riding & Trail classes. Although KC was never a pretty mover, we did our share of winning and he qualified for the AQHA World Show as a three-year-old in Jr. Western Riding. Even though we did not make the finals, KC performed remarkably well and never let on to his country up bringing while showing in the big city.
After that KC and I continued to show occasionally but his main job soon became my number one ranch horse. He took his job very seriously and was soon cutting cattle like a pro. We found time to go to a few local cuttings. What KC loved to do best was gather cattle off the mountains and chasing the wiley ones through brushy country. The first time a baby calf was put in the saddle KC took it all in stride. Sometimes when driving the herd a baby calf would just get too tired to go on with the rest of the herd. KC seemed to know right away that it was his job to carry the calf until its mom could take over when they reached their final destination. He always was careful of his cargo, making sure it arrived safe and sound. Soon we were packing two calves, one in front of the saddle and the other behind the cantle. He never complained. From then on KC was known as the calf carrier. Many was the time when it was just the two of us and I had to muscle a calf into the saddle by myself. I would get off and push, pull, tug and or shove a bawling, kicking calf in the saddle. Then I would clamber back aboard and catch up with the rest of the herd.
KC was good to everyone, even the greenest rider. When the bus full of Japanese tourists pulled in to the ranch, KC was saddled and ready to fulfill their wildest dreams. Mostly just the teenagers were brave enough to climb aboard, all of which had never touched a horse in their lives. I tried to give directions in my best Japanese but was left to gestures, as they spoke no English. One fearless girl of about sixteen just kept kicking until she got KC into a lope. My heart sank as she started sliding sideways off the saddle and was barely off the ground. I ran to catch her but KC was way ahead of me. By the time I got there he had completely stopped and moved back under her. She was still grinning ear to ear and will never forget she became an “American Cowboy” for a short time thanks to KC Bull.
In 1996, when the AQHYA World Cup was held in Flagstaff, KC was one of the horses used for the competition. Youth from twelve countries competed Showmanship, Horsemanship, Equitation, Cutting, Western Riding, Trail and Reining. At fourteen years of age he still had what it took to make the cut in the Western Riding and Cutting classes. His certificate of participation still proudly hangs on my wall.
When Barry’s “greenhorn” brother, Scott was visiting from the east, KC was once again up for the task. After explaining how you need to put your left foot in the stirrup and ‘push’ yourself off the ground and into the saddle, Scott proceeded to ‘push’ himself all the way completely over the saddle and fell with a large plop on the ground on the other side of KC. Never moving a foot, KC seemed to look down and say, “What on earth are you doing over there? Now come on let’s try this again”. What could have been a traumatic first time experience is now a story worth a good laugh every time told. And of course there are always many kind words about a really good horse named KC.
For me, one of KC’s most special accomplishments during his lifetime was that he was the last horse my mother ever rode. He would take her on short rides, being ever so careful of the oxygen tank and her failing health. I know full well that he knew the importance of his job and never took his fragile cargo lightly.
The past ten years of KC’s life was spent out in his 400-acre pasture with his other aged equine buddies. He truly lived where the deer and the antelope played. He also kept an eye on the various cows that shared the pasture with him, at times herding them from one spot to another and always trying to intimidate the new calves each spring. KC loved his life of retirement. He would come running in, bucking and playing on the cold mornings in spite of arthritis and a terrifically swayed back. Everyone always wanted to know about the ‘white’ horse out in the pasture, the old horse having long ago lost his gray color and had turned completely white. Last week while gathering cattle early one morning we found KC. He died like he lived, not wanting to be a bother to anyone, so he just lay down and died while no one was around. KC was a good horse and an even better friend. He was one of a kind, the greatest of ‘good horses’.
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