Deer Run Trail, By David R LewisNodaway Trail, by David R LewisOn the Calico Trail, by David R LewisOn the Payback Trail, by David R LewisOn the Ogallala Trail, by David R LewisOn the Killdeer Trail, by David R LewisOn the Cutthroat Trail, by David R LewisEndless Journey Toward an Unknown Destination, by David R LewisIncidents Among the Savages, by David R LewisFear of the Father:  Call Me Crockett, by David R Lewis

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Not Again

No More Horsin’ Around

The year was 1969 and I was in the market for a horse.  In horse shopping, “let the buyer beware” applies even more than when purchasing a used car, picking a mate, or renting John Wayne Gacy for a fun weekend.  Sellers of horses, often kindly, almost Uncle-like gentlemen are a suspect group with the social conscience of a pickpocket and the morals of a Columbian drug lord who runs a few ladies on the side.  Therefore, I turned away from auctions where fleecing some poor buyer out of his life savings on a cross-firing nag with fistulated withers and permanently waterlogged hocks is seen as a virtue, and went shopping at places with good reputations that actually bred and reared equines that could be traced back to where they’d come from.

I was – and still am, for that matter – partial to quarter horses.  In more recent years, quarter horses have become so badly polluted by thoroughbred crossbreeding that they are sometimes hard to distinguish from farther away than 50 feet.

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