The younger version of me found escape from an unfortunate childhood on a TV screen. One of my favorite genres was Westerns. Even before I went to live with my adoptive parents, I remember sitting with my older brothers and watching John Wayne movies and episodes of Gun Smoke and Bonanza.
My adoptive father’s love of horses, I saw as a potential bonding point; although I mostly seemed to be useful at mucking stalls and baling hay. He owned quite a few horses but only stabled mostly two at a time. One was the broken horse that he enjoyed riding, and the other was a younger, unbroken animal. Mind you, he never actually saddled up and rode the unbroken one; he designated me for that honor. I was “thrown” multiple times as a kid; sometimes I landed in some very awkward positions. Oddly enough, no matter how hard the fall, he never took me to get checked for injuries.
The last “ride” I took was on a young quarter horse that dad bought cheap. It had never even had a saddle blanket or saddle on its back. He spent a Saturday morning acclimating this particular animal to the weight of a blanket then saddle. All morning long, when I looked up, the animal was resisting the weight and would buck wildly and try to escape its lead rope.
By evening the animal had either worn down or began to cooperate, so he decided that it was time to try the weight of a rider. He pretty much demanded that I be the one to attempt a mount and ride because of me being the lighter of the two of us. Common sense told me that this was very dangerous but since I sought his approval; I reluctantly agreed. I did, however, try to put myself in the right mindset by doffing a pair of cowboy boots and hat. At least I looked and felt the part. My adoptive father merely snickered and teased. Credit to me though, at least I tried.
I remember attempting to mount by planting one foot in the stirrup and then trying to swing my opposite leg up and over the horse’s back. My leg was not long enough to breach the span and when I grazed the horse’s hindquarter, it began to buck wildly with me hanging on for dear life.
“He’s going to throw you”. Yes, and even in my panicked state, I quickly figured this out. One last arch and buck from the animal and I was airborne. I distinctly remember feeling the horse’s back hooves kicking me as I spun through the air and landed directly on my head and into a live electric fence.
Even as a young man, I had experienced several concussions and knew at that point that I had one. I got up spitting blood and dirt and started walking away. “Well, what did you expect? You kicked the horse.” Not one word about whether I was OK or not, he just blamed me for the incident. Even more egregiously, he wanted me to get back on. I just felt a lot of pain as I walked back to the house, took off my hat and boots for the last time, and ran myself a bath. As I sat in the bath with blood still running from my mouth and nose, I overheard yet another conversation between my adoptive parents. “He’s tougher than I thought but he shouldn’t have kicked the horse”. Past that, there was no trip to the ER to get me checked or even a trip to the doctor the following week. God knows that it would have costed money and might have raised too many questions.
Reflection
Even to this day, my adoptive father still recalls this as a fond memory and funny story. Still, he blames me for “kicking” the horse when I mounted. He obviously has no regrets but the hand tremors that started after being thrown are still with me to this very day. He never faced any consequences or ramifications for putting me in that situation or the trauma that followed, nor has he ever apologized to me personally. He can mouth all the sentimental phrases he wants to, but those words are empty and meaningless. I guess that guilt and admission of wrongdoing are only designated for relationships that are valued.
I rarely watched Westerns after being thrown like that. In all honesty, I think that my best efforts to bond with him through this channel came to the stark realization that he did not value me or a relationship with me. Like I said earlier, at least I tried.