Going to auctions and buying horses for training and later selling them was a way for the old men to supplement their meagre income. It wasn’t that Walt and Amos were exactly horse dealers. I mean they didn’t have paddocks full of horses for anybody to buy who had cash in their pockets. They took in only a few horses in a year. They were discerning with what they bought and even more discerning to whom they sold. Horses were not a commodity to be bought and sold to make a quick dollar. Care went into their training and care went into choosing who bought them.

One day Walt and Amos came home from the sale yard with a paint gelding. They didn’t know his name, but because of the pattern of his coat, it was decided to call him Mosaic or Moz as I ended up calling him. Moz was about 5 years old and broken in. Not much was known about him, but the brothers thought he was a good athletic type and would make a good all-rounder for an adult rider or good pony club kid. He was eye-catching enough that people would want him just for his colour, but Walt and Amos would make sure that he was going well enough that he would find a home with good horse people.

I didn’t have much to do with Moz in the coming months, but would occasionally see Walt take him out on a trail ride or play with kneeling him down or load him onto the old truck. I never really thought much at all about Moz until one day Walt approached me about him.

“Matey, would ya like to work Moz for me as a project for a bit. I gone and bought them other two horses and I’m a bit stretched for time. Them other horses need a bit more workin with than the paint. Ya’d be doin me a favour if ya could keep the paint tickin over until me and Amos find a buyer.”

“Ah, okay Walt. I guess so. I don’t know how much time I can commit to riding him, but I should be able to do three or four times a week if that’s okay,” I said.

“That’ll be plenty, matey. He don’t need a lot, but I do want to find a buyer and he’s been doin nothin but standin in the paddock for a month.”

“What sort of work do you want me to give him? Is there anything special I need to be working on,” I asked?

“Nah matey. He just needs ridin. He’s good on the trail if ya want to take him out. He ain’t done too much arena work and he can sometimes drop in on the right shoulder in a turn. I’ve been workin on it, but he still sometimes forgets about it. When he gets worried he can be a little rushy, but ya only need to feel on one rein to get him to think back to ya. And if ya keep the rhythm ya want him to have he’ll find how to get with ya again. He’s a good fella who wants to feel right and is always searchin for what feels best. He never switches off. I think ya’ll enjoy him. Why don’t we have a session tomorrow and I’ll show what I mean?”

“Yeah okay.”

The next day I met Walt in the arena and Moz was already saddled and ready to go. Walt rode him first so he could show me what he had been working on and what things I should be prioritizing when I rode. As always Walt rode like he was doing nothing and he and the horse looked like they were part of each other. I wondered whether I will ever be able to ride like that.

When Walt rode up to the fence he stepped off the horse and onto the fence rail and sat there.

“Your turn, matey.”

I will never forget my first ride on Moz. I’ve had a lot of excellent rides on wonderful horses in my life and most of them are bunched together in my memory like the colours in a beautiful posy of flowers. But the very first time I rode Moz stands out from all of them. I suddenly understood the feeling of having a horse “right there under me”. He was ever attentive and ever ready. When I asked him to do something it was never an interruption to what he was doing because he was constantly feeling back to me for what I might ask him to do next. I felt totally inadequate and incompetent because I could feel Moz’s confusion when I wasn’t clear as Walt had been. But I also felt the enormous amount of filling in that Moz was doing to make up for my amateur attempts. This little paint had a very sensitive mind, but he did his best to keep a lid on the worry that I was causing. Riding Moz was the coolest thing I had ever felt in my short life. When I got off I was still on a cloud of excitement.

Walt told me to just keep riding him and spend the next week or two getting familiar with each other before adventuring off into new territories of training. He kept saying what a big favour I was doing him, but I kept thinking what a favour Walt was doing for me. It was months before I learned that today was the first day of a master plan that Walt and Amos had concocted.

As I promised Walt I rode Moz at least three times a week and sometimes more. We were getting to know each other and after about a month I almost began to think of him as my horse. With Walt’s grandfatherly advice from time to time, Moz’s work was progressing well. After about three months of regular riding, there was still no potential buyers for Moz. In fact, not one person had come out to look at him. Walt said he didn’t understand it, but seem to think there was just a downturn in the market right now.

I had been riding a few horses for other people in the last couple of years and even taking some to shows to compete over jumps. I had had reasonable success and I thought I would like to take Moz to a show or two. I had been doing some jumping at home with him and he was taking to it well. Being a sensitive horse he was really careful over the jumps, but he wasn’t hanging back and he had a classical bascule over a jump that really helped him reach. I thought he might have some potential - at least as a C grader. Walt and Amos agreed to let me compete at the upcoming French’s Forest gymkhana.

The gymkhana grounds were close enough to the riding school that I could ride there in about 45 minutes which was just as well because Walt and Amos were too busy to go. We entered in three events and won one and came second in the other two. This qualified us for the championship event which we won. I rode Moz home with all four ribbons tied around his neck so that anybody driving or walking past could see I was riding a championship horse. I was so excited that mum was going to have sew on all my shirt buttons again.

When I got back to the riding school I made sure I rode slowly around the stables and arena so that everybody could see us. People congratulated me and patted Moz as if we had won an Olympic medal. I saw Walt and Amos cleaning their paddock. They looked up at the grin on my face and then I saw their faces make a grin. Walt tipped his old stained hat at me and went back to cleaning. It was all he needed to say.

Later in the week, I spoke to Walt about doing more jumping with Moz and maybe taking him to more shows. I was still elated after the weekend.

“That’ll be alright matey, I suppose. But remember he’s sensitive and ya need to pace the amount and size he's jumpin.”

For awhile I was keeping the jumps pretty small and working on his technique over bounce fences and grids. Moz was lapping it up and showing real talent. Our next show he won two events, including a six bar and came home with a reserve champion. In the shows that followed we always came away with a haul of ribbons and never without at least one blue. Moz was particularly showing a talent for six bar events, which was all right with me because I didn’t have to stress about remembering the course.

At home, I was jumping him about twice a week and making the practice fences more technical as well as going up in height and width. After all, Moz was progressing so fast that we were being pushed into a higher grade and we were going to have to work harder if we were to remain competitive. I have to say I loved the challenge and Moz was doing everything I asked of him. Plus everybody knew Moz because of his eye-catching colour and people were always asking me how he was going. We were becoming local celebrities.

As the jumps were becoming bigger I had to push Moz a little harder towards them. He needed more forward to make it clear over some of the combination fences. It didn’t seem to bother him too much and the extra impulsion helped him make the striding between the fences easier. But I did notice he also made him a little less responsive to the reins when I needed to check him back at times. At first, it was not a problem to use a little more hand with him. However, there was a subtle change developing that started me thinking about using a different bit to give me a bit more handle in front of the jumps. I didn’t tell Walt about the problem or about changing bits. Walt was busy with other horses and hardly ever saw me working with Moz, so I figured he didn’t need to be bothered with a problem I knew I could handle myself.

The show season was coming to an end and I wanted to finish with as many points as I could and maybe have a chance of an award at the showjumping club dinner. The final competition for the year was a big one and I had entered in four events. In the first event we came fourth and the second event we came in second place with one rail down. The third event I don’t really remember very much. Moz and I were approaching a triple bar and I think I felt him shift to the right in front of the jump.

I woke up in a public ward at the Royal North Shore Hospital. The curtains were drawn around the bed and mum and dad and my sister were standing around. When they saw my eyes open mum grabbed my hand and told dad to get a doctor. Mum asked me questions about how I felt and gave me reassuring kisses that everything would be okay. The doctor came and checked me over then I fell asleep. I woke up again a few hours later. Mum was still beside my bed holding my hand. I asked her what happened.

“You fell off the horse and went through a jump. But we’ll talk about it later. You’re okay. You just need to rest.”

“Is Moz okay,” I asked?

“He’s fine baby. Your both fine. Walt is outside. Do you want to see him,” mum asked?

“What’s he doing here,” I asked. I was afraid to see him. I had screwed up with Moz. I had ruined Walt’s horse – the best horse I had ever ridden. I had done something terrible and I knew he would hate me. I couldn’t bear it if Walt hated me.

“Walt’s been here since they brought you into the hospital. He’s been waiting for hours and wouldn’t go home. Amos is with him too. I think you should let him say hi,” mum said.

“Okay.”

I was afraid.

Mum left through the curtain and a few minutes later I saw Walt’s wrinkled hand split the curtain apart a little. As he started to appear I felt tears begin to well up in my eyes. I don’t know where they came from, but I couldn’t stop them. My bottom lip was quivering and my nose began to run. The tears were now forming rivulets down my cheeks. Walt looked at me. He looked worried. I was trying my best not to cry, but it was unstoppable. As I opened my mouth to speak my eyes streamed with tears uncontrollably.

“I’m sorry Walt. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

to be continued….