Article May 18, 1974 Issue

THE HORSE RIDE

Marcia Lyn Satterwhite

About two years ago I was riding with my mom at a stable where we lived. The horse was spirited, but since I was a fairly good rider, this didn't bother me. I was enjoying running the horse, until I turned him in the direction of the barn and started loping him. He thought he was going home and wanted to go faster. My first thought was to turn because he was heading for the trees. My second thought was anger because he didn't turn. Then fear set in when he wouldn't stop. I began screaming. I was hysterical—this horse was out of control.

We were racing down the hill toward the barn, and I saw a lot of people blocking the way in front of the gate. The horse planted his hooves in the ground, and I went flying over his head. I was stunned, and when I opened my eyes, a lot of people were looking me over asking if I was all right. I was very grateful to say that I was, since my head had missed the fence by a few inches.

A girl asked me if I'd like to get on her horse for a while. So I agreed. I was in extreme pain, but as she led me around and talked, a little bit of the love and concern that she expressed got through to me.

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