My Best Friend | A Nice Horse Story

By: Charli Ann Stevens

Have you ever met a horse that was absolutely destined to be yours—not once, but twice and forever more? At a mere fifteen, I was on a search for my second horse. My abilities and show ring desires had outgrown my first horse. Being from an average middle-class family, we did not have a lot to spend on my future show horse. To top it off, I was looking for an Arabian who was at least 15 hands high and had the potential to be an English horse. While the task seemed undaunting to all of the adults I knew, I was not deterred. For two years, we searched for a horse—calling almost every classified in the local papers and seeing a good number of horses. All of the horses were in our price range, but none of them fit the bill.

Until one day, when I read an ad that listed several horses for sale. As I read through the list, I stopped when I got to the description of a chestnut named Fire Site (a.k.a., “Apollo”). At that point, I knew we had found “my” horse. We scheduled a visit and went off to find my knight in shining copper.

When we arrived at the farm, my Mom and I walked into the barn and started down the aisle. As we paused to read the names on the horses’ stalls, a chestnut horse approached his door and started “blowing” at my back. I turned around and looked at him. Then, I looked down at the name on his stall—Fire Site. I said to my Mom, “If this is truly Fire Site, this is my horse.” They took him out and let him loose in the arena so that we could get a better look at him and see him move. A 15 hand high, chestnut with two hind socks and a star, strip, snip, he had coloring, charisma, and movement to burn.

The purchase was not straight-forward and, at one point, I had almost given up hope. For about three more months, we continued our search. After looking at several more horses, I knew I had to have Apollo—no matter what. Friends of ours assisted us in his purchase and he joined me for the first segment of our lives together. Quickly the beautiful horse started competing and winning tough classes both in-hand and under saddle. Although the gelding was catching a lot of people’s eyes, my parents had promised me that I could take that horse to my first Arabian National show. However, due to my ensuing future in college and our meager financial status, he would have to be sold immediately after that show.

During the summer of 1987, we earned many honors at “A” rated Arabian shows and Regionals. When it came to Nationals, I was upset. It was Nationals, and Apollo had to be sold. So the sale posters went up. A true seller’s dream, he was sold before the show was over. As I cried on his shoulder that fall day in Albuquerque with the mountains in the background, saying my last good-byes and clipping some tail hairs to keep with me for always, I promised him that some day, I would get him back; although I had no idea how that was going to happen because he had sold for a lot of money. When we got back home, my parents put almost all of my equipment and riding suits up for sale—everything but my cutback saddle and Apollo’s full bridle. After all, I was “O-U-T, out of horses” and had absolutely no legitimate explanation for how I was going to get any horse—let alone that one—back.

I became pen pals with his new owner and even visited him at a horse show in Springfield, Illinois while they owned him. I will never forget visiting him at that show. It had been nine months since we had sold him, and everyone told me that horses aren’t able to remember people like people remember horses.

When I found their stalls, everyone from their barn was up at the show ring except for the groom. Their groom was a very nice, southern black gentleman whom you could tell took good care of the horses. As he walked me down the aisle to show me “my horse,” he talked the whole way. All I did was walk along and nod my head. Other than my footsteps, I did not make a sound. As we approached Apollo’s stall, I could see his rear end was closest to the door and that his head was down as he munched on his hay. As we got closer, I could tell that Apollo had paused while eating his hay. He was listening and thinking that he must be mistaken. When we arrived at that stall, I said hello to him. He spun around so quickly to face me that the groom said, “Missy, I ain’t never seen that horse turn around that quick for no one. Let me go and get you some carrots, before he takes your arm off.” “My” horse, remembered me.

After that show, I continued to keep in touch with his new owners throughout 1988. Then, their communication began to slow down—until it stopped. Then, one day in 1989, we got a phone call from them. Being that the new owner’s parents weren’t horse people and the trainer loved the horse so much that they didn’t feel she would really try to sell him, the family donated him to an all girl’s college. They assured me that they did a lot of research and selected the one they felt would be the best home for him.

That was it! My college education was suddenly on hold. I was going to transfer. If I couldn’t own the horse, I could go to school with him. So, we scheduled a visit to the school and started all of the paper work involved with being a transfer student. When we arrived for our visit, I couldn’t wait to get to the barn to see “my” horse. I am sure one of the first questions I asked when we got to the barn was, “Where is Fire Site?” The college told me that he was out on lease. He was not very good with their beginner riders—he kept running away with them. I was crushed, but continued on with my plans to attend that college.

Well, fate has a funny way of working itself out to a person’s favor—even if we don’t see it at that exact moment in time. Another friend, whom I had not know too long, encouraged me to call to find out if the horse was for sale. I was so scared. I knew how much he sold for and I knew what he was worth. I was nineteen years old. But, I made that call and the horse was for sale. I’m sure to this day, the horse trader that had him thought he pulled a fast one on me. He paid a mere $250.00 to get him out of the school and was selling him for almost fifteen times that! I, on the other hand, thought I was getting a great deal on “my” horse.

Of course, being that I didn’t have all the money for the horse at the time, I had to ask my parents to co-sign a loan for me. I sat my Father down and, at first, he was sure that I’d bought a car. For a quick second, he was relieved to find out it was only Apollo. Then, because of the “low” price, he asked if the horse still had four legs. I told him I guessed he did, and if he didn’t, I really didn’t care. He was and is my buddy, and I wanted him back.

So, the gallant chestnut gelding returned to my life. We showed successfully, finishing his Legion of Honor and earning a Canadian National Top Ten, for a couple more years before arthritis got the best of him and he was retired. While he made many friends for the Arabian breed as a boarded horse in three different states, his arthritis requires special stalling set ups which are hard to find in a boarding setting. So, to help him be more comfortable and have a longer life, in 2001 I purchased a small farmette and set up the barn to accommodate his condition. He now lives a happy, well-earned life of leisure and retirement; and he’s still my best friend.