EVENTS

 

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Contact Frank Motes at (918) 297-1231 for more information or email: frankmotes@sbcglobal.net

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 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1Lady a.k.a. “The Little Black Mare” by Frank Motes

 

It is said that every cowboy, if he is lucky,  has one really good horse in his life. Mine was Lady. She was reportedly born March 17, 1960, in Wister, Oklahoma. She was out of a Welsh mare and a Quarter Horse stud. She stood somewhere between 13 and 14 hands tall and weighed 850 pounds when mature. She was coal black and glass (blue) eyed. She was purchased by Talton Bruton, foreman of Warren Sphann’s Diamond Star Ranch and  brought her to Hartshorne shortly before her second year. He took her to Ralph Wilcox, to be broke .

 

I got to ride a lot of the colts after Ed and Billy Dan (Cheese) took the rough off them. I rode Lady a lot while they were breaking her and I fell in love with her. Talton took her back home after she was broke. My mother, Nettie Motes, (Sis Whiting) purchased her for me shortly afterward for $200.

 

Shortly after I got her, Mr. Quiett (?), owner of  Western Auto, installed the first coin operated car wash in town. Lady was the first customer. With a little urging, I could get her to do about anything. I assure you this was due to her great big heart and willing nature and not my training ability.

 

I couldn’t get on her bareback at first.  I would lead her into the yard and when she dropped her head to graze, I would straddle her neck. She would raise her head so I could slide down her neck and turn around. She always knew what I was going to do - she just couldn’t help herself. She loved to eat. We often rode to the Dairy Queen. I would ride up to the drive in window and get two ice cream cones. One for me and one for her. She would eat just about anything a kid would eat, except onions.

 

When Lady was about 4 or 5, I started trying to calf rope. Lady picked it up right away and would soon follow a calf without me touching the reins. She  became as good a roping horse as about any in the area. I truly have no idea how many people roped and won on her, but it was a lot. Seems just about anybody and everybody could rope off her. She was seldom late to get out of the chute and had what was know as a “dying stop”. Every Thursday, Friday and Saturday night Lyman Maddux pulled us to area open and IRA (IPRA now) rodeos. We went so much that I could let her go when we came out of the lot gate and she would go load herself in the trailer. She would unload and go wait at the barn door when we returned. She was used to calf rope, ribbon rope, head and heel, run barrels, pole bend, and haze. She won two 100 hundred yard match races at Blue Valley Track as a two year old and was once Grand Champion Quarter Horse Mare at Halter in the Pittsburg County Fair.

 

She would crow hop across the lot, if I kicked her in the shoulders, but she never tried if I didn’t kick her. I could put little kids on her from her withers to her tail and turn them loose. If I heard them cry I knew it was because she had stopped to eat.   

 

I probably rode that old mare a million miles. She took me on my first date. She consoled me when I was sad. She filled me with pride. She always forgave me for my mistakes and foolishness and never held a grudge.  Lady was finally put down at age 32 years and eight months. She rests in Blackburn, Pawnee County, Oklahoma. She is still missed.

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 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1Hardrock

by Frank Motes

 

Hardrock was owned by Lyman Maddux and made “famous” by his nephew, John Paul Gregory.

When John began using Hardrock the horse was already in his late teens. John was in his early teens. Hardrock had reputedly been used in the past in some matched races and a short attempt at a bulldogging career that reportedly resulted in the dogger receiving a broken leg. John used Hardrock for calf roping, ribbon roping,  heading and heeling. He was also known to be used in match races, barrel racing, pole bending and any other thing anyone wanted to do on him.

 

Hardrock was what you might call “ornery” and homely. He was a dark buckskin,  just over 14 hands tall. He weighed around a thousand pounds. He was long and lean, with almost no mane and forelock, little short ears and pig eyes. His most noticeable feature however, was his high withers and sway back. This was due to a prior condition known locally as “fistalow” which is an infection causing “fistulas” (pockets) of pus in the withers. This caused a pronounced “sway” in his back.

 

There were things you just didn’t do with him.

 

You did not stand near his head while he was being cinched up, unless you wanted to test your reflexes, as he would bite anyone near.  To compensate for the sway back, John used multiple pads to keep the saddle level, and had to cinch the old horse real tight to keep the saddle and all those pads from rolling.

 

You didn’t stand in the stirrups when you roped off him. Due to his back, the old horse could not stop on his butt, so he stopped on his front feet. One of our favorite forms of entertainment was to let “the new guy” rope off him. In fairness, we always told them not to stand when they roped, but as all ropers know, it is just natural to raise up out of the saddle when you deliver the rope. The result was always entertaining.

 

You never, ever let a rope get under Hardrock’s tail. Once, at the Arpelar Rodeo, I thought it would be funny to “goose” him. As I rode past them, we were clearing the arena for the Grand Entry. I flicked my loop under his tail and old “Rock” clamped his tail down hard on the rope and with an extremely loud gaseous outburst, dropped his head and bucked like a  pro. At that time, John was 21 and weighed about 230.  Hardrock was older than John, but he threw John sky high, right in the middle of the arena as everyone there watched. No one ever let John live that one down.

 

On another occasion, John roped a calf at the roping in Hartshorne. As was the normal practice, all the ropers  were sitting on their horses in the arena on both sides of the roping chute. John just cleared the crowd going down the arena and roped quick, which he usually did. Old Hardrock was known to be real “casual” on working the rope. He just stood still and acted as an anchor. John was used to running down the rope to the calf and doing the rest. On this night, John fell down running to the calf  and  the calf  took the opportunity to try to run away. Being on the end of a lariat rope, the calf swung around back toward the bucking chutes and made a semi-circle around Hardrock. He was ok with this until the rope went under his tail. With his trademark gas release that sounded like a gunshot, Old Hardrock took off across the arena on one end of the rope and the calf running and bawling at the other end, thirty feet up the arena. Someone shouted “fire in the hole” and the resulting melee was something to behold, as horses and  ropers scattered.

 

Hardrock finally died in the pasture just across the hill from the arena in his thirties.

 

With all his quirks, you might wonder why I nominate Hardrock for the Hartshorne Round up Club’s Wall of Fame.

 

I think he deserves to be remembered because of his heart. With all his defects and problems, the old horse never laid down and quit. He was always ready to load in the trailer and hit the road. He would give you a good shot and he was consistent.  He always tried his heart out. He was honest, within the boundaries he set, and you knew what he would do every time. In his own way he was the stuff legends are made of.

 

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