When I was twenty one I got my second horse. He was only two, an appaloosa named Joker. I had to wait another summer primarily, in my mind, because I was pregnant. We lived in the Rocky Mountains, way up. Chuck bred Joker. Chuck was a soft skinned man with short red hair. He was older than me, probably thirty. Chuck did not own dangerous handsome. I knew Joker as a colt and then the next year he was for sale. Chuck said he was "green broke". This is how young I was and how different riding horses was in those mountains in the early 70s: I just got on and started riding him. At first I didn't have a saddle. I had two really young kids who needed me but getting hurt didn't register. There are some things that we did in those days I would never do to a horse again but I spent a whole summer riding Joker. He was young and took in everything he saw. We rode by ourselves way out on the forest service road and jumped the ditches on the way home. Nothing lasted in my life except my children in those days. Cats, men, friends, horses, all disappeared. There is an ache deep inside my body when I think of all the lives, the things, that have sifted right through this sieve. I heard long ago that Joker got tangled in wire and was put down. There's a photo of Joker on my dresser these days. Now, three horses and I have been working for the last two weeks slowly in-hand, then once the arena was snow free, longeing. Today I got the long-lines out thinking tomorrow I'd ride Kansas. Even on long-lines she was a handful. She was pressured, racing, resisted control. I am old and I will not ride tomorrow. So, all three horses: Kalypso longe, Beau and Kansas long-line. But, what if I was still young, I would not hesitate.