1969 Voice Of The Tennessee Walking Horse 1969 September/October Voice RS | Page 41

and rush him to the ground. With little fists flying, he
managed to get in a lot of misguided licks and one
good one . . . square on the nose. The blood began to
flow and, with it, the tears. Both boys stood up as if
to square off again, although neither of them wanted
to make the first move. In the midst of all this activ­
ity, Ralphy, who was just six years old, was in a near­
panic. He was crying and screaming and yelling, and
running all over the place. Helen turned quickly to
one of the older girls that she knew and said, "Honey,
will you calm him down, please?” Then, taking a firm
stance, Helen grabbed two collars and held the com­
batants at arm’s length. "You two ought to be asham­
ed .. .” she began, as Lonny, in real anger, yelled at
the other boy, "You say anything about my daddy
again and I'll knock you all over the place!” The boy
countered, "I still say Walking Horses are a bunch of
jug-headed pleasure horses and your daddy ain’t no
horse trainer if he fools with 'em.” The other kids
crowded around to witness the verbal contest. . . step­
ping carefully not to disturb the little globs of blood
that dripped steadily from the other boy’s nose. Little
Lonny moved forward again, just enough to test his
IIU QUEST
(Continued from Last Month)
Almost six weeks had passed since Lonny and Hel­
en had returned from the Walking Horse Festival.
Things were a little bit different than before Lonny
had undertaken the task of being a judge at this
World Championship event. He was now just another
trainer. . . working hard to get a few yearlings bought
and paid for, and trying to get his stock ready for
the last few major shows of the season. Everything
was about back to normal at the barn and M. L., his
assistant trainer, had taken good care of things while
he had been gone, despite the fact that he had driven
to the show and back three times in less than ten
days during the Festival.
Helen had finally gotten things straight at home
and the children were all set up in school and doing
well. It was about three o’clock in the afternoon and
Helen had taken the pickup truck down to the small
grocery store at Picking’s Grove to meet the school
bus. She had gone inside to get a loaf of bread and
casually noted that the bus had pulled up and unload­
ed a few kids and gone on. She was in no hurry to
get out to the truck and fully expected to see both
little Lonny and Ralphy burst through the old screen
door any minute wanting an ice cream or a Coke.
After paying for the bread, she suddenly became
aware of some commotion outside. As she opened the
door she saw a small gathering of kids around a ditch
and figured that there must be a small misunder­
standing between two of the boys. Pushing her way
through the group she shouted above the noise of
yelling kids, "Here, here . . . what in the world?” She
paused as she recognized the battered face of her
young son as he scrambled to get out from under a
much larger boy. Lonny was only an eight-year-old,
but he could take care of himself. In the confusion,
Helen lost her balance and slipped to one knee just
as the larger boy caught her son a good lick on an
already puffed eye. She screamed, "Stop it — stop it
— do you hear me? Stop it this minute!”
As the dust rose above the battleground, she saw
Lonny put his head into the middle of his adversary
by Charles Barry Sanderson
opponent but not enough to wrest himself from the
security of his mother’s grasp. "All right, now, Lonny
. . . suppose you both tell me what this is all about,”
Helen said as she cautiously released the boys. She
gave Lonny an unexpected edge in the conversation
when she handed the other boy a Kleenex to stop the
bleeding. Lonny seized the opportunity to speak and
said, "We were coming home on the bus and Aubie
got to bad-mouthing Walking Horses.” Without paus­
ing to explain further he said, "I never said nothing
until he told the other boys that my daddy was mean
to his horses and drove nails in their feet and put
tacks in the boots just to make 'em high-step.” The
other boy butted in, saying, "Well, that’s what my
daddy and them other men said . . . they said they
can’t do nothing unless you burn 'em up.” Helen sud­
denly recognized the older boy. He was Aubie Franks,
the son of their neighbor down the road that had
gaited horses. She remembered the time, a couple of
years before, that their stallion had gotten into the
pasture with some of his gaited mares, and the nasty
problems they had before it was all over.
When they got home, Helen sent little Lonny into
the bathroom to wash his face and check for cuts and
bruises. He was skinned in several places and his lip
was as big as an acorn, but aside from the lip and a
slightly swollen eye, he was not in too bad shape.
She fixed him a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich and
a glass of milk and sat down with him at the table.
With a smile that only a mother could muster, she
said, "Now, young man . . . before your father comes
in, you and I had better have a nice long talk, be­
cause I’m sure that Mr. Franks will be calling before
the day is over. What was that fight all about?” With
his hair in his eyes and his mouth full of sandwich,
the youngster looked at his mother and muffled an
explanation. "Well ...” he paused to swallow "Aubie
has been picking at me ever since we got back from
the Festival. His daddy has gaited horses and we nev­
er said much about horses and never had any trouble
. . .” he stopped again to take in a good draught of
(Continued on page 53)
September/October, 1969
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