May, 2026
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be carried with you when you leave this life. My mother went to heaven carrying the one thing that is truly tangible — and she proved that, too — LOVE was the only thing she could carry along with her.
Molly Rush
we collected door to door. She found an untrained 2-year old for sale for $200 and told me that we had to collect enough to pay for the horse before we could even go look. We did, and soon “Babe” was mine. I got a little help from a trainer and a lot of good advice from my mother who had been quite the horsewoman prior to starting a family. The first time that Babe dumped me on the trail, the horse went to our neighbor’s house where they had an outside haystack. The neighbors called my mom, who panicked and searched until she found me, walking my dusty self home. From then on, each time the neighbor called mom to say Babe was at the haystack, my mom would just say, “Well, if Babe is there, then Molly will be soon, too.” My mother has been gone for 19 years. Thanks to the discipline she taught me, I no longer deliver newspapers. I had a great career as a Deputy Sheriff for nearly 30 years and now own several businesses. I own my “dream barn” filled with cherished items, stylish new saddles, lovely antique saddles, genuine Navajo rugs, bits made by famous makers, antique and new carriages and harness. My mother’s saddle, bridle and breast collar sit proudly there with all of my other treasures. I don’t know anyone who was loved by their mother as much as I was. She would have me pick out a
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“poor” family every year, and we would buy them a Thanksgiving turkey or give them a Christmas tree so that we could share our good fortune with someone who had much less. She never told us that Rice-A-Roni and Mac-and-cheese were side dishes, for us, they were the main course at dinner often because she could not afford groceries, but she made sure that I had a horse — and what that horse and my mother taught me gave me the life I have today. My mother left this world seemingly poor. The day she left, I learned that things that seem to be tangible are not real at all, since they cannot
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Horse-crazy daughter has 10 horses... Janean Huston, Escondido, CA
y mom wasn’t a horse gal, but I was from birth, and she always supported my addiction! She
drove me to the barn for my riding lessons, attended my horse shows, and even attempted to hold my horse when I needed an extra hand! Not to mention, she was the “wallet” behind her horse-crazy daughter! Thanks for enabling my addiction when I was younger mom. Now I’m living the dream with a small ranch and 10 horses!
Fears aside for horse-crazed kid... Cynthia Murphree, Ojai, CA
y favorite horse memory shared with my mom is when I was around three years old. My mom would take
me to ride — not ponies, but horses. I got to ride all by myself, around a horse shoe track with a small fence between lanes. As I was only three, they put me in the slow lane. I would hop the horse over the little fence and come down the home strech at either a trot or sometimes a canter. I would be laughing, my mom would be almost ready to run out and get me, and the ranch hand would put me back in the correct lane — and we would do it again and again. I know it must have really scared my mom to see me running on the horse, but she kept taking me back week after week because she knew how much I loved it. That says a lot when a mom puts her fears aside for the happiness of her horse-crazed kid. I belive that my mom gave me my passion for horses.
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Inspiration of her lifetime... Barbara Harris, Anza, CA
rom 2009 through 2011, I rode the vast trails on my beautiful mule, Scooter, dedicating to my mother those rides
in Montana, Oklahoma and Arizona. She inspired me my whole life to enjoy our beautiful country, sitting a saddle. Thank you mom. I miss you.
Barbara Harris
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She rode into her late 80s... Marlene Rold, Oroville, CA
e were heading to the Trinity Alps on a pack trip with my folks, sister and a friend who had several pack
mules. My mom had mentioned her hip was bothering her on the drive to the trailhead, saying she may not be able to ride once we got there. However, once at the trailhead, it was evident no one wanted to stay and camp at the trailhead with her, so she climbed on the back of my old Appaloosa who was a retired distance horse. Rearing to go, off we went following the pack mules. Not far down the trail, I noticed that old appy was really acting up, chomping at the bit. When I asked Mom if she wanted to trade horses with me, I was thinking her hip must be killing her. She replied, “no my hip’s not bothering me.” Go figure — all that jumping around took her mind and any pain away, and she rode the rest of the 13 miles to camp and back. She never complained of any soreness. This was just one of many rides we took together. Mom was in her mid-70s at this time, and she continued to ride occasionally when her joints would act up. She always said it was good for her, and she felt it loosened her joints up. Even into her late 80s, she would occasionally say she needed to go for a ride. I miss her...
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