The Johnson's Horse

Writing about the times in Illinois has brought forward so many memories. We were so lucky to live in the country and have the opportunity to wander and feel independent. When mom and dad wanted us home, they would ring a cowbell, which could be heard for miles. It always worked. We always ran home.

There was a family who lived at the end of the street who boarded horses. We  were allowed to ride those horses – without saddles – when we asked politely. We would run them through the open land to the river. We loved crossing the river on a horse. We even rode them through the winter snows. I was always a bit afraid of them as they were so large but Lee and Mary Peterson were much braver.

We lived next door to the Johnson’s. We would secretly visit their horse. We had to make our way through a huge area of brush, cross a former county road and work our way to the back of their property to visit him. They never discovered our visits. We brought apples to him. We made our own bridle. We made plans to ride him.

We got brave one day. We made our way to the horse. He was just huge. Mary and Lee ducked into the paddock. They got the bridle on him. They carefully climbed onto his back. Well, he took off then reared up on his hind legs, which tossed them both off his back onto the hard ground. I was so frightened. Lee and Mary began to scramble. Suddenly, the horse began to dance. Yes, dance. It was almost like a routine buried deep in his brain. We all just stood still and watched in awe.

We later learn that he was a retired circus horse.

We never went near him again.