A Cowboy’s Memory By Ted Spilsbury
About the Author Following in his father’s footsteps, Ted Spilsbury is a second generation funeral director. Ted and his father, LeGrande Spilsbury, have served the residents of southern Utah, Arizona, and Nevada for over eighty years. Ted and his wife, Vivian, currently serve all of southern Utah and sections of Arizona and Nevada from their two beautiful locations in St.George and Hurricane, Utah.
I find myself sitting home in my easy chair, recovering from shoulder surgery, and going nuts. This recovery will take about four months. I have never been laid up for more than a month in my entire life. As my mind drifts, my memory takes me to a horse accident I was involved in about fifteen years ago. It was Thanksgiving time; in fact, it was the day after. The location was the Kolab Spilsbury Ranch. There were drifts of snow in places, and it was cold. Rawlin Platt and I, heading out in search of missing bulls and both up to the task, bundled up (scarf, chaps, hat, sunglasses—the works). We were no drugstore cowboys but the real deal. Bulls have the tendency to wander off in the late fall. In fact, it becomes a real challenge to find them and get them home for the winter. The plan had been laid out: corrals pre-set, gates cocked, the bait spread out. We were saddled up and on the track. Does it sound exciting? It was, for sure…exciting and dangerous, the way life should be!
We were on schedule—approximately 10 a.m. It was brisk. We whispered as we followed the tracks. One set of tracks connected with another and then another. This adventure was going to be fruitful. The tracks split; so did we. The suspense was invigorating. What was over the next ridge? How many bulls would we find? To whom did they belong? Would they be gentle or spooked? About that time, I rode up to a wet area. It didn’t seem like much of a challenge. My horse Queenie bucked and tried to divert and resist. Nope…I wouldn’t have it. I applied my spurs and into the bog we went!
Almost immediately, Queenie completely sank forward up to her chin, hit bottom, and then bucked back. The rider (that would be me) was thrown forward over the horse’s head. I was injured and in serious trouble. Thank heaven Queenie paused long enough to let me crawl free. Then she bucked herself out and ran off, leaving me injured and horseless. What would be my fate? Would Rawlin find me? How long would I be unfound? Well, I hope you are enjoying this adventure. It turned out that Rawlin saw my horse with no rider and followed the tracks back to where I was. He found me in about thirty minutes, and because of my injuries, I was laid up for about thirty days. Yes, Rawlin went back the next day with his brother Wade, found those bulls, and had no further mishaps in the process.
As I look back on that adventure, two principles stand out brightly. First, pay attention to the instincts of the trusted horses in your life. Second, exercise good judgment. Otherwise, accidents, mistakes, or whatever you want to call it will leave consequences. So once again, I find myself healing up, thankful for the protective hand of the Lord. For me, being laid up in recovery is an extremely tough duty. I have enjoyed writing this article and reflecting back on some of the finer moments of my life. I hope you will enjoy it also.
38 www.sghealthandwellnessmagazine.com
