Point South Mexico - Real Estate and Lifestyle Magazine

I wore a halter & shorts, standing knee deep in the water of our fish pond. The coy had congregated in the far corner of the basin. Now and then one of them would come up to nibble at my feet. Oriental carp are friendly, become almost affectionate when feeling safe in their environment.

I was cleaning the filter and the compartment which held the pump for the fountain.

In the distance I heard the clatter of hoofs. It would be my daughter on her horse Stormy.

Seconds later they were beside me, the horse dipping his mouth into the pond for a drink.

Patricia dismounted, removed her Stetson and the breeze played with her fiery red hair, which fell in long curls way beyond her waist. Her blue eyes sparkling, she told me how well the horse had behaved all morning, how easy he had become to ride.

“Take him for a spin” she shouted and I laughed, pointing to the halter and shorts and to the fact that I was totally out of uniform. “Just take him to the corner and back.”

I should have paid attention to her eyes. They glittered with mischief and sparkled with laughter and I really should have known she had some evil intentions. I mounted Stormy and guided him out into the street. I’m no horsewoman, especially not with a bare back Appaloosa.

He began to trot, then broke into a full gallop. I grabbed the halter with one hand, his mane with the other to try to control him. We had already passed the corner on Upland, were on Greenridge now and were approaching San Pablo Dam Road intersection.

He was dancing now. Cars swerved to keep from hitting us and a patrol car passed slowly, its occupants grinning and waving and wanting to know if I was alright and I was because by that time Stormy had turned into the perfect horse. The patrol car went up Greenridge, turned right on Upland and left on La Mirada. Stormy took his time up hill, but I saw the police car parked in front of our house. This little 12 year old of mine couldn’t have, wouldn’t have or did she? Her teens wouldn’t start until two months from now. Was this a preview?

As I rode up, I saw one of the men retrieve a clip board from the car.

How carefully she had staged it! As I dismounted Policeman #1 asked politely, “You’re sure this is you horse?” Patricia was solemn, “It is, Sir.” # 2 then asked, “And this is your mother?” Patricia nodded and sighed.

“And you’re hereby informing us that she stole your horse?” She nodded again. This red-headed little fiend had even planned the great finale.

The man with the clipboard gave me a sly wink. “And just how should we go about punishing this lady?” She wrinkled her brow and folded her arms across her chest. She was thinking hard.

“This is the West, isn’t it?” Nodding their heads, they both agreed.
Judging by the sparkle in her eyes, this little red-headed monster had the time of her life.

She gave a little bow and in a split second had mounted her horse. Turning him out into the street she shouted: “They hang horse thieves, don’t they?”

I served them both a glass of iced tea. They couldn’t stop laughing. Neither could I.

Someone in the vicinity of Green Ridge and San Pablo Dam Road had reported a half naked lady on an out of control Appaloosa at the intersection. The rest was hilarious, they assured me.