Sandman did it all. My mother bought him while I was afraid to ride. Sandman was the first horse I felt safe on. He knew when a child was on his back and absolutely would take care of them. But watch out. If an experienced rider was on board, he was all they could manage. I learned how to ride on Sandman, I did Pony Club on him, I showed him, I did endurance rides, I foxhunted him and we did hunter trials and hunter paces. He also was used in several riding schools and in 4-H after coming to Montana.
For Sandman and myself, the trip to Montana was a surprise. Knowing that my family and I were moving from Virginia to Montana, I had given Sandman to a previous owner to live the rest of his life in retirement. She was a very busy woman so I would check on him periodically. I went to visit him one time & he could hardly walk. I thought it was arthritis & the end of Sandman. I arranged for a horse trailer, a vet and a backhoe to come to my house the next day. I gave him a bunch of Bute to make him comfortable.
     
     When I went to meet the horse trailer in the morning, Sandman trotted out and jumped in the trailer. His hoof had been abscessed and had started draining. He felt much better-far from death's door. I went ahead and took him back to my house to care for him. We had taken down all our fencing, but Sandman wasn't going anywhere. He was glad to be home.

     So what to do with an old lame horse. Many ideas were passed around. That is until my husband mentioned that there was a pasture at the property we would be staying at until we found a place to buy. It was all over then. My mother funded the cross-country trip for our friend and I made arrangements to get him hauled. Those haulers were the very first of many cowboys in my life. Scared my dog to death. Remember that was Virginia, land of plantations, not ranches.

     Sandman made the trip safely to Idaho, sounder than he had been. The cowboy with the handlebar mustache said he really liked Sandman & that they had shared coffee in the mornings. I could just picture it-one sip for the cowboy & one sip for Sandman. Actually, I think beer was Sandman's preference, but he was flexible.

     Once in Montana, Sandman thrived, even at the ripe old age of 28. He was used in 4-H and leased by some people to teach their young kids to ride. He babysat young foals and ran my remuda with finesse. I had to humanely put him down when he was 33. What a tough decision to make about such a noble being. He was still sound, but he had done it all and was just done living. He is buried in my pasture with a marker.

-- Navaho horse song