The horses would run across the plains every year, as the snow on the mountains began to melt. And every year, I'd head out and lasso one. Never the stallion at the front, I always aimed to capture a young mare.
I'd break her and take her back to the ranch and train her, clean her up, shoe her, do everything, so by the time summer started, the mare was perfect.
And then, a few months later, I'd sell her, and start again a few months later, hoping this year my love would return and I could give her gift.
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