I wanted to ride as many horses as possible. I heard about a horse trainer, L.B., in the adjacent town of Palacios, Texas. It was about a thirty-minute
drive from Port Lavaca. L.B., as we called him, was a rice farmer and rancher. He always had a barn full of mostly young horses from two to four-years old.
On this one day, we saddled up two horses and as we led them to the arena, we passed a man sitting on his horse outside the stables. He was renting one of the stalls from L.B. As he sat on his horse “Rusty”, he was pulling on the horse’s reins for the horse to back up. L.B. had trained this horse and he would back up very easily. This man, the owner of the horse, could not make the horse move. We rode the two horses and came back to the barn for two more.

The elderly man was still in the same place. The horse was wet with sweat and was determined not to do anything, at least not while the man was
on him. The more the man pulled on his reins, the madder the horse got. L.B. yelled out, Mr. Smith, “Are you sure I can’t be of any help?” The
gentleman replied, “Rusty is just in a bad mood today.” I thought to myself, “I love how some people think they know what the horse is thinking, and in reality, the horse had no respect for his owner and was being stubborn.” Mr. Smith replied to L.B., “Maybe I could use a little help.” L.B. got off
his horse, told me to take the horses and bathe them, put them on the walker to cool off, and saddle two more horses. As I was walking off, I was interested in how L.B. was going to help Mr. Smith with his horse. L.B. was a very slow-moving man. He looked around and found a piece of wood that was not very thick, turned around and hit the horse’s head between his eyes. As splinters flew, Rusty ran back so fast that he almost lost his rider. L.B. looked at me and quietly said, “Sometimes you have to be a little rough to get your point across.” The splinters and the loud noise that came is what scared the horse the most, L.B. expressed.