Ride, Cowboy, Ride

At one time in my life we owned a horse.  It was a great horse.  Her name was Ginger and my dad acquired her by trading a horse named Lucifer and an old truck.  I'm not sure how a trade like this comes to be.  It just amazes me that some one would think, "I'll trade this sweet horse for a devil horse and an old truck."  On one of my birthdays it was decided that all of the kids could ride Ginger around the riding ring.  There were between 10 and 12 of us munchkins all clamoring for a ride.  Dad would place us one at a time on the saddle and holding the reigns guide Ginger around the ring.  This worked out almost perfectly.  My best friend at the time, we'll call him Bubba, felt the need to constantly yell at the horse while the others were riding her.  Finally my time came to ride, Dad took us around and it was a nice and gentle ride.  It came Bubba's turn, he was the last in line.  Dad placed him on Ginger just like he had the rest of us.  He began guiding her around the ring for the last time.  I don't know if she was tired from all of the other kids or if she had heard Bubba's constant yells and felt the need for some revenge.  Halfway around she shook and pulled loose from Dad.  Then for the first and only time I ever saw her, she broke out into a full run towards the barn.  Needless to say Bubba was scared.  He was yelling again, but this time it seemed he was yelling for his life.  Dad took off in a full run behind the horse.  Ginger stopped just short of the barb wire fence and just short of certain injury to Bubba.