Nobody Could Touch the Wild Mustang I Adopted From a Government Roundup. Then a Flash Flood Hit the Canyon

When the water finally went down that evening, we walked out of the canyon together. I was holding my ribs. Three were cracked. My left arm was badly cut. Trueno had a long scrape across his shoulder and a limp in his right hind leg.

A Nevada Highway Patrol helicopter spotted us at sunset, walking along the dirt road, a battered man and a battered horse.

I spent four days in the hospital in Elko. My health insurance covered most of it, after a long phone call and an appeal. I didn’t care about the bills. The only thing I asked the nurses every morning was whether my neighbor had checked on the horse.

When I got home, Trueno was standing at the gate of his pen, waiting.

He’d never once waited for anyone in his life.

I took out the equine insurance policy I’d bought for him in the spring, the cheapest one, mostly for liability in case he hurt someone. I had his vet bills covered and his scrape stitched. I added him to my will, too, so that if anything ever happens to me, he can never be sold to anyone again.

The television station did the story after all. A lot of people saw it. I got letters from three countries.

Two ranchers offered me fifty thousand dollars for him.

I said no without thinking about it.

These days, in the evenings, we ride out across the desert together, still bareback, still with just a rope, while the sun goes down orange behind the Ruby Mountains.

He still won’t wear a bridle.

I’ve decided he never has to.

Has an animal ever saved you, in a big way or a small one? Tell me your story in the comments.