{What follows are the accounts of Forsennata Caragliano in learning of the adventures of Ginger Cameron Whelihan. To learn more visit ironandrawhide.strikingly.com and purchase the book Iron and Rawhide}
–The recounted memories of Sierra Michaelson as told to Forsennata Caragliano.–
Sierra Michaelson had grown up around and knowing horses in the small town of Salinas in the lush Central Valley of California. She rode with her mother before she walked on her own feet. Her father taught her the rifle, pistol, knives and weaponry more as a novelty than the thought of her ever using it in defense.
As a young woman she studied breeding lines, coloration and gait. She traveled to visit breeders around North America with her father and became well known after she had written about training techniques in western journals. She was fascinated with heavy horse English Jousting and Roman horses of war. A classmate had told her of the wild paints on the Nevada desert as well as the heavily muscled Mexican mustangs and she became obsessed with seeing them as they roamed naturally.
Three weeks into a trip with her father to the southwestern Nevada desert they found a small herd of five mares with a stallion in tan, brown and white. Truly wild, the horses bolted as she came within a mile of them. Sierra tried scattering oats, corn, cut up apples and clumps of sugar but the horses had disappeared over the eastern mesa and never returned. Disappointed, she catalogued her efforts and returned to her home in the valley.
It was late September and Sierra sat at a conference in Los Angeles on race horse health and one of the attendees remembered her from another conference in Denver the previous year. He had remembered her talking about the elusive Mexican mustang and how they could remain wild yet were trained to carry a rider. He told her about hearing of a man doing mustang training down in the Sinaloa area in Mexico. There were no names, no addresses, no witnesses or buyers and she resolved that she would eventually have to simply get on a train and find him herself. Her family threw up their hands in astonishment, and let her go.
As a blonde, blue eyed tall slender beauty, Sierra stood out in stark contrast to the shorter, rounded black haired dark eyed Mexicans. She went into saloons, taverns, bars, restaurants and cafes looking for anyone who did horse training. No one knew anyone who did that and no one came forward. Sierra could feel that she was stealthily shadowed and began wearing her long jacket with her Colt underneath. She had brought her two horses that she had raised by hand. The eighteen hand Morgan and a seventeen hand Roan came on the train with her into the Mexican desert. Each day she would leave before sunup and come back in the darkness of the evening from her search for anyone working with mustangs.
One friendlier Mexican directed Sierra to take the Roan out to the coast about fifteen miles south and she would come to an old abandoned ranch with a couple of corrals and an old barn that was falling apart. He told her to do a certain double whistle and when he made the sound, four other men stood up and came over to the table.
The old ranch house was half tumbled down, looked abandoned and even though it sat back between two hills, it afforded a clear view of the Gulf of Mexico.
In the afternoon she woke and built a small fire outside for coffee and food. The corrals had been used recently, the gates swung freely and all the posts were solid around the seven foot high enclosure. At least a dozen horses had been in the corral and outside she saw where their tracks raced off in every direction.
It was close to sunset and deep gold, rust and copper streaked the sky. She put a halter onto the roan and rode him down into the ocean letting him have his head and run down the waterline. She took off her clothes and swam for a while and then in the dusk walked the big horse back to the old ranch house. She came up the path and saw movement at the corral. There were eight black, tan and white mustangs milling around near the gate. She looked at them, they looked at her and the roan nickered softly. Her experience was that mustangs would bolt the minute a human came near but these all lowered their heads and nickered. One stallion walked ten feet closer and smelled her. Sierra was in awe and stood in fascination as the wild animals stood quietly looking at her. She went to the saddlebags and lifted out four apples and the mustangs immediately tossed their heads in excitement. She gave out the whistle and nearly fell down in amazement as they all circled around behind the Roan and came up on her left side nearly in drill formation. Each one ate half an apple from her hand.
It was put up or shut time and she gripped the mane of the stallion and swung herself up onto his back. He tossed his head and began to walk to the beach followed by the others. In her life she had ridden hundreds of horses of almost every breed in many places and conditions. The mustang broke into a gallop at the water line and turned south and her eyes filled with tears in overwhelming power and beauty. At five miles the big horse slowed and a sweeping turn that brought Sierra back up the beach. At the house, a tall lean man stood with his arm draped over the back of the Roan.
Over the course of the next half year, Sierra came to know Ginger Cameron Whelihan both personally and professionally. He introduced her to some of the most reclusive horse, loving and friendly people and a land so beautiful it would bring tears to a man’s eyes. She also saved his life when he caught a bullet in his side.
Sierra made several attempts to explain how she felt and what she had learned while he was recovering. She grinned knowing that the true secret to training the mustangs was not in the daily routine or a repetitive commands. A pretty little girl named Emmie told her in a whisper one day while their toes were massaged. You just have to love them and they will love you back. It had brought tears to her eyes and the women comforted her and helped her understand about the spirit of children and horses.
Their days were filled with a herd of new mustangs that had come in from the east and she marveled at the children who slid back and forth from horse to horse getting them used to riders. Their nights were filled with food, singing, drinking and the celebration of family and of discovering each other. One night as they lay together she realized that her head no longer hurt and that she was pain free for the first time in years. Whelihan kissed her and told her it was the combination of ocean air, tequila and his touch and she laughed. She felt beautiful, cherished and adored and could not get enough of him.
Three months had passed and Whelihan and the men had left early one morning to travel down to another ranch. Sierra walked out with her saddlebags packed and set them on the porch in the front. She snapped her fingers for the Morgan and the Roan and saddled them as the women sat on the bench with sad eyes. They knew why she had decided to leave and had tried their best to talk her out of going. When she hugged and kissed them goodbye they patted her tummy and cried even more. Sierra Michaelson mounted up and headed northeast with tears in her eyes.
It was a week gone through hills and valley avoiding people and roads. When she crossed the river over back into America she made straight for Phoenix and left the Morgan. Unknown to her she had eaten in a restaurant that was owned by a relative of the family from where she had just ridden. The cook and two of the waiters stood in the kitchen looking over the counter at her nodding and smiling and she simply ignored them. She rode the Roan on to Denver. She kissed and hugged him then he was left in a stables and her family received a letter to claim the horses as soon as possible. As she rode north on the sorrel she felt her tummy under her heavy coat and smiled that she now had her own family that would always love her no matter what and she would keep them safe.
Some of the adventures in his life had terrified her. While the men laughed and compared incidents her mind could not reconcile the amount of danger he had brought on himself and the physical damage he had suffered. Her fingers had traced all the ropy scars on his back and arms trying to understand his past but all she could think about was her future alongside his. He would ride the rest of his life with the possibility of an enemy taking revenge for a past wrong. It was agony for her to leave a strength and possession so strong, but it was a tiny love she had to protect and so into the Rocky Mountains she went. He would never know that she had effectively disappeared using his own technique he had revealed to her in the previous months while he lay in her arms.
Iron and Rawhide 