Kevin McNIven tightened the cinch on “Ace” the horse I was riding on the weeklong, “Outlaw Trail Ride to the Hole-In-The-Wall”.  That was twelve years ago.  We were just outside of Lander Wyoming on our third day.  This annual trail ride calls for participants to dress in 1880’s attire and strap on six-guns, cowboy hats, chaps and whatever else “cowboy” they’ve got and ride to the famous Hole-In–The–Wall, a valley where the likes of Jesse James, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid hid from the “lawdogs”.  Kevin has a ranch and owned the horses we were riding, many who worked full time as “talent” he had trained for the movies.  Being our mounts was like a “summer job”.  They were spirited good-looking steeds as is called for from those appearing in movies and very well trained.  They handled easily and were impervious to things like pistols being shot by the rider on their back.  “That’ll hold” Kevin said as he patted the secured cinch.  “Now if I can just find my horse, we can go”.  The fourteen of us had stopped in a grassy glade for lunch and allowed the horses to graze.  I said, “Kevin, I just saw your horse go over that rise, there”.  Kevin said thanks and walked to the top of the small hill.  He spun and yelled at me, “Larry, could you come over here now”.  There was urgency in his voice so I hurried to him.  His horse was at the bottom of a gully, lying on his side in a stream struggling to keep his nose out of the water.  Kevin plunged into the stream and tried to pull his horse up to his feet but the tired horse seemed glued to the ground. Finally, Kevin said to me, “Larry, I want you to take his reins and just hold them.  He is tired so lift his reins; keep his nose from going under the water.  I’m going to take off his saddle.  When I do he will get to his feet and likely want to get the heck out of here.  That’s where you come in.  Don’t let him run off.  Lead him, if you can, down stream to that flat place (only fifty feet away) and ask him to step out of the water.  He’ll want to but he might be a little excited.  Just keep him calm until I can get there.  If he insists on leaving don’t get hurt – let him go.  OK?”  Not knowing much about horses I gave a small nod of less than confident agreement. 
All went as Kevin had outlined.  Kevin undid the cinch and sat down, in the water so he could get a good hold of the saddle and began to pull.  A wet leather saddle under a thousand pounds of horse is hard to move but he did, eventually.  As the saddle inched out from under the gelding, his eyes began to calm although still a lot of white showing.  When the saddle was finally free and Kevin had moved back a foot or two he said, “Give him a little encouragement to get up – pull his reins a little”.  It didn’t take much.  In a second he had scrambled to his feet and was moving toward me and downstream.  I stood off to his side and directed him down to the flat place Kevin had suggested and cued him to come to me onto dry ground.  In a minute Kevin was beside me holding the saddle and pad.  “Good work” Kevin said.  “Now let’s see if he injured himself.  He carefully ran his hands over the whole of the horse, squeezing a little here and there.  Finally, he threw blanket and saddle on him and rode off up a hill and across a plain.  In a few minutes he was back pronouncing no harm had been done.  Later I mentioned that I was surprised that the thirty pound saddle could keep such a big horse from getting up and how easy it was for him once freed of the saddle.  Kevin smiled and said, “The saddle wasn’t what kept him down. It was his mind.  We didn’t free him from the saddle.  We helped him free his mind.  Once he realized he wasn’t trapped (in his mind) he was able to stand”.  How many of us do that with our own lives?  We think we are trapped but it’s all in our mind.
I didn’t see Kevin for a couple of years until a friend invited me to be in a Wild West Show in Norco at the SASS End of Trail weekend.  There were a lot of horses involved in the show… and so was Kevin McNiven.  Walking up to him I wasn’t sure he would remember me from the many week long rides he wrangled.  Shaking his hand I said as much and he grinned.  He said, “How could I forget you, Larry.  You saved my horse”.  Not true of course but that gave me as much pride as if Hopalong Cassidy had called me "partner" when I was ten years old. 
These memories, all fresh, since I just returned from a week long trip to Tombstone AZ where a group of twenty five of us rode the trails ridden by Wyatt Earp and Doc Holiday when Wyatt set out to avenge the shootings of two of his brothers.  We rode the movie set built for the movie Tombstone and on the final day rode right down the main street (Allen Street) of Tombstone with our cowboy outfits, pistols and chaps.  The next day began the biggest Tombstone event of the year – Helldorado Days.  The early tourists thought we were part of the entertainment and turned out of the restaurants and shops to grab a “photo-op”. 
Sitting around the campfire that night Kevin serenaded us with two hours of songs and anecdotes.  I bought another two of his CD’s.  They are part of my permanent collection in the barn, played while I do my chores or just visit my horse.  When Kevin begins to sing, I always have the same thought…”You saved my horse”.  And I smile.  You just don’t get “gentleman” like that anywhere but in a cowboy.