If you’ve cowboyed any amount of time in this old country, you will have run into some special characters. I‘ve had the good fortune of running into many, but there is one that always stood out.

He made his nest in Las Cruces, New Mexico, where he broke colts in his later years. During his younger days, he rodeoed a lot, roping calves and steers. His name was Zeno Farris. He stood a little over six feet tall. Like all old cowboys, Zeno moved slow. The gray matter under his silver belly hat was always moving fast, but Zeno would never say much.

When it came to a young colt that knew nothing of a saddle, much less a cowboy, this is where old Zeno's handy work came in. It seemed to work overtime. His hands were big and rough, but had a soft touch to them, like a doe skin glove on a colt. Before Zeno would do anything to a colt, he would just talk to him. It was as if they just knew that Zeno was talking their language and the colts were soon at ease. His big hands would go all over the colt's body, and within minutes they would melt like butter for old Zeno. Once it was under his old cowboy's spell, then old Zeno took the colt to his old cowboy school.

Zeno was a cowboy who was getting up in years. His legs didn’t move as good as they did yesterday. Each new colt that he took on to train, well, that was his new set of legs for the day. He wanted the legs that he was riding to take him anywhere he wanted to go, and that was the colt that he would be riding that day. Zeno Farris never broke a horse in his life - that was just not his way. To him, when you break a horse, well, you break his soul and spirit. Zeno wanted to train the legs of a horse that would be his legs for the ride that day and tomorrow.

It was in the early 1970s and I was shoeing horses in Las Cruces, New Mexico. I was working on a bunch of horses on a farm early one morning. The sun hadn’t even said hello yet. The pens were close to an irrigation ditch, but the air was crystal clear that early morning. Down the ditch, a ways off, I heard a voice that I knew very well. It was old Zeno, mounted on one of his new students that he was talking to. Zeno was on a four-year-old sorrel colt with a blazed face. The colt's head was down as they rode up to where I was standing. Zeno and I said our Good Mornings as he got off of the sorrel colt.

Zeno looked at me and my tool box, and then said, " Danny, you got any tooth pullers in that there box of yours?" I was young and fresh out of shoeing school. I wasn’t sure what would come next from Zeno. I got them out of my shoeing box, handed them to the old cowboy as I walked towards him.

The colt was standing like a statue in the park. He knew that Zeno was his master. Zeno pried the colt's mouth open, then he pulled the young colt's tongue to one side. Then he said, " Danny, grab this tongue - this old pony has a bad tooth." I didn’t question anything that Zeno did, just did as I was told. The colt flinched a bit, but within seconds a back right tooth was in old Zeno's hands.

Zeno, then took the colt to a water trough so he could wash his mouth out. Then he was back on the colt, and he rode away with no good-bye or thank you.

An hour later, I was just about done with my horses I was working on. Then I heard Zeno talking to the colt on their return trip. Zeno, the old cowboy of few words and much cowboy wisdom, said as he rode up to me, " Danny, give me those damn cutters again, this old boy is just out of balance." One more time we went through the same procedure, this time on the left side of the colt's mouth. In a matter of minutes, another rear tooth was in old Zeno's hand. During all of this, and I don’t know how, the colt did never UN-track.

This just goes to show that you have to have trust in those that you love, even if they pull your teeth. Ride out the ride - that is, if you know it’s a good one. And be like old Zeno. Let your big hands do the talking......’cause what you‘ll feel from that - well, it’ll tell the story. Love is sweet, not like pulling teeth......