He was a golden chestnut with high, white stockings on all four legs and a bold, white face, but his hide was so coated with grunge that is was hard to tell where the brown stopped and the white began. Heather sighed as she recognized yet another good-for-nothing horse. They’d be stuck with paying more for feed than it was worth, then not being able to sell it later. E.W. was always bringing home these misfits! She scowled at her husband when he handed her the mare’s lead rope so that he could unload the cow that had been included in the trade he had made with a local horse breeder. He had driven to J.C. Horses in Laurel, Mississippi, not far from their own ranch, that afternoon to make a deal on some haying equipment. The breeder was going out of business, and E.W. was always on the lookout for a good deal. It was the mare E.W. wanted. She was a nice, little American Paint with pretty markings and surprisingly good bloodlines – a nice addition to his broodmare band. She just happened to have this colt, and so he brought him home too.
