09/23/2026
Leroy’s story is one of those that reminds me why I love working with equine.
He was purchased by a friend of mine about a year ago, and it became pretty clear that he wasn’t quite the horse he had been advertised to be. I was asked to do some groundwork with him and test ride him before my friend got on him. I learned quickly that there was a lot more going on under the surface.
Leroy is a big, powerful horse—16.1 hands, built like a brick house, athletic, intelligent, and absolutely stunning. But when I first met him, he was also extremely reactive and explosive. Being around him sometimes felt a little like standing next to a stick of dynamite and wondering when somebody was going to light the fuse.
It became obvious that he wasn’t going to be the right fit for my friend, and getting him where he needed to be was going to take a lot more time and work than anyone had anticipated.
Somewhere along the way, Leroy became mine.
And then the real work began.
I’ve spent the last several months riding him, desensitizing him, putting miles on him, and honestly, rehabilitating him in a lot of ways. There were plenty of people who questioned whether he was worth the time and risk. I understood where they were coming from.
But I wasn’t ready to give up on him.
Eventually I looked up his brand and started piecing together his history. I learned that Leroy came from a bucking stock program and that he’s one-quarter Shire. Suddenly, a lot of things about him made more sense.
Knowing where he came from changed the way I approached him. Instead of just seeing a reactive horse, I started understanding why he reacted the way he did. And by then, Leroy and I had built a relationship.
We’ve put a ton of time into giving him better answers when something worries him. He’s worked in the arena, around the ranch, and ridden countless miles in the mountains. He’s been exposed to tarps, flags, trash bags, a giant ball, ropes, obstacles, cattle, packing—and yes, even an empty b**r box.
We’ve worked hard on his steering, his brakes, and especially his one-rein stop. He now has an incredibly effective one-rein stop that, with a rider who understands how to use it, can bring his attention back to you almost instantly.
Today, Leroy is a very different horse.
He’s confident, willing, athletic, and incredibly responsive. He’s learned to pause and look to his rider when something worries him instead of immediately reacting. He’s sensitive and still appreciates reassurance, but once he trusts you, he genuinely wants to try. He loves praise, he loves treats, and he loves having a job.
He’ll ride through the mountains, pack, work cattle, navigate obstacles, and come back to his rider when he’s unsure. He has developed a great handle and collects beautifully.
I’m incredibly proud of him—not just because of what he can do now, but because of how far he had to come to get here.
There’s something else that matters a lot to me when I sell horses: I believe in telling the truth about them.
There’s plenty of dishonesty in the horse industry. Horses get marketed as what someone wishes they were instead of what they actually are. Histories get left out and problems get minimized. I don’t want to do business that way.
I would rather be completely honest about a horse, even if that honesty costs me money. The buyer deserves to know what they’re getting, and the horse deserves to be represented fairly.
So I’m not going to pretend Leroy was always the horse you see today. He wasn’t. His history is real, and so is the horse I met at the beginning of this journey.
But his past is not his present.
Leroy has put in the work. He has been ridden through the mountains, worked around the ranch, exposed to countless situations, and given the time and consistency to learn a different way of handling pressure. He is still a sensitive horse, and he needs a rider who understands that and is willing to give him reassurance when he asks for it.
But he is not the reactive, explosive horse I met a year ago.
Leroy has reminded me of something I’ve always believed: horses are not their past.
Their history matters. Their breeding matters. Their experiences matter. But none of those things have to dictate who they become.
With time, consistency, patience, boundaries, trust, and a whole lot of work, horses can change.
Leroy certainly has.
I’m incredibly proud of this horse, and especially proud to be the one presenting him at the Colorado Horse Sale in Montrose this October.
He made me work for every bit of progress we’ve made.
And somewhere along the way, the horse who once felt like a stick of dynamite became a horse I’m genuinely proud to stand beside.
