The Last of the Great Horse Traders

“Whoa. You son-of-a-bitch,” the large man whispered to his horse.  “Whoa.”

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Over the years, I have heard many stories about my grandfather, Tom Allen, and how he was one of the best horse traders around.  My mom would often tell how she would watch grandpa break his horses.  She would always laugh, “He would swear like a sailor, but he would speak to them in a soft voice, just as if he were speaking to a baby.” 

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My Cowboy Grandpa: Tom Allen


My grandfather died when I was fourteen years old.  My family was living in Alameda, California at the time, a long way from Colorado, the place my grandpa called home.  As always, I miss my ornery cowboy grandpa. Continue reading “My Cowboy Grandpa: Tom Allen”