At ten, I got Rowdy, my horse, who became my rock through my parents’ divorce and life’s hardships. When Mom lost her job and my financial aid fell through, we faced selling him to a buyer from Tulsa. Unable to sleep, I groomed Rowdy, but he clung to me, refusing to move. Then, a mysterious text: “Don’t sell him. Check your saddlebag.” Inside, I found $1,800 and a note saying I’d once given someone hope. Stunned, I kept Rowdy. At the feed store, I learned it was from a man I’d comforted when his dog died. To sustain us, I took extra stable shifts
and offered “Horse Therapy Sessions” with Rowdy. People came—grieving, struggling—and left lighter. Donations poured in, covering costs. Rowdy, the “gentle giant,” touched lives, like a silent girl who spoke again. Mom called it my calling. Another text from the stranger thanked me. Rowdy, who saved me as a kid, now saves others. Some things—love, hope—are worth more than money. Check your saddlebag; love might surprise you.
