BY KELLY PITTMAN
Despite being born and raised in the beautiful state of Texas, I was the furthest thing from a cowgirl. Growing up in the suburbs just north of Houston, I had very little experience with horses. I always thought they were beautiful animals, but I never imagined one in particular would change my life.
It was early October, and life had landed me in the little country town of New Waverly, Texas, visiting some friends. The deep rural atmosphere was a refreshing change from my everyday life back home, so I tried to soak it all in. That was when I met Kolten. Looking every bit like the handsome cowboy you’d see in an old western, he walked in wearing his cowboy hat and jeans. We were clearly from two different worlds, but opposites do attract. We hit it off instantly, though I felt pretty silly when he told me he was a farrier because I had no idea what that meant. He graciously explained.
Before long, I started staying with Kolten at his four-acre property. It was peaceful and lovely, but it came with one huge problem: Chula. She was a beautiful bay Quarter Horse who roamed freely throughout his pasture, and I was absolutely terrified of her.
I suffer from extreme anxiety and Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. My mind is constantly on high alert, anticipating danger and magnifying threats that seem minute to other people. Chula felt like the ultimate threat. Here was this giant animal I knew nothing about. Anytime I stepped outside and attempted to walk anywhere in the pasture, she would run straight toward me. My ignorance told me she was going to trample me, despite Kolten’s best efforts to reassure me otherwise.
Fear crippled me to the point where Kolten had to escort me everywhere outside, and I could tell his patience was wearing thin. He decided to try a new approach: teaching me about Chula and encouraging small steps, like giving her a treat or even brushing her. Though I couldn’t see it through my anxiety, Chula was remarkably patient, yet persistent. It was as if she sensed my fear and gracefully gave me space. Kolten said she took a genuine liking to me. I wanted so badly to stop being afraid, but fear still held me back.
The ultimate test came when Kolten had to leave town for two weeks. Being alone at his property, I couldn’t avoid going outside forever. Early one morning, I opened the door, scanned the pasture, and didn’t see Chula anywhere. Assuming the coast was clear, I walked out toward the fire pit. Just as I squatted down to pick something up, I felt a gentle tug on my ponytail. I froze. I turned around to find Chula playfully holding my hair in her mouth, and instantly, my fear dissolved. She wasn’t trying to trample me—she was just playing. It was that moment that broke me. This horse had specifically chosen that moment to pull me out of my comfort zone.
When Kolten came home and saw me standing in the pasture unattended, with Chula just yards away, he couldn’t help but smile. With every passing day, I grew a little braver, and a truly special bond began to form between us.
One afternoon, our newfound routine was unexpectedly interrupted. A man Kolten had known his whole life stopped by with a serious interest in buying my new friend. Naturally, the answer was an immediate ‘no.’ But after months of contemplation and persistent phone calls, Kolten was faced with a tough decision. Heartbroken as I was, I knew it was a wonderful opportunity for Chula. She would be just a few miles up the road on a much larger piece of land with cattle and other horses. I watched as the man threw a saddle onto Chula and rode her off to her new home.
Nearly a year passed without Chula. I had some really hard days, managing my mental health and working through my anxiety. I missed her every day, but I tried to hold onto everything she had taught me. Very early one morning, while it was still dark outside, our dog woke me from a deep sleep. Aggravated, I rolled out of bed to let him out. When I opened the door, he ran out onto the porch and stopped. His barking into the dark confused me, so I grabbed a flashlight and shined the beam across the pasture. For a moment I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me – there were two horses walking right through our open gate! I ran to wake Kolten, and he rushed to close the gate so that they didn’t step back out onto the road.
As they made their way closer to the porch light, Kolten started hollering, “It’s Chula!”.
In complete disbelief, I took a closer look and realized her companion wasn’t a horse at all… it was a mule! Kolten called out to her, but she didn’t come. He insisted that I give it a try, so reluctantly I stepped off the porch. Is it really you, Chula? The moment I spoke her name, she broke out into a full run, right to me just like she used to. But this time, I wasn’t afraid.
We kept Chula and her companion in the pasture for the day until her new owner could retrieve them after work. Saying goodbye again was devastating, but looking back, I realized this horse hadn’t just found her way back home, but she had managed to find her way back to the girl who was once so terrified of her. Her return was a beautiful reminder of the courage and confidence she had helped build. It was never lost. Sometimes I just have to find it within myself again.
Born and raised in Texas, Kelly Pittman resides in New Waverly with her boyfriend, Kolten, and their beloved dog, Knot. When she isn’t writing personal essays about life’s unexpected journeys, she spends her time on creative art projects and enjoying the outdoors.
