Sunk

I worked with my husband before we were married on a moderately sized ranch in Northern Utah. Cow camp was a couple sheep camps and an old truck bed camper, a tough shed with a toilet, shower, and sink, and a tack shed. We had a catch pen out back for the horses and we spent late summer and fall pushing cows and then making the big gather to ship to winter range on the West desert. One particular day, we gathered one of the East pastures (a holding pasture near camp) to run cows through the corral. I was riding my little grulla horse and trying to avoid the swampy places in the pasture. I watched the cows cross one sketchy spot, and figured since I could see a trail it must be somewhat solid. My little horse started across tentatively and almost immediately sunk to his belly. Never one without ambition, he started buck jumping and somehow we made it out with me still aboard. He got a little cautious of crossing swampy spots after that. The last straw for him was riding across the creek after some cows, same pasture but different day, and followed the cows across only to sink his front end in the middle of the creek and hit his chin on the other side. I came off in a tuck-and-roll on the bank, and he was up and running. He never did like water crossings after that, and I'm still wary myself.