There is always a lot of learning and talk about “getting on the right lead,” to direct your horse with your body language. It is the unspoken way to tell a horse which direction to go. I have spent a lot of time working with my daughter on lead changes as she progresses in the barrel-racing world.

Horses are skilled at reading body language. They can read our emotions, feel our heartbeats and a skilled horseman can direct their horse across the arena in complete silence, moving the slightest of muscles.

When you are listening you are learning. Horses are incredible listeners, well, most horses. We could take a page from their playbook on listening skills from them as well sometimes. There are times when you need to listen to the horse on which direction to go and sometimes the horse needs to listen to you.

I have had to learn some lead changes of my own in the last few weeks. Last month, I lost my mare, Mamacita and was faced with the daunting task of raising a 3-week-old orphan foal.

Life changed in an instant for all of us. For Mama, it was over. For Sassy, it was just beginning and for me and my daughter Reese, it was somewhere in the in-between. Heavy with a responsibility to take an end and a beginning and to blindly stitch them together somehow into something that would blanket it all with a bigger meaning. So we pulled up our muck boots and began weaving these two lives together.

Sassy lost her Mama and my daughter and I gained a baby, instantly becoming surrogates, transporting hot water in buckets wrapped in tin foil in our pajamas at all hours of the night, mixing formula in the dark and feeding a scrawny baby around the clock with flashlights and prayers.

I too, was faced with learning some lead changes of my own. Sometimes you need to lead with your head and sometimes you need to throw caution to the wind and lead with your heart.

There is a fine line between common sense and horse sense and we were exploring it like tightrope performers in the dark. There is nothing like standing in a barn at 3 a.m. in your pajamas with a giant baby bottle and a tiny foal on the other end who doesn’t know what to do to make you realize that there are moments in life you need to lead with your heart; whether it’s on your sleeve or in your throat.

There is nothing easy about raising an orphan foal, for the horse or the handler. It is round the clock and reminiscent of the early days of bringing Reese herself home from the hospital.

Sleep deprivation is real. Formula is expensive and this little filly is suddenly worth every penny and second it takes to see her through. It takes a village and I am thankful for all of the villagers who have shown up to help raise Sassy.

In the early days, I had to listen to the gamut of opinions; some people came right out and told us that mustangs weren’t worth saving. Some told me that my daughter and I weren’t skilled enough to save her in spite of her poor little self.

Then there were this rare few, who rallied and gathered in support of one tiny, suddenly motherless, pitiful mustang and decided that she was worth whatever it took. To those friends and strangers who have now become family, we will forever be grateful.

If I have learned anything about horses, it’s that there is significance in the ability to be able to adapt and change leads. Sometimes, it’s not about knowing how you’re going to get somewhere. It’s about knowing where you want to end up. It’s realizing that there is a give and take. There is a tension and release. It’s a tug on the lead rope and a one step forward.

It’s a balance to find that perfect spot where you meet each other in that space in between, in that space where I first met Sassy and I guess that is what trust is. It’s tangible. I can feel it when she drinks the milk that I am holding out for her. I could feel it when she had to load in a trailer for the first time alone at 3 weeks old leaving her dying mama behind, headed into the unknown.

I could feel it when I watched my daughter halter her the first time out of necessity not a training exercise and I could feel it when the friends, farriers, veterinarians, local feed store employees and family have surrounded one little tiny orphan foal and encouraged her to survive.