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Authors: JoAnn S. Dawson
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the…” Mary began.
“Good morning. Welcome to the New London Sales Stable,” the auctioneer interrupted. “We have a big crowd here today, so we’d
like to ask that you keep the noise down so we can all hear what’s going on. We’re going to start today with riding horses,
then drivers around noon, and finish up with ponies. In between, we’ve got a few llamas coming in and a shipment of wild horses
from out west. Keep your bidding numbers handy.”
“Oh, I wonder if Willie knows he has to have a bidder’s number?” Jody wondered aloud.
“I’m sure he does, Jode. I think Willie’s done this quite a few times before.”
“Now we’re going to get started,” the auctioneer continued. “If we guarantee a horse to be sound, and you take him home and
he’s not, you bring him right back here, and we’ll take him back. If we say a horse is ‘as is,’ that means you take a chance
on what you’re getting. No complaints.”
The auctioneer took one last look around the crowd to make sure his message was understood. As if from nowhere, a short Amish
man with a long gray beard appeared in the center of the ring.
“I wonder what he’s doing there?” Mary wondered aloud.
The auctioneer tapped his gavel and raised his hand. “Let’s go. First horse.”
The first horse to enter the ring was a short, stocky chestnut in Western tack.
His rider, a thin man with a handlebar mustache wearing jeans and a plaid shirt, reined the horse to a halt opposite the auctioneer’s
platform. Mary and Jody strained to hear above the din of the crowd as he described his mount to the auctioneer.
“This is a twelve-year-old registered quarter horse, quiet, sound, used on trail rides and in Western lessons. He has all
his shots and was just de-wormed. Good for any kid to ride.”
The auctioneer repeated the description into the microphone and began the bidding.
“Six hundred!” he shouted. A woman sitting directly across from the girls immediately raised her hand. When she did, the Amish
man in the ring hopped in the air and yelled, “Yep!”
“See, she don’t know what she’s doin’,” came a voice from behind the girls.
“Twister!” Mary exclaimed. “We didn’t see you coming. Where’s Willie? And why doesn’t that lady know what’s she’s doing?”
“Will’s standin’ down there by the ring so’s he can see better. And the woman don’t know what she’s doin’ because she should’ve
waited for the auctioneer to come down a little bit from six hundred before she put her hand up.”
Mary and Jody looked at each other, confused by Twister’s explanation, but didn’t pursue the matter. They were more interested
in watching the Amish man hop up and down, shouting “Yep!” each time someone’s hand went up to bid. Then, as the bidding continued
on the first horse, another horse and rider entered the ring.
“Twister, why are they letting the next horse in before the first one is even sold?” Mary asked as the auctioneer’s voice
droned on. Three people were bidding on the chestnut quarter horse, and the price was up to eight hundred dollars.
“Makes the sale move along faster. This way people can get a look at the next horse before they start the biddin’ on it. It
also gives people a chance to see if the horse is going to act up in the ring.”
In that instant, the auctioneer’s gavel came down with a bang at nine hundred dollars for the quarter horse. But when the
gavel came down, the second horse in the ring went up, rearing so high that it seemed he might fall over completely. Mary
and Jody gasped along with the rest of the crowd as the rider grabbed for the saddle horn and managed to stay on.
“See what I mean?” Twister said calmly.
“Twister, does that horse belong to the man riding him?” Jody sputtered.
“Probably not. The sale barn has people who ride the horses into the ring. The owners usually just pay the riders to ride
in for them.
“Good morning. Welcome to the New London Sales Stable,” the auctioneer interrupted. “We have a big crowd here today, so we’d
like to ask that you keep the noise down so we can all hear what’s going on. We’re going to start today with riding horses,
then drivers around noon, and finish up with ponies. In between, we’ve got a few llamas coming in and a shipment of wild horses
from out west. Keep your bidding numbers handy.”
“Oh, I wonder if Willie knows he has to have a bidder’s number?” Jody wondered aloud.
“I’m sure he does, Jode. I think Willie’s done this quite a few times before.”
“Now we’re going to get started,” the auctioneer continued. “If we guarantee a horse to be sound, and you take him home and
he’s not, you bring him right back here, and we’ll take him back. If we say a horse is ‘as is,’ that means you take a chance
on what you’re getting. No complaints.”
The auctioneer took one last look around the crowd to make sure his message was understood. As if from nowhere, a short Amish
man with a long gray beard appeared in the center of the ring.
“I wonder what he’s doing there?” Mary wondered aloud.
The auctioneer tapped his gavel and raised his hand. “Let’s go. First horse.”
The first horse to enter the ring was a short, stocky chestnut in Western tack.
His rider, a thin man with a handlebar mustache wearing jeans and a plaid shirt, reined the horse to a halt opposite the auctioneer’s
platform. Mary and Jody strained to hear above the din of the crowd as he described his mount to the auctioneer.
“This is a twelve-year-old registered quarter horse, quiet, sound, used on trail rides and in Western lessons. He has all
his shots and was just de-wormed. Good for any kid to ride.”
The auctioneer repeated the description into the microphone and began the bidding.
“Six hundred!” he shouted. A woman sitting directly across from the girls immediately raised her hand. When she did, the Amish
man in the ring hopped in the air and yelled, “Yep!”
“See, she don’t know what she’s doin’,” came a voice from behind the girls.
“Twister!” Mary exclaimed. “We didn’t see you coming. Where’s Willie? And why doesn’t that lady know what’s she’s doing?”
“Will’s standin’ down there by the ring so’s he can see better. And the woman don’t know what she’s doin’ because she should’ve
waited for the auctioneer to come down a little bit from six hundred before she put her hand up.”
Mary and Jody looked at each other, confused by Twister’s explanation, but didn’t pursue the matter. They were more interested
in watching the Amish man hop up and down, shouting “Yep!” each time someone’s hand went up to bid. Then, as the bidding continued
on the first horse, another horse and rider entered the ring.
“Twister, why are they letting the next horse in before the first one is even sold?” Mary asked as the auctioneer’s voice
droned on. Three people were bidding on the chestnut quarter horse, and the price was up to eight hundred dollars.
“Makes the sale move along faster. This way people can get a look at the next horse before they start the biddin’ on it. It
also gives people a chance to see if the horse is going to act up in the ring.”
In that instant, the auctioneer’s gavel came down with a bang at nine hundred dollars for the quarter horse. But when the
gavel came down, the second horse in the ring went up, rearing so high that it seemed he might fall over completely. Mary
and Jody gasped along with the rest of the crowd as the rider grabbed for the saddle horn and managed to stay on.
“See what I mean?” Twister said calmly.
“Twister, does that horse belong to the man riding him?” Jody sputtered.
“Probably not. The sale barn has people who ride the horses into the ring. The owners usually just pay the riders to ride
in for them.
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