I found him in the Giveaways section of an online forum.
To be honest, it was my friend Debbie Sellers who found him first, and told me about him. Everything that happened next was her fault.
17-hand Warmblood, free to good home. 16 years old. Not a husband-horse. Dressage, competed successfully to third level. Hock injury. Light riding only, no canter. Needs a stall. Owner will pay for transport. Approved home only.
Let me translate:
A very big, high-maintenance show horse who will eat you into the poor house (but look great doing it) needs a place to live in a manner to which he is accustomed. No one can ride him because he will be too much horse for beginners and speaks a language few people know (dressage). His current owner is so desperate to be rid of him she will foot the bill to ship him off to you. All of this can be yours for the low low price of FREE.
A few email exchanges later I learned more:
He has a nasty drop-shoulder spin-and-bolt that will unseat even the best riders. He broke away from the shippers on his first day with his current owner. Ran through a neighborhood, demolished some fences, destroyed some yards and gardens and tore up what would later be known as his "bad leg." He's an Oldenburg who passed his brand inspection as Approved, just a fraction of a point shy of Premium. He has a great mind for dressage and scored well in a competitive market at Third Level, which is like super-horse-good. A two-inch thick medical record chronicles the Herculean efforts his current owner pursued to keep him healthy and fix the bad leg...which eventually ended an otherwise stellar career.
She would have kept him, but she already had another horse in training. And still she would have kept him, but board for both horses ran $1,500 a month. And still she would have kept him but her husband was battling cancer and sometimes life just kicks you in the gut and something has to give.
Elijah had to give.
Since there really was no place else for him to go, of course he would come here. I could deal with all the baggage this Big Horse could carry. Here, he would have only one job: be a friend to King in his retirement. So I asked how he was with other horses, would he make a good companion? Was he social?
Not so much. He is aloof and quirky. The one time he lived out in a pasture, he lost 150 lbs and was bullied by the other horses.
Perfect. Send him. Send him here. Bring him home.
One day Elijah was living in a show barn in Chicago. A long trailer ride later, he took his first steps out onto the Kansas prairie, dazed and confused. The truck driver handed me the lead rope and said, "He probably needs some water."
"Sure," I said. "I'll take him down to the lake."
"Oh, I don't think he knows how to drink from a lake."
I laughed and thought to myself, Well, I reckon he will learn. We walked together through the barn and the paddock, out into the big field on our way to the lake. We got about halfway to the water when Elijah stopped. For as long as I live, I will remember this moment.
His eyes were wide, his head up. I followed his gaze and realized there was nothing but green grass as far as he could see. The prairie stretched out before, beside and behind us, a huge sea of grass and gently rolling hills.
I gave a little tug on the lead rope to get his attention, Elijah dropped his head close to mine.
"No, Eli," I whispered. "It's not heaven. It's Kansas."
It was done. We were complete. A little band of cast-offs: A red cocker spaniel, so long at the shelter he was scheduled to be killed. A show jumper horse who could no longer jump. A dressage horse who could no longer dance. A middle-aged lady, single after a 25-year marriage. All together on a farm that no one wanted.
All together.
It was the together that would fix us. All of us.