PRINCESS
Elizabeth J. Story
Senior Third Place
Historical Essay
I grew up in Mt. Pleasant, Utah, along with my four sisters. Our parents were Fame and Clarence
Jacobson. My father was a farmer and a barn carpenter. He worked on the land in the summer and did
carpentry work in the winter. My sisters and I helped with the farming work each summer when there was
no school-work to do.
Along with cows and horses, my father owned other animals as well. I remember best his horse
"Princess," the black mare he rode that was his pride and joy. He also used her as a work horse. She was a
black beauty with a white star blaze on her forehead. She was spirited and gallant and somewhat
treacherous. She would kick anything or anyone who came upon her suddenly. My sisters and I were never
allowed to ride her. We had to ride the gentle horses.
The original owner said she was too spirited for him,
but my father loved this young mare from the moment he saw her. He loved to ride her because everyone
who saw her admired them. He was so very good to her. As children, we were warned never to get near her
when alone. It was the thrill of my young life one day when I was lifted onto Princess in the saddle next to
my father, and I smiled when my mother took a photo of us. It was a priceless moment in time for me.
At one point in my father's life when he was young, he worked for his brother-in-law, N.S. Larson, in
his livery stable. His job was taking care of the horses and also driving the wagons and buggies.
My father
understood and loved horses. He always treated them with kindness.
As the story goes, my father's Hamiltonian breed horse started with a male colt that was given to a
young stable worker in Manti. It was told that Brigham Young and his men came to visit Manti in the early
days, and his buggy was pulled by a handsome pair of these Hamiltonian buggy horses. One of the mares
had a half-grown colt which followed along. They said that the colt was lame when they reached Manti.
The
horses were taken to the stable for the night to be cared for, and Brigham Young told the young man to
care for the young colt. After resting for the night, the party came to get the team in the morning. The colt
was still ailing, so Brigham Young said he must go on, but told the young man he could have the colt if he
would care for him. That was of the Hamiltonian breed, a very fine male horse he would grow to be.
The colt grew to be a fine black stallion, and he was used as a stud horse for his good bloodline. The
offspring were all half work horses and half the Hamiltonian breed. The mare that my father loved was one
of his later offspring, and she was sold to the friend of my father's in Mt. Pleasant who owned her before
my father saw her and bought her. It was a love affair from the beginning for my father and this horse he
named Princess.
As I was growing up in the 1920's, my sisters and I helped our father on the farm. I remember when
we went to the meadow to get our horses to start the day hauling and cutting hay, father would see his
horses and whistle to get their attention. As soon as Princess saw my father, she would raise her head, stop
grazing, and come to us across the meadow. She would always answer father's call and come to him any
time. He would talk softly to her as he put his hand on her head and rubbed down her neck. It was such an
enjoyable time for me to see this absolute devotion of a man and his horse when they were near each
other. This was a joy for me to see and to feel. Everyone was aware of how very proud my father was of
this spirited black beauty. She was admired by everyone.
She was a beautiful horse. He teamed her up with
a gentle sorrel mare named Molly, and this was his work team for trips to the coal mine each summer. They
pulled the wagons and machines on the farm land. Later he bought two large bay Percheron breed work
horses he named Chub and Dora to use as his team, and he retired Princess to be the extra horse and to be
his riding horse.
Years passed and my sisters and I married and had families, and we came back home each summer
for a visit.
At one point, my father said he was selling the farm land and the animals, but he would keep the
north pasture for Princess. He said he would never sell her, that they would never use his horse for
horsehide coats or send her to the glue factory. Never, never. He took her to the north field pasture where
each day he would drive his car out to see how she was. He would take water for her if the creek was dry.
One day he went out to the pasture and looked to the willows where she stood most of the time
and she was down. He rushed to her side and found she was dead. She had died during the night. He stood
by her and said, "Sometimes I thought you would be the death of me and that I would go first." It was
morning and he went back to the car for his shovel and began to dig a grave and to bury her.
He had to
hurry before the men who scanned the fields each day would see her. They were paid to pick up dead
animals. They would also sell them to the hide company, so he had to work fast to get it done.
He started digging right alongside her backbone so when the grave was opened he could take her
legs and turn her into the grave and then cover her up with plenty of dirt so the coyotes couldn't dig her up.
He began to dig, dig, and dig more and rest a bit for a drink of water.
My mother told us that when he didn't come home for lunch, she did not worry, but when
dinnertime and then sundown came and he didn't return, she began to worry. Could it be that Princess has
died and he is giving her a good burial? She thought to herself that he must be digging her a grave and it
will be a big job to dig a hole big enough to bury a horse and that the sun had baked the earth and she was
sure it would be very difficult to dig.
She knew that it was his right to bury his horse on his land, but he
would have to be sure it was deep enough to contain the odor which would bring the coyotes to gather and
cause trouble.
It was past sunset when my father returned home. He was hungry, tired, and sad. He told my
mother he had buried the Princess and mother understood why. We all understood why. This spirited,
beautiful Princess had been his pride and his joy and had gladdened many years of his life.
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