Posted on December 22, 2008 - by Hubba

The Christmas Saddle

Here’s a charming little Christmas story for you-

It actually begins at my dad’s high school graduation, but we’ll get to the Christmas part. There was a man in Elm Springs who was an excellent saddlemaker whose saddles were and still are coveted by the people of Elm Springs. It’s like our own little cult obsession. “Smitty” saddles were easily identifiable by their Sid Special tree (the tree is the wooden frame of the saddle, underneath the leather) pelican horn, and Cheyenne roll. A “roll” is a decorative edge on the back of the seat. A “Cheyenne roll” looks exactly like a pie crust, which is what we called it when we were kids.

Anyway, Dad got a Tom Smith saddle for his high school graduation. It was his first brand new, hand built saddle, and it was a “Smitty.” And he loved it.

It went with him to South Dakota State University in Brookings, where he had a job at the Beef Unit. His junior year of college, it was stolen out of the back of his pickup. Dad of course was heartbroken. He bought a factory made Tex-tan roping saddle.

During this time, Tom Smith had gotten so busy building saddles that he had largely called it quits, wanting to do other things with some of his time. Dad got another “Smitty” saddle for his college graduation, this one built by Tom’s son Jim. It was a nice saddle, but it simply wasn’t the one that had been stolen.

Twenty some years later, Tom Smith had passed away but his son Jim still built a few saddles, mostly in the wintertime. Usually, the owner of the new saddle would help with the construction. A family friend that Dad had helped through a spot went to Jim and ordered Dad a new saddle. Jim remembered the stolen saddle from long ago, and decided to recreate it exactly.

It so happened that the kind citizens of Elm Springs had ordered a saddle for the Reverend Harold Delbridge at the same time. All that fall, Santa Smith and the helper elves of Elm Springs worked on the two saddles. They finished both of them on December 23rd, 1999. And on Christmas Eve, Jake and Wanda Hall delivered Dad’s new saddle.

It was exactly like the one that had been stolen, right down to the red stitching on the swells. Dad was speechless. The kind citizens hadn’t breathed a word of what they were doing all fall. They had certainly made it a Christmas to remember.

Somehow or other a few years later, the Christmas Saddle became mine. The red stitching has faded, and there is one rivet that refuses to stay put. There are a few marks in the seat from some knotheaded horse who wanted to see what it tasted like, and we’ve had to replace the strings a time or two. But Christmas happens every time I saddle a horse.

The Christmas Saddle carried me on the Ft. Pierre to Deadwood Trail this summer, where it caught the eye of a fellow who is himself a master saddlemaker. “I bet that thing’s been around a while,” he said. “Well no not really,” I replied “it’s only nine years old.” (I actually had to think about it, and I couldn’t believe it had been nine years.) “I haven’t seen a saddle like that for a long time, with the pelican horn and the Cheyenne roll,” he said.

Obviously, he needs to come to Elm Springs for Christmas.