Aside from her fear of horses, Ulla was game. She reveled in accompanying her husband in the field, though she carried no gun and intended from the first not to hunt.

Dieter, of course, carried a gun -- what a weapon! It was a silver inlaid side-by-side; a double-barrel of fine Austrian craftsmanship. A beautiful gun! I don't remember its size because the caliber was measured in millimeters, but it looked to me like a man could do a U-turn in one of 'em.

Ulla was a striking willowy blond with a ready smile and a healthy glow. The glow was burnished daily by bathing in the snow-fed creek near camp at six every morning. Perhaps, with Ulla in camp, explained why our guides tumbled from their beds so readily every morning.

Actually Ulla had a love/hate feeling for horses. She loved their big sad eyes, and the way they nuzzled her if she fed them a handful of oats or an apple core. But her fear of falling remained. She did, however, feel more secure straddling the old high-cantle Miles City saddle we gave her than riding the slick-forked, hornless English style of their European countryside. Ulla wanted Dieter to buy the saddle.

When Jane first mentioned it, I pooh-poohed the idea. But that evening Dieter asked about the cost of a saddle like the one Ulla rode? I shrugged. "It's been so long since I bought a saddle, I don't know what the going rate is for a used one today."

"How much did you pay for it when you bought it?"

"A hundred dollars, second hand. But Dieter, that was back in the 1960s. I couldn't possibly buy one like it for a hundred dollars today."

He was persistent. "Would you sell it? As a favor?"

"Aww. Dieter, I don't want to sell it. I'd just have to go buy another. And this is our busy time of year. I just don't have time to do that."

"It will be Ulla's birthday tomorrow and I should like to make her a present of the saddle. Would you to me, sell it?"

I felt trapped. The saddle was a good one, in fine repair. It would be unlikely for me to find another as good on short notice. "I don't really want to, Dieter. Bt as a favor, I would -- if there was enough money in it to buy another. Say -- uh -- three hundred. Maybe three-fifty."

"Say four hundred."

I grinned and threw up my hands.

It cost Dieter Assman almost two-hundred more dollars to air freight Ulla's saddle to Germany. When I last talked to them on the phone, Ulla said her saddle rests in their foyer -- a conversation piece to visitors.

She said she has never straddled the saddle since it left Montana.

 

Next week? Another walk on the wild side.