COVER 1 - NMHBA SUMMER 2017 low res

“We went through it all together. There
were times we had millions and times
we were broke, but it never changed our
feelings about each other.”
And when Gary decided to quit riding
at the end of the summer of ‘92, no one
was happier than LaRae. All the accidents
Gary had on the racetrack had finally
caught up to him.
“I came in with big old tears in my eyes,”
says Gary. “She said, ‘What’s the matter
honey?’ I told her I had quit, had hung it
up. She came to me crying and hugged me.
She was so happy because she was scared I
was going to get killed out there.”
That day and the day they were married
were moments that endured.
LaRae wore a non-traditional dress
for their wedding. A photo taken at a Las
Vegas casino that day shows LaRae in a tan
and brown print dress with blue accents.
Gary is in a matching tan suit jacket, white
shirt and brown tie.
LaRae apparently loved that dress so
much that she kept it in her closet through
the years and long ago told Gary she
wanted to be buried in it—a wish that Gary
made sure was fulfilled. Because LaRae
did not like being cold, Gary also had her
clothed in a multi-colored Pendleton coat
that was among LaRae’s favorite pieces.
The service included the song “Amazing
Grace” performed in the Chickasaw
language by Gary’s daughter Stacy, who
is a member of the tribe in Oklahoma.
Members of the Acoma tribe and Navajos
offered prayers and there was a final
goodbye from Gary.
“At the end, I put her wedding ring
back on her finger, then I took off the
turquoise wedding ring she bought me
and put it on her little finger,” said Gary.
“Then I took her favorite Navajo blanket
and wrapped it around her real good so
she’d be warm. I kissed her goodbye and
said, ‘I love you baby.”’
The day LaRae was buried was drenched
in sunshine and blue skies. But just as
the service was ending and the casket was
about to be closed, a powerful windstorm
blew in from the East.
“It was a weird thing that happened,”
says Gary. “It blew over some of the tables
we had set up for the people to eat. I
thought to myself, LaRae just left.”
LaRae’s gravesite is on a small slope
about 100 yards from their ranch home. It
faces east—in keeping with another spiritual
belief—and overlooks her home, her horses
and a canyon where the sun’s first rays break
over the nearby hills every morning.
Every evening just before sundown Gary
visits her grave. LaRae’s black Schnauzer,
Gypsy, goes with him. The heart-broken
dog lays atop the grave and sleeps while
Gary reflects and remembers. His ongoing
struggle sometimes triggers a sense of guilt.
“I wish I had hugged her more,” he says.
“I wish I had gotten up and danced with her.
So many things you wish you had done.”
But in the same breath, he remembers
what they had.
“Every hug, every kiss meant
something.”
LaRae, says Gary, left her mark on just
about everything that went on inside their
home and on the ranch. She did most of the
cattle buying at auctions and kept the books.
Inside their home, signs of LaRae
remain everywhere, from her massive red
cast iron stove to her cone-shaped straw
bonnet. Framed and prominently displayed
is this so-Larae message: “Everyone Is
Entitled To My Opinion.”
Getting used to a new normal isn’t
easy, but Gary knows that’s what he’ll have
to do. When you’re running a ranch like
the Cross5, there’s cattle to round up and
brand, fences to fix, and wood to cut.
And old habits give way grudgingly.
One of their daily rituals was for Gary
to get the morning coffee ready and serve
LaRae her first cup in bed. “For the first two
weeks (after her passing), I caught myself
thinking about fixing her coffee,” said Gary.
The loss of LaRae has also been tough
on her dog Gypsy.
“He lays on her shoes and sleeps on her
pillow,” says Gary. “Any noise and he runs
to the window thinking she’s coming home
in her white pickup.”
Death is part of the journey, but it
cannot define who we were in life.
So when Gary chose the words for LaRae’s
headstone, he tapped into his heart.
My LaRae, My Best Friend, My Soul
Mate, My Star In My Blue Heaven.
“She was the girl of my dreams,” says
Gary. “Someday I’ll lay beside her.”
46 New Mexico Horse Breeder