Things were going well. The grain was dry, the knotter working, the sickle cutting clean. The three horses were doing their job. Colonel was a bit slow but always safe. Daisy was big, strong and steady. Hitched with them was my favorite horse, Laddie. I had raised him as a 4-H Club project and knew that as a young horse he was not yet trustworthy. He could do dumb things, so when hitched to machinery such as a grain binder I had to be cautious. But not cautious enough.
I still don't know what startled Laddie. It could have been that he stumbled in a hole, a bee may have stung him, a pheasant may have spooked him or he may have turned his head and seen the spinning binder reels for the first time. I was not ready for his first lurch.
This startled Colonel and Daisy so that they jumped forward. By the time I yelled "Whoa" and jerked back on the reins they were at a full gallop on a downhill course running directly toward a creek but 200 yards away.
"Whoa, whoa!" I yelled, as I jerked the reins with all my might. No response, just full speed ahead with grain binder in hear, sickle going "a mile a minute," and noise like none I had ever heard. I know that I was doing mental and physical gymnastics in an effort to stop them. I was afraid that if they hit the creek at full speed it would kill all three horses. I don't recall feeling any danger for myself. And then the key thought, "Turn them up the hill if you can." That's what I did by pulling on the right rein with all my strength and yelling, "Whoa, Gee, Whoa, Gee!" at the top of my voice.
They were now slowly turning and as they did, the downward arc changed to an uphill climb. They kept running, but slower and slower. Finally as they approached the steepest part of the hill, the binder clunked to a halt. To my ears all was still except for the heavy, heavy breathing of the three horses and the bump, bump, bump of my heart on my rib cage. The horses stood still. I didn't dare start them again. I sat on that steel seat with the reins tightly held, not daring to move.
After about five minutes I decided to call for help. Rather soft at first, but with no reaction from the horses, continued with all the voice I had. The chances of anyone hearing were limited, but I kept calling. Finally, I heard Bud yell back, "What's the matter, did you break something again?!"
After a short exchange Bud ran back to the farmyard to get Pa. The three of us unhitched the horses and led them to the barn. I was back on the binder the next day, having replaced Laddie with good old Belle.