Leslie on Pokey and me leading Flame down to the riverside where the farrier was going to trim her hooves.
Flame didn't much like human attention and preferred to be handled as little as possible. Not that she would rear and pull - she handled just fine, but she was not one to walk up to you to say hello, and she was known to pin her ears and be crabby. As a result, Leslie and I spent most of our time with the other horses.
Dad and me in our river pasture while Flame gets her hooves trimmed.
When I went off to college, Flame and Nick were sold to someone in Stockwell, a small town in the southern part of the county. His plan was to use Nick as a parade horse and to breed Flame since her color was so nice. I was not living at home at the time and so was not part of the sale. I have no information beyond that.
I have often wondered how they fared. I hope they were treated well and loved.

The worst kick I ever got from a horse was from her!
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