Today, more than ever, caring for a herd of horses is an expensive proposition.

As a nonprofit 501(c3) corporation, we are dedicated to offering equine–assisted therapy to Veterans, First responders, and other victims of trauma including both children and adults.

We are blessed to have some wonderful horses who require good and loving care all year long. We’re looking for sponsors to help us give our best to the horses who give their best.

The donation to sponsor one horse is:
• $3000 per year
• Payments can be made annually, twice a year at $1500 each, or monthly for $250

Give us a call with any questions you might have.


Meet Our Herd

Our Story – Told by Cadillac

So, I don’t know why these nice people asked me to be the spokesman for the horses in our little herd. But since I like them, I said yes. I’ll tell you about me. Then I’ll tell you about the rest of the family, at least as much as I know.

Most people call me Caddy – from a kind of antique nickname for a big, comfortable car – probably because I’m big and before my legs got hurt, I gave a pretty comfortable ride. As I told my friend, Jo, I’ve also been known as Candy Man. But that’s another story.

I was born in 2008, in the wild country of Wyoming, part of a herd of wild horses. On All Hallows Eve, in 2010, a lot of herd mates and I were captured by people from the Bureau of Land Management at Salt Wells, near Rock Springs, Wyoming.

Early in December of 2010, the BLM took 40 members of our herd to the Wild Horse Inmate Program at the prison in Canon City, Colorado. That’s a place where wild horses and wild humans go to figure out how to get along with others. It wasn’t so bad there, but I never got to keep any herd mates, neither horse nor human. That situation taught me to be aloof, to pretend I didn’t care. It’s a lesson I’ve had a hard time forgetting.


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I lived at the prison for about two years, until I was bought by a big dude ranch in Northwest Colorado. That’s where I got the name Caddy, because I could carry big people and give them a smooth ride. The trouble was that a lot of those inexperienced riders weren’t all that easy to deal with, some were afraid and some were just plain inconsiderate. I lived with over 100 horses, and even though I liked to be a nice guy, that wasn’t necessarily the case with my herd-mates. I always got good food and good care. But horses and wranglers came and went, kind of like the guests, so I became a loner, kept to myself and practiced my habits of being aloof and not complaining.

After a while I developed a lot of pain in my lower legs, and when I started limping, the good people at the dude ranch wanted to find me a new home where I could have an easier life. There was a lady there named Mary who was about my best human friend. And there was a horse shoer named RJ who came sometimes and always showed me that he was my friend too. It was a good day when those two put their heads together and came up with the best idea anybody ever had for me. !at was how I came to live at Warhorse Ranch in the summer of 2021.

While there was still a lot of snow on the ground, Mr. Mike, who owns the ranch, and his son, young Wyatt, brought their friend, Mrs. Jo, who loves horses and helps out at the ranch, came to see me. I was afraid to be hopeful about where I might go. So, I was quiet and passive, but I couldn’t help letting Wyatt know that I liked him. And when the grown-ups kept trying to show me that they liked me and wanted to take me home, I started to have a little hope. But I kept that to myself for fear they’d change their minds.

When Mary dropped me off at Warhorse a few months later, I liked the place and I wanted to like the people. I was happy to meet Mr. Mike’s wife, Wyatt’s mom, Mrs. Val. She’s very pretty and she’s got a nice smile. And she said sweet things. They were all kind to me. Mrs. Jo kept telling me she loved me, petting me and brushing me and kissing my face. But I just couldn’t bring myself to act like I cared. The road that took me from the wild country where I was born to this little piece of paradise was just too darn long, and I couldn’t stop worrying that something would take me away from this place and these people.

But it didn’t! Nothing took me away. And for the First time in my life, I’m not afraid to show my people that I care about them, just like they care about me. It’s a good life here. And I’m grateful for Mike and Valery Lozano, and our friend, Jo, who still won’t stop kissing me and petting me and telling me that she loves me.

Well, I know this has been a pretty long story. Please don’t judge me, or think I’m being self-centered when the stories I tell you about the other horses aren’t so long. The thing is, I don’t know so much about Bandit or Chance, or Star or Zapato or Shadow or Taz or Monty. We’re a peaceful and comfortable herd. But none of us talk about ourselves. So, I don’t know much about the lives of the rest of the horses before they came to live together with the Lozano family.

I’ll tell you as much as I know about who and how all my companions are. I think you’ll like them all. I do.



Bandit is a good guy, brave in a gentle way, one who never gives up. He’s about the prettiest horse in the herd, but he’s not conceited or stuck on himself like a lot of pretty boys are.

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Bandit is quiet and he keeps to himself. Watching him in the beginning, I suspected that he’d been a dude horse, like I had. And I was right. We’ve both carried a lot of people over a lot of miles. We’ve both made and lost a lot of friends. We’ve both been taken away from our herds, and mourned our losses. We’ve been confused — and truth be told, we’ve been confusing too.

When I was getting ready to tell these stories about my Warhorse family, I asked Bandit how old he was and where he’d been. He figures he’s in his late teens – or maybe early 20’s – and he’s been a lot of places. He reminded me about an old cowboy/trucker song that pretty well describes us both. “e lyrics go something like this: “I’ve been everywhere, man, I’ve been everywhere. Crossed the desert bare, man, I’ve breathed the mountain air, man. Of travel I’ve had my share, man. I’ve been everywhere.”

That’s Bandit and me. “Turns out that a lot of good can come from all the sad and troublesome miles we’ve traveled,” Bandit says. “Even the horses and humans who don’t seem to matter much can find a home in the
hearts of good people like the Lozanos, who dreamed up this gift they call Warhorse to help the horses and the humans who need them.”



Another lion heart, Taz is like the law enforcement agent of our Warhorse herd. He’s not all that big in physical stature, but anyone foolish enough to challenge him soon learns what a big mistake they’ve made.

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Taz is a fancy pants, registered Quarter Horse with a big-time pedigree. He’s a bright red sorrel with a shiny blaze face and pretty white stockings on his hind legs. He was born in Montana in 2007, the year before I was
born in Wyoming. If you have an interest in Quarter Horses, you’ll recognize some important horses in his pedigree, among those: from the Doc Bar line, Doc O’ Lena, Smart Little Lena, Sweet Little Lena, and Doc O Dynamite. From the Peppy San Badger line, Royal Blue Boon and Peptoboonsmal. If you go back a ways, you’ll find great old, early Quarter horses like, Poco Bueno and King and Three Bars and Stardeck.

One of the reasons that this Quarter Horse hall of fame pedigree is especially interesting is because our Warhorse Ranch is famous for being the home of the historic Peavy/Semotan Barn that was itself the home of some of the Frst American Quarter Horses ever bred and born and registered. Some of the breed’s greatest came from the breeding programs of Marshall Peavy and Quentin and Evelyn Semotan, who lived in these
parts for most of their lives.

So back to Taz, now that you know what a celebrity we have among us. When Taz was a two- year-old, he was bought by Mark and Stephine Gossman, from Steamboat Springs. Taz became Stephine’s horse and she loved
him dearly, still does, I’m sure. I think Taz misses Stephine, even though he’s happy being a “War-horse” who gets lots of love and great care. He never complains, but sometimes I see him staring o# to the south, down
County Road 54, as though he’s waiting for the good lady he remembers to show up here.

It’s kind of fun for me to watch Taz take control over the others in our herd. I know that he knows he’s “to the manor born” . . . in other words, an aristocrat compared to the rest of us who don’t know much about our
ancestors. Taz is another people-lover, a smart horse who doesn’t su#er fools lightly. I like him.



Chance is the kid in the corral. He’s not a bad sort, he’s just young, mischievous and playful. He’s a handsome sorrel who knows he’s good looking, and trades on his looks.

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The best thing about Chance is that he loves Mrs. Val, and he does what she asks him to do. I’m pretty sure he’d follow her over the edge of a cli” if she wanted him to –– but she loves him like he loves her, and she’d
never let him get hurt.

There’s no doubt that Chance is bored living in a herd of older horses. I’m the closest to him in age, but I’m an old soul and he’ll always be a young one, so we don’t have much in common.

I’ve heard from the other horses who were here before me that Chance used to run roughshod over the older guys. They say that the only one Chance respected was Bandit, who took the red horse under his “wing” from
the start. I’d say Bandit was way too gentle and kind to have much success showing the youngster how to behave.

Before I got here, another bright sorrel named Taz joined the herd. I’ll tell you about Taz too, but for this story about Chance, I’ll just say that the second red horse took matters in hand and started schooling the First red horse, in the ways of the world that every herd member needs to know in order to get along with all the
rest of the family. Taz continues to do a good job of teaching the youngest among us how to be a friend and not a foe.

I almost forgot to mention another good thing about Chance: He loves kids, young humans, that is. It’s a gift I think he’ll keep, even when he grows up. Chance is curious and kids are interesting. It’s good to watch them together; reminds me that we all have a place and a purpose and a time.



The only lady in our herd, Star keeps to herself, but always stays close to Shadow. I was here when Mrs. Jo had the idea to put Star in the pasture where Shadow and Zapato lived.

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It was a beautiful site to see how those two old horses came together, like long, lost lovers who met again on the long and winding road of life. And it was also grand to see how they kept Zapato close by.

Over all the years of herd-life, I’ve not seen any stronger connection than what these three share with each other. We horses often pair up, two of us staying close, eating side by side, watching each other’s backs. And sometimes more of us will develop a little herd within the larger herd. But I haven’t seen anything like the
marriage of these two old bays and their little donkey. I think Mrs. Jo has the same thoughts about this family. I often see her cry when she watches them. I think it makes her both happy and a little sad.

I’ve asked Star about her life and she won’t tell me much. She only says that Mr. Mike and Mrs. Val saved her life when they brought her home to Warhorse Ranch. “I was really skinny,” she said, “and no human thought
I was worth anything, so they didn’t care that the young colts and geldings I lived with kept chasing me away from food and water, and making me tired, along with hungry and thirsty.”

A while back, I heard Mrs. Val and Mr. Mike talking about how sad it made them when they first saw Star in the pasture full of rowdy colts. They said they couldn’t resist bringing poor Star home to love her and to take care of her for the rest of her life. And that’s what they’re doing, loving her and taking good care of her.

I’ve heard that there’s a special place in Heaven for humans who take care of the least among them. I believe this. I know what it’s like to be the least. And, thanks to the Warhorse human family, I know what it feels like
to be loved anyway.



Monte is what I’d call a dark horse, in his color and in his character. He’s the most recent one to join our herd and he’s kind of a hard one to read. He’s from the breed called “Missouri Fox Trotter.” He’s big and stout and very strong, in both his mind and his body.

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When Monte got here last summer, after the celebration the humans call “Independence Day”, all the rest of us had more or less paired up. Maybe it was because he was intimidating and pretty selfish about getting a wide space at the feed trough, eating more than the others, and about taking over the loading sheds when it was too hot to be out in the sun. Or maybe it was because we all had a best friend. But whatever the reason Monte has been like the new kid in schoolyard, a bit of a bully, who just can’t seem to make friends with anybody. I feel kind of bad for him. I’d like to teach him how to be nicer to the other horses. I’m probably the only one big enough to intimidate him, and that’s just not my style. And anyway, he and I are like a couple of football players competing for a position and not really thinking we can like each other. I hope that changes.

A good thing about Monte is that he likes humans. He nickers to them when they come out to see us, and the human members of our herd give him the attention he wants. I see Monte watching Miss Jessica, the Lozanos beautiful daughter. I know he likes her and wants to talk to her. But she’s very busy going to high school and working. So, she doesn’t get to spend very much time with us. Maybe next summer she’ll hang out with us. Until then, maybe a nice human who loves horses will adopt Monte and come see him sometimes, and be his friend.



Shadow is another good guy, a horse smart and sensible horse, about the same age as Bandit. A bay, like Bandit and me, Shadow is a retired working cow horse with some bad legs to show for a lot of years working in the mountains, carrying cowboys to the animals they needed to care for, or move to different grazing places.

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The best story I have to tell about Shadow is that he’s a great protector. Bandit told me the story from the beginning, so I can share it with you, even though I wasn’t here when it all started.

When Shadow first came to live at Warhorse near the end of last winter, he was the one without friends. Chance and even Bandit would chase Shadow away from food, or just run a$er him because he was that new kid in their playground. Bandit is ashamed of that. But I don’t think Chance much cares. I’ve heard that before Taz taught him better manners, Chance had a lot of bad boy fun chasing poor little Zapato, the donkey, who I’ll also tell you about in a little while.

Shadow belongs to our friend, Mrs. Jo, and we all know how much she loves him…well, really, we know how much she loves us all, horses and humans alike. When he became her horse, Mrs. Jo gave Shadow the name he has now because he’s a kind, people—friendly horse who likes to follow her around.

When Mrs. Jo brought Shadow to live at Warhorse Ranch, she and the Lozanos decided it was best to keep him in a separate corral to keep him safe while he got familiar with his new home and his new herd. He could see the other horses, but he was lonely. So pretty soon, Mrs. Jo asked Mrs. Val and Mr. Mike if it would be all right with them if she tried moving Zapato in with Shadow, since she recognized them both as under-dogs who might like to live together. Mrs. Val and Mr. Mike said, “YES, of course, let’s try it.” So they did, and it worked!

Shadow and Zapato immediately became the best of friends. And Shadow showed a side of his gentle personality, turning into a staunch and aggressive defender of little Zapato. If any horse or human tried to separate these companions, Shadow became like a young horse, strong and brave and determined to protect and defend the little, old donkey at all costs! It’s still that way, AND there’s more to this story that I’ll tell you when we talk about Star, the only mare in our herd, who also came under “Marine Sergeant Shadow’s protective mantle.”

I have great respect for Shadow. He’s not very big, but he’s a determined defender . He’s a quiet and gentle horse with the heart of a lion.



Here’s what I know about this interesting long-eared fellow, besides the fact that he was rescued by my friend, Shadow. The little donkey, whose name Zapato – means “shoe” in Spanish, is a mixture of the bravest and most careful of small cousins of the horse.

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The noise he makes (called a ‘bray’) is nothing like a horse’s whinny, but rather very loud. That’s the sound a donkey makes to warn the horses that there is danger — and to warn the ‘danger’ that it better go away.

Don’t ask me why anyone would name a little critter like this guy “shoe”…seems silly to me. But that’s what he was called when Mr. Mike and Mrs. Val rescued him, much like they saved the old mare named Star

Bandit told me that when Zapato came (with Bandit) to live with the Lozano family, the little donkey was terrified of humans and wouldn’t come near anyone. “!e little guy was sure he was going to be captured and hurt,” Bandit said, “and no matter how hard Mrs. Val and Mr. Mike and young Miss Jessica tried, Zapato wouldn’t believe that any human would like him and be nice to him.”

But these humans didn’t give up. Now the donkey loves them and can’t wait to spend time with people, especially the small ones, usually called children. Zapato especially likes treats and petting. And because he’s so cute and friendly, he gets a lot of both.

Recently, young Chance, the rascal of the herd, got into the pasture with Zapato and Shadow and Star. True to his naughty nature, Chance decided to chase Zapato. But Shadow was having none of that! The old bay ignored Chance altogether. Instead of picking a fight with the younger horse, Shadow herded little Zapato into the rushes beside the stream. It was a very smart and savvy move, because Chance is afraid to go into those rushes, and he doesn’t like to get his feet wet in the stream.

So, as he has been since Shadow became his defender, Zapato was safe – and I think I saw him stick out his tongue and waggle his ears at Chance as if to say, “Gotcha” ! Pretty funny stuff.

This is our family. We do have a good life. Come meet us some day.