John Fusco aboard Rigoletto, a Colonial Spanish stallion.

After most tuckered-out toddlers are lulled to sleep with a bedtime story, their grateful parent quietly slips a well-worn book back onto the shelf. Not so, if you’re writer and filmmaker John Fusco. He and his son will soon journey to China, as a bedtime story Fusco created becomes a lavish, big-screen production staring Jackie Chan and Jet Li.

"I was on the set of Hidalgo, and over lunch, a producer asked how my son was," Fusco recalls. "I told him our bedtime story about an American boy who was afraid of bullies and found solace in Kung Fu movies. The boy discovered an ancient staff in a Chinatown pawn shop, and it transported him to China, where he met characters from Chinese literature and legend. By the end of lunch, we’d signed a movie deal."

The gifted storyteller says he draws inspiration from his well of childhood interests. "Whether it’s the American West, Native American history and culture, Blues music, or Chinese philosophy and martial arts — it’s like a rain barrel that’s filled with those early passions. I don’t know how to write anything if I’m not passionate about it, because I’ve tried. You can fake it, but you won’t have the muse, and your story won’t have the life and the juice that makes it jump off the page and work as a film."

Fusco’s passions have resulted in such box-office favorites as Hidalgo, the story of the great distance rider, Frank Hopkins, and his legendary endurance horse, and the animated hit, Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron. His interest and involvement with the Lakota Sioux resulted in Thunderheart, with Val Kilmer as an FBI agent with Sioux heritage, sent to investigate a murder on the reservation.

Fusco is also passionate about America’s first horses; his Vermont farm is a conservancy dedicated to preserving the Colonial Spanish Horse, formerly known as the Spanish Mustang or Indian Pony. Native American tribes developed individual strains within the Colonial Spanish Horse breed; Fusco currently runs a special, nonprofit program to preserve the nearly extinct Choctaw Indian Pony.

"Some people love an ocean view — I love to look out and see a Cheyenne Indian Pony," he says. "I see living history. The same with the Choctaw — I look at them and know, ‘These are the horses that walked the Trail of Tears.’ "

Read on to meet Trailblazer John Fusco: writer, filmmaker, family man, and ardent preservationist of America’s first horses.

MyHorse: Have horses always been a part of your life and dreams?

Fusco: When you use the words "Connecticut" and "horses" together, it usually conjures up images of manicured fields. I grew up on the other side of the tracks in Connecticut, where my father owned an auto salvage yard, and our "horses" tended to be used Buicks. We lived in rural New England, down a dirt road through woodlands — real Last of the Mohicans country.

The Indians of Connecticut were the Pequot, and as a child, I was interested in that culture, always looking for arrowheads. There was an old apple orchard nearby, where a farmer kept some horses. While immersed in my Native American fantasies, I’d sneak a ride on one. It was hard to mount him from a standstill, because he wanted no part of it, so I’d position him under trees and mount from above. I was fortunate to have a Huck Finn childhood.

MyHorse: Did you always want to be a writer?

Fusco: As far back as I can remember, writing is what made me happiest. I started making original 8mm films when I was 10. Every week, my mother would buy me 50 feet of 8mm film. I used the family camera and recruited kids to act in my productions. I was determined to be a writer and director of movies.

At 16, I surrendered temporarily to outside "voices of reason" that said, "Give it up!" But I rebelled by channeling the energy into writing lyrics for local bands, singing, and playing the keyboard. I dropped out of high school to travel with bands in the South, playing original, blues-inspired rock and roll.

Eventually, I went back to what I really wanted to do: writing and making films. I went home, got my GED, and was accepted into New York University Film School. At 24, I sold my first student screenplay, which was made into a movie, and I never looked back.

MyHorse: Tell us about your first horse.

Fusco: My early interest in the eastern woodlands and Native America grew into a fascination with the Plains horse culture, specifically the Lakota Sioux. Horses were a big part of that world, but I didn’t have an interest in owning a horse until I was on the set of my second movie, Young Guns.

Jack Palance came out of retirement to play the bad guy in that movie — a major coup. On the first day of shooting, he was supposed to ride to his mark and deliver a massive monologue that I’d written, perhaps overwritten. He was having a difficult time, because his horse was a handful. The wranglers found another young Paint Horse, a pro that had already appeared in Silverado and Three Amigos. His name was Chato, and, when they put Jack on him, he hit the mark every time.

In between camera setups, my wife rode Chato. I’ll never forget the day she rode up to me, and said, "This horse is amazing. You must ride him." I did, and the crew had to radio to get me back to the set. If I had a dream horse from childhood, he was it.

When the movie wrapped, I bought him. Chato was my first horse, and he taught me to ride. He was in the sequel to Young Guns, carrying a naked woman out of a burning brothel. He was very cool about it — talk about bombproof! Today, at 32, he shares a pasture at my farm with other retired equine movie stars. There’ll never be another like Chato — he is that one in a million.

MyHorse: How did a young man from Connecticut become involved with the Lakota Sioux?

Fusco: I met a Hopi woman on the movie set of Young Guns, and told her about a movie idea that was haunting me: I wanted to write something based on true incidents that occurred on the Pine Ridge Reservation of South Dakota during the 1970s, dealing with the FBI occupation and injustice.

I told the woman that the music of Buddy Red Bow, a contemporary singer/songwriter, inspired me, and learned that Buddy was one of her best friends! A few weeks later, she called and said, "Buddy’s in Taos — why don’t you drive up?" I did, and we became fast friends.

He loved my first movie, a blues film called Crossroads. He said the subject I wanted to tackle was "heavy," and invited me to go to the reservation and meet Grandpa Fools Crow, the highest ranking ceremonial chief. I’d heard the name when I was a kid. That’s how well-known — and old — he was. I was excited to feel this path opening.

Buddy took me to see Chief Fools Crow. We smoked the pipe, which in the traditional way is more that just the symbol of peace. They say there are no lies with the pipe. The pipe is the mediator, and when you pass the pipe back and forth, you must speak your heart.

With Buddy translating, I told Chief Fools Crow my intentions. He spent lots of time with me, even in silence. Eventually, he told Buddy to help me. They took me to the sweat lodge to purify, then to meet people. That became a five-year experience, in which I returned to them for ceremony, to learn the language, and to learn from Grandpa Fools Crow. After spending years as a kid dreaming of this people and this landscape, it was an incredible experience.

MyHorse: And you were adopted into the Lakota tribe?

Fusco: Yes, the Red Bow family — Buddy’s family — took me in, and Stephen Red Bow adopted me as his son. I was given the name Wakinyan Cant’e, which means "Thunderheart," also the name of the script I was writing.

The adoption ceremony is called "the making of relatives," so when I speak of the Lakota of Pine Ridge, I speak of them as my relations. Not only did I write Thunderheart, but we filmed parts of Hidalgo there. I also did an ABC miniseries called Dreamkeeper, set on the reservation. It’s the story of a 16-year-old boy who drives his grandfather to New Mexico for the All Nations Pow Wow. The Lakota are a treasured part of my life.

MyHorse: What’s the story behind the name of your Red Road Farm, Canku Luta?

Fusco: Summers, Stephen Red Bow would come out to Vermont to live in my farmhouse, sometimes bringing my Lakota mother, sometimes others. Stephen always asked me, what was the name of this place? It had no name.

One morning, I woke to sunrise and the sound of Stephen drumming. I joined him to sing and pray, and he said, "Canku Luta," Red Road Farm. This is the place where you will keep up Red Road tradition and raise Indian ponies."

To walk the Red Road is to walk the good and holy path, the virtuous path, and to walk in harmony with your relations: the four-legged, the winged ones, Mother Earth. "The Red Road"— those are powerful words. They carry a responsibility, and I take it seriously.

MyHorse: Did you become involved with the Indian Pony at this time?

Fusco: It all intersects. After the Thunderheart period, I got word that Jeffrey Katzenberg of Dreamworks wondered if I was interested in writing for animation. It wasn’t something I’d considered. He said, "What if it was the story of the American West, told from the view of the horse?" And I replied, "When do we start?"

Researching Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron, I learned about the original horses, the direct descendants of horses that had arrived with Spanish explorers. On the reservation, I’d seen some of these horses, usually in strange places like walking down the steps of someone’s home. Literally. They looked like a Remington sculpture of Indian ponies.

I learned of an old cowboy, the late Bob Brislawn, who found the last pockets of true Spanish Mustangs, the true Indian ponies. He was doing a geologic survey, and his mules kept wearing out. An Indian man told him he needed an old-style Indian pony. They still existed. He bought some, and was so knocked out by their abilities and horse sense that he dedicated the rest of his life to them.

I bought horses from Brislawn’s last preservation project, then more and more. I purchased their registry, Horse of the Americas, and eventually turned it over to folks more capable than me of running it, and it’s thriving.

MyHorse: What’s the distinction between the Spanish Mustang and the Mustang?

Fusco: The Spanish Mustangs, which we now call Colonial Spanish Horses, are straight descendants of the horses that came over from Spain. Most of the wild mustangs under BLM control have been crossbred with other breeds for many, many years. They all deserve to be preserved.

MyHorse: Are there different strains within the Colonial Spanish Horse?

Fusco: Yes, due to the selective breeding of the Native American tribes. For instance, the Choctaw strain began with the pure Spanish horses brought to Mississippi with De Soto. The Choctaw people adopted this war horse and selectively bred for endurance, ability to pack, and gait. These tough, intelligent horses later endured the grueling forced march from Mississippi to Oklahoma.

Today, there are less than 150 pure Choctaw Indian Ponies. We’re helping to preserve them, and we’d like to see them widely recognized as more than endangered horses with a unique heritage. We’d like to see them rediscovered as the superb trail and distance horses they are. That’s the best way to preserve them.

MyHorse: Why is it important to preserve and protect America’s wild horses?

Fusco: Willy Nelson recently said that the horse should be the symbol of the United States. I agree. As great as the bald eagle is, the wild horse is the true symbol of self-reliance, freedom, and the pioneering spirit.

The Colonial Spanish Horse is America’s first horse — the true horse of the Native Americans; the true horse of the cowboy and the Pony Express. For Native Americans, the wild horse is the symbol of unbroken spirit.

MyHorse: Tell us about your current favorite horse.

Fusco: Little Fox is the guy I ride now. He’s special. We know he’s a Cheyenne through Brislawn’s records. The Cheyenne Indian Ponies were bred as buffalo runners — that’s where "cow sense" in today’s horses comes from.

Little Fox was born at Red Road Farm and named for his relatives: Yellow Fox, a champion endurance horse, and Little Bit. His color, called "purple corn," is a purplish-blue tint with dark corn spots. This color was prized by the Native Americans who interpreted the dark spots as arrow wounds and thought this made a good war pony.

A couple years ago, I planned to do a 100-mile ride in Vermont with Little Fox to help raise funds and awareness for the breed. Initially, he thought, "What are you getting me into?" But as he got his wind and got lean, it became an exhilarating experience! We’d do 17 miles before breakfast.

Then, about a month before the ride, he tore his suspensory ligament in the pasture, and it derailed us. Heartbreaking. Fortunately, he’s recovered, and we’re considering another attempt.

MyHorse: Was the controversy generated by your film, Hidalgo, a surprise?

Fusco: It was a complete surprise. We were in the middle of the Mojave filming Hidalgo, when I got a call from Disney saying that there were people attacking the movie, alleging that Frank Hopkins was a fraud.

I was taken aback, because Hopkins was obscure. I’d been fascinated by his legend among the Lakota — Hopkins was part Lakota. His story is also told on the Blackfeet Reservation and I recorded it in the Blackfeet language for a documentary for Animal Planet called America’s First Horse.

I wrote Hidalgo two years before 9/11, but the attackers incorrectly assumed that it was corporate propaganda coming from Disney to support the invasion of Iraq. We were accused of making a jingoistic, chauvinistic, vulgar movie. I tried to contact those people, but they ignored me. They wanted a media storm, not a resolution.

They said they’d found a box in a museum basement, with papers written by Hopkins that proved he was a fraud. I obtained photocopies of everything. What they didn’t tell anyone was that the box also contained brilliant writings on horsemanship by Hopkins and photographs of him with his horses. It wasn’t in their interest to have that material see the light of day.

MyHorse: Then what happened?

Fusco: This is where the silver lining comes in. I hadn’t known that Hopkins was such an incredible horseman. His essays were powerful. I didn’t realize that he was one of the progenitors of "natural horsemanship" and a passionate fighter for mustang preservation. He inspired a generation of endurance riders. Something else happened: Hearing the attacks, elderly people who knew and revered Hopkins came forward. Their strong, first-person testimony vindicated Hopkins.

Fortunately, the movie was a solid hit and a big success on DVD. But the attacks changed the complexion of a project that had been a labor of love. My politics are opposite what they were imagining, so it was doubly frustrating. But we came through it, and Hopkins seems an even more fascinating character.

MyHorse: What three people of any era would you invite for an evening around the campfire?

Fusco: Frank Hopkins, of course! We know he was a fine horseman and a gifted storyteller, so he’s a good guy to have. Robert Johnson, the Delta blues master with his guitar. And Zane Grey, the great western writer.

MyHorse: Complete this sentence: People would be surprised to know that I...

Fusco: ...study Kung Fu and play the Hammond B-3 jazz organ and sing like an 83-year-old black man! One is for early morning; the other for late at night.

MyHorse: What living person do you most admire?

Fusco: I’ve been fortunate to have many wise elders around me. The living person I most admire is Dayton Hyde. He and I shared a podium at Hot Springs, South Dakota, at a premier for Hidalgo. We’d filmed on Dayton’s land. He made a speech. Then I got up and said, "When I grow up, that’s what I want to be."

Dayton is a gifted and unique writer. He didn’t take the easy path. He made sacrifices to follow his convictions, and to speak out for wildlife, the environment, and for wild horses. And he’s still doing it with passion and love. Dayton’s the man. That’s what I want: to preserve and write stories about these special horses, the environment, and the lifestyle, and to inspire future generations to be stewards of these things.

MyHorse: What do you most treasure?

Fusco: My wife, my son, and this farm — including this herd of wonderful horses — they are true treasures.