Comanche

Dark bay gelding of unknown heritage
Born early '60s

Today I shake my head & tsk tsk when I hear of a parent who buys a 5 year old, barely broke horse for their child's first horse. Forty-odd years ago that's just what my parents bought me.

We had gone to the recommended horsetrader at Leo's Stable in Artesia. I don't know if we looked at more than one horse that day or not. All I really remember is that I finally had a horse of my own. I named him Comanche. He was dark bay with little white & was most likely a quarter horse or quarter horse/thoroughbred cross (which is what we were told). He supposedly came from a family with kids who'd raised him in their backyard. Knowing what I know today, he most likely came through the most recent auction. We bought him late on a Sunday & the trader delivered him on Tuesday. Definitely one of the longest 48 hours of my life. When Comanche arrived at the stable one of his knees was very swollen. Leonard said he probably fell in the trailer & to go ahead & ride him because he wasn't lame. Ride him I did, with what had to be the biggest grin ever. He didn't turn very good, nor did he stop very good. But boy did he go. He even did a little jumping when I could get him turned towards a jump. In fact one time a friend was on him when he ran away & jumped over some barrels. All I could do was laugh. I don't think she ever got on another horse. I had so much fun on Comanche & knew he was mine forever. After I'd had him a month the stable owner, Mr Harris, convinced my mother that Comanche should be returned to the horsetrader because the swollen knee never did go down. He never was lame so I couldn't understand why I couldn't keep him. I don't know how long I sobbed but it did no good. My first horse was picked up by the horsetrader the next weekend. I remember petting Comanche's face before he loaded on the truck & telling him I would never love another horse. As the truck pulled out of the stable I sobbed to Comanche, Vaya Con Dios.

I've loved other horses through the years, but have never forgotten my first. It seems silly now that a young girl would say Vaya Con Dios to her lost horse, but I'm sure at the time it was my way of being very dramatic. Those simple words also seemed to have romanticized Comanche in the way only a first horse can be romanticized. While today I know he probably had a different ending than the young me believed, I still have hope that he lived a happy life with someone who loved him as much as I.