By: Sarah Dibble

I looked down at Commanche and patted his neck. He was tired tonight for the first time in his life. He had good reason to be. As I patted his brown fur with the white spots I thought of all that we went through to get here. It was early in the morning, about 1 a.m. or so, but the crowd was wide-awake. We were standing in the middle of the arena at the Pennsylvania State 4-H Horseshow. I was in line with all the other competitors waiting for the results of the reining class. “What is taking so long?” I kept wondering. “Well, maybe I shouldn’t hurry this moment, because who knows when I’ll be able to experience this again.”

I started thinking it all over again. Earlier in the year I didn’t have a horse to show, so I signed Commanche up for 4-H so I could show with my friends for fun. He later received his show name, Nuthin’ But Trouble, and it came to fit him well. We started out at the County level and did great. I won the Reining class, which is my specialty, but Commanche wasn’t a reining horse. So, we continued working on things like circles and stops. Lead changes were a problem for us but we were getting better.

We had bought Commanche’s brother, Applejacks, years before and the people begged us to take Commanche too. They were attached at the hip and I guess Commanche was going crazy because he missed him. We got him for $300. I didn’t even want him. He could be considered kind of ugly if you didn’t know him. He wasn’t nice at first and he bit me a lot. For $300, it didn’t matter. At the time I didn’t think he was worth that because he didn’t know anything. You could ride him, but he did what he wanted. He never was taught to be submissive.

He liked to fight if you asked him to do something that he didn’t want to do. For example, if he didn’t want to move to the left when you asked him, he would move toward the right out of spite. It’s pretty hard to fight someone who weighs half a ton. He’d to try to buck me off, run me through fences; take me over banks and so on. It all sounds scary or maybe people might say I’m crazy, but when he was good he was amazing.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like what we were doing, he loved it. You could tell by his expression and the energy he put out. When he was feeling cooperative and you asked him to do something like run a fast circle and slow down to a small slow circle, he would do it happily at the slightest command. I even got him to the point where I could ride him without a bridle. His biggest problem with everything was that he couldn’t do all this stuff and be next to his brother, Applejacks, too.

Frustrated and at the end of my rope, a day came where I decided to seek help on Commanche’s temper tantrums. So I inquired about it to a man that I worked for at the time. He trained and showed reining horses too. When I asked him what he would do, he didn’t even look at me when he said, “Sell him and get a new horse.” Well, I wanted to figure Commanche out so I didn’t take his advice.

I would work Commanche in our arena and he was usually pretty good there. It was when I took him on the trails that he would throw most of his fits. Some people like to refer to it as being barn sour. In his case, Applejack sour. He would start off on the trails okay and then all of a sudden he would, wing himself around and try to go the other way. No matter how hard you pulled or kicked he would just get worse.

He would rear up or try and take off for home. This is when I realized you couldn’t fight Commanche with force, but with the brain. One occasion we were far from home and he threw his fit and tried to return to Applejacks. It was getting dark and I needed to get home, but I didn’t want to let him have his way so I made him side pass and back all the way home. He didn’t throw a fit after that in a long time. That also made him good at backing up and side passing.

Commanche started steering well and our circles were becoming polished. His transitions from fast circles to slow circles were right on. I even put some sliding plates on him, because he was starting to get his butt down when you said “whoa”. Before, it would take him a couple of minutes to stop; now he was slamming on the brakes. Being about ten years old at the time, he was catching on to things pretty quick. Granted, I wasn’t always sure what I was doing either, but I learned a lot from him. He started turning around a little too. I never got his spin real solid, but I guess it was good enough for the show.

After winning the reining class at the County show, we graduated to Districts. We all made a joke of Commanche winning because he was such a goof ball and he actually did something good. I use to barrel race him for fun, and he was great at that, but I think he started to like reining. It definitely made more of a horse out of him.

A few months later we went to the District show. We memorized our reining pattern and were ready to go. Our number was called and in we went. “Large fast circle, small slow circle” I was saying the pattern in my head as we went along. “Lead change, oops! Missed a stride” After it was over I walked over to the judge who didn’t look all that pleased. I thought our run was great besides the one lead change. “You’re off pattern and disqualified.” He said. “What!” I replied. There are three cones along the fence that work as guidelines for a reining pattern. The judge tried to tell me I was wrong because I ran my circles outside of the cones.

I tried to explain that the cones are only guidelines and it says nothing in the rulebook about staying inside the cones but he started to get nasty. He probably thought I was a cocky little kid who thought they knew everything, but I knew I was right, and Commanche did so well. I couldn’t let this judge ruin our night. The Show Committee called a meeting after the judge disqualified everyone in the class. That meant no one was going to states! The committee called for us all to get a rerun. Thank God, because Commanche and I won the class! That judge never was heard of judging again.

What a night. Even after the second run Commanche wasn’t tired. When the class was pinned we were all running around and cheering. Commanche was going to states! “Wow” I thought. “He’s never been in an indoor arena! I have a lot of work to do.” I realized. When friends and family of Commanche and I heard the news, everyone was buzzing. To some it might not have been a big deal, but it was to us. This homely little cowpony was going against the big guys.

States was a week away. And of course, clumsy cuts his eye. Somehow, when we were practicing in the arena, we were going over some poles and Commanche tripped on one and a piece flew off and landed in his eye. So we called the vet for Commanche because his eye was swollen shut and watering profusely. By the time we left for Harrisburg, he was healed. We arrived a day before and got him all settled so he could get used to all the strange sights. Nothing really fazed him. He was a little wary of the coliseum, because it is so airy and spooky in there.

Many people at this show have never seen a real reining horse or reining class before. Reining is about how you and your horse communicate, and smoothness and degree of difficulty in the maneuvers. I almost started doubting us because Commanche couldn’t spin real fast or slide very far. He just started doing it a few months ago. We definitely had communication, though. I brushed the worries aside and thought, “We are going to give everything we’ve got, because we worked so hard together.” Commanche felt unusually responsive that night.

The class began around midnight; it was the last class of the day. I walked Commanche around in the warm-up pen and said a few little prayers. Our turn was coming up and we walked toward the gate. My stomach felt like it was twisting in two. I’m sure my heart was beating so loud that Commanche could hear it from below. As the person before me was running their pattern, I anxiously looked around at the excited crowd.

“831, Sarrah Dibble riding Nuthin’ But Trouble” the announcer called us into the arena. I kept saying the pattern over and over. “Here we go!” I whispered to Commanche. “Run down past end marker stop, oops!” Commanche spooked from something in the stands. He wasn’t used to all the cheering. “Two and a half spins to the left. Run down, stop. Okay, that one was a little better.” I kept my mind focused on the pattern. We ended up completing the pattern with a only a few mistakes. I missed a lead change again by one stride.

As we walked toward the out gate, my head was spinning from the excitement and the screaming crowd. Commanche had such a great run. He was steering perfectly in there. I almost wanted to cry. I felt happy, but also a little bit of regret as I wished that the audience could see all that Commanche had learned and overcome. A three hundred dollar horse competing against horses that were probably purchased for thousands. It is the inside that counts. Commanche showed me the meaning of having heart. And that is what makes the difference between a good horse and a great one.

There were about fifteen or twenty of us waiting for the results to be announced. I smiled as I thought to myself “this is really only the second time Commanche has been in an indoor arena!” I knew we weren’t going to win, but we had the best run ever in our show career together.

After recollecting all that brought us here I patted Commanche again and sighed a sigh that only someone so proud of what they accomplished could breath. That was our reward. No plaque, trophy, or money could ever replace that feeling.

The speaker crackled. “And the winner of the 1995 Pennsylvania Horse Show is number 831.” I had no idea what was going on. They had to call my number again. I leaned over the to person on the horse next to me and asked, “Did they just call my number?” I couldn’t believe it. “It is a mistake!” I thought. “How could I have won?” I nudged Commanche to move forward to receive his ribbon. I was in shock and Commanche just wanted to go to his stall.

That night changed the way I thought about so many things. I believed in Commanche and we did everything in our power to be the best that we could. Commanche, now starting to show his old age, still lives in our little pasture. Although, he doesn’t have his youthful appearance, his heart and courage still remains.