When I was eight years old I got my first horse, and there was quite a bit of discussion about what type of horse I would get. I sure didn't want some little, old, kid's pony. I wanted a good, working cow-pony. I think my folks were afraid for me to get too spirited a horse but I won out in the end.

Star was a nine-year-old, coal-black, quarter-horse gelding (picture is at top of page). He had three white stockings and a white blaze on his forehead. My grandpa McEntire gave me an old, high cantle, working saddle - I would dearly love to have that saddle today.

Grandpa led quite a life, he left home (Jacksboro, Texas) when he was 15 years old and worked on a lot of ranches. He gave me a lot of good advice that I still remember... like, "Don't ever brag about how good you ride cause they'll sure find one you can't ride."

When I wasn't in school or doing chores you would find me with my horse and my dog, Tip (we were a threesome). One time a lady in town (Dorothy McColgin) paid me to ride Star in the Old Settler's Reunion parade at Cheyenne, Oklahoma. She gave me a five dollar bill and I thought I had a pocket full of money (for that day and age it was a lot of money).

Star was gentle with small kids and older women, but when I put a foot in the stirrup, I knew I had better have a good hold on that saddle horn, and that's the way I wanted it.

Dad had cattle on government pastures and once a government vet was testing for Brucellosis (Bangs disease). Star and I was pretty good at kicking cows out of shinnery knolls (scrub oak). Anyway, the vet asked Dad if he could hire me and my horse to help in corralling cows on some other places. I think he paid me three dollars a day and hauled my horse.

During this time, I was also helping corral cattle for testing at a neighbors and his son. A young man by the name of Roy Alvin Barker was teasing me that he could outrun my horse on foot. I thought he was crazy! Being young and naive, I let him mark the course for the race. The course was short with a sharp turn around and back to the mark. Anyway, fifty-some years later and he's still bragging about out-running my horse. Wish that mark had been ten foot further!

All good memories!