Cultured Cowgirl

Denley Norman of Lusk, Wyoming, a respected horseman and ranch hand, was killed on July 27 from injuries sustained in a horse accident. (Photo by Lisa Norman)

In my job I meet and interview a lot of horsemen–some part of popular horse culture and the arena, and others content staying in the brush, out of the public’s eye. Denley Norman fell somewhere in between, but more toward the latter category.

I first watched Denley compete on the Haythorn Land and Cattle Co. team at ranch rodeos sanctioned by the Working Ranch Cowboys Association about seven years ago. He was never the big hero or top hand on the team, but he was a dependable team player, consistently there to help get a job done efficiently. And he always had a smile and seemed to have fun in the process. You couldn’t help but cheer for him.

In 2006, I was assigned to write a story on Denley’s wife, Lisa, who is an artist and photographer and had just published a coffee-table book titled Haythorn Land & Cattle Co.: A Horseman’s Heritage. (You can see that article, “Chronicle of Cowboy Life,” in the March 2007 issue). I stayed two days with the Normans at their home on a section of Haythorn ground near Keystone, Nebraska. Their life was so wholesome, simple and pure, almost storybook in an old-fashioned sense. There were no televisions in the house. Denley and Lisa’s young daughters, Kate and Carly, played outside and did their little chores after school, as kids should. When Denley returned home from working cattle, the girls were happy to see him, running into his arms and asking when they could ride their horses next. Dinner was eaten at the table together, and the family spent the rest of the evening reading, singing and making music, working on arts and crafts, or just being together as a family. I remember feeling so content and creative from a lack of technological stimuli, and thinking how this lifestyle was a reflection of both Denley and Lisa’s upbringing and a testament to their strong faith and value in family.

After more than 14 years working on the Haythorn, the Normans moved to the 4-3 Ranch in Lusk, Wyoming, where Denley trained horses for the public and was starting his own cattle herd. On Thursday, July 27, Denley sustained fatal injuries in a ranching accident. He was sorting cattle in the pens with three other cowboys. While moving the cattle up an alley into the pens, his horse reared up, lost his balance and fell backward on Denley. One of the other cowboys, Darin Hanson, was an EMT and immediately administered CPR, but could not revive the fallen cowboy. Funeral services were held in the Lusk High School auditorium on July 30, and Denley was laid to rest in the local cemetery.

Denley is the subject of this painting by Oklahoma artist Mikel Donahue, called "Haythorn Hand." Mikel send me a copy of the painting a couple of years ago and it's always held a special place on my wall. Now it's even more important, knowing it's a depiction of Denley.

Raised on ranches in New Mexico, Denley became a cowboy like his father. Only 44 years old at the time of his death, he lived a full life as a son, brother, horseman, husband and father. Before landing at the Haythorn, he worked on the Bell Ranch in Oklahoma, and the Kendrick and Padlock ranches in Wyoming. He and Lisa met in Wyoming, married in 1991 and went to work for Buster Welch in Texas.

Denley was a soft-spoken, humble man, who always wore his shirts buttoned to the top and sometimes had his jeans cuffed on the bottom. He’d just as soon listen and observe than speak and show off. Horses were his livelihood, and he was a perpetual student of horsemanship, always working to refine his techniques and find better ways to create versatile, handy ranch horses. His quiet mannerisms and hours of study and observation didn’t go unnoticed on the ranch or in a ranch rodeo or Ranch Horse Association of America competition. He also enjoyed teaching his daughters to ride. He was compassionate, expressing concern for others, including myself when I went through a trying time last fall.

Respected by ranch hands throughout the West, Denley will be missed but never forgotten by those whose lives he touched. I remember the last time I spoke to Denley. He told me how difficult it was to make a living as a horseman, but it was really what he felt he was meant to do. I grieve for his family and the loss of a great horseman. But I take comfort in knowing that Denley rode away to greener pastures, quietly and peacefully, as any cowboy would want to do.

Condolences and memorials can be sent to Lisa Norman, 251B Greasewood Road, Lusk, WY 82225. A trust fund has been established for Kate and Carly through Wells Fargo Bank. For information on contributing to the fund or to leave a message for the family, visit denleynorman.blogspot.com.

-Jennifer Denison

In its 75-year history, Western Horseman has commemorated many of its own milestones, as well as those in the horse industry. However, I think most longtime readers and staff from past and present would agree that none compare to the 75th Anniversary Celebration and Ride that occurred this weekend in Colorado Springs, Colorado. With more than 150 people in attendance, from 19 states and Germany, and several top Western clinicians, there was no shortage of conversation and camaraderie.

Mike Kevil, Buck Taylor and Craig Cameron were among the "celebrity" guests along for the ride.

The event kicked off with a mixer on Friday night, which I wrote about in my previous post. Then on Saturday, before dawn, glossy-eyed from only a couple of hours sleep, I wandered into the pasture to catch my horse and haul him to the U.S. Air Force Academy for a day of riding along the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains. Besides spending time with magazine readers and celebrating the publication we all grew up with and admire, this ride was going to be even more special than most because my dad decided to join me with his mule, Fred. He also brought another mule for art director Ron Bonge to ride.

When I arrived at 7:30 a.m., horses were saddled and picketed, ready for the day's ride.

When we pulled into the staging area, a large meadow on the west side of the government property, horses from the AFA string, as well as those brought in from Sombrero Ranches in Meeker, Colorado, and M Lazy C Ranch in Lake George, Colorado, were picketed. Some early birds who brought their own mounts were saddled and ready to go, while others eagerly waited to meet their assigned partners for the day. Having lived in Colorado my entire life, I often take for granted its towering terrain and scenic beauty. But thanks to people I met from Pennsylvania, Louisiana, Arkansas and Texas, I was reminded of how lucky I am to have such riding opportunities in my backyard.

To start our ride out right, Western recording artist Michael Martin Murphey rode in on a stagecoach provided by Jim Newell of Fountain, Colorado. The sound of the rumbling stagecoach, thundering hooves and jingling harness, as well as the sight of dust flying as the horse-drawn vehicle made its way up the gravel road was like a scene from the Old West. Newell’s coach is a replica of a 19th-century Abbot Downing Co. model, which Mark Twain once praised as like a “cradle on wheels.”

Murphey, a resident of Southern Colorado, exited the coach and sang his rendition of the National Anthem. The echoes of his pure voice and acoustic guitar echoed over the mountains, a sound I soon won’t forget. Then everyone set out for the ride.

Riders came from 19 states and Germany.

The first half the ride, we meandered over a small water crossing and along a gradual trail. Besides a few rocks, the terrain was mild and suitable for horses and riders of all levels. After a brief lunch break, catered by The Pinery, riders has their choice of continuing on a shorter or longer ride. Of course, I chose the latter. After all, I had hauled all the way down there. Even though I rode drag the entire time to avoid the bottlenecks, several riders made it back to visit me. These were some of my favorite comments:

“Where would you get to see this many clinicians in the saddle at one time?” “Western Horseman, trail riding, Murphey–this an all-American event, that’s for sure.”

“Only Western Horseman could put on an event like this.”

“Water, and lots of it, is a good thing at this altitude.”

“I didn’t mind the stop-and-go, it just gave me more time to meet and talk to people.”

“Follow a trail? I don’t think so, I’d rather blaze my own.”

I met nobody who didn’t enjoy the ride, and the entire weekend for that matter. Those of us who worked in the Colorado Springs office always sensed Dick Spencer’s presence often, and joked that the occasional sounds of footsteps or slamming file cabinet drawer heard in the early morning or late night were because Dick was working right there with us.  As I reflect on the meaning of this ride, I can’t help but think that each time I felt the tingling warmth from a ray of sun, it was Dick Spencer riding beside us, smiling at what this weekend was all about–bringing together horses and riders from around the world to celebrate the things that meant the most to him, the Western stock-horse industry, cowboy culture, Western Horseman and its readers.

–Jennifer Denison