He wears some mighty fancy boots.
And a two-hundred-dollar Stetson.
By the way he dresses up,
You might think he’s a Texan.
But, he’s all hat and no cattle.
— Song lyrics recorded in 1992 by Wylie and the Wild West Show
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There’s a new subculture in the world of “adventure travel.”
Fox News reported last week how the popular TV show ‘Yellowstone’ and its spin-offs, ‘1923,’ and 1883,” are prompting tourists to invade Montana, Wyoming, and even Fort Worth to experience “open spaces of the great outdoors.”
The latest spike in this avenue of travel, according to the story, was credited to the upcoming debut of “1923’s” second season on February 23
They’re calling this phenomenon “cowboy core.” The story cites Fort Worth Mayor Mattie Parker crediting the trend for increases in Cow Town visitors, adding, “… it’s good for the economy.”
A travel advisor quoted in the article said that “dude ranches” are the draw for viewers seeking the “American frontier” experience. “It looks so magical and majestic. The best way to unleash your inner cowboy is on a dude ranch.”
Inner cowboy was the last thing on my mind when I discovered dude ranches some 30-plus years ago in Bandera County, Texas. For me at the time, a dude ranch was simply a place to live while in the throes of house hunting, having relocated there to manage newspaper operations in Boerne, Bandera, Fort Stockton, and Gonzales.
Three weeks spent at “The Lightning Dude Ranch” turned out to be fun mixed with neccesity. However, finding my inner “drug store cowboy” would be a more fitting description. I would say “all hat and no cattle,” but I never got around to owning a cowboy hat.
Bandera’s reported 2020 census was 829, varying little from what it was when I lived there. Community legend allows that the census is taken in somewhat of a Groundhog Day fashion. I heard it told more than once at the O.S.T. Restaurant in downtown Bandera, that once a year at census time, someone stands on the courthouse steps and counts only souls that can be seen.
The self-proclaimed “Cowboy Capital of Texas,” Bandera actually offers more than just dude ranches. In addition to genuine working cattle ranches, there are places like the aforementioned O.S.T. restaurant with a great chicken-fried steak and a John Wayne room, the legendary Arkey Blue’s Silver Dollar honky tonk where Hank Williams carved his name on the bar top, and several fantastic barbecue joints. My personal favorite being B-Daddy’s.
Lightning Dude Ranch’s colorful owner and host then was Sybil Broyles. She dressed in cowboy western flair and hosted nightly after-dinner campfire get-togethers. That’s where I learned she was also the ex-wife of William (Bill) Broyles, co-founder and original editor of Texas Monthly magazine in 1973.
Broyles graciously entertained my journalistic curiosity about her well-known ex. In addition to Texas Monthly, Bill Broyles served as Newsweek’s editor from 1982 to 1984. Leaving journalism for screenwriting, he created the television series China Beach and Twin Peaks. During his career, he wrote for films like Apollo 13, Cast Away, Planet of the Apes, Unfaithful, and The Polar Express. His work on Apollo 13 earned him an Academy Award nomination for Best Adapted Screenplay.
Living at Lightning’s was my second horseback riding experience, for which I earned no awards. Neither did I earn any for my first horseback ride as a youngster when, to everyone’s surprise, the steed decided to jump a gate. By the time someone got me off, I vowed never to get on another one. Not even the mechanical variety at the supermarket.
Before the trail ride at Lightning’s with my kids almost 40 years later, I shared my childhood experience with ranch hands. They graciously assigned me to an older mare guaranteeing no problems with the gentlest horse they had.
“She never moves any faster than a slow walk,” said one. “You drop the reins, and she’ll bring you slowly back to the barn.”
We were doing fine until the trail went down one side of a dry creek bed and up the other. The old mare eased down but lunged up the other side in a surprise gallop and headed home.
“We never expected that surprise,” the ranch hand apologized.
“I couldn’t have been more surprised myself,” I replied.
Cowboy core aside, three weeks at Lightning’s left me with many memories.
One, my kids didn’t want to leave Lightning’s. “Forget about a house,” my daughter pleaded. “We want to live here.”
Two, that was my last horse-riding attempt.
Third, my inner cowboy today includes a passion for cowboy boots, a trait acquired in the Hill Country, where business attire included boots, starched Wranglers, and dress shirts.
I’ll add that my record of never owning a cowboy hat remains intact. And the closest you’ll ever see me approaching a cow will be with a fork at a good steak house.
—Leon Aldridge
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Aldridge columns are featured in these publications: The Mount Pleasant Tribune, the Rosenberg Fort Bend Herald, the Taylor Press, the Alpine Avalanche, the Fort Stockton Pioneer, the Elgin Courier, The Monitor in Naples, and Motor Sports Magazine.
© Leon Aldridge and A Story Worth Telling 2025.
A Story Worth Telling 