My first horse was a Shetland Pony. A gift for my 5th birthday from Grandpa York. That spunky Shetland rolled over every time I got in the saddle, so dad traded him for Rawhide, the Gruella Dun quarter-horse who taught me to ride.
Being a cowgirl gave me the skills and courage to sail oceans.
All images ©Kaci Cronkhite.
Mom took this photo of me at 3 on Frosty, Papa's favorite mare.
My dad took over the Cronkhite Ranch when he and mom got married in 1960. I came along 9 months later. If he hadn't died in 1977, I don't think I'd have ever left that land and legacy. But, I did and on the ocean, found an even older ancestral home.
Rawhide, my soul horse. He taught me how to ride, but even more--how to read cattle, listen to the wind, and hang on.
Times, they were a changing. This magazine gave me glimpses of girls and women in other parts of America... and through horse bloodlines, the world!
End of the Trail, an iconic marble statue that was under construction during my K-12 years. It made my heart ache, but I made sure to find and stand near it during every school trip to the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum in Oklahoma City. It was my first stop in 2010, as an adult. Still, the water runs.
What's left of great grandpa Will Cronkhite's horse barn. Although our family has been gone from the ranch for 40 years, I've been fortunate to have permission to visit.
Still the smartest corrals I've ever used. Designed and built by my dad. We worked cattle here the day he had his first heart attack. Long gone from our family, I can still hear his whistle and shout, the cows and calves bawling for one another, and the wind. Always, the wind.
From the front and back. Love those Quarter horse curves.
Two of my siblings--a sister and a brother--still have cattle in their lives. On visits, we've always got an errand or three to do and I do so gladly. No better way to spend time with my sibs than with cow shit on our boots and the wind in our hair.