The story of this first horse starts with Whitney’s father, Wayne, purchasing Whiskey as a horse to ride, move cattle, and take hunting. Together, they forged an unbreakable bond, side by side in their prime, working chores or going on the occasional adventure. But as Whiskey aged, fate had a gentler plan in store, one far from the dust and toil of the ranch.
Wayne passed down his love for the land, guiding his children, Whitney and Garett, through the corrals and teaching them the secrets of the Western way, where grit and heart are learned through experience. No greater lessons can be passed from generation to generation.
Whitney Leuenberger has her father to thank for these memories of her first horse,
Whiskey, which serve as the cornerstone of what she recalls as an amazing childhood.
Photos of that time show how her proud father placed her on Whiskey’s back when she
was just a baby, trusting the old sorrel with a white blaze and three white socks
to be gentle. With his calm nature and easy spirit from years of the two working together,
Whiskey eventually became more than a horse—he became Whitney’s steadfast companion
in those early years of her life.
Whiskey wasn’t just a horse to ride—he was a piece of the family’s heart. After branding cattle or tending to chores, Whitney and her brother, cousins, or a few friends would clamber onto his back, two or three of them at a time. Whitney spent most of her time with Whiskey but occasionally rode a buckskin gelding owned by her grandfather, Ted Leuenberger, named Buck. Buck was the more stubborn horse and was usually reserved for solo rides by her brother or his friends. These moments weren’t filled with rodeo thrills or fast-paced excitement—they were quiet, simple pleasures.
As a family, they participated in parades, the highlight being the Wolf Point Wild Horse Stampede, where they’d ride proudly through the streets. But it wasn’t the crowds or the noise that lingered in Whitney’s memory—it was the clack of hooves on the pavement, the shared glances, and the feeling of being part of something timeless, especially with her father.
One of her favorite memories is riding with her grandpa Ted, the two of them winding their way from Hubbard Road back home. It wasn’t about the destination; it was about the ride itself, the shared silence or stories between them, and the way the land seemed to stretch on forever beneath the endless sky. In those moments, the world felt simple and pure, untouched by the chaos that would come with growing up elsewhere.
Whitney’s childhood home in Vida, Montana, was just up the road from her grandparents
on the family ranch, where she spent most of her time bottle-feeding calves and riding
horses. Life on that land—life in McCone County—was beautifully typical. It was marked
by quiet routines and golden sunsets, by days that slipped by in a haze of innocence.
The vast prairies, the crisp air, and the weight of tradition anchored her family
to the land, making every ride and every chore feel like a piece of something larger.
Occasionally, there were unexpected moments, like surprise encounters with skunks, that brought a bit of laughter and commotion. But even those moments felt like they were just a routine part of ranch life. Every experience, whether mundane or wild, was steeped in the simplicity and honesty of living off the land. There was nothing more peaceful than the Eastern Montana sunset at the end of an honest day's work.
Horses were in Whitney’s blood, running through her family line. Her great-grandfather, Herman Leuenberger, and her Grandfather, Ted Leuenberger, had raised racehorses, crafting a legacy that lasted through generations. Their history with horses wasn’t just about breeding and racing; it was about a deep understanding of the animals—an unspoken bond that passed from father to son, and eventually to Whitney herself through her father. It was that same legacy that found its way into Whitney’s heart, turning Whiskey into more than just her first horse but a continuation of the life her family built.
As time passed, Whiskey and Buck grew old and eventually moved into retirement. Whitney and her brother found themselves pulled toward other pursuits—sports and activities that took them away from the weekend rides up gravel roads. Life, as it does, moved on. The family would relocate to Sidney, away from the ranch lifestyle. Only memories now hold them to that time and place.
But even now, when Whitney thinks back, it’s the time with Whiskey she remembers most. The old, calm soul who carried her through those early years of childhood. A “good ole pony” who holds a special place in her heart, a symbol of the simpler days when the world felt pure, and the land stretched on forever beneath the biggest sky she’s ever known.
This story is posted as it appears in the Heart River Voice (October 2024 | Vol. 6, No. 10 | p. 18). To view this column online, please click here.