Don’t mistake Sandi Lang Frenzel for just cowgirl with fancy belt buckles. Her love for the Western life doesn’t come from the glamour of the rodeo, but from the grit and sweat of hard work on a North Dakota farm. From a young age, shaped on the land near Sterling where she grew up, Sandi learned the value of effort, building a reputation as someone who could be counted on.
That farm was home to every kind of animal you can imagine— cattle, pigs, turkeys, sheep, and, most importantly to Sandi’s story, horses. While her mother was an avid rider with a trusted horse named Pet, Sandi and her siblings didn’t learn to ride right away.
In 1954, the farm had 26 horses, with only one broken to ride, Pet. The land was parched by drought that year. Feeding so many horses became impossible, and nearly all of them were sold—except for Pet, who remained on the farm.
Horses, as any good farmer knows, have a way of returning. After the land recovered a bit, three new steeds would make their way to the farm and into the lives of the Lang children. Sandi was 12 when her father purchased her first horse, a bay named Penny. Sandi does not recall why the name Panny, and it really didn’t matter—Penny was freedom. Freedom to explore the prairie on Sundays, a break from the endless chores of farm life.
Sandi’s older sister Arlene got to ride her mother’s horse Pet, while the other horses bought by her dad for the kids that year, Lightning and Thunder, went to her siblings, Kay and David. There’s an classic photo of the four of them, lined up proudly on horseback in front of the new barn, smiling with the unique kind of joy that horses bring.
Bareback Beginnings and Saddle Adventures
The new riders started riding bareback at first. It wasn’t until Sandi graduated from grade school that she received a saddle of her own. Soon, her siblings were given saddles as well, and the four of them, fully outfitted, were ready for adventure.
Sandi remembers those rides with a certain reverence. They’d visit Grandma’s house up the road or roam through pastures, not just for fun, but to help gather the cattle. Not every ride was smooth, though. Penny bucked Sandi off more than once, including one memorable time when she bolted, leaving Sandi in the dirt. That’s a memory Sandi’s never forgotten.
Sandi’s voice softens when she talks about those days, almost as if she were back on the family farm. “You feel more alive on a horse,” she says. “I remember the dampness of the evening, the way the earth readied itself for night. Especially when we rode through a dip in the ground—it felt cooler.”
A New Chapter in Motherhood and Ranch Life
Years passed, and Sandi eventually left home. In 1965, while living on her ranch west of Mandan, she received another gift—Coco Boy, a striking appaloosa. Coco Boy was with her when she had her first children, a steadfast companion through the early years of motherhood.
Life changes, as it does for everyone. Like many who have lived a life of work and adventure, Sandi faced her share of trials, the kind that shape a person’s character. But through it all, horses remained a constant. Each one that came into her life had a special story, weaving itself into her own.
In 1998, the Frenzels bought a sprawling and majestic ranch north of Medora. The ranch came outfitted with a horse named Stitch, who had once worked at the famous Calgary Stampede. Stitch earned his name after being gored by a bull, leaving him with a wound that required sutures. Knowing Sandi’s love for appaloosas, her husband Joe bought Chief Georgey Boy, who traveled all the way from Wisconsin to join Stitch at the Frenzel Ranch.
A Love That Endures: Sandi’s Lasting Bond with Horses
Sandi doesn’t ride much these days, but her love for horses hasn’t faded. “Until the day I die, there will always be a horse nearby,” she says. “Horses tell you things. They let you know when people are coming or when predators are near.”
Today her horses are never far, just a few steps away in the corral, waiting for visits and treats from their beloved friend. Sandi Frenzel calls herself a ranch hand, but she is infinitely more than that. She’s a woman whose spirit runs as deep as the land she’s worked and whose love for horses will never fade.
This story is posted as it appears in the Heart River Voice (November 2024 | Vol. 6, No. 11 | p. 18). To view this column online, please click here.