Joe Leathers - 2026

Rancher

CHILDHOOD

Joe was reared as a cotton farmer’s son. When he was 18 months old, the homesteaded family home burned to the ground, setting his parents back financially in a way from which they never recovered. Joe’s mother went to work outside the home, and eventually his father had to seek additional work away from the farm to supplement their income, only returning on weekends.

Joe’s early memories include sleeping in a toe sack hanging from the tractor as his daddy plowed. As he got older, he napped at the end of the cotton rows as his father plowed and planted. He attributes his deformed hands, which are permanently clenched in fists, to the countless hours spent gripping a hoe handle while persistently fighting weeds.

When Joe was about seven years old, his brother left home, leaving Joe as the only sibling available to help on the farm. He was quickly trained to drive the tractor and carried much of the weight of the farm chores in his father’s absence. Joe recalls the cotton stripper breaking down one autumn, forcing the family to hire people to pull the cotton by hand. Joe, too, was given a sack and pulled cotton beside a woman who taught him how to do it.

LATE TEENS — EARLY ADULTHOOD

To earn money for clothing, a car, and school expenses, Joe worked for neighboring farmers by building fence, moving pipe, and helping local contractors. Because he was not allowed to participate in extracurricular activities until he could transport himself to and from school, Joe saw little value in activities that offered no monetary compensation and rarely provided lasting relationships. As a result, he focused on whatever work he could find.

For two years, Joe worked at the local meat locker in Clarendon while attending college. That experience contributed two important benefits to his career: he learned to recognize and process high-quality beef, and he learned conversational Spanish.

When Joe was 19, he married his high school sweetheart, Louise. They moved to Goodnight, Texas, in July 1977 and worked for Nick Holt of Holt Brothers in Gruver, Texas. They lived in Goodnight for four years and had two boys, David and Jonathan.

In late summer 1981, Nick moved Joe and Louise to Gruver, where they lived for one year before moving again to Guymon, Oklahoma. Nick ran about 10,000 Mexican yearlings on wheat pasture each year. As the steers were processed and released on wheat, cowboys were sent out in pairs to head, heal, and doctor the sick ones. Nick never had more than three teams of men and usually just two; at times, only one team was available to doctor cattle.

Doctoring yearlings honed Joe’s roping skill. He often said his arms and shoulders would be so tired that he learned to swing only once — and catch with the first loop. (Joe has no shoulder or wrist left today as a result.) As they kept track of the medicine used, it was not uncommon to doctor at least 100 head per day per team.

It was also at Holt Brothers that Joe learned extensively about breaking horses. Nick had a stud that was a “bucking horse” reject, so every horse Nick raised had a propensity to blow up at unlikely moments. Joe often said you could never depend on those horses in a tight spot when a calf was on the end of a rope; their first response was to pitch. During the 11 years Joe worked for Nick, he broke 68 colts. If there were any dependable horses, he had few, as he was typically given the ones no one else could ride.

His summers were spent breaking horses; the fall, winter, and spring months were spent shipping, doctoring, and moving thousands of wheat pasture cattle to grass. It was not uncommon for Joe and one other cowboy, Todd Browning, to move several hundred head by themselves.

Two vital career lessons came from this period: a huge crew is not required to do a huge job, and the men you have must be highly skilled. Joe also stored vast knowledge of horsemanship during his years with Holt Brothers.

TURNING 30 — LARRY THOMPSON’S

Larry Thompson was a businessman who saw the value in the stability of cows and calves, the faster but riskier return of yearlings, and the backup income from farming winter grazing and summer harvests. Joe always said that working for Larry was where he earned his “college degree.”

Louise writes that she believes a man finally comes into manhood around age 30. The year Joe turned 30 — 1988 — was the year he moved his family from Holt Brothers to work for Larry Thompson. Those four years were the hardest of their young family’s life, marked by tremendous financial and personal loss. Yet they were also blessed with two daughters, Sarah and Anna, born at the most inopportune time. Along with the trials, those years taught valuable personal and career lessons.

Joe learned how to shape cattle for the feedlot and gained humility and compassion for employees. Whether dealing with employer-owned property or their own, they came to understand they were merely stewards. Louise notes, “Hold to things loosely, hold to our loved ones tightly, and trust only God.” As a result, Joe treated his employer’s ranch and belongings as if they belonged to the Lord, and he treated employees with respect, love, fairness, and the value he himself desired.

MOORHOUSE RANCH CO.

It is often said of Tom Moorhouse that he was born 100 years too late — and that is no understatement. Joe planned to begin work for Tom and Moorhouse Ranch Co. on April 1, 1992. The family moved in on March 27. Tom could not stand to see anyone idle, so instead of giving them time to hang pictures or assemble a bed, Joe was put straight to work. Louise believes the first thing he did was roll his bed out on the ground or in a bunkhouse at Pitchfork.

Tom neighbored with his brother, Bob, who managed the Pitchfork at the time. That began many nights away from home over the next seven years. During those years, Joe and his family quite literally became part of the Moorhouse family. Living next door to Togo and Lucille Moorhouse placed the Leathers family in what Louise calls an “ever-watched glass house.” David and Jonathan (Cotton) quickly became part of the Moorhouse workforce because the employees had more kids than Tom had help. All the kids became the crew, which posed challenges for a wagon boss, but every one of them grew up knowing how to work and excel.

At Moorhouse’s, Joe swam rivers horseback, made midnight drives by moonlight, worked with broken ribs and bones, learned from great horsemen like Ray Hunt, wore out two saddles, broke colts on mountain slopes, learned the art of working men, traveled hundreds of miles to work cattle, slept about 100 nights a year in a bedroll, honed his horsemanship, and won the first RHAA World Championship on a horse called Shady.

When asked if he had ever slept in a wet bedroll, Joe’s answer was, “No, but I’ve laid awake in a lot of ’em!” He lived days without a bath except in a stock tank, endured blizzards, torrential rains, tornadic winds, blistering heat, mosquito swarms, and fire ants in his bedroll. He burned holes in the soles of his boots trying to warm himself by a fire he could not feel and ate more “plow disc fried meat rolled in a tortilla” than he ever cares to recall.

Joe often said that at Moorhouse’s he earned his “master’s degree.” Lessons learned there included doing huge jobs with few men, keeping morale high, and developing the courage to take cattle long distances under harsh conditions.

FOUR SIXES RANCH

Joe’s time at the 6666 Ranch is what he will likely be remembered for most. However, without the foundation laid by Holt Brothers, Thompson’s, and Moorhouse’s, none of his later accomplishments would have been possible. Joe refers to his years at the 6666 as his “doctorate degree” in ranching.

On August 1, 1999, Joe began what he felt was less than a lateral move from Moorhouse’s. He was no longer Wagon Boss, but the change was a much-needed reprieve for his family. The boys were grown and gone, and his daughters needed him as a father. Life as a camper at North Camp for the next five years allowed him to build the relationships he had missed while working away from home. He also served their small church as pastor for two to three years, studying his Bible while feeding cows in the winter. During this time, he continued to refine his horsemanship while working with Joe Wolters.

Louise once asked Joe if he missed Shady from the Moorhouse years. Joe replied, “I have an entire pen full of Shadys standing out there!” The shift from riding bucking horses earlier in his career to riding some of the best working cow horses ever bred was a dramatic and welcome change.

Much of what happened in the following years could fill a book. Louise refers to it as a fascinating “God Story” where names might need to be changed to protect the living. She shares only the publicly known facts here and expresses gratitude that they were unaware of many rumors at the time, which might have affected Joe’s zeal for service and leadership.

Joe is a unique individual. Years ago, he and Louise took a Spiritual Gifts Test that revealed something their pastor had never seen: Joe scored incredibly high in two opposing categories — Service and Leadership — each at about 80–85 percent. The only explanation, Louise says, is, “Watch him… listen to him… and learn!”

Joe became Wagon Boss of the 6666 Ranch in the fall of 2004. Six weeks later, a series of events led to his move to Dixon Creek as division manager. The decisions and trials of the next four years established Joe as a capable representative and spokesperson for the ranch.

One of his early decisions was converting nine irrigation wells from diesel to electricity. With diesel over four dollars per gallon, the projected payback on the investment was two and a half years. The actual payback was one and a half, saving a tremendous amount of money.

Another challenge Joe took on was cleaning up the oil-field mess across the ranch. He negotiated where possible, withheld long-standing privileges from companies to push cleanup efforts, and enforced invoicing for damages — a practice that had quietly fallen away. Slowly, the ranch landscape began to recover.

THE FIRES OF 2006 AND 2011

February 2006 brought the event Louise says defined Joe as a leader. A railroad-sparked fire roared across the ranch and up to the back of the ranch houses at headquarters, close enough to melt a child’s bicycle tires. The winds were relentless that year. Joe led a month-long investigation to secure restitution from the railroad, handing it over to lawyers and insurance companies just in time for the next major fire.

In March 2006, another fire broke out on a very windy day. This one took seven lives, destroyed homes, ravaged neighboring ranches, and wiped out entire herds. The men fought the fire all night and well into the next day. It was the largest wildfire in Texas history at the time — a record that would be broken again about five years later. Joe immediately began another investigation, seeking answers and accountability not only for the 6666 Ranch but for neighboring operations as well. He located evidence of negligent oil-field practices within 24 hours, later confirmed by the State Fire Inspector.

The grace and strength Joe exhibited over the next two years shaped his reputation as he spoke on behalf of the ranch to the Texas Legislature. He worked to develop policy to tighten regulations on oil companies. Anne Marion, though a wildcatter herself, gave Joe her full support in his tireless efforts for land stewardship.

On July 27, 2008, Anne and John Marion arrived at Joe and Louise’s door. Anne had made an administrative change and asked Joe to move back to Guthrie, Texas, to serve as General Manager. Joe never shrank from a challenge and accepted the responsibility gladly. As she walked out the door, Anne told him, “Joe, don’t stop the fight with the oilfield. Give ’em hell!” Together, they did.

The fires of 2011 were devastating for the state of Texas. The 6666 Ranch lost very little, thanks to Joe’s preparation. The Forestry Service told him they could see his fire guard from satellite images. A neighboring ranch lost 80,000 acres, but Joe coordinated efforts that kept the fire off their land. The fire guard was four blades wide and ran for miles. Joe worked 48 hours without sleep preparing and fighting fire until the crew finally sent him home because he could barely speak coherently on the radio.

They were grateful to save the ranch from fire — only to watch drought and desert termites inflict severe damage shortly afterward.

THE GREAT CATTLE EXODUS OF 2011

The 2011 drought melted what Louise describes as “what tallow was left in Joe.” A group of ranch managers met at the Big House and determined that cattle needed to be moved or sold. Anne had already declared she would not “ruin” the ranch as she believed her mother had during the drought of the 1950s.

Joe, accustomed to living on the ground and moving cattle long distances, was not intimidated by relocating large herds. The bigger challenge was finding land. Joe and Dennis Bradin were chosen to scout possibilities. Eventually, the entire King County herd and most of the Dixon Creek herd were moved to locations in Nebraska, South Dakota, Wyoming, Montana, Nevada, and Arizona.

This massive relocation was not without complications and loss. Joe put about 70,000 miles a year on his pickup. He spent months away from home, slept on the ground, swam rivers horseback, climbed mountains, and rode hundreds of miles in the saddle. Many of the facilities they encountered were inadequate for working cattle. Joe turned negatives into positives, faced hostile neighbors with calm, and remained above reproach. He earned the respect of cattlemen across multiple states and built lasting friendships. He kept his crew’s morale high and rotated their travel schedules to ensure time with their families. Joe was the only one who made every trip, every time. Nathan was the only employee who traveled north almost as often as Joe.

Louise notes two families whose sacrifice deserves mention: Bubba and Aleshia Withers, and Cotton and Dawn Leathers. Ranching has never been a lucrative profession, and the lifestyle becomes a full family effort. The move changed these two families forever.

By 2014, the grass had recovered well enough to bring cattle home. Joe purchased new cattle to restock the ranch, carefully selecting heifers that would improve the genetics. The entire effort to save the herd during drought was to preserve generations of breeding — regressing at this point would have been foolish. By 2019, all leases were released, the best cows were home, and the grass was fully restored.

SERVICE TO THE INDUSTRY

Amid the fires, droughts, relocations, and challenges, Joe continued serving the cattle industry in significant ways:

• Texas & Southwestern Cattle Raisers Association — Director and Executive Director

• National Cattlemen’s Beef Association — various committees

• Texas Animal Health Commission — appointed by Governor Rick Perry

• Worked with others to convince the EPA to allow the use of Invora for mesquite control

• U.S. CattleTrace — key developer of the program’s structure to protect the industry in the event of catastrophic disease or contamination

• National Ranching Heritage Center — Executive Director

Joe Leathers Biography — As Told by Louise Leathers