About us

It’s the dead of winter. The winds have raised a riptide of elements to crash against the foundation of the ranch. Livestock huddle on a half line between their trough and the barn that shields them. Our boots are soaked in the bullshit of today. There’s a hunger in our stomachs that we continually push away. When it is finally time to call it a day, we close the gate against the cold air that waits for us to return like a stray, and we wander...

We wander into the wild, but we always wander back home again. Addicted to country work where it meets a side of livin’ when the moonlight rises. We say cheers to our brothers with a beer in one hand and a tip of our hats as we kick the tattered mud off our boots, for today.

- Gangster Cowboy