Sage of the Saddle Club

  • Published
  • By Master Sgt. Brian Perry
  • 10th Missile Squadron
As I turn onto the dirt road of the saddle club, the uneven rumble of tires on gravel comes to me like the familiar sound of an old friend's voice. I round the first row of neat, red and white barns and see the old cowboy sitting on a wooden plank bench, his back resting against a rail of lodge-pole fence. His felt hat sits a a jaunty angle on his head.
The hat itself is an explanation of the man. 

The shape of the hat is a cross between cowboy and the swept-up brim style worn by Army rangers in the jungles of Vietnam. Having been both a horseman and a warrior, the mix of styles is indeed appropriate. 

As my truck slows to a stop, I notice the old gentlemen is gazing out across the winter pasture, his eyes sweeping eastward over wheat and stubble fields toward the snow patched foothills of the Highwood Mountains 40-miles away. 

I step out of my vehicle and notice his vision is focused on something much further off in the distance, as if he were looking back on the sunny slopes of long ago. Walter Henley has seen 83 winters come and go, watching as the Montana snows deposit nourishing wetness upon the thirsty earth. 

Mr. Henley was born in the early 1920s on the dusty plains of southeast Texas. He was raised in Fort Sumter, N. M., on his family's 1,280-acre farm. He was on horseback almost as soon as he could walk and fondly remembers those days. 

"We used horses for everything. We rode to school on them, went to church on them and even used them to go out on dates," he said. "We had a stock farm with all sorts of critters running around; geese, turkeys, chickens, goats and 21 milk cows that we milked twice a day. It was real interesting growing up like that." 

I met Mr. Henley a few years ago when my family and I first joined the Big Sky Riders Saddle Club here. We were a little nervous about attending that first meeting since we didn't know anyone. But as we entered the clubhouse, we were greeted with a loud, "howdy folks," form a little old man with white hair and a twinkle in his eyes. It was Mr. Henley. This warm greeting really made us feel comfortable and welcome. 

Over the years, Mr. Henley, or "Old Walt" as he's affectionately called, has been a wealth of information and support to many families utilizing the services at the Saddle Club. His knowledge of the horse is only matched by his love and caring for people. I honestly believe that he has probably forgotten more about horses than I can ever hope to learn.
He has become a friend and a mentor to many, if not all, of the saddle club members, who consider him "a treasure." 

This kind old gentleman, has seen combat on foreign soil and lived through three wars. He served in the 9th Army, 102nd Division in Germany during World War II and earned a Bronze Star for duty served on a gun turret crew. He is a bridge to both the past and the future whose example to others of what true patriotic love of country is can only be matched by his compassion for his fellow man. 

Walter Henley is a horseman, warrior and friend.