The Tale of Double R Western™: A Legacy of Resilience, Heritage, and Respect
Mar 09, 2025
Our Story: From Chief Washakie to Bison Restoration
Let me tell you a story.
It’s not just mine. It’s my family’s, and it’s the land we’ve called home for generations. It’s a story about grit and survival, sure—but it’s also about responsibility. Because the American West wasn’t built by one kind of person, and it wasn’t paid for with one kind of cost.
Double R Western™ exists to tell the truth about that legacy—and to help restore what was taken from it.
A Family Legacy: Pioneering the West
On my father’s side, our history runs through the hard country of Idaho and Utah—where courage was daily work and hardship didn’t ask permission. Homesteading wasn’t romantic. It was raw.
It meant building a home with your hands. Planting in soil that didn’t always cooperate. Raising livestock while watching the horizon for storms, predators, or worse. My family’s homestead in Idaho stood through it all—until time took what time takes.
Today, all that remains is our family cemetery. Quiet ground. Heavy reminder.
And then there’s this photo.
Front row, right: Grandpa Franz Frederick—my great-great-grandpa—sitting on a busted plank bench inside a house older than the peeling wallpaper. That house was his. Teton Valley, 1912.
He dug the spillway from Packsaddle Lake by hand. Wooden shovel. Miles of dirt. Just so water could run to the homestead below—and the land could feed a family.
Next to him: Chris Nicholson, our neighbor. Same squint as my Uncle Bob. Same “half-Mexican, half-I-don’t-care” hat. Dusty as hell.
Joseph Hill—married in, lived next door—cowboy hat on his knee, looking like he stepped out of Lonesome Dove. Not staged. That’s just how they sat.
Golder—leaning back, hands folded, cool as creek water. Worked hard. Never bragged.
Back row: Otto Frederick—my grandpa’s father—arms crossed, leather cuffs on, pinstripe jacket like he just came from town court. Hard man. Quiet. The kind who taught me: some things aren’t for sale.
Uncle Billy—grinning like all Rudolph's. Uncle Carl—bandana tight, looking like he could rope lightning.
They weren’t actors. They were real men in a real morning—smoke in the air, cast iron on the fire, creek-cold water close by. No posing. No polish. Just the kind of day you earned with your hands.
That photo hung on our fridge until I was ten.
Double R Western isn’t vintage. It’s proof.
Double R Western isn’t vintage. It’s proof.
The Day Chief Washakie Showed Up
Family stories get passed down like folklore—until you find the proof.
In our case, it’s in old letters. The kind written in plain language, with dust still in the margins. Letters that talk about a moment my great-great-grandfather never forgot: the day Chief Washakie of the Eastern Shoshone and a band of braves rode in after Frank Meyers—our guide at the time—shot an antelope on Eastern Shoshone tribal land.
When the Chief and his men arrived, the guide tried to talk his way out of it. He claimed it was a cow.
Chief Washakie didn’t explode. He didn’t threaten. He simply laughed—like he’d heard that kind of lie before, and didn’t need to prove anything to anyone.
But the story doesn’t end with that tension. The next day, the Chief and his men returned—not for revenge, but for relationship. They asked to borrow a rope. The guide warned my family not to do it.
My great-great-grandfather didn’t listen.
He lent them the rope anyway—because he was a trusting man, and because respect matters more than fear. And then something happened that still hits me hard: they brought the rope back.
Not only that—they showed my family how to rope horses with it. They stayed. They talked. There were more exchanges, more moments that didn’t make it into history books—just human beings meeting each other in the middle of a complicated West.
My great-great-grandmother even played the piano for them. And in return, they traded items—small things, maybe, but heavy with meaning.
Later, my great-great-grandfather gave Chief Washakie back some of his provisions. Not because he had to—because he felt guilty about the antelope, and he wanted to make it right.
And here’s the part that still gives me chills: that was 1896.
Not “a long time ago.” Not “back in the day.” 1896.
Not “a long time ago.” Not “back in the day.” 1896.
And this year marks 130 years since that kindness was shown to my family—since that rope came back, since the laughter cut through the tension, since respect won out over suspicion.
I’m grateful for it. I’m humbled by it. And I feel blessed that I get to answer it the only way that matters: by giving back that same kindness.
Shaping the Land: My Trail Crew Days
That work ethic didn’t stop with them.
As a teenager, I worked for the U.S. Forest Service on a trail crew above Sun Valley, Idaho. We carved a horse-wide trail into the side of a steep mountain—Pulaskis, heavy bars, and sweat. We rolled boulders the size of small cars down the slope and watched them snap trees like toothpicks. If something was too big, we marked it for dynamite.
It was brutal work. But it taught me something I still live by: you don’t get anything lasting without effort—and you don’t touch the land without respect.
The Truth: Native Lands, Bison, and What Was Taken
But this story can’t be told honestly if it only talks about settlers.
The tribes of the West—like the Eastern Shoshone—endured losses most people will never fully understand. Land taken. Culture disrespected. Lives uprooted.
And the bison—a keystone species, a symbol of the West—was nearly wiped out. Not by accident. In many cases, it was used as a weapon: destroy the buffalo, starve Native communities, break the people.
That truth matters. Because if we love the West, we don’t get to cherry-pick its history.
Why Double R Western™ Exists
Double R Western™ was born out of legacy—but built for what comes next.
Through our Renew & Restore initiative, we donate a portion of sales to support native tribal buffalo restoration, land renewal, and efforts that uplift Native communities. For me, it’s personal. It’s repayment. It’s responsibility. It’s gratitude made tangible.
I’m thankful—truly thankful—that I get to play even a small part in helping Native communities today. I don’t take that lightly. I see it as a blessing to carry this forward as part of my lineage, and to do it with respect.
Renew & Restore is my way of repaying a kindness that started in 1896—and carrying it forward with purpose.
Our designs aren’t just graphics. They’re stories—rooted in cowboy ethics, folklore, and the real history that shaped this place. From the Snow Snake design tied to homesteading lessons, to our growing Native Made work with artisans, everything we make is meant to carry meaning.
Cowboy Ethics: The Code Behind the Brand
At the heart of Double R Western™ is a code:
- Live each day with courage.
- Take pride in your work.
- Always finish what you start.
- Do what has to be done.
- Be tough, but fair.
- When you make a promise, keep it.
- Talk less, say more.
- Remember some things aren’t for sale.
- Know where to draw the line.
- Ride for the brand.
These aren’t slogans. They’re standards.
Carrying the Legacy Forward
This isn’t just a brand—it’s a promise.
To honor the stories of my ancestors without pretending they’re the only stories that matter.
To respect the land and its first stewards.
To face the hard parts of history without flinching.
And to build something that gives back.
To respect the land and its first stewards.
To face the hard parts of history without flinching.
And to build something that gives back.
Double R Western™ is for anyone who believes resilience still matters. That community matters. That the West is more than an aesthetic—it’s a responsibility.
Because when you wear Double R Western™, you’re not just wearing clothing.
You’re wearing a piece of history.
Ride strong. Stay true. Live boldly.
