In the post-“Sideways” mainstream of hot destinations, Los Olivos ranks pretty high among up-and-comers, with its trendy coffee bars, art galleries, organic food shops and glistening wine tasting rooms.

However, tucked in the recesses of this bustling town, a little slice of once-rustic Los Olivos has dug in its spurs and is ho

However, tucked in the recesses of this bustling town, a little slice of once-rustic Los Olivos has dug in its spurs and is holding firm. If you slow down and listen, you might hear Willy Nelson crooning in the distance; and if you look close, there beyond the metal sculptures in the garden of the Judith Hale Gallery, there’s a distinctly countrified barn, leaning slightly, covered in horseshoes, with a door made from the back window of a turnip truck, and inside a whistling Vern McWilliams — cowboy artist.

From first glance it is apparent that Vern is heartland through and through. A true horseman, he wears spurs on his boots even in town. He never goes anywhere without his hat and “thank you, Ma’am” rolls off his tongue as though he were born and bread southern gentry. Raised in Wyoming, Vern has all the markings of a man who’s spent his life on dusty trails astride a beloved horse.

Vern has no recollection of life without cattle and horses.

“When I was a kid, I could do anything I wanted in the summer as long as I worked a 10-hour day first, and we done everything with the horses,” Vern says.

He was put to work on the family ranch in the fourth grade, given a choice to milk cows or harness the team (horses). He chose the team and until he was tall enough, stood on a stool to do his work.

What finally brought Vern to California was the harsh Wyoming weather. When he was a young man, he jumped at the chance to work a winter on a Santa Ynez ranch. When he realized no one ever shovels snow around here, it was an easy decision to move permanently. That was the summer of ’69 when the Valley was more cattle ranches than wineries, and there were plenty of head to look after year ’round.

If it was weather that brought Vern here, there’s no doubt there’s one person who has kept him here — Kay McWilliams, partner and wife for more than 22 years. Vern and Kay met at what old-timers will remember as the Santa Ynez Valley Sales Yard in Buellton.

“There was just something about the way he sat a horse,” Kay says, recalling a quality only a true cowgirl can appreciate.

At the time, Vern was day-working on local ranches, and when he proposed marriage, he asked Kay if she wanted a ring, to which she replied, “No I want a team.” It was a response that solidified Vern and Kay as a match made in cowboy heaven. Shortly after, the newlyweds acquired two black, bald-faced Shires, named Cadillac Jack and Flash Gordon, after their respective fathers.

When Vern and Kay aren’t chasing cattle or working horses, Kay can be found wrangling at the Alisal and Vern is often found at the old barn in Los Olivos. It is there that Vern — a self-taught silver artist — designs collectable cowboy hats, horseshoe necklaces, bracelets, head stalls, bridles, belt buckles and anything else that catches his fancy. His replica hats of famous cowboys like Ronald Reagan, Clint Eastwood and John Wayne are perhaps his best known works. His designs, created by what is called lost wax casting, are the result of a long process by which a rubber mold is made into a wax mold, which is subsequently melted inside another mold to create a negative space — e.g. lost wax — then filled with molten silver by way of a centrifugal casting machine. 

His designs are so popular he’s been sought out over the years by local prominent families wanting replicas of a late patriarch’s signature hat. Other notables such as Jonathan Winters and Larry the Cable Guy are counted among his collectors. So popular are the three-inch silver hats, Vern designed a spinning, table-top hat rack for those who want to collect and admire them all.

But just as one passion inspires another and then another, the McWilliams have recently discovered their newest fixation — carriage racing. Much like horse competitions where riders maneuver obstacle courses and are scored according to speed and skill, the three-day-driving events add a carriage hitched behind the horse. “It’s a completely different thing because you don’t have the horse under you.” Vern says. “The skill is in the reigns, the communication with the horse and keeping the carriage balanced.”

The McWilliams have competed in several driving events from Fresno to San Diego with a pair of Oberlanders — German-bred, mid-sized draft horses. These golden beauties, owned by Derek and Cindy Acker, are substantial animals with both grace and power. As Vern puts it, “They keep letting us win, so we keep showing up.

“They didn’t really know what to make of us at first.” Vern explains about a sport not unfamiliar in the elite circles. “We don’t have a fancy carriage or special outfits. I wear a tie and we keep the carriage clean.”  Now their simple approach to competition — skill before vanity — is turning heads in arenas all over California.

So goes the ease with which most things happen for Vern McWilliams: a reserved, hard-working cowboy, driven by his instinct, his art, and his love of horses. His is a life that knows no obstacles in the pursuit of what comes natural. “A real renaissance cowboy,” says Kay, and she knows best.