Austin Shepard, mounted on a quarter horse named Kittenish, had just separated a young cow, one with an all-white coat, from a herd clustered on the north end of a near-capacity Dickies Arena.
It’s the third iteration of The American Performance Horseman, one of Teton Ridge’s big-draw Western events. And despite a lineup that includes country rockers Brothers Osborne, cutting is the marquee event.
Shepard and Kittenish are now positioned between the herd and the cow that’s desperate to return to its previous company. Face-to-face, there appears an ever-so-brief moment of a stare down, as if the cow sized up the thousand-pound Kittenish before quickly coming to its senses — the only way to get back is by going around, not through. And in this moment, Shepard drops his hand, letting loose of the reins.
Kittenish, for lack of a better term, is on her own.
The young cow, far more nimble than I ever suspected cows could be, abruptly jets to its left, and Kittenish, in a crouching position akin to a runner prepared for the starting gun, mirrors its movements, preventing the cow from returning to the herd. Unrelenting, the cow continues to give it a go, running from side to side with occasional jerky lateral movements or fake-outs in the opposite direction. Kittenish, correctly anticipating every shift and maneuver, appears as if she’s reading the cow’s mind. In the cutting world, they call this “cow sense,” an innate and learned intuition that makes horses excel at the sport. And with every mirrored movement, plumes of dirt fly into the air, and the crowd chants a high-pitched “whoop!” in unison.
It’s a stunning choreography between these two creatures whose domesticated lives have starkly different histories, purposes, and everyday existences. Kittenish, despite matching movements, juxtaposes the cow with his grace, her black mane flopping through the air as she goes from side to side without ever advancing.
This dance goes on for about 15 seconds — there’s no buzzer in this sport, no 8-second minimum or 24-second shot clock, just a feel for when it’s best to move on after proving oneself — and the cow returns to the herd. Shepard picks up the reins, and he and Kittenish repeat the process two more times, separating cows similarly handpicked for spryness before relinquishing all duties to Kittenish.
In the ever-expanding wide world of sports, no competition’s outcome relies more heavily on trust and faith in another being, whether human or beast, than cutting. And the fact the being we speak of happens to be a horse is a testament to man’s unique relationship with these incredible animals. Of course, one could argue most nonindividual sports require a certain amount of trust in teammates. But, as a teammate yourself, you have a certain amount of control in the outcome of any competition. This is similar to other equine sports like horse racing and show jumping, where the person in the saddle has both hands on the reins and, thus, a fair share of control over the horse and whether they win or lose.
In all of athletics, team or equine or otherwise, cutting is an anomaly. To use a football analogy, once the rider lets loose of the reins, he or she is merely a coach — a glorified spectator with a lot at stake — and the horse is a quarterback with the game on its shoulders. In this moment, it’s pure trust.
Of course, none of this is to say the rider — the cutting horse trainer — is lacking in contribution. Quite the opposite. Not only is separating (cutting) the cows a key component and judged criteria — they’re looking for smooth and clean cuts without disturbing and dispersing the herd (a three-point penalty) — but the trainer must also avoid the natural temptation to clutch the reins with their free hand once the horse is working the cow. Any reining or visible cueing, according to the NCHA judges’ scorecard, is a one-point penalty.
Also, someone had to train the horse to get that damn good at cutting. While there’s a genetic component to cow sense, this intuition has to be properly coaxed out of a horse, which typically takes two years of patient training.
Yeah, they’re regular horse whisperers.
When Cutting Was Just a Foal
One of the fascinating things about rodeo events and Western sports, in general, is that they stem from real-world applications. The events one sees at such competitions — save for 130-pound fellas hopping on the backs of bulls — is a literal job one would find on a working ranch. For instance, you gotta secure calves for branding and doctoring (insert roping event here); you gotta break-in horses (bronc riding); and when you break-in that horse, you gotta be damn good on it (barrel racing).
Cutting is no different.
In the 19th century, large herds of cattle would gather and graze in the open ranges. These herds almost universally included strays that wandered off from other large free-grazing herds or ranches. In such large herds, you were bound to see quite the assortment of brands. Thus, mass roundups would occur twice a year, giving ranchers an opportunity to reclaim their lost cattle.
Given that these roundups required cowboys to regularly separate a single cow from a herd and keep it apart, it was certainly advantageous to possess horses that excelled at cutting and working cattle — those that had good cow sense. Such horses were intelligent, agile, reflexive, and dependable. In other words, the best of the remuda.
On its face, this roundup task, requiring delicate skill from both horse and horseman, might’ve seemed a strange fit for a sport. It lacked the physical risk or sacrifice of bull or bronc riding, and it didn’t require the speed of calf roping or barrel racing. This task was a tedious slow burn, but its craft and artistry were admired by horsemen and horse enthusiasts alike. The West Texas town of Haskell (a three-hour drive from Fort Worth) was the first to get this memo, hosting the maiden cutting event in 1898. Spurred on by a hefty purse of $150 (nearly $6,000 today), the event drew thousands of spectators and attention from the likes of the Dallas Morning News and the Kansas City Star — the Star-Telegram was eight years out from hitting the presses.
Bottom line: This brand-new sport was picking up steam.
Fast-forward 20 years, and our very own Fort Worth Stock Show & Rodeo, then the Southwestern Exposition and Fat Stock Show, hosted the first cutting horse exhibition in an arena. The showing proved so popular that the powers that be added the event to its annual slate of rodeo events the following year.
The subsequent decades would see a major, and almost unwieldy, boost in the sport’s popularity. According to the National Cutting Horse Association, “By 1946, there were so many cutting horse contests being held, under so many different sets of conditions and rules, that a group of 13 cutting horse owners met at the Southwest Exposition and Fat Stock Show and decided to form an association to establish standard rules and procedures for holding such a competition.”
And, thus, the NCHA was formed. Headquartered right here in Fort Worth, the NCHA is the nation’s primary governor, promoter, sponsor, and producer of over 1,300 cutting events that cover the gamut of professionals, amateurs, veterans, celebrities, and everything in between. According to the NCHA website, these competitions, cumulatively, attract over 130,000 entrants and shell out over $39 million in annual prize money.
But among this legion of events are three that the NCHA dubs the “Triple Crown”: World Championship Futurity, Super Stakes, and the Summer Cutting Spectacular. One could call them the Kentucky Derby, Preakness, and Belmont of cutting, and we will. These are the events that create legends and etch winners’ names in stone, where the stakes are highest ($9 million in prize money annually), and the best of the best perform. But, unlike the triple crown of horse racing, NCHA’s big three all take place in the same venue: Fort Worth’s Will Rogers Coliseum.
Given Cowtown’s role in the genesis of the sport, we argue it stands to reason that Fort Worth monopolize such events. And the local economy, which gets a boost of $119 million (according to NCHA), would have a similar argument.
In 2023, Globe Life would host the inaugural The American Performance Horseman, an event that brought the equine sports of cutting, reining, and reined cow horse together for a team event with a $1 million purse. Done in conjunction with The American Rodeo, it was likely the first performance horse event that had the energy of a rock concert. The competition, keeping the same format, would move to Dickies Arena this year, where horsemen competed to a near-capacity crowd.
I have a feeling we’re not in Haskell anymore.
While cutting has no doubt changed over the past 80 years — giant arenas, improvements in veterinary medicine, $5 million price tags on horses, to name a few — there’s one thing that’s remained constant: It all comes down to the horse — the best in the remuda.
Weatherford, the Cutting Horse Capital of the World
While we’ve never tested the hypothesis of throwing a rock in Weatherford to see if it hits a cutting horse trainer — far too risky an experiment — we suspect there’s at least a modicum of truth to such a statement. Whether there’s something in the water or this town has saddles in their baby strollers, Weatherford is undeniably the center of the cutting industry.
“We’re the Cutting Horse Capital of the World, and it’s a designation we carry around the cutting communities worldwide,” Weatherford Mayor Paul Paschall says. “It was a name given to us by local ranchers in the late 1980s for our world-renowned horse trainers, and even those involved in the cutting industry in ancillary services like veterinarian services, medications, feed, et cetera, et cetera. The reach goes far and wide.”
While the name might’ve started in the 1980s and stuck in the 1990s, it has roots that date back to the city’s establishment in 1856, when the town quickly became a center for ranches and horse breeders. Today, it’s home to over 70 cutting horse ranches, including the likes of Crown Ranch, Slate River Ranch, Taylor Sheridan’s Bosque Ranch, and the recently-for-sale TR9. Then there’s Silverado on the Brazos, a community that has its own arena for cutting events and is home to several notable trainers.
For many in this town of 40,000, cutting is just a part of everyday life. It’s a refuge for those who reject the big-city life but still require the occasional trip to Fort Worth. Despite its proximity, the town has long avoided the influence of the metroplex, choosing to stubbornly stick to its roots as a traditional Texas town steeped in the Western lifestyle.
According to Paschall, that’s precisely what those in the cutting industry find most appealing about their town.
“I think the values align,” Paschall says. “It’s heritage. It’s hometown. It’s hospitality. The values that the equine industry carry, our community carries, too. As many parts of the world have taken one roadway, this area has maintained strong family values, strong churches, strong schools, and strong volunteer and service groups, and I think it just fits. We’re the right hand and the left hand is the equine industry, and our hands fit the same glove really.”
The Best Damn Sport on Four Legs
During a discussion with a fellow attendee of The American Performance Horseman, I admitted to typecasting the sports of cutting and reining as “rodeo events that come with a high net worth and an extended pinky.” They’re more akin to a red-carpet event than the pyrotechnics of Bulls’ Night Out, I thought.
While the fellow attendee didn’t disagree with my assessment, it wasn’t lost on me that, in the middle of my statement, the crowd’s cheers during the stellar cutting run of Austin Shepard and his horse Kittenish were so loud I had to pause before completing my thought. It was as engaged a Fort Worth audience as I have ever seen.
And, yes, you can color me surprised.
It wasn’t long ago that one would have scoffed at the idea of a cutting event with a high-decibel crowd and Morgan Wallen blaring through the loudspeakers of a 14,000-seat arena. What happened at this year’s The American Performance Horseman at Dickies Arena was a shining example of Western performance sports’ incredible surge in popularity. Cutting, for better or worse, is shedding its exclusive vibe and entering the mainstream.
One could easily credit the oft-cited “Yellowstone” effect — the rise in the popularity of Western culture thanks to Taylor Sheridan’s mastery of creating binge-worthy shows for Paramount — and we’re certainly aware of its massive impact. And while the combination of “Yellowstone,” pop stars going country, and Bella Hadid sporting chaps and going full horseman might’ve opened the door to society-at-large’s awareness of cutting’s existence, the sport’s recent graduation to a full-fledged arena event is for one reason alone: It’s fun as hell to watch.
Though equine sports will always remain associated with high rollers and exclusivity — it takes an ability to access certain means to participate (aka horses are expensive) — this shouldn’t preclude one from enjoying watching it. And despite not having the two-minute adrenaline rush of fellow equine event the Kentucky Derby, the crowd participation (the in-unison, high-pitched “whoop!”), large purses (six-plus figures), and rise of legitimate superstars (Adan Banuelos) take the quiet confrontation between the horse and cow and make it an electric experience.
The Main Events
The World’s Most Convenient Sport for Fort Worthians
NCHA World Championship Futurity (3-year-olds): First of the NCHA Triple Crown events, $5 million purse, Nov. 10 – Dec. 6, 2025, at Will Rogers
NCHA Super Stakes (4- and 5/6-year-olds): Second of the NCHA Triple Crown events, $3 million purse, March 18 – April 11, 2026, at Will Rogers
NCHA Summer Spectacular (4- and 5/6-year-olds): Third of the NCHA Triple Crown events, $2 million purse, July 11 – Aug. 1, 2026*, at Will Rogers
The American Performance Horseman: Teams competition that includes reining and reined cow, $1 million purse, July 2026*, at Dickies Arena
A Quick Glossary of Cutting Words
Cow Sense: A horse’s natural ability to read a cow’s body language
Cut: To separate and extract a single cow from the herd
Herd Holder: A rider who assists in holding the main herd in place so the cutter can separate a cow cleanly
Hot Quit: When a rider stops working a cow before its clearly turned away — a costly penalty
Put Your Hand Down: When a rider drops his or her hand onto the horse’s neck, signaling that he or she has no control over the horse’s movements
Turnback Horse: A rider who assists in keeping the cow from running too far across the arena
Working a Cow: When the horse is engaged in mirroring and controlling a cow’s every move to keep it from returning to the herd
Working Time: The period (2 minutes and 30 seconds) allowed for a cutting run