The West Old & New Vol. III Issue II February 2014 | Page 8

Jo Sykes
The farmer took off his shapeless western hat and sailed it at the gelding's
rump. Quick as lightning, the horse lashed out with both hind feet, stopped
the hat in mid-air and slammed it back across the corral. "He doesn't just
kick; he aims," Tucker said. "I believe he'd kill a man if he could."
From Saddle A Thunder Bolt by Jo Sykes
By Kerrie Stepnick
Montana lost a vibrant voice last fall when award-winning children’s author Jo Sykes
passed on.
Jo Sykes, award winning author, artist, dog and horse trainer died peacefully at the
age of 85 on September 8, 2013, in Livingston, Montana.
Jo was born to Edna and J. T. Sykes. She attended MacMurray College in Jacksonville, Illinois, and Rocky Mountain College, Billings, Montana. To make ends meet, she also worked tying dry flies in a fishing
tackle shop, was a children's librarian, an extra in a Western movie and a rodeo clown. She also wrote two books about dogs, and
bred Smooth Fox Terriers. Her greatest love though was writing about Montana and horses: she hoped, through her books, to make
her readers appreciate the virtues of the Western stock horse.
Jo became the published author of six western novels. Three of these were Junior Guild Award winners. Jo was also an artist.
She preferred oils and acrylics of landscapes and wildlife of the west. Her devotion to dogs led her to a 50 year career as a dog
obedience instructor.
The rugged Montana landscape waxed vivid in young imaginations through her books with titles like” Wolf Dog of Ambush
Canyon” and “The Stubborn Mare.” Something of a female monk, she transcended expectations towards women in preference to a
life spent in the outdoors. The different hats she wore included surveyor, rodeo clown, carpenter, horse and dog trainer and consummate outdoorsman. She lived the putative goals of feminism without once paying lip service.
She was a beautiful woman, never dowdy or downbeat. I was fortunate enough to know Jo personally through her lifelong
friendship with my mother. Together with a group of plein-air artists, they frequently went sketching and painting. Jo’s visits always involved story-telling. “How come a good-looking girl like you isn’t married?” Grandpa once asked her. “Because I’ve had
lots of chances but no opportunities” Jo shot back. She loved to laugh. Droll and keen, her wit never failed to make the room sparkle.
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