Chris LeDoux

Twenty-one years ago today—Wednesday, March 9, 2005—started out as an ordinary day.

At the time, I was finishing my coursework at Southern Utah University and preparing to graduate. My classes ended at noon, and with a rare free afternoon ahead of me, I decided to go shopping for a chest of drawers.

I climbed into my Chevy S-10 and headed south on Main Street in Cedar City. Remnants of a recent snowstorm still lined the sidewalks, piled in gray banks along the road. Like most days behind the wheel, I had the radio tuned to KONY country.

A Chris LeDoux song came over the airwaves.

Instinctively, I turned the volume up.

When the song ended, another Chris LeDoux tune started playing. That caught my attention. Hearing one of his songs on the radio wasn’t exactly common, but two in a row was almost unheard of.

My heart sank.

I knew something had happened.

When the second song ended, the DJ came on the air and confirmed it: earlier that day Chris LeDoux had lost his battle with a rare cancer—cholangiocarcinoma.

Chris LeDoux was a man’s man. Anything he chose to do, he did well. He may not have been born with extraordinary talent, but through relentless work and determination he became extraordinary.

He was a world champion bareback rider.

An accomplished sculptor.

And one of the most authentic voices country music has ever known.

Chris worked hard at everything he did.

His music was a constant soundtrack to my youth. When I was working on the farm, his songs often played in the background—songs about digging postholes, stretching wire tight, irrigating alfalfa, and living life with grit and purpose. His lyrics reflected the world I knew.

Even today, as I travel, I still hear echoes of his songs in the places I visit—from Spokane to Manhattan, Salt Lake to Seattle, north to Billings and the Yukon River, and south to Fort Worth and San Antonio.

I had the chance to see Chris perform in concert many times. He was always a gentleman and remains, in my opinion, the greatest performer I’ve ever seen.

In his final studio album, Chris recorded a song called The Ride. In it, he sings about facing death with dignity and courage. The lyrics say:

Sit tall in the saddle

Hold your head up high

Keep your eyes fixed where the trail meets the sky

Live like you ain’t afraid to die

And don’t be scared—just enjoy your ride.

Chris LeDoux lived exactly that way.

Thanks, Chris, for the music, the example, and the quiet life lessons you shared with a simple farm kid growing up in Castle Dale, Utah.

Good ride, cowboy.

Good ride.

N. Isaac Bott, DVM