There is a sound the Hill Country makes before dawn, a low hush that rolls across the pasture and slips through the oak trees like it is checking to see who is awake. You can stand outside the stillhouse and hear it. You can feel it, too, if you stand still long enough. It is the sound of a new day building its courage.
On the morning of the Cowboy Bourbon release, that hush had company. A long line of people, bundled in jackets and blankets, stretched from the gate to Highway 290. The lucky ones had been there since Friday evening, camped out with folding chairs, snacks, and a sense of purpose that only whiskey can summon. They joked with each other. They traded stories. They shared the kind of quiet that happens when strangers realize they are not strangers at all.
Someone leaned in and told me, “Dan, I drove here from {Maine}. If I was going to buy Cowboy, I was going to buy it here.” A few minutes later another man shook my hand and said he came from {Washington State} because his father told him, before he passed, that tasting Cowboy in Texas was on his bucket list. He came to honor that.
That is the kind of morning it was.
The kind that reminds you what bourbon can mean to people.
The kind that humbles you.
This year marked the eleventh release of Cowboy Bourbon, and we put 10,000 bottles into the world, every one of them built from barrels that Master Distiller Donnis Todd calls “the stubborn ones.” They are the barrels that refuse to behave like the others. They age harder. They age louder. They age into something fierce and beautiful, shaped by the heat of our Hill Country barns.
The 2025 release came in at 146.4 proof, uncut and unfiltered, with flecks of oak and charcoal suspended in the bottle like memory. When you pour it, you see the years in it. When you taste it, you feel the weather. According to this year’s notes, the nose comes in with burnt wood, gun smoke, and toasted marshmallows. The palate rises with black pepper and cooking spice and settles into plum and apricot. Donnis described it as strong and mean at first, then warm and endless once it settles.
He is right. It is a bourbon you do not sip so much as experience.
People often ask where Cowboy Bourbon came from, and the story still feels like something out of a tall tale. Back in 2013, we had twenty-three high-proof barrels that were taking up too much space in Barrel Barn Uno. Donnis thought they were misfits. I told him to dump them into a stainless tank until we decided what to do. One night I stole a sip and realized those misfits were something special. Something unforgettable. Something that would change the direction of our little distillery forever. The full origin story is laid out in the Cowboy booklet if you want the whole saga, lawsuits and all.
But standing there this year, greeting everyone as the line moves forward I realized the story of Cowboy Bourbon is no longer just mine. It belongs to every person who waited in that line. Every person who cracked open a bottle with someone they love. Every person who carried it home like a trophy. Every person who said, “I never thought I’d get one.”
This year, maybe more than any before it, reminded me how much can happen in twelve months.
We had a year full of triumphs, challenges, wild ideas, long days, stunned faces, bottles lifted high, and more laughter than we probably deserved. We grew as a distillery, as a community, and as a family. We saw old friends return and new friends arrive. We lost some good people too. That is the part no one warns you about when you start a distillery from scratch. The years get heavier. The gratitude gets deeper.
And since it is the season of giving, it meant something to us that every bottle sold this December helped the Boot Campaign, an organization that stands shoulder to shoulder with veterans and military families. Our holiday header card reminded folks that good bourbon can change the world, and this year, a simple purchase helped someone who needed it.
Anyone who wants to continue supporting the mission still can. Donate to Boot Campaign here or text bcseasonofgiving to 44834.
When the release was over, and the last bottle left the table, the ranch got quiet again. The kind of quiet that feels earned. I walked through the barns, past the rows of barrels, past the stillhouse that has seen more sunrises than I can count, and thought about the people who made this year possible.
I wanted to end with a toast that honored them. I found one that felt right. One that fit the year we just lived and the people we were lucky enough to share it with.
“May we never forget the friends who have gone before us and always cherish the ones still by our side.” Traditional Irish toast
So here is my own small addition to that.
Thank you for being part of our story.
Thank you for carrying our bourbon into your own.
And thank you for reminding me, once again, that good people make good bourbon possible.
Until next year,
Salud,
Dan Garrison
