On December 17, 2015, Patsy Lou Walker, 78, of Daniel, Wyoming, died at St. John's Medical Center in Jackson, Wyoming of health issues complicated by pneumonia. She was blessed to live in her home until her death. Pat is preceded in death by her baby son, Brent Morgan Archer; her parents; and her husband, Hack Walker. Pat leaves behind to mourn her passing many friends and extended family. Interment was December 23 at the Pinedale Cemetery. Pat was born to Delmer and Wilma Fox Facklam on February 15, 1937 in Oak Creek, Colorado. Del and Wilma were very loving and nurturing parents of German and Celtic decent who provided a close-knit family circle. Of her discipline, Pat said she was corrected, but not criticized, and that her parents would let her walk off a cliff, then pick up the pieces. They were the kind of parents she always wished for all kids. As a young man, Pat's dad had worked for Sinclair and was involved in the development of Ethyl gasoline. His lungs were leaded and the doctor advised him to go to a higher, drier climate. He'd always wanted to go west anyway, so after meeting and marrying Pat's mom, a Colorado native, they wound up with homesteads on King Mountain at Burns, CO. Her grandmother, her uncle, and her dad had three homesteads side by side. This land was atop the mountain, looking down into the Burns Hole country. Pat's family had a successful life in ranch country. Her dad trapped, her grandmother had a little pension, her uncle was running cows, and her aunt was a teacher. Together, with combined incomes and all the wild meat and beef they wanted, they were able to get by. A wonderful story she loved to tell: "For my six-week checkup, we went to Oak Creek to our doctor, who was a family friend. There was no road to drive upon, so you had to take a sled or travel on horseback to and from our ranch homestead. When it was time to come back from my checkup, my dad stuffed me inside his shirt and rode madly to the top of the mountain on his red Steel Dust stallion, Santa Fe!" Pat and her family were deeply religious with a number of Protestant Ministers in the old family tree. Her mom and aunt were both church pianists and her dad was a scholar of The Bible. Until her death, religious music and discussions were always a part of her home. Pat, an only child, spent her youth in Burns and Rifle on sheep ranches, most of the time outdoors playing with her animal companions. She loved telling about how her Uncle Hank would hold up her dress tail so she could ride little bucking calves. She said he would run alongside and then swing her through the air and into his arms. She always said that as long as she had a horse and a dog she was happy. She was "totally horse crazy." The first one she had was an ornery Shetland named Dandy, followed by a sorrel mare named Sylvia. Her last horse was a beautiful gelding named Blue. Pat's first dog, a Mexican shepherd puppy named Socks, was given to her by her Uncle Hank. When Pat was a young woman, she bought her first German Shepherd, Rommel, followed by Lustig, Fritz, and Duke. Her last dear Shepherd was a "grand friend" named Echo. And Pat loved her cats—a Persian named Amber and a Ragdoll named Miky. She fully considered herself "an animal nut!" As she grew up, Pat took dance lessons and played the clarinet in the band from junior high through her junior year in high school. During her senior year, she was a majorette and played the bass viol. Traveling on horseback, Pat's first four years of schooling was at Derby Mesa Country School, an eight-grade school. Pat said, "The teacher was fabulous, but you came out in the spring very nervous and very thin, but, boy, you learned!" For her fifth grade through high school years her parents bought a place west of Rifle, CO. They were directly across the Colorado River from an oil shale plant. They had that ranch for a few years, but the life and death aspect of ranching was really hard on her dad, so he partnered with a man who owned a sporting goods/bowling alley, sold the ranch, and moved her family to town. Later, the business was destroyed by fire and her dad went to work for a building contractor. Pat always commented that Rifle was a fine place to grow up in. She graduated in 1955, in what she called "a stable, beautiful period." Very few people had much money, nobody was incredibly wealthy. After taking a business course at Mesa College in Grand Junction, her first job was with the Bureau of Mines at the oil shale plant near their old ranch. Her supervisor was a "wonderful woman" who taught her everything—from how to properly open and handle mail in her secretarial duties to the superintendent and head of the steno pool. They had a switchboard, teletype, and extensive files using the Dewey decimal system. Pat's boss was then badly injured in a car wreck, and Pat was the only one who knew her job. Because of her lack of seniority, she lost her job due to a reduction in force. Since she turned out to be the only one who knew the teletype and filing system, the company had to keep her. The plant and mine were on a Naval Reserve, so the Navy sent in men to oversee the facility. She taught others about the job and was then detailed to the navy as a yeoman, attaining top security clearance. In 1956, Pat married her high school beau, Jim Kiggins, and they moved to Boulder, Colorado. Pat went to work at the U.S. Bureau of Standards where she worked in the microwave frequencies section of the Radio Standards division. The crystal clock, which provides the time standard was in that division, which she recalled was a fascinating place. After her husband joined the Marines, Pat got a job with Union Carbide Corporation in Rifle. It was a uranium/vanadium processing mill where she worked for production, maintenance, engineering, safety, and personnel—a job she really loved. After Jim returned from Okinawa, they were divorced and she moved to Grand Junction where she worked for a corporate attorney before returning to Carbide. This was the Colorado Plateau Management office and she worked for engineering, safety, and radiation control. In 1956, Pat's dad began contract work for Mobil Oil in Big Piney, Wyoming. She and her parents fell in love with Sublette County, and in 1958 Del and Wilma moved to Big Piney. Thereafter, Pat kept the road hot in her favorite auto—a Corvair—until they quit making them and she realized it made more sense to drive a station wagon. Visits to see her folks in Piney and, also, to share in their passion for arrowhead hunting added to Pat's treasured memories. After living and working in Grand Junction, Pat moved to Denver and worked as a secretary/bookkeeper for a consulting firm before next moving to Aspen where she was employed by an architect who was a Frank Lloyd Wright student. She said in the early '60s, Aspen was a happening place—the playpen of the world—which provided an unbelievable life and a dream that turned out wonderfully! The office was at the base of the mountain, so you could bring your skis to the office one day each week, and if you got your work done, you could then ski the rest of the day. Her boss was on the ground floor of Aspen's development, and while Pat was there, she got to see Vail "born" with her office crew onsite before construction even began. In May of 1962, they were hauled to the top of the mountain where there was still eight feet of snow. They got to ski it before a single run had been cut.
In the fall of 1962, Pat married Bill Archer and they moved to Big Piney. The next year she became pregnant, but suffered a miscarriage. This marriage also ended, but she was determined to stay in Sublette County. In 1965 Pat began working for El Paso Natural Gas, now Williams Company as a stenographer and then a District Field Clerk. She said that El Paso was a "good outfit" and there was a lot of company spirit and camaraderie. She had talked on the phone with Hack Walker, the foreman at Green River, but had never met him until he was transferred in as a foreman to Big Piney. They had a good working relationship and began dating. Hack turned down a transfer to Moab, UT and became an outfitter and also a real estate broker. Pat, too, had her salesman's license. In 1970, Del and Wilma had moved to their retirement home in Jackson, Wyoming. Hack and Pat were married there on December 29, 1972—on her folk's 40th wedding anniversary. Northwest Pipeline Corporation bought what is now Williams Company and decided to eliminate the company camp, so Hack and Pat were looking for a new place to live. In 1976 they bought the Green River Bar in Daniel, Wyoming from Paul and Sharron Pearson and operated it until they sold it to Greg and Kathy Rouse in 1992. Hack and Pat then retired in the little cow town she had come to love most dearly—Daniel, Wyoming. Through the years, Pat served on the Zoning Master Plan committee, the Land Use board, the Golf Club board, and the Recreation board. She participated for many years in the Rendezvous pageant as an Indian maiden. In 1967 she was thrilled to win the Wyoming state scratch bowling championship with an 1837 pin total. In 1999, Pat suggested, and then spearheaded with Hayden Huston, the production of the highly acclaimed and colorful history book: Daniel, Wyoming—The First Hundred Years. Pat also owned Horse Creek Agency which helped artists sell their work. She especially delighted in telling the story about how she won the famous bar owner's donkey race against a field of men. She said: "I won with the help of a fine cheering section and a little donkey named Dynamite who loved carrots!" Pat was an avid fan of the Professional Bull Riders Association and she loved her bulls as much as her cowboys. She enjoyed delving into her genealogy and family history and was a prolific reader of suspense novels. She loved the starry nights, full moons, chickadees, bum lambs, mule deer, and the Triple Crown! She was a friend to all and provided a safe haven to anyone who graced her doorway, and with an ever quiet way, she encouraged folks to set themselves upon the right path to achieve long sought dreams. To the very end, her favorite farewell to her special folks—those she said she'd "ride the river with"—was always: Love you, see you, bye!