Knox’s First Show:

A Dream Years in the Making

Knox’s first show. It’s a moment our family has been looking forward to for months, maybe even years. This milestone took us to the Cattlemen’s Congress, a show that has quickly become one of the most important events in the cattle industry since its debut in 2021.

Typically, we’re at Cattlemen’s Congress only for the Brahman cattle show at the end of the schedule, when the crowds have thinned, and the energy has quieted. But this year, we were right in the heart of it all, surrounded by the buzz and excitement of peak show season.

This week was about a dream I’ve had for years, watching my son Knox Neumayr grow up in the Shorthorn breed and helping him take his first steps into the show ring.

Been a Long Time Coming

I always knew I wanted Knox to grow up in the Shorthorn breed of cattle. Beyond the strong sense of community and tradition it offers, the Shorthorn breed has an elite junior program, a family-friendly atmosphere, and a group of people who genuinely cheer for each other’s successes. It’s the kind of environment I wanted Knox to experience, just as I did growing up.

Ultimately, I also knew that Knox wouldn’t be showing Brahman cattle from V8 Ranch. Competing in the Brahman breed with our customers could create the perception that we were holding back the best show cattle for our own son—a betrayal of the trust our customers place in us. Shorthorns, on the other hand, offered the perfect opportunity for Knox to build something of his own and still benefit from the life lessons and experiences that come with showing cattle.

It may seem like this journey began when we brought Margie home on Labor Day 2024, but in truth, it’s been in the works for much longer. As a family, we’ve been dreaming about this for years, yet there were moments along the way when I began to doubt it would ever come to fruition.

One moment that stands out is the online sale to disperse our entire V8 Shorthorns embryo inventory. It was 2017, and I was pregnant with Knox. At the time, we weren’t as involved in Shorthorn cattle, and the value of our genetics was at its peak and would only decline with time. It was a practical decision—time isn’t usually your friend in the cattle industry.

As Dad and I talked about each embryo lot during a Facebook live, revisiting the cattle and their glory days, I couldn’t help but think about the future. National champions, high sellers, and the Shorthorn cow families we had built our herd around were all now part of our past. But what about our future?

Early on the Facebook live, at about 4 minutes in, Dad said something along the lines of “We’ll be back when the grandkids are ready to show.” He could barely get the words out, and I was choked up, too. It felt good to say, but at the time, it didn’t feel realistic. Selling those embryos felt final, like we were closing a chapter.

Life has a way of moving on. Pastures that once held Shorthorns were now filled with Brahmans or recips. I had grown up on a ranch where we had both breeds, and there was space for both. But as the Shorthorns left, it became harder to imagine being able to strike that balance again. Spaces—both literal, like the land, and figurative, like our hearts and minds—had been filled with something else. My way back seemed hard, maybe even impossible at times.

And if the 2017 embryo dispersal wasn’t emotional enough, there was a tiny nest egg of leftover Shorthorn genetics—my parachute back into the breed—stored in a semen tank. When that tank went dry in 2021, it felt like the unkindest cut of all. Each step seemed to push us further from a return, making the dream feel even more impossible.

The Night Before the Show

On the Thursday before Cattlemen’s Congress, we went out to the show barn to check on Margie and do somelast-minute practicing. The Cates Farms crew, of course, is the cream of the crop. Margie looked fantastic when we arrived, and she was acting just as great. All the hours of care and practice that had been invested in her were evident.

Margie is such a gentle and cooperative Shorthorn cow, and her bond with Knox makes her even more special. Honestly, we were excited to see her, and I think she was just as excited to see us. Not everyone spoils their heifers the way we do. Not everyone fosters the kind of relationship we try to build between Knox and Margie. But that bond between a showman and their calf is such an important and impactful part of the process, and we want to ensure Knox has the time to cultivate that. When they work as a team, great things happen.

Thursday was all about spending quality time with Margie and preparing her for what was to come. Taking care of a junior show heifer involves a lot, and one thing we wanted to do was take her down to the makeup arena. Our goal was simple: eliminate as many surprises as possible for show day. This extra step—something the Cates crew graciously indulged us with—was one more thing we could do to set Margie and Knox up for success.

Thursday afternoon, Margie and one other heifer joined us in the makeup ring. Knox practiced leading her, circling, and setting her up one last time before what we knew would be a big day on Friday: the first time Knox would take Margie into the ring by himself.

The practice couldn’t have gone better—it was as perfect as we could have hoped for. After feeding and finishing up at the barn, we went back to the hotel to get to bed early. Friday morning, the first show day of Knox’s junior career, was finally upon us.

Show Day Preparations

Show day started early at the hotel. We had laid out Knox’s show clothes the night before, and I had a plan to keep everything clean: he would wear snow pants and a winter coat over his show clothes until it was time to step into the ring. I packed a bag with all the essentials—his show harness, hairbrush, hairspray, a wash rag, makeup wipes, and anything else we might need. That same bag would hold his winter gear once he was ready to show.

For my tradition-loving heart, his show clothes carried extra significance. When I was a kid in the Shorthorn breed, everyone wore maroon sweater vests in the open show. 

Was it a rule? Probably not. But it was a tradition. The American Shorthorn Association even sold these vests, complete with the Shorthorn logo on the chest. Somewhere along the way, that tradition faded, but it was important to me that Knox carry it on.

I remember seeing Shorthorn legends like Joe Woods, Ron Alden, Barry Jordan, and even my own dad wearing those maroon vests when I was growing up. They were my heroes. Seeing Knox in a maroon vest was my nod to their legacy and the tradition that shaped my love for the Shorthorn breed. Oh, if Knox can accomplish even half of what they did in this breed!

The Build-Up to the Ring

My nerves—and Luke’s—were through the roof leading up to show day. We had prepared as much as we possibly could. Knox had been practicing for months in the Brahman show barn, and we even flew to Modoc, Indiana, right before Christmas for Shorthorn boot camp at the Cates’. 

In the weeks leading up to the show, I kept commenting that we must be gluttons for punishment to have Knox’s first time in the ring be at a major like the Cattlemen’s Congress. It’s second only to Louisville in size for the Shorthorn Junior Show. Why didn’t we start with smaller jackpots or local shows?

I mentioned this to a friend at OKC, who gave me a new perspective. She reminded me that this might actually be the best possible place for Knox to start — a major show where the incomparable American Junior Shorthorn Association (AJSA) board of directors will be working the ring.

If you’ve never seen the red coats in action, it’s worth a watch. These kids move like fingers on the same hand, working together seamlessly. I’ve never seen ring help so dedicated to supporting exhibitors. As a former AJSA board member, I remember the meticulous instruction and coaching we received on how to work a ring. The same standards have clearly been passed down for over 20 years.

The red coats aren’t clumped up chatting or glued to their phones. They don’t twist tails or slap animals. Instead, they are attentive and supportive, knowing exactly how to keep things moving smoothly while helping exhibitors feel safe and confident. For a 7-year-old, first-time exhibitor like Knox, there’s no better place to feel supported than a ring run by the AJSA Board of Directors.

I also knew that one of those red coats would be someone who had already made a big impact on Knox — Samantha VanVorhis. At the Shorthorn Junior Nationals, she had taken him under her wing, bonding with him in a way that left a lasting impression. Knowing she would be there, ready to encourage him, gave me even more comfort.

As a nervous first-time show mom, this gave me incredible peace of mind. I didn’t feel like Knox was going in there alone. He would be surrounded by leaders who are there to help him every step of the way. And as any Shorthorn parent will tell you, these kids in the red coats are heroes to young exhibitors. Knox was going into the ring, and his heroes would be there with him.

Thank you, AJSA board of directors, for being there.

In the Chute: Support and Calm Before the Show

As Margie stepped into the trim chute to begin her show prep, Luke and I could feel our nerves creeping higher and higher. Knox, on the other hand, stayed calm, coming over to scratch Margie while the masters worked their magic, taking breaks to enjoy some of the homemade coffee cake made by Samantha VanVorhis that was in the tack area. 

By this point, we’ve gotten to know the incredible team that makes up Cates Farms. What a kid-friendly, encouraging group of people we have around us! These are upstanding folks who go out of their way to make everyone feel supported, especially a little kid with big dreams.

At the center of it all are the Cates and the Shouflers. Kyle Shoufler, the herdsman for Cates Farms, is calm and collected, no matter the situation. He somehow manages to bring a sense of peace to even the most nerve-wracking moments, which I truly appreciate. His wife, Lauren, has quickly become one of my favorite people. As she sent our family toward the ring for the first time, I swear I saw tiny tears in her eyes. She placed her hands on my shoulders and said, “Good luck, I wish I could go with you all.” But her role was to care for everyone, and she was needed in the back—a busy day for a woman with a heart as big as her smile.

Then there’s Tyler Cates, my lifelong friend, who endures all of my questions and nerves with patience and calm. He’s a steady presence, even in the most stressful situations. And Cortney Cates, Tyler’s wife, has become a dear friend in her own right. There’s a reason she’s been nominated for Best of the Barns’ Best Show Mom — I’ve watched her do it all with complete excellence. Through it all, she’s down-to-earth, experienced, and just plain smart. She’s someone I admire deeply.

The Cates Farms crew doesn’t just attract good people—they build a team with the same values. The people who buy from Cates Farms and are part of this extended community share a mutual respect and bond, a “birds of a feather” kind of connection. I love being part of this team, surrounded by such good-hearted people.

Into the Ring: Knox’s Big Moment

Soon, it was time to head to the ring. The tremendous twins—Taylor and Tatumn Poff—joined us to lend their support, one on junior show day and the other on open show day. Knox wasn’t nervous at all. He was excited, ready for the moment we’d been anticipating for months.

As the class before Knox entered the ring, I knew it was time for me to take my spot in the stands. My role was simple but significant: to be the person Knox looked to for the reassuring “ok” symbol while he was in the ring. For years, that person for me had been my dad. 

Before I left, I knelt down to Knox’s level, hugged him tightly, and whispered, “Do good.” I held on a little longer than normal, savoring the emotions of the moment. A lump formed in my throat as I realized the significance of this memory.

Of all the things people say to their kids before they show, I know the most common is, “Go out there and have fun.” Let me confess: we aren’t those people. For us, this is the closest thing we have to a sport. Knox knows he’s out there to do a job—one he’s practiced for, prepared for, and been supported in by not just us, but an entire village of people. And truthfully, I believe that if you know you do your best, then it’s fun.

Knox entered the ring with confidence, and he did exceptionally well for his first time. The judge was caring and attentive, clearly understanding what it meant for a first-time showman to be in the ring. Knox won his class and went on to place Reserve Division, just behind our new Shorthorn friends, the Huebners. Congratulations were exchanged, along with lots of pats on the back for Knox. At the backdrop, our family posed for a happy picture. That Reserve Division win felt like a Grand Champion title to me.

After the division, I asked Knox how it felt. “It was wonderful,” he said. I asked what his favorite part was. “Getting first in my class,” he replied with a grin. I couldn’t agree more—there’s no better feeling than getting that first-place call. Just wait until you experience being in that first hole after the initial pull at Louisville, Knox. It’s indescribable.

Knox got to go in the ring three times that day: for his class, the division, and the Grand Champion Drive. Each time, he improved in poise and confidence. Margie stayed at the ring the entire time, waiting between her division (the second of the day) and the Grand Champion Drive—a stretch of several hours. By the time she entered the ring for the final time, she was tired and headstrong, giving Knox all he could handle as she tried to lay down.

Who came to the rescue? Of course, the red coats. Texas’ own Brayden Deborde stepped in, helping Knox navigate the situation and teaching him a few things along the way. I grew up showing with Brayden’s dad, Eric. My first Junior Nationals was one of Eric’s last. In some ways, I think Eric probably looked out for me during those early years, and now here was Brayden doing the same for my son. I love that history.

That night, we asked Knox what his favorite part of the day was. “Showing in the Grand Champion Drive,” he said without hesitation. “It was all the big wigs.” I couldn’t agree more. He also mentioned how much he enjoyed receiving congratulations—and giving them to other winners. “Shorthorn people cheer for each other,” he said, summing it up perfectly.

Learning Moments in the Show Ring

I need to share that it wasn’t all perfect. During the division champion drive, we had a moment where, as my dad, Jim Williams, put it, our back feet were “bass ackwards.” Afterward, I opened my phone to find a lively text thread from Dad about the incident.

At the time, I was kneeling in the stands beside my friend Paige Arnold, who had volunteered to get video footage of Knox showing. Paige, a former national champion showman for the National Junior Angus Association, knows a thing or two about showing cattle. She and I were attempting some ringside coaching—quite unsuccessfully, I might add.

The wheels had fallen off. I was trying to communicate with Knox, but we weren’t speaking the same language. It turns out, beyond our agreed-upon “ok” symbol, we hadn’t prepped for how to handle nonverbal cues during moments like this. As I tried to direct him, Knox became visibly frustrated. He frowned and mouthed something I couldn’t quite make out, but Brian Cates later told me he thought Knox said, “Get off my back.” Oof.

I was embarrassed by his behavior in the ring. Dad was angry. My pride was hurt. And then the thoughts crept in—who else from our beloved Shorthorn family saw this moment? Would they think my kid was a spoiled brat?

After the show, we revisited this moment repeatedly in our post-show discussions. Knox explained that when he mouthed something to me, he was trying to say he didn’t understand what I was asking him to do. Ultimately, I realized the mistake might have been mine—I had never clearly explained to him that communication in the ring is a one-way street. While we can coach him from the sidelines, he isn’t meant to respond or engage with us during those moments.

Once I explained this to him, it clicked. I’m confident this won’t happen again. But still, my pride was bruised. I’m sure this won’t be the last time, just as I’m sure there were moments when I caused my own parents some embarrassment. It was a learning moment for both of us—one of many on this journey.

What Comes Next

With Knox’s big moment in the books and so many lessons learned, you’d think the Cattlemen’s Congress couldn’t hold any more surprises for us—but the weekend was far from over. In the next part of this story, I’ll share about stepping onto the stage as a speaker at the Gathering of the Gals event, my own return to the Shorthorn show ring after more than 15 years, and how an unexpected twist led to one of the most meaningful moments of my life—judging the Supreme Champion Open Female drive alongside my dad. Stay tuned—it’s a story you won’t want to miss.