Beverly Stiger

IN LOVING MEMORY OF BEVERLY ANNE STIGER:
With deep love and enduring gratitude, we celebrate the remarkable life of Beverly Stiger, a fiercely independent, strong-spirited Western woman, whose journey began under the wide skies of Montana. Beverly passed away on December 17, 2024 at the Peace Hospice House in Great Falls, Montana. She was 84 years old.

Raised in the rugged beauty of Divide Montana, Beverly developed a deep love for horses early in life and spent her formative years riding and working on a dude ranch. Her strength of character and relentless work ethic were evident even then — traits that would carry her through an impressive life of grit and grace.

Her journey then took her north to rural Canada, where she lived on a pig farm and welcomed her daughter Lynnette.

She eventually made her way to Colorado, where she worked as a secretary for the U.S. Forest Service — bringing her characteristic toughness and dry humor into the heart of the wildlands. It was here that she met the Forest Service Ranger, fiddle player, and cowboy- Sonny Stiger- who would become her partner in life. Their marriage, which lasted 46 years, was grounded in mutual respect and shared values — and just the right amount of spirited debate.

Together, they returned to Montana, settling in Wolf Creek. They took countless horse-packing trips into the Bob Marshall and Scapegoat Wildernesses. When she wasn’t in the saddle, she embraced the great outdoors through skiing, boating, and camping.

Beverly became a rural mail carrier in Wolf Creek for the U.S. Postal Service. True to form, she delivered mail over a sprawling 100-mile route despite snow, mud, or wildfire. Armed with a steering wheel in one hand and stubborn determination in the other, she brought bills and birthday cards to the far corners of Wolf Creek through Montana’s wildest terrain—with scenery that was always stunning and roads that were sometimes paved.

Additionally, Beverly bartended at the local Wolf Creek watering hole- Mac’s Bar, where she met and befriended countless colourful characters — with a special fondness for the bikers who came through town. One of her favorite ways to unwind was sipping on a Pink Squirrel, surrounded by her closest friends — Bonnie, Gail, Kris, and Arlee.

She took immense pride in keeping a clean house and immaculate books. A skilled bookkeeper and fearless house cleaner, she could spot a renegade dust bunny from across the room. Her knack for squirreling away money in a network of coin purses was legendary, and she delighted that she could fund a small country with loose change and coupons alone.

A gifted and creative writer, she penned her own life story with razor-sharp wit, unfiltered honesty, and just the right amount of dramatic flair. Her stories were less like quiet reflections and more like wild rodeo rides on paper—full of heart, hilarity, and the occasional livestock mishap. A recurring character in her tales was her beloved husband, Sonny Stiger—though readers might know him better by his unofficial title, “Ol’ What’s His Name,” a nickname she used affectionately (and a little sarcastically), since he was often off fighting wildfires while she held down the ranch, the household, and whatever chaos the day served up. She turned daily disasters into comedic gold, whether it involved Forest Service uniforms, a rebellious vacuum cleaner, or a postal route that required the reflexes of a stunt driver. Her writing was as bold and spirited as she was—equal parts truth, sass, and cowboy grit.

Stubborn to the core, once she made up her mind, there was no moving it — and usually, she was right. She was equally capable of cussing the neighbors for not spraying their knapweed and gently rescuing a baby bunny to nurse it back to health. She was a woman of contradictions in the most beautiful way: tough as boot leather, yet with a heart as big as the open range. Beverly had a sharp wit, a strong sense of justice, and a fiercely loyal soul. Her humor could catch you off guard and her generosity was often quiet, but deeply felt. Whether rescuing animals, tending the land, or simply standing her ground, she lived with purpose and authenticity.

She is deeply missed and lovingly remembered by her two daughters, Lynnette Stiger and Michele Infanger (Rocky) three grandchildren- Josh and Justin Randall and Merle Infanger and two great-grandchildren- Addy and Connor Randall as well as a wide circle of family, friends, and neighbors whose lives she touched with her strength and candor and were fortunate enough to share in her remarkable ride.

A celebration of her life will be held at:
Montana City VFD Fire Station #1 1192 Highway 282 Montana City, MT 59634

Montana City Fire Wise Demonstration Garden / Sonny Stiger Memorial Pavilion
June 3 at 1:00 p.m.
Food will be served.
In lieu of flowers, donations are suggested to a couple of her favorite charities:
Gentle Giants Draft Horse Rescue
Castelton Horse Rescue
A FAVORITE KEPT BY BEVERLY STIGER:
HORSES
Those are my horses you see through the pane.
Glorious horses that help me stay sane.
I can be tied to the sink and the stove,
But riding my horse I am free, by Jove.
Though I am sentenced to wash dirty clothes,
When I get on my horse, I can lose all those woes.
I can endure – even smile as you see –
For when I’m horseback, I’m totally free.
Crossing the mountains, I gallop my mare,
Letting her carry me free from all care.
Ending my ride, I go back to my strain –
Tedious housework that gives me such pain.
Floors that are muddy and have to be scrubbed,
Dishes so scummy they have to be tubbed.
Few are the things that can change my life’s fate,
But there in the pasture, my horses await.
Riding for cattle in spring or in fall,
Gathering strays from both coulee and draw,
Slapping and shouting a bull from the brush,
I and my horse feel excitement and rush.
Quarter horse, Thoroughbred, or fine appaloosa,
Tennessee Walker or common cayuse,
Trailing the wind, I will gather a dream,
And learn once again what real freedom can mean.
When age sinks its claws, and I start to slow down-
Can’t reach the stirrups so high off the ground-
Don’t send her away, my old partner, my friend,
I’ll watch through the pane as I wait for the end.
And after my death, if the gods take my side,
I’ll saddle cloud ponies; the heaven’s I’ll ride.

To send flowers to the family or plant a tree in memory of Beverly Stiger, please visit our floral store.