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The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

Laughter at Rockin’ B Ranch


Tim Van Valin waits on his horse along with Dan Hibbard with his guitar, as they prepare to enter the barn that doubles as a mess hall and performing theater Friday night at the Rockin B Ranch. The ranch offers western style dinner and entertainment on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights.
 (Jed Conklin / The Spokesman-Review)

You don’t have to have an extraordinary love of cowboy music to enjoy the show at the Rockin’ B Ranch on Idaho Road, just a sense of humor and an empty stomach.

The laughter begins with a staged cowboy shootout that pits the inept Deputy Dusty Bicuspid and the marshal against bank robber Bad Land Sam in a skit that is a mix of the Three Stooges and an old Western movie. Members of the audience are recruited to participate, so if you don’t want to be in the action, try to blend into the crowd.

A barbecue dinner and a performance by the Riders of the Rockin’ B Ranch follows. Most of the action takes place inside an old barn filled with a stage and picnic tables. The ranch has been open for business for 10 years and is owned by Scott Brownlee, aka Deputy Bicuspid, and his wife, Pamela.

The Brownlees are musicians and were involved in the music industry in Los Angeles before moving to the Spokane Valley ranch, just west of Stateline, Idaho, 10 years ago. They started having supper shows during the summer as a way to perform without going on the road. “We started out with just hay bales,” Brownlee said. “People sat on the hay bales with plates in their laps.

“There’s a family atmosphere — no drinking, no smoking. And we don’t have to play until 2 a.m.”

The performance is kid friendly. The guns, while noisy, shoot blanks and the cowboy shootout is more slapstick than serious. “It just really silly,” he said. “There are lots of special effects, complete with an exploding outhouse.”

Brownlee declined to detail how they manage the explosion. “Trade secret,” he smiled. “We did little experimentations. We didn’t blow our hair out, but we came close.”

There are also little puffs of dust and spouts of water that fly in the air to simulate bullets hitting objects. During a recent performance a puff of dust that was supposed to go off in front of the marshal, played by Tyson Jones, went off several seconds late. Jones turned to the audience and deadpanned, “Slow bullet.”

It’s that kind of unpredictability that makes the show different every night even though the schedule is the same. “There’s a lot of audience involvement,” Brownlee said. “You never know what’s going to happen.”

One of the surprises of the evening is an extra performance by Pamela Brownlee’s brother, Tim Van Valin. The burly, bearded man who works by day as the Rathdrum city prosecutor strolls out into the audience wearing a dress and singing in a falsetto voice. Van Valin said he’s been performing at the suppers since they began. “I like doing it,” he said. “It’s fun. People get a kick out of it.”

And the other surprises? The only other thing that can be said without spoiling the event is that people who find the “Can you hear me now?” Verizon spokesman annoying will enjoy the end of the shootout.