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How Montana’s abortion rights campaign is seeking signatures — while dodging the opposition

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How Montana’s abortion rights campaign is seeking signatures — while dodging the opposition


With the June deadline to submit signatures fast approaching, supporters wonder if the CI-128 campaign is reaching enough people

By Mara Silvers MONTANA FREE PRESS

Gwendolyn Chilcote tried to make it hard for patrons entering a bar in uptown Butte to miss her. On a Tuesday in mid-May, she wore a pink sweatshirt, smiled brightly and didn’t hesitate to make eye contact. Before they passed her table, she used one question to snag as many people as possible.

“Have you signed the petition for reproductive rights yet?”

Two of the incoming pub-goers were bearded men in hoodies and baseball hats who looked to be in their early 30s. They hadn’t signed the petition supporting Constitutional Initiative-128 and doubled back to hear more. 

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Chilcote, who volunteers with the local reproductive rights group Butte Action Alliance, gave them her intentionally crafted spiel. Signing the petition supports putting CI-128 on the ballot, she said, and if the campaign gathers more than 60,000 signatures, voters in November will be able to choose whether to keep pregnancy decisions in Montana between a woman and her doctor.

The men, both registered voters, nodded and jotted down their names. Chilcote kept a close eye on their progress. One mistaken date or illegible address would make the signature worthless. When they walked away, she leaned back and briefly relaxed. Two down, thousands more to go.

The last week of May marked about eight weeks of CI-128’s signature-gathering campaign and about three weeks until the sponsoring group Montanans Securing Reproductive Rights, or MSRR, must submit verified signatures to local election administrators. If that effort is successful, Montanans will have the chance to vote “yes” or “no” on the explicit constitutional abortion protection in the fall. 

Supporters and opponents of CI-128 acknowledge that getting the initiative on the ballot is not a sure thing. A multi-month court battle between MSRR and Montana’s Republican Attorney General Austin Knudsen pushed back signature gathering by several weeks, much to the frustration of CI-128 advocates and the relief of anti-abortion groups. 

And, even as MSRR touts a wave of volunteer interest, the group’s strategy for gathering signatures has been intentionally cautious. Organizers have avoided holding large public events or publicly posting the addresses of campaign offices out of fear of harassment and violence from anti-abortion advocates. Instead, MSRR has opted to send volunteers and paid staff from the firm Landslide Political out to pound the pavement, knock on doors and circulate clipboards among their friends and family. 

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MSRR declined to say how many signatures it has collected so far. A spokesperson for the Montana Secretary of State’s Office said that, as of May 29, MSRR has not submitted any of the 60,359 required signatures. 

Opponents are organizing, too. In recent weeks, a political committee called the Montana Life Defense Fund has ramped up alternate messaging about CI-128, claiming it would usher in an era of limitless abortion and lead to a series of negative consequences. As the June 21 deadline approaches, the group is training its own volunteers to deter petitioners and, when sheets of signatures are submitted, to weed out ineligible names turned in to election officials. 

In this image obtained by MTFP, a volunteer for Montanans Securing Reproductive Rights, second from left, speaks with an officer from the Helena Police Department on May 13, 2024, while being observed by Patrick Webb, left, and Derek Oestreicher, second from right, organizers with Montana Life Defense Fund.
PHOTO BY MONTANA FREE PRESS

The tension around CI-128 underscores Montana’s evolving landscape for abortion rights. Access remains legal and mostly unencumbered in the state while a plethora of Republican-backed prohibitions are blocked in court. Supporters of CI-128 say enshrining protections in the state Constitution is essential given those recent efforts and since the end of Roe v. Wade. For opponents, CI-128 represents an existential threat to the anti-abortion cause in Montana — a bulwark that, once built, would be exceedingly difficult to overcome. 

For voters, the initiative represents a historic opportunity to weigh in on the question of legal abortion. Chilcote said she’s met plenty of people who are excited to sign the petition, while others haven’t heard about it at all and don’t understand why it’s necessary when abortion is already permitted in Montana.

“I wonder if it’s because abortion hasn’t been outlawed yet so people don’t realize it’s in danger,” she said. “And what I’m telling people is, ‘Not yet.’”

Organized Opposition

A few days before Chilcote set up her signature-gathering station in a Butte bar, the Montana Life Defense Fund scheduled a volunteer training for anyone interested in preventing CI-128 from advancing to the ballot. 

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The group’s leadership includes Jeff Laszloffy, the president of the conservative Christian policy nonprofit the Montana Family Foundation, and two lobbyists. Laszloffy didn’t respond to Montana Free Press’ requests to attend the ongoing training. But, in a mid-May episode of the organization’s podcast, organizers Patrick Webb and Derek Oestreicher laid out the aims of the opposition campaign: Spread the message that CI-128 is vague and could have serious downstream effects, and, ultimately, recruit volunteers willing to help curb the initiative’s progress.

“We have been operating to do everything we can to prevent this from gaining access to the ballot,” Webb said in the podcast. 

One of the group’s most visible strategies has been videotaping CI-128 volunteers working in public places — a tactic that requires audibly announcing that an observer is recording, per Montana law. So far, Webb and Oestreicher said, they’ve found the strategy successfully disrupts signature gathering by “shining a light” on the process.

“Them not getting out and actually signing up every person that comes by, because they are actually trying to walk away from our people or get away from the camera, prevents them from getting signatures,” Webb said. “When we multiply this across multiple people doing this in each county where they’re at, we can stop them from getting this on the ballot. We can stop CI-128.”

Montana Life Defense Fund used this strategy at least once in Helena in early May. A CI-128 volunteer on the downtown strip of Last Chance Gulch called the police after Webb began videotaping her, according to photos and a video reviewed by MTFP. The Helena Police Department later told MTFP that responding officers hadn’t identified any illegal activity and that people are permitted to videotape in a public place. 

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In an emailed comment, Laszloffy said the event was “nothing newsworthy” and that Webb was within his right to videotape signature gathering on public property.

“No harassment, no confrontation. Patrick was simply videotaping the process,” Laszloffy said. 

State law prohibits physically preventing or physically intimidating signature gathering for statewide ballot issues. MSRR has not filed a lawsuit about the videotaping incidents or any other interactions with its volunteers or staff but has said the campaign is “monitoring the situation closely.”

“Them not getting out and actually signing up every person that comes by, because they are actually trying to walk away from our people or get away from the camera, prevents them from getting signatures.”PATRICK WEBB, MONTANA LIFE DEFENSE FUND ORGANIZER

“The opposition knows that Montanans support reproductive rights so they are resorting to these tactics to silence voters,” said Kiersten Iwai, the executive director of Forward Montana, one of MSRR’s member groups, in a written statement. “We will remain focused on the task at hand — collecting signatures so that voters can make their voice heard.”

Several opponents of CI-128 have also filed complaints with the Commissioner of Political Practices against the MSRR campaign alleging violations in signature gathering. Some of the complainants describe watching CI-128 organizers for hours in Billings, Bozeman and near Stevensville, quizzing them about the initiative’s implications, filming them at various locations and standing close enough to hear their interactions with voters. 

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In letters to the complainants and the MSRR campaign, Commissioner of Political Practices Chris Gallus said that none of the allegations — including that CI-128 petitioners left clipboards unattended and failed to ask signers if they were registered to vote — fall under his jurisdiction until after petitions are submitted.

A spokesperson for MSRR called the complaints “baseless” and an apparently coordinated effort by opponents of CI-128.

“All of our signature gatherers go through thorough training. Despite the extreme opposition’s desperate tactics, our signature gatherers are doing an excellent job focusing on the qualification of CI-128,” said campaign spokesperson Ashley All.

Laszloffy did not respond to MTFP’s questions about whether his group was training volunteers to submit complaints to the Commissioner of Political Practices.

Kelly Hall, the executive director of The Fairness Project, one of the national groups backing the CI-128 campaign, said the opposition tactics playing out in Montana are “nearly identical” to those happening in other states considering reproductive rights initiatives, such as Arizona and Missouri. She cast the “decline to sign” movements as evidence that, above all, opponents fear these measures going before voters.

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“They are a demonstration, typically, of the fact that even these activists know that the electorate is not with them on this issue. That the most efficient way that they can get their policy preference to be the law of the land is to prevent voters from getting to express their will at the ballot box,” Hall said.

In the May podcast episode, Webb and Oestreicher stressed that opponents of CI-128 can volunteer in any capacity that suits them. Not everyone has to confront signature gatherers on the street, they said. Even making baked goods for a “signature verification party” helps propel the movement forward. The most important thing, they said, was to raise a grassroots campaign that can challenge the proponents.

“The next six weeks are paramount. If you can spare, you know, a couple hours even, every week for the next six weeks. Let us know. Get in touch,” Oestreicher said. “We can outperform them. Okay? We can do it.”

A cautious approach

Opponents of CI-128 were nowhere to be seen near the Beartracks Bridge in Missoula in late May, where Lillian Thomas was stationed with an MSRR clipboard. Even still, she said, new supporters were proving hard to come by compared to when she began volunteering for the campaign a few weeks earlier. 

The weather had been intermittently cold and rainy, she said, putting a damper on foot traffic. On the other hand, many passersby spotted her clipboard pasted with MSRR’s teal blue logo and told her they’d already added their names to the petition. Thomas takes that as a good omen — that the group has managed to reach much of Missoula’s pool of registered voters — but wonders about where she can find more supporters who haven’t signed.

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Lillian Thomas stands on the Beartracks Bridge in Missoula in late May to collect signatures for CI-128, the constitutional abortion rights initiative. PHOTO BY MARA SILVERS/ MONTANA FREE PRESS

In a little under an hour, Thomas and another MSRR volunteer tallied nine new signatures and had conversations with many more supporters who had already signed. Three people firmly declined to join the petition, with two explicitly citing their opposition to abortion.  

Thomas said that over several weeks of volunteering, interactions with opponents have been rare and enthusiastic support common. She recalled one man who saw her clipboard while dining outside at a downtown Missoula restaurant. He briefly abandoned his table to run after Thomas so he could sign the petition and then asked her to come back to the restaurant so his wife could, too.

Earlier that day, other volunteers swapped signature-gathering stories while dropping off petitions at the Missoula CI-128 office. Some had gone door-to-door in Missoula neighborhoods or staked out a corner at weekend farmers markets in Kalispell and Whitefish. Their positive interactions far outnumbered any confrontations with opponents of the initiative, they said. In the rare case someone raised their voice or started to speak against abortion, most volunteers opted to politely disengage and move on to other potential supporters.

Still, the prospect of disruption, harassment and threats of violence from people who oppose abortion hangs over many aspects of the CI-128 campaign. Some volunteers in more conservative pockets of the state aren’t gathering signatures at all for fear of adversarial interactions but, instead, are speaking to their friends and families about the initiative’s aims. MSRR has held door-knocking events in Butte and plans to do more in Helena and Billings in the coming weeks. But the campaign is avoiding holding public events or establishing regular signature-gathering hours in the same place, a strategy meant to prevent bad actors from threatening staff and volunteers.

Hall, with The Fairness Project, said methods for canvassing efforts vary widely by state. But she added that many campaigns the group has supported have benefitted from volunteer signature gatherers.

“The overwhelming momentum and enthusiasm from volunteers to go out with signatures and collect in their communities, under their own volition, where they know people, where they frequent, where they think there are going to be people for them to communicate with — those volunteers are really the lifeblood of any of these campaigns,” Hall said.

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In Missoula and Butte, volunteers and signatories to CI-128 repeatedly asked how many signatures had been gathered across the state and in different towns. Organizers, in turn, declined to give specifics, only sharing that the campaign was “on track” to meet its local and statewide goals.

All, the MSRR spokesperson, directly attributed that tight-lipped posture to the tense political environment.

“Due to the extreme opposition’s harassment of our volunteers and staff and their efforts to deceive and obstruct voters who want to sign the CI-128 petition, we will not be sharing signature numbers or counts by location,” All said. “We take safety very seriously. We will not do anything that might encourage anti-abortion extremists to further harass or intimidate our signature gatherers.”

In Butte, several signatories told Chilcote that they had come to the pub solely to sign CI-128 upon hearing about the event from friends or on Butte Action Alliance’s social media. Others said they had been trying to sign for several weeks and wished that access was more straightforward. 

Thomas, the volunteer from Missoula, has also been frustrated at times by the campaign’s tactic of seeking signatures one by one, rather than holding well-publicized events to encourage supporters to come to them en masse. She said she’s heard similar sentiments from people she meets while canvassing.

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“There have been multiple people who have said that kind of thing. Like, ‘Oh, I know my friend really wants to find this. How can they find you? How can they find you?’” Thomas said. 

At the same time, Thomas said she understands how the specter of aggression and threats from the opposition creates a chilling effect. 

“Obviously, you don’t want to set yourself up to be targeted,” she said. “What a barrier.”



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Montana

Women who made agriculture work in Montana

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Women who made agriculture work in Montana


Recently, I was asked to talk about what it is like to be a female rancher.

I was flattered to be asked, but I don’t know the answer.

I do know what it is like to be a human rancher and I know that I admire many women who also are ranchers.

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In fact, 36 percent of the farmers and ranchers in the U.S. are women and they manage almost half of America’s ag land.

Globally, we produce more than half of all food.

In Montana, we all benefit from amazing female leaders in agriculture.

If you want to know about improving soil health or the rewards of raising sheep, talk to Linda Poole in Malta.

If you want to learn how to organize a grassroots rancher’s organization and effect meaningful change, talk to Maggie Nutter in Sunburst.

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Trina Bradley of Dupuyer will look you in the eye and tell you everything you need to know about the impacts of grizzlies on her ranch life.

Colleen Gustafson, on the Two Med, graciously hosts and educates non-ranchers for months at a time without strangling them, all while maintaining every fence, buying every bull and killing every weed on her ranch.

Adele Stenson of Wibaux and Holly Stoltz of Livingston find innovative solutions to ranching challenges and then — even harder — find ways to share these innovations with hard-headed, independent cusses who want to do it our own way.

In fact, I’ve noticed that often women seek novel innovations to deal with a ranching challenge.

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If a man happens to be around, she might even run it past him.

It’s rubber band ranching – stretch with an idea, contract to assess it, then stretch again to implement it.

Long ago, my friend Michelle and I promoted the One Good Cow program at the Montana Stockgrowers Association meeting.

We asked cattle producers to donate one cow to ranchers who had lost so many in blizzards and floods that year.

As we stood on stage in a room full of dour, silent men, I remember finding the one person I knew and asking what he thought.

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Just as he would bid at a livestock auction, he barely nodded his approval.

We ended up gathering more than 900 cows from across the nation and giving them to 67 producers.

One Good Cow was a good idea.

Now I don’t seek approval for my ideas so sometimes my rubber band doesn’t contract to assess one before I stretch into action.

That’s how I got myself into producing shelf-stable, ready-to-eat meals made with my beef and lamb.

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This is a good idea, too.

I hope.

I wonder if it is easier to ranch as a woman in some ways.

Society pressures men to know all of the answers all of the time, but If I mess up, I try to learn from my mistake and move forward.

When Imposter Syndrome hits or we can’t find a solution to an unsolvable problem – the effects of climate change, commodity markets or competing demands from family – secretly faking it until we make it gets lonely.

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The downward spiral of loneliness and the pressure to be perfect can lead to suicide.

Male ranchers kill themselves 3.5 times more often than the general public.

Female ranchers kill themselves, too, just a little less often.

I’m fortunate to have good friends who love me even when I’m far from perfect.

We laugh together, they remind me that I have a few good attributes even when I forget, they tolerate my weirdness and celebrate little successes.

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They stave off loneliness.

They know all ranchers try our best, we appreciate a little grace, and a warm fire feels good to our cold fingers.

Lisa Schmidt raises grass-fed beef and lamb at the Graham Ranch near Conrad. Lisa can be reached at L.Schmidt@a-land-of-grass-ranch.com.



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Montana cowboys help build trauma ranch for Israeli soldiers

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Montana cowboys help build trauma ranch for Israeli soldiers


The hills of the northern Judean Desert will soon turn yellow and dry. For now, they are covered in green bloom, dotted with bursts of purple and yellow wildflowers, butterflies hovering above them. From a hilltop in the Binyamin region, where Ruthy and Haim Mann run their therapeutic horse ranch, the view opens wide: the Moab Mountains to the east, the Binyamin hills to the north, Wadi Qelt plunging dramatically toward the Jordan Valley and the northern Dead Sea. At moments, when the haze lifts, Herod’s winter palace can be seen in the distance on the other side of the wadi.

Biblical history feels at home here. Philistines and Crusaders, Babylonians and Hasmoneans, Assyrians, Byzantines and Seleucids all passed through. Joshua, Saul and Jonathan fought nearby. David hid in these hills. On one of the mountains opposite us, the Good Samaritan once passed, refusing to ignore a wounded man lying by the roadside and bandaging his injuries.

The desert has seen much. But a band of real-life cowboys from Montana, pointed boots, wide-brimmed hats and oversized belt buckles, is new even for this landscape. But a band of cowboys who wear Tzitzit (fringed ritual garment), bless bread with the Hebrew “hamotzi,” keep Shabbat and study the weekly Torah portion, though they are devout Christians, is new for me as well.

They define themselves as Christian Zionists. Not an official denomination, more a small, independent current on the margins. They have no church of their own. “But it’s growing,” said Zach Strain.

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When I ask Yoss, short for Yosef, Strain and Jedidiah Ellis why they wear blue Tzitzit attached to their belts, Yoss quotes the Book of Numbers, Chapter 15, Verse 39. “That’s the longest I’ve heard him speak since they got here,” Haim Mann jokes.

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רותי וחיים מן, בעלי החווה

Ruthy and Haim Mann, the ranch owners

(Photo: Alex Kolomoisky)

On a recent Monday morning, the small group of five men and three women is already at work. Bethany Strain and Lily Plucker haul wheelbarrows of stones, Lily’s three-month-old son, Jethro, strapped to her chest. Her husband, John Plucker, the group’s unofficial leader, builds the wooden ceiling of what will soon become a resilience and support center for soldiers coping with PTSD at the edge of the ranch.

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Yoss and Jedidiah work on the stone wall of the riding arena. Promise Strain washes laundry by hand facing the desert view. Eliora Ellis saws a wooden beam. Zach, who stands nearly 6-foot-7, reinforces the stable fence. They work in near silence, focused, as if fulfilling a commandment.

By profession, Zach trains horses and riders for the film industry, primarily for Westerns, and has appeared in some of them himself. He worked on the TV series “Yellowstone.” When I try to draw him into Hollywood gossip about Kevin Costner, but since there is a biblical injunction against gossip, all I can get out of him is that the horses on the series were the finest and most expensive available. They are reserved, almost shy. They speak sparingly. They appear unaccustomed to social company. Montana is about 18 times the size of Israel with roughly one-tenth its population. The nearest neighbor can be miles away. In the photos they show me, each home looks like it could have stepped straight out of the cast of “Little House on the Prairie”, except for one detail: a giant Star of David mounted on the Strain family home.

All of them are related. Zach, Yoss and Promise Strain are siblings (the fourth brother, Ezekiel, left yesterday). Jedidiah and Eliora are married. Yoss is married to Bethany, John Plucker’s sister. Plucker is married to Lily. It is their last day in Israel, and they seem determined, more than anything, to make the most of every remaining moment. This is their last day, though not their first visit. For most of them, it is their fourth or fifth trip, and never a vacation. They come to work.

Ruthy and Haim Mann, the ranch owners, are Israeli cowboys in their own right. Boots, hats and wide brims included. Haim, a lawyer by training, also carries a handgun. They live in the settlement of Alon, part of a cluster of three Jewish communities northeast of Jerusalem, which includes mixed, religious and secular residents living side by side. “It works beautifully,” Haim says. The population is largely middle-class.

Indeed, although several flashpoints of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, including Khan al-Ahmar, lie not far from here, this specific area, located in Area C of the West Bank, is quiet and calm. Not quite Montana, but they manage with what they have.

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רוכבים על רקע מרכז הטיפולים החדשרוכבים על רקע מרכז הטיפולים החדש

Riding against the backdrop of the new treatment center

(Photo: Alex Kolomoisky)

Both are remarried. Together they have two daughters, along with four children from Haim’s previous marriage and two from Ruthy’s, and they are grandparents to five grandchildren. Thirteen years ago, they founded a small therapeutic horse ranch. (“We’ve always loved horses,” they say). Ruthy handles treatment, working with teens with autism, motor and social challenges and trauma. Haim manages the horses. Five years ago, they were told to evacuate their original site. “We gave service to the whole community and got a punch in the stomach in return,” Ruthy said. With assistance from the Settlement Division, they relocated to the current hilltop. Haim closed his law office, Ruthy left her job at the Biblical Zoo in Jerusalem, and they committed fully to the ranch, which officially opened to the public about six months ago. Five dunams, 13 horses and a sweeping biblical landscape. Beyond routine therapy for local youth, the ranch increasingly served teens who had left the ultra-Orthodox community, including girls who were victims of sexual abuse, “even at ages 12 and 13”, sometimes within their own families.

About two years ago, they began hosting a joint Passover Seder for dozens of such teens. “The at-risk girls,” Ruthy says, “taught us a great deal about treating trauma.” That knowledge, regrettably, soon became urgently necessary. When war broke out after the October 7’s Hamas massacre, activity at the ranch halted. Ruthy began treating evacuees from southern Israel housed in Dead Sea hotels. “Everything there was terrible,” she says. At first, the therapy sessions were held in the hotels, without horses, using smaller animals instead. Over time, families began coming to the ranch to ride. “We started with 20 families. Within a month, 150 were coming,” she said.

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Soon after, soldiers began arriving, some physically wounded, others psychologically scarred. “It started with soldiers who rode with us as kids,” Haim said. “They enlisted, went to fight and were injured. They came back to us to rehabilitate, to regain control over their lives.”

The Manns speak about the female and male soldiers who came, about the visible and invisible wounds, about trauma and post-traumatic stress. Tears well up in their eyes more than once. In mine, too. The fact that I pushed the subject aside for months does not mean it disappeared. Suddenly, the stories from the war resurface. You can feel the weight pressing on your chest. The word got around. An injured friend brought another wounded friend to the ranch, “until we realized we needed to build something new here,” Haim says. The existing ranch could not meet the scale or the specific needs. The couple decided to establish a separate resilience center for soldiers, to be named after Omer Van Gelder, a former rider from the area who was killed in Gaza in June 2025. The center is steadily taking shape, John Plucker is currently standing on its roof, and they plan to launch a crowdfunding campaign soon to complete the project.

The need, they say, is immense while the supply is limited. Many soldiers from the West Bank have been killed or wounded, disproportionately to their share of the population. “But in all of the West Bank,” Ruthy says, “there isn’t a single ranch like this. There is a resilience center in Binyamin, but not everyone is suited to sitting in a closed room talking to a therapist about their feelings. It’s also a community that is less inclined to ask for help. Still, many people need precisely this kind of therapy, with horses, out in nature.”

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בונים תקרת עץ ביום האחרון בארץבונים תקרת עץ ביום האחרון בארץ

Building a wooden ceiling on their last day in Israel

(Photo: Alex Kolomoisky)

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Demand is surging. “We feel the shockwaves of the psychological injuries from the war starting to hit with tremendous force,” Ruthy said. “It’s not just ripples. It’s a tsunami.” Everything mental health experts warned about during the war, that once it ended and there was no longer anything to suppress or conserve strength for, a major wave of psychological casualties would follow, is unfolding before the Manns’ eyes. “You feel it everywhere,” Haim adds. “In rising divorce rates, in pent-up violence. We know that what isn’t treated today will worsen tomorrow. The country has to confront this by building more resilience centers, otherwise we’ll be carrying it for years. “And it’s not like the trauma of October 7 is going to disappear anytime soon. We’ll be living with it for years.”

“There are other injuries that aren’t being talked about enough,” Ruthy says. “For instance, girls who were already in very difficult circumstances before October 7 and had just started to rebuild their lives, only for the war to shift attention elsewhere and leave them sidelined.” There are also many patients with older wounds and traumas that resurfaced, but there isn’t enough time, enough therapists or enough resources to reach them.” The sound of a bell rings out to announce lunch. The group gathers in the ranch’s main building for a modest meal of white rice and a tough steak. They recite a blessing over the food and eat in silence.

Haim Mann says the connection with the Montana Cowboys began in November 2023, less than a month after the October 7 massacre, when a group of Montana ranchers arrived in Israel to help local farmers, more precisely, farmers in the West Bank. The initiative was organized by HaYovel, founded by the Waller family, themselves Christian Zionists, who came to Israel about 20 years ago, settled in the Har Bracha area and began bringing other Christian Zionist volunteers to work in the region.

Word of the group’s arrival reached Haim as well. “I wanted to thank them, in my name and on behalf of the Jewish people. I offered them a day of horseback riding in the area. They came here and fell in love. We fell in love with them, too.” The group stayed at the ranch for three months, building everything by hand. “They were like a miracle for us,” Haim says. “We didn’t have a dime.” This latest visit, about a month long, focused entirely on constructing the new center.

Zach first visited Israel in 2014. This is his fourth trip. “It was very important for me to come help, to build and strengthen Israel,” he said. “Israel is the light of the world, maybe even the foundation of the world. I don’t know how to explain it, but when you’re here, you feel it.”

What does it mean to be a Christian Zionist?
“Some people call us that. Maybe it’s accurate,” he said. “We don’t have definitions.”

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How do you define yourself?
“We don’t spend much time defining it. We’re somewhat different. We just go by the Bible. We’re not part of any church. It’s not really a movement. Nobody knows us. It started with our family, and people joined.”

I watch a video of a Shabbat meal at the family home in Montana: Kiddush over wine, Sabbath songs and a reading of the weekly Torah portion. They look a bit like the Amish. “We are not evangelicals”, he insisted. “We’re not trying to convert anyone. And I don’t even understand why I would need to convert anyone.” “We’re not evangelicals,” Bethany says as well, “but we’re fairly close to that.”

Zach, have you noticed a change in Israel compared to your previous visits?
“Since the war, I think people have come to see more clearly how deep and destructive evil can be. In America, it’s created a serious division. Many think Israel shouldn’t exist. That’s what’s being taught in schools today. They don’t know what’s happening here.”

That’s what they’re teaching in schools?
“We didn’t attend public schools,” he says. “Our parents pulled us out because they were teaching us lies.”

Zach also refers to John Plucker as the group’s unofficial leader. “I go where John tells me,” he explains. The fact that Plucker is 12 years younger does not seem to matter. The Strain and Plucker families have known each other for years and are closely connected. Two of the Plucker daughters are married to two of the Strain sons.

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“‘Unofficial leader’ is a good definition,” agrees John Plucker, 27.

Are you really a cowboy?
“Yes. That’s how I grew up, on a traditional ranch with horses and cattle and everything. Today I’m an independent contractor and run a construction company. There’s not much money in ranching. It’s more of a lifestyle. I want to work a few more years and buy some land.”

Plucker does not define himself as a Christian Zionist. “I’m just a regular Christian,” he says. “But I see Israel the same way they do, and we believe the same things, so maybe I am a Christian Zionist? I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t really care.”

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הבוקרים בשדות מונטנההבוקרים בשדות מונטנה

The cowboys in Montana fields

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(Photo: Courtesy)

So why did you come?
“The Strains have been coming for years, and they convinced me. We all love Israel very much. The first time I was here was after COVID, and it was incredible. HaYovel brought us. They believe God gave this place to the Jewish people. Here I learned a lot about redemption. You can see it happening in real time. It’s powerful. You learn much more here than just by reading the Bible.”

The last time he came was in November 2023. “They brought us to work in Shiloh, harvesting olives. The moment I came to the ranch, I fell in love, even though there was nothing here yet. My background is ranching and horses, so this suited me much more than picking olives, which is a pretty strange job, honestly. We didn’t hesitate to return, even though our baby had just been born.

“I see what they’re doing here with the young men and women who come for therapy. They give them purpose. They turn something negative into positive. It really brings redemption into people’s lives. I’m glad to be part of it. I already want to come back again. Staying in one place for a long time, building relationships, that’s a blessing.”

When I ask about politics, the group responds with puzzled looks, as if they had never even heard of Trump.“We’re simple ranchers,” Plucker said. “These things don’t interest us. We’re aligned with conservative views, but I don’t really understand politics. I’m here for the Jewish people. Politics may be important here, but not for us.”

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By midday, the horses are released ahead of the afternoon’s therapy sessions. I meet Aviv, Sinai, Negev, Pele, Pazit, Milky and Moshe, a large black horse. I do not ride, but standing beside them, something shifts. A horse is a wonder. Sinai, a horse, or perhaps a mare, I didn’t check, walks toward me and looks straight into my soul. We share a quiet moment.

What is it about horses?
“A horse is a spiritual animal,” Ruthy said from atop Negev. “Every encounter with a horse exposes the soul. The horse immediately senses your frequency. If you’re tense, it’s tense. If you’re calm, it’s calm.”

“What allowed horses to survive for 80 million years is extreme sensitivity,” Haim said. “They are alert to fear, to anxiety. They feel your heartbeat, your breathing. A horse is a perfect mirror for someone living with PTSD. When a person jumps at the sound of a motorcycle and shifts into survival mode, the horse shifts just as quickly. And when you calm down, the horse calms down with you. It forces you to lead, not with force, but with quiet confidence.”

Ruthy sees symbolism as well. “A horse is an open, unburdened space. The entire archetype of the horse is about strength and success, getting back on the horse, being on top of things. That’s also our therapeutic philosophy: to reconnect with that life force, to climb back into the saddle even after the hardest falls. It restores a sense of control to people who have lost all control over their lives.”





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Montana

Evacuation orders issued as 5,000-acre wildfire burns near Roundup, Montana

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Evacuation orders issued as 5,000-acre wildfire burns near Roundup, Montana



The Rehder Creek Fire is burning 16 miles southeast of Roundup has grown to about 5,000 acres, prompting evacuation orders for residents in the Bruner Mountain Area/Subdivision.

The fire started Feb. 26, the cause is unknown and containment was at 0%.

Evacuation orders are in effect for all residents in the Bruner Mountain Area/Subdivision. The Musselshell County Sheriff’s Office is coordinating the evacuation orders, and 911 reverse calls have been sent out to advise people in the area.

A shelter is opening at the Roundup Community Center. Residents were told to contact Musselshell County DES for further information.

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Firefighter and public safety remain the top priority. The public is asked to avoid the Fattig Creek and Rehder Road area so emergency personnel can safely and effectively perform their work.

Fire resources assigned to the incident include 40 total personnel, 11 engines, one Type 2 helicopter, three tenders and two dozers.



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