You know that Taylor Sheridan, King of Television, has a ton of shows, including the famous Yellowstone, its many prequels and future spinoffs, plus Lioness, Tulsa King, and Landman, which is right now in its second season and just as entertainingly alien as ever. But did you know that Sheridan also has a nascent product empire, sold under the brand 6666 Ranch? One might think he’d be too busy negotiating $1 billion overall deals, but not so. Many famous people have been retailing candles, tequila, and clothing lately, but it takes a rare talent to hawk all three.
The 6666 Ranch was owned by one family starting in 1870, until its sale to Sheridan (and partners) in 2022. This is a big financial commitment, and Sheridan told the Hollywood Reporter in 2023 that part of the reason he started making so many TV shows was to pay for it. The 270,000-acre ranch is in King County, in the Texas Panhandle. It’s near Lubbock, to the degree that anything in that area is “near” anything else. (The region’s spacious geography also explains why Billy Bob Thornton’s character on Landman is always in his truck, sometimes getting road head from his once and future wife.) Four Sixes, as it’s also called, appeared in Yellowstone in Season 4, as the place where John Dutton sends the troubled cowboy Jimmy (Jefferson White) so the hardcore horse people down in Texas can whip him into shape. The place also appears in the form of Easter eggs in Landman; a proposed Yellowstone spinoff starring White and set fully on the ranch is currently on hold.
Now Four Sixes is, increasingly, a brand you yourself can buy into. There are canned cocktails, spirits, beef, T-shirts, and sundries available online. There’s an ongoing Four Sixes Ranch Steakhouse pop-up at the Wynn hotel, in Las Vegas, and Four Sixes beef is also sold at the members-only Ned’s Club, in Washington. (The brand also appeared in a fifth-season episode of Yellowstone, when Beth Dutton tries to order a Tito’s and soda in a hotel bar and the bartender replies that the place serves only Four Sixes vodka, and therefore the drink must be a “Sixes and soda.” That actually sounds good, to me.)
My question, as someone who watches a lot of Sheridan’s content and is endlessly curious about his dominance of what’s left of the monoculture, was whether any of this 6666 gear and food is any good. One reason I love watching Sheridan’s stuff is the extreme crapshoot of it all. Will you get an epic love story or an unwatchable caricature? Critically acclaimed action or risible self-insert? Such an unpredictable auteur should have strange and varied merch. Should people, perhaps readers of this article, consider buying the lovers of Sheridan shows in their lives some of this stuff during the Christmas season? I ordered as much cowboy crap as an editorial budget in 2025 can cover, on a quest to find out.
I started with the noncomestible merch, which you buy from the 6666 Supply House website. (This Supply House is also an actual place you can visit—if your travels take you past Guthrie, Texas.) I had to pick the candle ($38) that’s scented “Bunkhouse,” the description of which promises a whiff of “warm tobacco, aged bourbon, patchouli.” The Yellowstone ranch bunkhouse on TV is full of grown men sleeping in literal bunkbeds, eating chili, getting in fights over girls, playing the guitar, and getting up ungodly early. I expected funk, and the candle was light and civilized in comparison, but maybe I’m the only one who wants disgusting candles. The Four Sixes vanilla lip balm ($2) was … a vanilla lip balm with a Four Sixes Ranch wrapper. It’s fairly priced—a good novelty stocking stuffer for a Yellowstone fan, perhaps.
Of the T-shirts, I went for the Logo Flowy Racerback Tank ($30), which looked the most like something I’d actually wear. I was curious whether anyone would recognize the logo and strike up a Sheridan-related conversation with me. I wore it four or five times to my 7 a.m. CrossFit class, the place I go where I figured people would be the most likely to recognize the brand. No comment, except from my husband, who, seeing me pass through the kitchen, said: “What is that? Looks MAGA.” I didn’t think to say to him at the time: “I hear the moral high ground gets real windy at night!”
Putting aside their feed for horses, which is just not something I can test out, the most unusual thing 6666 Ranch sells is probably a used ranch rope ($25). On its Facebook page, the company cites a poem to advertise this product, credited to “Unknown”: “An old ranch rope, frayed and worn, / A symbol of hard work and labor borne. / Its knots and twists reveal a story untold, / Of rugged terrain and adventures bold.” I really didn’t feel as if I should be allowed to buy this rope, having experienced none of that rugged terrain and done none of that hard work, but for the purposes of this story, I had to have it. The rope turned out to be quite stiff, despite (?) its time in the trenches, waxy and tight and hard to handle. My daughter and I tried to unspool it and see if we could use it for something—a clothesline, maybe? We were not woman enough. Eventually, I thanked the rope for its service and hung it over a novelty stuffed-animal moose head we’ve got in our mudroom. It looks good.
6666 also sells canned alcoholic beverages: margaritas, beer, and ranch water, which is the Texan term for a tequila soda with lime. I had to assign someone else—my trusty editor for this piece—to test them out, because they weren’t sold anywhere nearby, and my killjoy of a state wouldn’t allow them to be shipped to me through the mail. She ordered the ranch water variety pack, which comes in blue agave, blackberry pomegranate, spicy habanero juicy mango, and prickly pear margarita flavors, and gave them all a shocking five stars. They tasted clear and clean, and they make one pleasantly tipsy without the slightly deranged hyperactivity that can accompany a White Claw buzz, she reports.
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The winner of this whole experiment is the Four Sixes beef. Due to that wind-swept moral high ground I try to inhabit, plus a family tendency to high LDL cholesterol, I’ve been trying not to eat too much red meat lately, but this story sent me back on the road to ruin. In an interview about the Vegas Four Sixes Ranch Steakhouse pop-up, a collaborator who worked with Sheridan on that restaurant’s menu said that the showrunner believes that steaks should be cooked over wood with salt and pepper if cooked outside; if cooked inside, with a cast-iron pan. I opted for inside. The rib-eye, tenderloin, and striploin I got as part of a $105 “Ranch Sampler” were almost meltingly soft; it was terrifying how much better it was than my typical Kroger fare. I can’t afford to acquire a taste for this stuff!
I made the chili recipe on the back of the Chuck Wagon Chili spice powder ($5), which called for both ground beef and chuck roast, a meat-in-meat chili concept I’d never encountered before. I used the Four Sixes ground beef for this but didn’t realize ahead of time that I was going to ruin the purity of my experiment by not having Four Sixes chuck roast to add to the mix, so I had to buy some non–Four Sixes chuck locally. This chili was amazingly savory and hearty, except for the chuck roast, which wasn’t nearly tender enough; draw what conclusions you may.
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I also tried three 6666 rubs, which were for sale at my local grocery, each for $6.49—Smoky Maple, recommended for pork, which was too sweet; Bunkhouse Campfire, for chicken, salty with a mesquite flavor; and Taylor Sheridan’s Original Cowboy, a chili pepper–and–garlic blend for beef, which was tasty, even if that particular beef didn’t really need it. The Bunkhouse Campfire was the winner—it made even normal chicken tenders much better.
If you’re going the Sheridan route for your gifts, don’t get it twisted. There’s also Yellowstone-branded food (mac and cheese, chili, barbecue sauce, coffee) and culinary equipment that you may have seen out and about—I recently spotted gift sets at my local Walmart—but that’s a project unrelated to Sheridan. However, seeing them for sale at that same Kroger the other day, I bought a few Yellowstone-branded, not-Sheridan-made cans of chili and baked beans, to do a little unscientific comparison testing. The chili was weirdly smooth and artificially pillowy. The baked beans were savory and delicious.
It feels significant that the 6666 stuff is slightly more expensive, more elevated, a less obvious and more hallowed brand. Sometimes, when you sit down with Sheridan, you get premium stuff. Buy beef and ranch water for your 1883 rewatch this holiday. We can recommend it.
