By Hannah Barricks
Photography by Crystal Wise
On a quiet afternoon off Weatherford’s square, the door opens at Chiefs Trading Post.
It doesn’t matter that the sign says “closed.” It doesn’t matter that the lights are low or that a photoshoot is underway inside the workshop and store at 203 York Ave. A woman steps in, tentative, scanning the room. But before she can speak, the owner is already bounding towards her, keys in hand to open a case she’s inspecting.
“Come on in,” he says.
Garren Still, known as “Leather Chief” in these parts, runs his shop like this every day — open to all, and generous when he doesn’t have to be.
The space feels less like a common retail space and more like someone’s birthright. Turquoise glows from glass cases — deep blues veined with glittering metal and earth, stones pulled from American ground and set by hand, often Still’s. Silver catches the light in flashes, illuminating various belt buckles, cuffs and pendants of the owner’s own creation, along with vintage finds he’s acquired over many years, either through trading or his own sleuthing, just as the shop’s name suggests.
“I buy, sell and trade daily,” he confirms. “Its a true trading post.”
Chiefs Trading could almost pass for a movie set, with stuffed pheasants and other taxidermy perched overhead. Nothing matches, but it all seems to “go,” with Still at its center, the store’s common denominator.
The man is broad and steady under layers of his own work. Draped from head to toe in rings, cuffs and necklaces: he’s a maximalist’s maximalist, but never compromises on quality.
“I only use American-mined turquoise,” he says, lifting a stone worn smooth from his own tumbling.
He sources the raw turquoise for his jewelry directly from mines in Nevada and Arizona, and some from New Mexico.
He grew up in Weatherford, raised by a hardworking single mother, Connie, and eventually, his beloved stepfather, Larry Bunn. Both encouraged Still and his older brother, Byron, to embrace their deeply rooted native lineage, even though it was foreign to them. Still’s late father, Jack, a full-blooded Cherokee from Stilwell, Oklahoma, passed DNA onto the boys that traces back to the Trail of Tears, but little else.
“I didn’t learn anything from my dad,” Still says. “He left when I was six.”
The absence was a lesson in self-reliance for Still, born of the knowledge that no one was coming to save him. He also developed a wild side, touring with bands that were drawn to his unique sense of style.
But when his brother tragically died at 28, Garren’s world narrowed. This second loss felt like a wake-up call. He wanted to settle down, but doing what? And in the confusion of his grief, he simply started making things — first shirts, then hand-stitched leather bags, each one detailed and unique.
“I never really had a traditional job,” he says. “I hated the idea of a boss, so I needed to make this work.”
Silversmithing came next. He learned to solder the same way he learned everything else: by deciding he could. Plumbing tools became jewelry tools. Scrap became something else entirely.
Back in the shop, Still’s wife, Annalee, moves easily beside him. His biggest supporter and the other half of the business, handling daily operations and admin work, the couple complements each other. She’s steady where he is restless. Where he is fire, she is earth. Together, the whole thing works.
Customers continue drifting in, welcomed by the couple without hesitation, despite the signage.
“I want to leave people better than I found them,” Still says.
Even in a room full of silver and stone, he’s a bright spot — polished to perfection.