Texas Range Rovers

"Hold on!" yells Rhonda Stelmach as she guns her four-wheeler up a hill on her 300-acre ranch near Boerne, Texas. Limestone rocks fly as the ATV chews up the steep slope. Ahead of her, a pair of African gemsbok antelope are running. At the summit, she pauses to drink in the view--and the silence--while the gemsboks peer at her from behind a live oak. "It was their hill before, but now we all share," she says, pointing out the sable and red lechwe antelope hiding nearby.

The most interesting breed in the area, however, may well be Stelmach herself, a prime example of what George W. Bush calls "windshield ranchers," weekend cowboys more comfortable behind a steering wheel than atop a saddle. In the Texas of old, this would earn you certain ridicule. No more. One big reason is Bush himself, who keeps track of 200 head of cattle from a Chevy Suburban on his 1,600-acre spread near Crawford in central Texas. Bush's very conspicuous retreats to his faux-cowboy haven (which has geothermal heating and other eco-friendly accoutrements) may draw snickers from some Eastern know-it-alls. But he has helped fuel a rush for Texas ranchland by city slickers more interested in recreation than ranching.

Ground zero for ranch mania is the hill country. Since 1994, the rugged, picturesque hills west of Austin and San Antonio have been Texas' hottest destination for retirees and investors alike--in large part because of its temperate climate. Tech millionaires from Dell, Compaq and Microsoft, tobacco-settlement lawyers, oil- and gasmen (back in the money, thanks to the California energy crisis) have all snapped up parcels from 50 acres to 100 acres, replacing ranch houses with mansions, throwing up 10-ft.-high fences to corral herds of exotic animals--and changing a way of life forever. There are traffic jams in the cowboy-cute town of Bandera these days, and the population in the surrounding counties has grown 60% in the past 10 years. Land values are soaring too, from $1,500 an acre for prize land a decade ago to between $4,500 and $8,000 today. "I make blind offers for twice what a ranch is worth, and I still can't get it," wails real estate broker Trip du Perier, who bills himself as the "Texas Land Man." "It's nuts."

In Kerrville, 100 miles due west of Austin, it's easy to catch the fever. At Joe's Jefferson Street Cafe, cell phones of Realtors chirp away during lunch with calls from buyers willing to dole out $3 million to $4 million for hardscrabble land with little productive value. "Cost is not an object," marvels appraiser Billy Snow, cutting into his chicken-fried steak. Architectural firms such as Kerrville's Artisan Group are busy building homes as big as country clubs with private jetports. "People have built castles, actual castles," says Kerr County's chief appraiser, Fourth Coates. "They even change the direction of streams." Take the Stelmachs, for example. Rhonda, a decorator, and her husband Leigh, an executive with Dollar General Store in Tennessee, bought their lavish ranch two years ago, right after it was featured on a glossy Texas Farm & Ranch cover. Since then they have spent millions of dollars more to expand the house (to 8,600 sq. ft.) and the barn (which had six stalls but now has 28, with a covered riding ring). They have already put the ranch back on the market--for $7.5 million, raising a few eyebrows among the locals.