Valerie Joan Masters, 82, passed away in the early morning hours of September 6, 2026, at Eben Ezer Lutheran Care Center in Brush, Colorado.

Valerie was born August 3, 1944, in Wilmington, Delaware, to Berwin L. Wood and Cleo Ida (Young) Wood. Her family's time in Delaware came during World War II, when her father was called there to work in a munitions factory. After the war, the family returned to Brush, Colorado, where Valerie grew up with her three sisters, Arlene, Debbie and Cheryl.

Being the second-oldest of four girls apparently came with certain privileges—at least in Valerie's mind. Her younger sister Debbie remembers Valerie convincing the two younger girls that they should go outside and play in the street, using the yellow line as their guide. It was an early glimpse of the ornery streak Valerie would carry throughout her life.

Valerie had two children, Stacey Jean and Steven Eugene, during her marriage to Robert "Bob" Dennis. On April 28, 1973, she married Gilbert "Gene" Masters. Shortly after their marriage, Gene adopted Stacey and Steve, officially bringing the family together.

Marriage to Gene took Valerie from the life she had known to Anton, Colorado, tucked into a remote corner of eastern Colorado. It was there that a city girl learned to become a country girl—and eventually made the wide-open country very much her own.

One of the greatest gifts of those years was her friendship with Francis Danenhauer, formerly McCracken. Their friendship quickly grew into something much larger, with the two families becoming so intertwined that outsiders weren't always sure which children belonged to which family. Francis remembers that she taught Valerie how to be a country girl, while Valerie taught her how to have fun. In many ways, Francis was part of the reason Valerie learned not simply to live in the country, but to love the life she made there.

And fun they had.

The two couples traveled together, including a cruise, trips to Las Vegas and later a driving trip to the West Coast. Stacey still remembers the white pantsuit Valerie wore on those Vegas trips, covered in flashy embroidery and rhinestones and finished, naturally, with a pair from her considerable collection of cowboy boots, lovingly dubbed her "Elvis suit".

Those years also brought a close-knit circle of friends, with bridge club providing a regular excuse to gather with plenty of other adventures filling the time in between.  Among the more memorable were the goat hijinks involving an ill-tempered Billy goat named Freddy who was passed from household to household – usually by way of a late-night drop-off.  The unsuspecting recipient was stuck with Freddy until he could be rounded up and quietly made someone else's problem.  During his stay at the Masters household, Freddy added chasing Stacey and Steve to and from the school bus to his daily to-do list.

Even Halloween became an adventure in rural Washington County. Francis remembers the two women trick-or-treating together, no small undertaking in a place where neighbors could be miles apart - and one can only guess there was more tricking than treating.

Valerie and Francis remained friends through all the changes life brought and, eventually, the miles between them. Their friendship endured until Valerie's death, a special connection to the years when Valerie learned to make eastern Colorado home.

Life in Anton also became a working partnership. Gene brought Valerie into his oil-field business, where she took over the books and helped manage a thriving operation until the oil downturn of the 1980s forced the family to change course. Gene and Valerie turned to trucking, forming a partnership with Steve. The trucking years brought their share of challenges, and by the early 2000s another change was needed.

By then, Steve had built considerable experience and success of his own in the oil field. Drawing on that experience, he helped chart a course that brought Gene and Valerie back into the industry. His knowledge, effort and willingness to help redirect the family business proved pivotal, giving Gene and Valerie the opportunity to rebuild and once again find their footing in an industry that had shaped so much of their lives.

For all the work, Valerie knew how to enjoy life away from it. When Stacey and Steve were young, summers included a boat and camper and many trips to Bonny Dam near Burlington, Colorado. Friends and family gathered there to camp, swim and water ski, and Valerie—who loved the water—was right in the middle of it.

Stacey remembers another side of her mother from a day that was to be devoted to back-to-school shopping.  On August 16, 1977, they woke to the news that Elvis Presley had died.  Valerie was so distraught that the shopping trip had to be postponed.  It's possible the infamous white rhinestone "Elvis" suit might have been more than just a fashion choice.

Over time, the isolation of rural eastern Colorado that once required some adjusting to became one of the things Valerie treasured most. She loved the solitude and peacefulness of her home and could spend countless hours outside working in her yard and garden. She created her own haven on the eastern Colorado plains, filled with the sunflowers she especially loved.

She loved the place, but the weather was another matter.

The heat was too hot. The cold was brutal. And then there was the wind—oh, the wind. Valerie could curse eastern Colorado weather with the authority of someone who had spent decades enduring every version of it, while somehow never wanting to leave the home she had created there.

Gram's house became its own world for her grandchildren, and with that came plenty of opportunities to entertain themselves. There were certain things they could always count on: an ostrich roaming about, peacocks yelling for help, angry geese, a longhorn, a spitting llama named Joy, and big bags of Valerie's beloved miniature Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. The kids were known to help themselves to her stash, often making it disappear altogether. Exactly who was responsible for the greatest share of the disappearing Reese's remains a family debate, as all fingers still seem to point at someone else.

Andrew and Nick remember visits to "the farm" filled with snakes, swimming in the dam, riding bikes, hamburgers and french fries—one of Gram's signature meals—and, of course, rides on the beloved four-wheeler.

Olivia and Alex, only a year apart, created a different sort of excitement. During one visit, when the girls were about six and five, Olivia announced her dream of becoming a hairdresser. Five-year-old Alex was willing to become her first client. While Gram was outside working in her yard, the two, left to their own devices, found a pair of scissors and Olivia proceeded to launch her career.

By the time Valerie came back inside, Alex had received what Stacey recalls as something resembling Hayley Mills' haircut in The Parent Trap.  Thankfully, both the budding stylist and her young and trusting client survived, although Olivia's career as a hairdresser was decidedly cut short.

In Valerie's later years, her granddaughter Katie became an especially important part of helping her remain in the home she loved. Katie made trips with groceries from Sterling, ran errands, helped with the yard and stepped in wherever her Gram needed her.

Gene passed away in December 2023, bringing to a close more than 50 years of marriage that held its share of challenges, but also adventure, hard work, travel, laughter and the building of a life together on the eastern Colorado plains.

Shortly before Valerie's death, life brought her unexpectedly back to Brush. At Eben Ezer, with the railroad tracks only a few hundred yards away, she woke from a nap one day, heard the train and asked Stacey, "Are we in Brush?" When told that they were, Valerie said it reminded her of being a kid.

There was something fitting about that small moment. A life that had begun in Delaware during wartime had soon brought her home to Brush, then carried her across the plains to Anton and through more than eight decades of family, work, friendship, travel, water, wind and sunflowers—and, near its end, brought her back to the sounds of the place where she had been a girl.

Valerie is survived by her daughter, Stacey Jean Masters of Goodland, Kansas; her son, Steven Eugene Masters and his wife, Michele (Brunner) Masters, of Sterling, Colorado; her sister, Debbie (Wood) Strauch of Brush, Colorado; five grandchildren: Andrew Martin Sampson and his wife, Sammi, of Scottsdale, Arizona, and their children Roan and Emmy; Nicholas Stanley Sampson and his wife, Kayla, of Windsor, Colorado, and their sons Benny and Callan; Olivia (Sampson) Fellhoelter and her husband, Jason, of Oakley, Kansas, and their daughters Madison and Carley; Alexandra Nicole (Masters) Karg and her husband, Derek, of Rapid City, South Dakota, and their daughter Lilah; and Kathleen Elizabeth Masters and her fiancé, Fernando Moya, of Wray, Colorado.

She leaves seven great-grandchildren to grow up hearing the stories that came before them, as well as her nieces and nephews, Rhonda Roberts, Willene Brondum, Melanie Sanders, Lindsey Strauch, Jason Strauch, Kevin Strauch and Jessica Timmerman; and the extended family and treasured friends whose lives became intertwined with hers.

Valerie was preceded in death by her husband, Gilbert "Gene" Masters; her parents, Berwin and Cleo Wood; her sisters, Arlene Sanders and Cheryl Brown; and her nephew, Zach Brown.

Valerie's life was not lived in a straight line or an easy place. It carried her from Delaware back to Brush, from Brush to the wide-open plains of eastern Colorado, through changing businesses and changing seasons, lifelong friendships, family adventures and more than a few stories that will undoubtedly improve with every retelling.

Somewhere along the way, the woman who had to be taught how to be a country girl became deeply rooted in the place she once had to learn to call home.

And perhaps that is why the sunflowers suited Valerie so well. They are stubborn things on the eastern Colorado plains—standing tall beneath a relentless sun, battered by hail, tested by drought and forever pushed around by that damn eastern Colorado wind.

And still, they turn their faces toward the sun.

In keeping with Valerie's wishes, a formal service will not be held.  A celebration of her life is being planned for October, with the date, time and location to be announced.

In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions in Valerie's honor may be made to Hospice of the Plains, whose care and support were deeply appreciated by her family.