In the late afternoon, when the nearby Ventura Freeway is thick with commuters, Bruce and Kitty Boxleitner saddle up their horses—55 and Rosie—and head out to catch the sun before it disappears into the Conejo Valley horizon. They lope along trails that meander for miles. They amble alongside a fence that separates a serene sheep ranch from a wild and woolly high-tech world. For the Boxleitners, the ride is their end-of-the-day martini, their uninterrupted hour of togetherness.

These days, however, such sunset rides are a rare treat. Boxleitner is one of the busiest young actors in Hollywood. He's swapped his Frank Buck pith helmet from last year's "Bring 'em Back Alive" for suave secret-agent threads in his new fall TV series, "Scarecrow and Mrs. King." Yet, Boxleitner is more at home in the sweat-stained britches, vest and neckerchief he sports as Kenny Rogers' co-star in "Gambler II"—scheduled to air next month. The $6 million, four-hour saga is a sequel to 1980 shoot-'em-up that set TV-movie-rating records.

But Boxleitner is not a celluloid cowboy who keeps several steeds stabled close by for his amusement. His horses live at home on a private Ponderosa, a 1.2-acre spread in Hidden Hills with a corral in the front yard, a small hill in the back for grazing and a barn to one side. The house itself is California ranch and not all that remarkable on the outside. Inside, it's Cheyenne, Wyo., circa 1872.

During the six years that Bruce and Kitty Boxleitner have lived in their home, they've slowly, methodically transformed it from an orange, chartreuse and purple eye-stinging fixer-upper into a warm, woodsy, rustic retreat. Their home is a virtual gallery of Western art. Original Frederic Remington and Charles Russell paintings share the walls with works by other cowboy artists and Indian artisans. Sculptures and antiques rest in corners and crannies. Some of these might never catch a curator's eye, but others might be prized by collectors for their century-old heritage.

The Boxleitners didn't start off with authentic Remingtons and Russells. And the ranch house was only a distant dream.

"Before we were married," Kitty recalls, "I had the typical career girl's apartment—framed posters of Vogue magazine covers from the 1920s and a Naugahyde couch that cost $325. Bruce was a bachelor actor and didn't even have a bed. I had to loan him an old mattress. I remember saying, 'Bruce, you really should get some furniture,' so we went to Pier One and picked out a coffee table and two chairs. The next day he went to Aaron Brothers and bought all the Remington and Russell reproductions they had. That was the real beginning."

Bruce says that they really didn't start collecting Western American art and artifacts until after they were married. And then those were shoestring purchases. We were cast as brother and sister in the TV series 'How the West Was Won' (that's when they met) and we spent most of our time tramping on location, around Arizona, Oregon, Colorado, New Mexico. We simply started picking up souvenirs."

Boxleitner also confesses to being a "real cowboy nut ever since I was a kid, half-raised on a farm (in Illinois) and always sent out to catch the cows for milking." But probably his greatest "inspiration" for recreating a frontier home, he says, was John Ford's Westerns. In those cinematic classics, a tired cowboy usually went home to a comfortable ranch house, pulled off his boots, stretched out in his favorite chair—often in front of a roaring fire—and got a little shut-eye.

After their marriage, the Boxleitners merged their belongings into a small house in Studio City. "We outgrew it in three weeks," Bruce says. "Meanwhile, we were always driving to Malibu for location filming and passing Hidden Hills on the way. Since I had always wanted horses, I asked, 'Why don't we call a broker?' We did and she found this place the first day. It was in ruins, but it had three fireplaces and corrals." A year after the Boxleitners bought the house, their series was canceled. Undaunted, they pressed on with the remodeling.

The Boxleitners forged ahead on their own but eventually called in Basia Asch Frank ISID, a West Los Angeles interior designer. By the time Frank arrived, the couple had amassed a sizable collection of art and sculpture. "I decided to let the beauty of the Western art dominate the home and play down the furnishings," Frank says. "The decision not to completely refurnish was a blessing for the budget," she adds.

The living room was given the first face-lift. Frank specified that the sliding-glass doors be replaced with wooden French doors that were stained to match the vaulted, beamed ceiling. The living room floor—synthetic parquet tiles glued to a gold-flecked white linoleum—was ripped up, and oak plank flooring was installed. The garish purple color scheme was scrapped, and the designer specified the soothing browns, beiges and umber shades that replaced it.

Kitty's sofa from her single days, reupholstered in leather after the move to Hidden Hills, is matched with two wood-framed chairs, upholstered in white. The chairs and sofa, together with an ottoman, are clustered for conversation around a massive, low-slung coffee table made of highly polished oak. All furniture rests on a Navajo rug. Then, goose-neck brass lamps provide light for reading without adding visual mass to the room.

The wood adds warmth, but the art brings the room alive. Above the fireplace is an original Remington painting, "Indian Scout." To the right, framed in barn wood, is "Trouble," a painting by Howard Terpening of Tucson. Another Terpening, "Soldier Chief," hangs nearby. Says Boxleitner: "We've been lucky. We've caught some unknown artists on the upswing. But you don't find them in Los Angeles galleries. You have to hunt for them."

Between scenes on location. Boxleitner goes hunting with his checkbook. He recently came home with "The Campfire Serenade" painted by Bo Wheeler of Sedona, Ariz., a founding member of the Cowboy Artists Assn. Another painting—by artist Mortimer Wilson of Tubac, Ariz.—looks like a portrait of Wild Bill Hockok. Eyeing the shoulder-length hair, Boxleitner opines that it could be Gen. George Custer.

The remainder of the living room could well be termed the John Wayne wing. In one corner stands a 2 1/2-foot sculpture of the late actor. Says Bruce: "I didn't realize how big it was when I sent away for it, but it comes from the Frontier Museum in Temecula, Calif., and it's endorsed by the Wayne family." He also has a John Wayne commemorative pistol and a pastel portrait of Wayne from the film "Rio Grande," a sixth-anniversary present from Kitty.

Boxleitner admits to having hero-worshiped Wayne. "Wayne, Cooper, Gable—they were really movie stars in the '30s and '40s," he contends. "I wasn't a fan of Wayne's politics, but he represented a kind of Americana, a hero, and we'll never have that kind of hero again." Wayne was also a momentary mentor. "At the time we were doing 'How the West Was Won,' everyone else was doing psychotic Westerns with psychotic characters. Wayne took me aside and said, 'Remember you're doing a Western, so just tell a simple story.' You know, I had a feeling that came down from John Ford. It was one of the biggest thrills of my life."

You can almost picture Wayne in the Boxleitners' living room, leaning back in his chair, his long legs on the ottoman, and a whiskey in his hand, with a crackling fire in the hearth. Or the Duke's protege. James Arness—Marshall Matt Dillon—all 6 feet, 6 inches of him, reading, by flickering light, a history book on the Civil War. That's not such a fantasy. Says Boxleitner: "Jim Arness brought us into this business—gave Kitty and me our first break. He's been very inspirational to us and we idolize him."

But it's Bruce who "spends a lot of his time in the living room, either playing with Sam (their 3-year-old son) or reading," Kitty says. "After his 14-hour days, he simply wants to relax."

Half of one wall in the ceiling is a floor-to-ceiling bookcase packed tightly with books on Western history, art and art films. Boxleitner already has devoured the Time/Life Old West Series, which consists of reprints of vintage Western novels, and he's working his way through Time/Life's Collector Library of the Civil War.

The designer carried the coziness  of the living room through to the adjacent den, but the colors are lightened a bit. Two plump, rolled-arm love seats, reupholstered in a smoky blue-and-beige wool tweed, are situated facing a stone fireplace. The walls are covered in a taupe-colored, speckled suede cloth, while the oak-stained French doors are draped in a soft wool plaid. The drapery fabric is repeated on four sofa pillows.

Additional Indian art is displayed in the den, but it does not smother the small room. A collector of kachina dolls is situated above an antique oak-and-glass bookcase. Next to it hangs a tobacco pouch from the "reservation era" made by Blackfoot Indians.

"You can tell it's 'reservation era,' " Boxleitner explains, "because the beadwork is all white-man's beads that were trade goods in those days. A pre-reservation-era tobacco pouch would be made of shells."

The living and den may look like inviting spaces, but most of the Boxleitners' friends gravitate toward the cheery kitchen and tiny dining room, Kitty says. "That it where we seem to hold most of our parties. People just sit up on the counter or around that table."

It is not difficult to see why. Remodeling but carefully not overdecorating, designer Frank called for the kitchen's sunshine-yellow scheme, which is accented with a wallpaper patterned in blue and white.

Copper cookware and culinary accessories that were rescued from thrift shops add further to the charm of the country. A pair of ice tongs holds paper towels. On the walls are clusters of colorful dried peppers, onions and garlic.

More time than money was invested in the decor after the remodeling was completed. White lace curtains cover the windows, reinforcing the 19th-Century mood. Frank replaced the outdated original tile with new tile counters and a back-splash in a soft almond shade, then decided to accent them with cheerful, hand-painted tiles depicting a variety of colorful fruits and vegetables.

The Boxleitners solved a serious space problem in their dining room when they unearthed an 18th-Century American harvest table. The heavy wooden table—two feet wide and seven feet long—and six rush-seat chairs fit the narrow room as though they were custom-deisgned for the space. Normal ploys used by decorators for expanding space were avoided. Instead of a wall mirror that would "open" the room, a small mirror in a hand-carved frame from Scottsdale is on the wall, flanked by two bunches of Arizona red peppers. A copper light fixture—simple and unobtrusive—hangs overhead.

The Boxleitners' bedroom looks like it might be the presidential suite of a grand hotel at the turn of the century. Frank specified wooden French doors that open onto a patio and pool area and then situated the brass bed fracing eastward so that Bruce and Kitty could wake up to the sunrise. Frank chose a Laura Ashley print wallpaper in a pattern of powder blue and white and repeated it on the bed skirt.

The fluffy comforter, a chair and an ottoman (originally in the living room and recycled rather than replaced) feature a deeper blue, coordinating fabric, also by Laura Ashley.

Keeping with the Western Americana theme are tall, antique-pine dressers, and a hand-braided, wool area rug was unfurled "in order to tie the room together," Kitty says. Only a few pieces of art are on the walls. One is a saucy, unsigned Russell; another is a painting of mountain men by Montana artist John Scott. "That isn't my favorite piece," Boxleitner says. "Doesn't have any motion to it."

Opposite the bed is the home's third fireplace, its mantel piled high with photographs. Situated in front of the hearth is a fold-up campaign chair, said to have been used by Theodore Roosevelt when he was on the stump.

Boxleitner thinks that the boudoir has the appearance of a civilized bordello. Says the rangy 6-foot, 2-inch actor: "This is the Cheyenne Social Club, right here."

Thanks, Claudia!