Drew (The Cowboys) (43 page)

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Authors: Leigh Greenwood

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“A fellow can’t ignore his mother.”

“How about his girlfriend?”

“You’re jealous, Drew. If you want this guy, fight for him. If not, do both of you a favor, and walk away.”

“Is that what you did with Isabelle, just decided you wanted her and that was it?”

Jake grinned in a way Drew was certain had melted Isabelle’s resistance so many years ago.

“No, I was just as big a fool as you. I had too much pride and too little common sense.”

“Is that what you think, that I have too much pride?”

“Yes.”

Drew froze. Cole’s voice came from directly behind her.

“And no compassion for a tortured soul.”

Jake executed a quick half turn. He released Drew and pushed her gently toward Cole. “You two work this out between you.” He turned and walked off the floor.

“Are you going to dance with me, or just stand there in the middle of the floor?” Cole asked.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s okay with me. I can look at you easier. Did you know you’re beautiful?”

“There’s a rumor to that effect, but I think it has more to do with my aunt’s money.”

“I have more money than I need. I’m talking about you.”

“Not even the dress?”

“It’s a pretty dress, but I think you look just as pretty when you come into the arena on horseback. It always makes me catch my breath.”

It was tempting to believe him, but the masters of disguise had done their job so well, she doubted he could recognize her as the same woman. He probably only guessed because she was dancing with Jake.

“How about my hair?”

“It looks pretty all pinned up like that in a coronet, but I prefer it loose down your back.”

Drew felt her muscles relax just a little. Maybe he did like a little bit of the real Drew.

“Why were you so late? I thought you weren’t coming.

“Mother wanted to attend another party. She only agreed to come to this one when I refused to go to the other with her. Then she took so long getting ready, I threatened to leave alone. Sibyl had to run after me to stop me from leaving without them.”

Drew’s spirits soared. “I’m sorry your mother dislikes me so much.”

“I’m not marrying to please my mother.”

“Are we getting married?”

“You’re damned right we are.”

“I haven’t said yes.”

“If you don’t, I’ll kidnap you. I’ve already spoken to Isabelle. She thinks I’ve indulged you far too long.”

“I won’t go back to Memphis.”

“We’re not going to live in Memphis.”

“Are you going to manage the show?”

“No. I’m going to marry a certain hardheaded, stubborn, obstinate sharpshooter I met a few weeks ago. I want to go into a partnership with her on a ranch in this little valley I know in Texas. I want to ride next to her over our land, go on roundup with her, even a cattle drive to Dodge. I want a woman as wild and free as the Texas breeze, as strong and self-reliant as a Texas longhorn, as tough as a Texas cactus. I never thought I’d find such a woman until I met you. Now that I have, I don’t mean to let you go. After tonight I want you to put the dress you’re wearing in the back of your closet and pull out my favorite outfit.”

“What’s that?” The words nearly caught in her throat.

“Flat-crowned hat, vest, short skirt, and boots. I fell in love with a female cowboy. That’s the Drew Townsend I want to marry.”

“You don’t care if I’m not pretty and feminine?”

“You’ve always been pretty and feminine. This stuff you have on tonight just covers it up.”

Drew forgot where she was. She threw her arms around Cole’s neck and kissed him long and hard.

“You’ll scandalize New Orleans society,” Cole said with a chuckle when she released her hold on him. “They’ll probably throw us out.”

Drew let out a cowboy yell that reduced the entire room to stunned, immobile silence. “That ought to do it for sure,” she said. “Can we leave for Texas now?”

Epilogue

 

Drew pulled up at the top of a ridge. She’d been riding over her new ranch for the better part of a day. Ownership of this land had given her the sense of pleasure she’d always hoped for. But she knew most of that was due to the man riding at her side. None of it would have meant anything without Cole.

“Are you happy with it?” he said.

“It’s exactly what I wanted. Do you like it?”

“Actually I’d been thinking of something along the Pecos, you know, mostly desert infested with Comanches, rattlesnakes, and a few dozen Comancheros.”

Drew smiled happily. “I should think a couple thousand cows would be exciting enough even for you.”

“Maybe if you had bought longhorns, but you’re buying some of those overly domesticated fat cows George Randolph got from Richard King a few years ago. What’s a cowboy to do for fun?”

Drew sobered. “I’ve got an idea about that, but I’m not sure you’re going to like it.”

“Shoot.”

“You know you said it was time to think about hiring a crew.”

“It’s best to get them settled before the cows arrive.”

“Suppose we don’t get the ordinary kind of crew. Suppose we do what Jake and Isabelle did.”

“Do you mean orphans?”

“None of my brothers would have had a chance without Jake and Isabelle. Several of them would be dead by now. There are other boys out there like that, boys whose lives are hanging by a thread. Girls, too. I know I can’t help them all, but I want to give some of them the same chance Jake and Isabelle gave us.”

“Are you sure? You might think differently when you have children of your own.”

“Jake and Isabelle had Eden and it didn’t make any difference at all. Just think how many boys we can help in ten, twenty, fifty years!”

Cole laughed. “Myrtle said you’d try to mother everybody. What are you going to do with the old people when they start arriving?”

“They’ll make perfect surrogate parents for the boys. We can’t give them all the attention they need by ourselves.”

“Okay, bring on all the orphans you want, on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m not an orphan, and I don’t need mothering.”

Drew felt enveloped by something as close to perfect happiness as humans are allowed. “I’ve got other plans for you,” she said, giving Cole what she hoped was a perfectly wicked grin. She rode her horse up next to his and starting running her hands over his chest “I’ve discovered I have an inordinate fondness for the male body, yours in particular, but without all these clothes in the way. I think I’ll strip you naked right here and take cruel advantage of you.” She slipped her hand a good bit lower and hooted with laughter when Cole growled in frustration. She dug her heels into her horse’s side and was off at a gallop. “Beat you to the bed,” she called out over her shoulder.

“The bed, hell!” her lover called after her. “If I catch up with you, a rock or a cactus patch will do.”

Drew let out a yell of pure happiness as the wind whipped through her hair. She heard the sound of hoof-beats coming closer and laughed aloud. She had the faster horse, but this was one race she had no intention of winning. She had already won the only one that counted.

Author’s Note

 

Buffalo Bill Cody’s Wild West Show evolved from a kind of rodeo he arranged for a July 4th celebration for his neighbors in North Platte, Nebraska, in 1882. The following year he expanded his show to include Indians riding bareback, cowboys busting broncos, trick-riding, fancy roping, foot-racing, bison-riding, shooting on foot and on horseback, knife-throwing, and mock battles between Indians and scouts. The show was a sensational success and ended a triumphant season at New York’s Coney Island. Buffalo Bill quickly developed the general format he would use over the next twenty years.

In each new city, the show would unload at the train station and parade to the exhibition grounds. Buffalo Bill, followed by the bandwagon pulled by six white horses, rode at the head of the line on a white horse, raising his hat to the cheering multitudes that thronged the sidewalks. Next came the Indians, feathered and painted, shrieking war whoops—Pawnees, Sioux, and Wichitas riding their barebacked, painted ponies. Next came a contingent of Mexican vaqueros in bright serapes and oversized sombreros. Annie Oakley rode in a special carriage by herself. Suddenly cowboys and scouts filled the streets, herding steers, buffalo, mules, and horses—filling the air with a cacophony of yelling, whip-cracking, neighing, braying, bellowing, saddles creaking, and horse hooves pounding. The Deadwood Mail Coach (bullet-riddled by Black Hills bandits) brought up the rear.

The exhibition itself was fast and furious. No sooner had the band serenaded the spectators into their seats than the show tunes changed to a loud fanfare. Buffalo Bill and the other featured performers galloped into the arena and pulled up their mounts in front of the packed stands. As quickly as they came, they disappeared, leaving Annie Oakley alone in the spotlight. With pistols, rifle, and shotgun, she shot at standing, moving, and flying targets from every possible position.

Then the scouts, cowboys, and vaqueros took over. Trick riders leaped from horse to horse, from horse to ground, and from ground to horse. They lassoed charging buffalo, swift-moving steers, and untamed horses. All joined forces in simulating a real Western roundup, cutting steers out of the herd, roping and branding them. The Indians and scouts put on a buffalo hunt, using blank cartridges and rubber-tipped arrows to “kill” their quarry. The Indians demonstrated their tribal dances, climaxing the demonstration with a war dance.

Next the Deadwood Stage lumbered into the light. A band of Indians swooped down on the stage, but Cody and his scouts intercepted the charge and drove them into the hills. The bronc busters performed next. After that, the cowboys, scouts, and vaqueros rode steers, buffalo, even elk. The high point of the exhibition was a reenactment of the duel with Yellow Hand in which Buffalo Bill fought the Indian brave with guns, knives, and spears. The audience always cheered wildly when Buffalo Bill won.

The Wild West Show toured Europe for the first time in 1887. The cast was enormous, featuring as many as 250 actors and many more animals. The Wild West Show performed to worldwide success until it closed in 1917.

Annie Oakley joined the show in Louisville, on April 24, 1885, and retired in 1902. She was a star from the first, one of the greatest single assets the show ever had. The advertising rarely named performers, but after watching her first rehearsal, the business manager ordered seven thousand dollars’ worth of printing featuring Annie on billboards and in notices.

Annie first gained notice for her shooting as a child by providing local hotels with game. Too small to carry a shotgun, she used a rifle. Chefs preferred her game because she was so accurate, she could kill squirrels, rabbits, and birds with a single shot to the head. Guests preferred them because they didn’t have to pick buckshot out of their food.

By age sixteen, Annie had met and defeated Frank Butler, the man who was to become her husband and manager for the rest of her life. For three years, they traveled the vaudeville circuit, performing in theaters, practicing in hotel rooms, alleys, and back lots until she perfected the split-second timing of her act. When she joined the Wild West Show, she was only nineteen, stood just under five feet, and weighed one hundred pounds. Sitting Bull adopted her and named her Little Sure Shot.

No woman in outdoor show business has been so long remembered. She was a consummate actress, with a personality that made itself felt as soon as she entered the arena. She entered bowing, waving, and wafting kisses. Her first few shots brought forth a few screams from the women, but they were soon lost in round after round of applause.

She could shoot an apple from the head of a trained dog, shoot a cigarette from between her husband’s lips, hit a dime held in his fingers, and slice a playing card in two. After two clay pigeons had been released, she would leap over a table, pick up her gun, and bring down both targets. She could hit a dime tossed into the air from a distance of ninety feet. She was the most acclaimed marksman of her day. She never lost her skill and spent much of her retirement advocating that women learn to handle firearms and teaching them to shoot. She died in 1926.

About the Author

 

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