Showing posts with label cowboys. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cowboys. Show all posts

22 June 2011

The Entertainers: Buffalo Bill Cody

By Carrie Lofty

As with most legends of the American West, the factual details of William Frederick "Buffalo Bill" Cody's life are subject to much dispute. His autobiography claims that he began his life as an "Indian fighter" at age eleven and rode for the Pony Express at age fourteen. Facts become a little more prevalent once he joined the Union Army in 1863 as a teamster, and later went on to serve as a scout.


But his true calling was always entertainment. He made his stage debut in Chicago in 1972 at the age of 26. Eventually the play "The Scouts of the Prairie" also featured another Old West legend, James Butler "Wild Bill" Hickok, but Cody was much better suited to stage life than ambling, gambling Wild Bill.

After years touring with a company, Cody decided to found his own entourage of Western spectacles. "Buffalo Bill's Wild West" expanded from its 1883 origins to become one of the best known traveling acts to have ever toured. Featured performers included Annie Oakley, and typical shows boasted trick shooting and roping, wild animals, cowboys, horse chases, re-enactments of famous battles, stagecoaches, parades of American Indians in full regalia, and lots of Cody's trademark flare.

Eventually he renamed his troupe "Buffalo Bill's Wild West and Congress of Rough Riders of the World," which probably suited his ever-growing showmanship and fame. The troupe performed for over a million spectators on Coney Island, then traveled to England for Victoria's Jubilee in 1887, officially taking Cody's version of the Wild West to Europe. (Pictured is the troupe's visit to Rome in 1890.) Depictions of massacres and firefights became the most lasting impressions the world would have of the American frontier until Hollywood's interpretations--although most early cinematic portrayals drew heavily from the show's high drama.

The autobiography mentioned above was first published in 1879, when Cody was only 33 and still growing in popularity. He certainly knew the value of managing his own image, and he often used his fame to promote civil rights for women and American Indians, as well as conservationism. Western historians claim that he was the most famous individual on the planet at the turn of the 20th century, and his death in 1917 of kidney failure solicited condolences from the leaders of the United States, Great Britain, and Germany. He remains one of the most gifted entertainers and promoters in American history, with his popular image of the Wild West still influencing imaginations today.

What other entertainers remind you of Buffalo Bill, in that they control huge empires--even to the point of rewriting their own histories? Is that even possible in today's information-saturated culture?

SONG OF SEDUCTION's sequel from Carina Press, PORTRAIT OF SEDUCTION, is now available! Later this year watch for Carrie's new Victorian series from Pocket, as well as her "Dark Age Dawning" romance trilogy from Berkley, co-written with Ann Aguirre under the name Ellen Connor. "Historical romance needs more risk-takers like Lofty." ~ Wendy the Super Librarian

15 February 2011

An Ordinary Day In: The Life of A Chuck Wagon Cook

By Jacquie Rogers

The first rays of dawn are peeking over the horizon, and a few moos from the waking cattle herd tell the cowboys it’s time to mount up and tend to business. Life for both man and beast is hard on a cattle drive.

But one man had been hard at work long before the cowhands awoke--the cook, or Cookie, has he was often called (or cousie, by those who spoke Spanish).

About Chuck Wagon Cooks

Before we get into Cookie's day, let's take a look at who he was. Most chuck wagon cooks were ex-cowboys who were either too old (meaning in their 30s and sometimes 40s) for cowpunching or were injured. Either way, he was experienced in all aspects of the cattle drive and no one, not even the trail boss, questioned his authority around the campfire if they knew what was good for them.

Most cooks were considered surly old coots. Of course, with the terrible working conditions, the injuries, the heavy lifting, the rigid schedule of long working hours and short nights, it would be hard for nearly anyone to maintain a sunny disposition. In return for their efforts, cooks made nearly as much money as the trail boss and double that of the average cowhand--but they earned every penny of it.

Food was (and always will be) important to young men, and most cowboys were 14 to 25 years old, so hiring the best cook helped the trail boss recruit the most accomplished cowboys. That's another reason why trail bosses didn't give a good cook any guff, or let the cowhands get out of line. Once he lured a good cook onto his crew, he did his best to keep him.

About Chuck Wagons:

Chuck is defined by Etymology Online as a "piece of wood or meat," 1670s, probably a variant of chock "block." The "meat" sense is the source of American English chuck wagon, from approximately 1880. The date is, of course, wrong, since Charles Goodnight is credited for inventing the chuck wagon in 1866, and it was called a chuck wagon, so the correct date should be 1866.

While companies did make chuck wagons (Studebaker, for one), most were converted farm wagons with a chuck box on the back. A hinged lid with folding legs on the chuck box served as a fold-out work bench, and there was generally hooks for a canvas at the top of the wagon to use as a sun shade. Underneath the chuck box was the boot, where they carried the Dutch ovens, tin plates, forks, knives, spoons, and cups, and whatever else they could get in there. Various hooks and fasteners on the sides of the wagon held the water barrel, large pots and tubs, axes, the coffee pot, and the like.

Underneath the wagon was another canvas or cowhide called the possum belly. Sometimes two or three. This is where they kept the firewood (or buffalo or cow chips) collected along the way for the evening fire. They also kept the kerosene for the lanterns here, usually in a separate boot. Inside the wagon, they hauled the flour, beans, coffee, dried fruit, canned goods, and other foodstuffs to last 30 days, as well as cowhands' bedrolls and personal effects, and whatever else was needed on the trail drive.

A Day in the Life of a Chuck Wagon Cook

Three in the morning comes pretty early when you put in an eighteen-hour day before, and before that, and before that... But while the cook got away with a considerable amount of crankiness and general orneriness, one thing that the cowhands wouldn't put up with was late meals. First order of the day is to build the fire and put on the coffee. Then he'd "build the biscuits," meaning he'd mix up the biscuit dough and set it to rise. Those two things were the mainstays no matter whether he was cooking for a cattle drive or a roundup. After that, he'd fry some sowbelly (bacon) and maybe a few potatoes if he had them, or maybe sourdough flapjacks. It took a good two hours to get breakfast ready.

Once the cowboys ate, they tossed their dishes in the wreck pan and off they went to the herd. But the cook's job has just begun, and he didn't get to sit down all day to do it, either. He had to clean up the dishes and pots, pack everything away, hitch up the team (usually four mules), and head to the noon destination at a pretty good clip, because he had to have dinner (served midday) ready before the herd got there. The business of the chuck wagon moseying along with the herd just wasn't true. In reality, he started an hour later, but had to be there two hours earlier than the herd, so it was sometimes a wild ride with a lot of cussing and hollering.

Once at the destination, he unpacked everything, started the fire and put on the coffee. He made coffee by boiling the water and then tossed a couple handfuls of ground coffee in and let it simmer. It's said that if you dropped a horseshoe in the pot and it sank, the coffee hadn't boiled enough yet. This meal usually consisted of warming up whatever was left over--just enough food to keep the hunger at bay. Maybe some son-of-a-bitch stew or the some other kettle food.

After he did the dishes and disposed of the food scraps, he packed everything up again and drove hell-bent-for-election to the evening camp, collecting firewood and other materials to use for camp fire fuel along the way.

Once he got there, you guessed it, he unhitched the team, unpacked everything all over again, started the campfire, put on the coffee, built the biscuits, slapped some steaks on the grill (for roundup, usually didn't have steak on a cattle drive), and, if the cowhands were lucky, maybe he'd make a vinegar pie or a tasty dessert out of dried fruit.

While the cowhands were sitting around the campfire drinking coffee and shooting the breeze, the cook was cleaning up, feeding his sourdough starter, and getting ready for the next day--more of the same.

But the cook didn't just cook. He was also the doctor, banker, referee, often the letter writer, and father figure.

Once the fire was out, the cowhands were bedded down, the cook could go to bed, too. He got the prime sleeping spot--under the chuck wagon, but in just a few hours, another grueling day would begin.

Just for fun, here's some cow camp etiquette lessons:

Cowboy etiquette, known by all except the greenest of green horns, dictated that:

-- Riders always stayed downwind of the chuck wagon so as not to get dirt in the food.

-- Horses were not to be tied to the chuck wagon.

-- There was no using the worktable as the dining table.

-- Cowboys were very careful not to let the lid touch the dirt while serving themselves from the pot.

-- Never take the last of anything unless everyone had been served.

-- Always scrape your plate clean and stack it in the wreck pan to be cleaned (when water was scarce, they were cleaned with sand.)

Sources:
Carter Museum
Lone Hand Western: Reliving History
Phudpucker
Muller's Lane Farm
My Wooden Spoon
Friona Star

Jacquie Rogers writes quirky, magical romances. Available now are her contemporary western, DOWN HOME EVER LOVIN' MULE BLUES, a multi-era faery story, FAERY SPECIAL ROMANCES, and a Christmas story, FAERY MERRY CHRISTMAS. She's co-founder of 1st Turning Point, a pay-it-forward website where authors teach, share and learn promotion and marketing.

12 November 2009

Excerpt Thursday: Elizabeth Lane

This week on Excerpt Thursday, we're featuring a taste of Elizabeth Lane's latest novella, "The Homecoming." It's part of Harlequin Historical's holiday-themed western anthology, COWBOY CHRISTMAS, featuring Carol Finch and Pam Crooks. We won't be giving away a copy of this one, so make sure you put it on your Christmas list ASAP!

Twelve days of Christmas—three heartwarming romances!

"A Husband for Christmas" by Carol Finch
To reassure her overprotective parents, Victoria Thurston must convince the town marshal to be her "holiday husband." But the magical, festive air--and Tori's luminous green eyes--make it very difficult for Logan Daniels to keep to their marriage in name only!

"The Homecoming" by Elizabeth Lane
Brooding rancher Clay McAllister paid his reckless brother's dues in a tough Kansas jail. Now Clay must win back his beautiful wife, Elise. And, after three years apart, some yuletide passion is just what Clay and Elise need to reignite the fire that still smolders between them....

"The Cattleman's Christmas Bride" by Pam Crooks
With her reputation cruelly slandered, Allethaire Gibson is forced to flee to the snowy Montana mountains. There the dazzling socialite unexpectedly finds a Christmas romance with a man who has fought for respect just as she has--rugged cattleman Mikolas Vasco!
***

Kansas State Penitentiary
Leavenworth County, Kansas
December 4, 1878

"You've served your time, McAllister. You're free to go."

Clay McAllister shivered as the iron gates clanged shut behind him. The December cold cut to his bones. His cheap prison-issue coat was too thin for the weather, but it would have to do until he got back to Texas.

Back home--if he still had a home.

A lot of could change in three years, Clay knew. His wife hadn't written to him once. The only thing he'd received from her were his own unopened letters, with a terse "Return to Sender" penned on each envelope. The returned letters had told him, at least, that she was still living on the ranch. But they answered none of his other questions.

Why was Elise so angry? Didn't she know what had happened to him?

What in hell's name had gone wrong?

The memory of that awful night still darkened Clay's dreams. He and his eighteen-year-old brother Buck had driven a thousand head of longhorn cattle up the trail to Abilene. After selling them for top dollar, they'd paid off the hired vaqueros and set out for an evening of celebration. A bath, a good meal and a couple of drinks had been enough for Clay. With the cash in the hotel safe, he'd retired early to rest up for the trip home.

He'd drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face. The money from the cattle sale--almost $20,000--would pay off the debts on the ranch and give them a good start for next year. It would also buy the new furniture Elise had been wanting, as well as clothes and toys for their two-year-old boy, Toby. They'd been living on the ragged edge of poverty for so long. What a pleasure it would be to buy nice things for his wife and child.

Sometime after midnight he'd awakened to discover that Buck's bed was empty. His brother hadn't returned to the hotel.

Worried, Clay had dressed and gone out looking for him. Buck was a strapping lad, able to do a man's work on the trail. But at eighteen he had a lot to learn. Abilene was as rough as any cow town on the map, a place where a young man could get into no end of trouble. As he searched the saloons and gambling dens and checked the drunks passed out on the boardwalk, Clay had lashed himself for leaving Buck on his own. If anything had happened to the boy, he would never forgive himself.

He'd lost track of the time it took to work his way toward the far end of the street. Here, even at this late hour, the discreetly shuttered houses swarmed with activity. Half-opened doorways offered glimpses of seductively clad women. Raucous female laughter and the notes of a tinny piano drifted through the darkness.

Damn him! Clay didn't relish the thought of dragging Buck out of a whorehouse. But he was getting worried--and angry. He'd raised his kid brother after their parents died, and he'd tried to teach him decent values. But it appeared that the lessons hadn't taken. When he found the young whelp, by heaven, Buck was going to get the tongue lashing of his life!

He was mounting the steps of the first house when he heard the commotion. Upstairs, in the place across the street, a fight had broken out. Glass shattered as a chair smashed through a window. Shouts and screams erupted in the night, accompanied by the sound of crashing furniture and bodies.

Thinking only of his brother, Clay plunged across the street, shoved his way inside and charged up the stairs. By then the whole place had become a melee of shrieking women and their scrambling customers. In a lamplit room at the end of the hall he found Buck, half dressed and fighting off three men. A tired-looking redhead, her makeup smeared, cringed in a corner, clutching a sheet against her body.

One of the men, a stocky, fellow in a checkered suit, had drawn a hidden knife. The blade flashed as he made a lunge for Buck. Reacting instinctively, Clay seized a cast iron boot jack and swung it against the man's head. The man sagged to the floor, collapsing without a sound.

Seconds passed before someone realized he wasn't breathing.

A sudden hush fell over the room. Rough hands seized Clay from behind, holding him fast. Before they dragged him away, Clay managed to mouth a few words to his brother.

"Get out of here, Buck. Take the cash from the hotel and ride for all you're worth. Give the money to Elise and tell her what happened. I'll come as soon as I can."

His trial was speedy. Under different circumstances Clay might have gone free on the grounds of defending his brother. But the man he'd struck down was a city councilman, and the town was screaming for justice. With a verdict of manslaughter, he was sentenced to serve five years in the state penitentiary. Good behavior had gotten him out in a little more than three.

Clay had never learned what the fight was about. And he'd never heard from Buck again.

Now, mounted on an aging buckskin horse that was all he could afford, Clay headed through swirling snow--south by southwest, along the empty cattle trails to the high Texas plains he called home.

With luck, he would be there by Christmas.

02 July 2009

Excerpt Thursday: Beth Williamson

We're up for a double dose of westerns here on Unusual Historicals, this week featuring Kensington Brava author Beth Williamson. For Excerpt Thursday we're posting a taste of her latest release, THE REDEMPTION OF MICAH, and she'll be stopping by on Sunday for a Q&A. Here's the blurb:

Once Upon a Time, They Loved Each Other...

Nothing about the room that Eppie awakens in feels like home--not the furnishings, the ill-fitting clothes, or the Colorado sunlight streaming in through the windows. And certainly not the stranger with long dark hair and silver eyes who claims to have been waiting for her for three long years.

Micah Spalding has spent each day hoping that Eppie would open her eyes and return to him. Yet the Eppie he loved was spirited and outspoken--utterly different to this reserved, aloof woman. Since her injury, Eppie has no memory of Micah or their daughter, or of a passion that was powerful enough to defy every convention. And though his scent and touch trigger something deep within her, Eppie can't bring herself to believe in him.

Once, when war between his countrymen had almost broken him, Eppie brought Micah back to life. Now he must find a way to reach through the distance between them and remind her of everything they once shared, and prove that he has belief enough for both of them...
***

Plum Creek, Colorado
1875

He smiled and reached out to touch her cheek with the back of his hand. "The sunlight makes your skin glow. You know this is our spot?"

Eppie couldn't help but be startled. "Our spot?"

"Where we met every week for almost a year." He looked to the left to a group of aspen trees. "I'd bring that big blue blanket and we'd lie out under the stars. When I saw you came here, I can tell you my heart started beating a mile a minute. Maybe somewhere you do remember deep down."

Eppie's heart joined in and beat right along with his. Was he right? Could she remember things by instinct? She had no idea they'd met for a year before she was injured, but the fact that they were so different should have given her a clue their relationship wasn't the normal type.

"Why did we meet here?"

He jerked a thumb towards the house. "You didn't want Madeline to know. I always hoped it was because you weren't embarrassed by me, but rather that you didn't want to marry me since I'm a crazy hermit from the mountains."

She shook her head in disbelief. "You're a crazy hermit and you asked me to marry you and I said no?"

"Oh, you sure did. Let me see if I can remember your exact words. 'I might love you, you crazy fool, but that don't mean I am crazy enough to marry you. I ain't got to this point in my life to marry the first man to ask me.'" He shrugged. "I've thought about that night for the last three years. It was the last time we, well, were together. I think it was the night Miracle was made."

Eppie's throat tightened and she knew a moment of panic. Had she spoken like that to him? Who was she to throw away a chance at happiness with a man who obviously loved her? She was already intimate with him, that couldn't be debated, so why didn't she want to marry him?

"I'm sorry if I hurt you."

Micah chuckled, sounding like half-pain, half-amused. "Ah, Eppie, love can bring a mountain of hurt and an ocean of happiness. I accepted one and embraced the other."

The silence between them stretched into an uncomfortable one. Eppie didn't know what to say so she let the quiet continue until he finally spoke.

"What else did the doctor say?"

A safe topic, thank God. "He said I was in good health, but underweight and needed lots of fresh air and exercise. My muscles hurt because I haven't used them in so long, but he also said someone had been caring for me by stretching them regularly. Was that you?"

"I did everything he told me too. I wanted to make sure you came back to me." Micah's simple explanation told her a great deal about his motivations, which were selfless and selfish at the same time.

"He's going to consult with a few other doctors in New York and Chicago, then do some reading in a journal for doctors. I don't know how much Madeline is paying him, but to be a doctor's single patient is a bit odd. I told him I didn't want to become an experiment." She already felt as if she were on display and it would only get worse if he used her to study on.

"I won't let that happen. I've kept you safe for three years, please let me continue." His silver eyes glittered in the dappled sunlight and Eppie felt odd for a moment, as if the world tilted beneath her.

An image flashed through her mind of a younger Micah, with fuller cheeks and longer hair, smiling and tickling her nose with a feather. She yelped and scampered backwards, scared and unsettled.

"What is it? What happened?" Micah looked as worried as she felt.

"I think I just remembered you."

If she had given him the keys to a golden city, he couldn't have looked more thrilled as his eyes danced with joy. "Really?"

"I think so. It was here, only you were younger and you were tickling me." She tried to swallow but her throat was so dry, she couldn't.

"With a white feather?"

Eppie stared at him in astonishment. He'd confirmed what she had suspected. She'd remembered.

With a squeal she threw herself into his arms and lost herself in a tight embrace as they celebrated the minute taste of her previous life. Her heart beat so hard, it knocked against her ribs, and she felt the answering throb of his.

When she pulled back, she was close enough to count his eyelashes. His pupils had dilated and felt an answering arousal growing within her, whether or not she wanted it. Her body felt as if she'd been hit by lightening.

"Please." He didn't beg or take, just asked politely.

Eppie couldn't refuse him, her body wouldn't let her. She nodded and closed her eyes as his head lowered. This time the kiss was more intense because their bodies were touching. Her nipples pressed against his hard chest at the same time his hands roamed up and down her back. Sweet, sweet heavens, kissing Micah was like nibbling on the most decadent dessert.

She forgot where she was and what was around her. Diving into Micah was like diving into a pond on a hot day. It felt wonderful, exhilarating and exactly what she needed.

He leaned back and touched her cheek, rubbing his thumb along her cheek bone. She stared up at him, waiting and wanting, what she wasn't sure. It could've been sex, it could've been confirmation she was desirable.

Of course, judging by the stick of wood in his pants currently pressing against her hip, Eppie was definitely desirable.

"I don't want to rush you."

She shook her head. "You're not. This is my choice." She swallowed the lump of fear and uncertainty. "Show me."

He smiled then, a sweet, beautiful smile that lit up his whole face and Eppie knew then what he looked like when he wasn't wallowing in the depths of misery. Micah was exceptionally handsome and for some reason, God decided to give him to her.

For the first time since she'd woken, Eppie took a chance on something other than what to wear or eat. She took a chance on Micah.

11 March 2009

Food & Drink: Chuckwagons and Buffalo Chips

By Jacquie Rogers


As anyone who has ever worked with young men in their late teens and early twenties knows, food is an important part of keeping them happy, healthy, and productive. The early days of the cattle trails were hard on these men. Generally, they'd roll meat in tortillas and stuff the food in their pockets. This led to spoiled food, discontent, and let's face it, difficult recruiting for the trail bosses.

Charles Goodnight and his fellow ranch owner Oliver Loving had a huge herd to push north to the train station in Kansas. He needed good men, and to get them, they wanted good food. So Mr. Goodnight bought a Studebaker wagon and fitted it with a box with several compartments, lots of hooks and places to stash things, an arched top covered with oiled cowhides, and an nice fold-down worktable on the back. The wagon carried flour, molasses, salt, bacon, maybe a string of garlic, lots of pots and some dutch ovens. It had a lard bucket, a water barrel, and a tarp on the under-carriage to hold firewood or buffalo chips for the fire.

When we think of a cattle drive, we think of a chuckwagon, a dozen cowboys, and a herd of cattle, all moseying along the trail. But that doesn't even make sense considering it took a half an hour to set up, get the pans and food out, get the fire started (probably had to gather firewood or chips), prepare the food, which could include sourdough biscuits, beans, and maybe a slab of meat--elk, venison, or maybe beef. And of course the coffee, which was the first thing prepared after the set up.

That's a lot of work--at least two hours worth. What this means is that the wagon had to get there two or more hours before the herd did, and that means some fancy driving. So the real story is, once the breakfast dishes were done and the wagon was packed up, a Cookie drove hell-bent for election to the next watering hole or stopping spot. This required sturdy animals, which is why chuckwagons were often pulled by mules--they're stronger, take less food, and can tolerate a greater range of heat than horses can.

The job of a cook was not an easy one. Not only was his work back-breaking with long hours, he was also the doctor, barber, secretary, and banker. Around the chuckwagon, his word was law and even the trail boss yielded to his often temperamental demands. There are three reasons for that: 1) the best cooks drew the best hands; 2) he might spit in your beans if you're not careful; and 3) he had a tough job and no one wanted to be railroaded into it. On the other hand, the cook made twice as much money as the drovers, but they knew he earned it.

Want a few trail recipes?

Sonofabitch Stew
Mock Apple Pie

And here's my own recipe for sourdough pancakes:
2 cups starter
1 Tbs. oil
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp sugar
1 egg

Mix up and fry on a greased medium skillet--these days, that's 350 degrees, but in the old days, it was when a drop of water skittered across the skillet.

To make the starter if you don't have one:
2 cups flour
2 cups water
2 Tbs yeast
1 tsp sugar

Mix up with a wooden spoon and store in a crock for 2 days.

Mix, add:
1 cup flour
1 cup water

Mix and let sit another day or two. And voila! you have a starter.

Some tips and tricks:
1. Never use metal for either stirring or storing.
2. Always keep at least one cup of starter for next time
3. If you're not going to make anything with it for more than three days, store the starter in the refrigerator, but be sure to get it out the night before you plan to use it next.
4. If you care for your starter properly, it will last indefinitely, and get better with time. I know of starters that are 200 years old.

Sources:
Chuckwagon Central
Handbook of Texas Online
The West
Trails West (a list of trails)
Hard times in the old West: cattle drives
The Wild West

May your saddle never slip!

Jacquie

Princess Keely, Star of Faery Special RomancesDown Home Ever Lovin' Mule Blues

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Available Now: Down Home Ever Lovin' Mule Blues

03 December 2008

Sports & Entertainment: Let's Rodeo!

By Jacquie Rogers

Rodeo is a modern sport and the only sport born in the United States that came from an industry--the cattle business. It's only natural that after the chores are done, the cowboys have a little competition to see who could win bragging rights of being the best, and maybe earn a few dollars, too.

The term "rodeo" is from a Spanish word meaning to round up or encircle. So rodeo actually is closer to our term of round-up than, say, tournament or horse show, terms used for early rodeos. Many claim to be the first rodeo. From the University of North Carolina:
The first formal rodeo was held in Cheyenne, Wyoming in 1872. However, the first rodeo to deliver monetary prizes was said to be in Pecos, Texas in 1883, and the first rodeo to charge admissions was in 1888 in Prescott, Arizona. The rodeo emerged as entertainment between 1890 and 1910 due to Midwest shows and performances during July fourth celebrations and cattlemen conventions.
Buffalo Bill Cody's Wild West Show also professes to be the first.
In 1882, the town of North Platte, Nebraska where Cody lived at his Scout's Rest Ranch, wanted to celebrate the 4th of July, and asked Colonel Cody to put the show on for them. Cody obliged, and put on what has been considered to be one of the first rodeos in America, and was called "The Old Glory Blowout".
This show is still on the road today, first under the guidance of Monty Montana, and now with Monty Montana, Jr., and the Montana family.

101 Wild West Rodeo makes the same claim.
It was 1905 when the Millers offered to perform what they called a 'round-up' or 'buffalo chase' as an entertainment incentive for a National Editorial Association convention. Visitors were said to come to the ranch in 30 regular and special trains, and the crowd estimated at nearly 60,000 was thrilled to the exhibition of cowboys recreating real life ranch work from bronc riding and roping to Tom Mix's debut as a roper and rider.
Most agree that saddlebronc was the first official event, but not in the format we know today. The eight-second ride hadn't been invented yet. Instead, the cowboy who rode the longest, providing that the horse was still bucking, was the winner. This, too, could be how we ended up with separate scores for cowboy and horse. (Modern day: judges score 50 for the horse and 50 for the rider, so there's a possible 100 points for an 8-second ride.)

One of the earliest saddle bronc stars was Waaya-Tonah-Toesits-Kahn, better known as Jackson Sundown. A Nez Perce Indian who, at 14, endured the Nez Perce Retreat under the leadership of Chief Joseph. Sundown made it to Canada, then moved back to Idaho in 1910 where he married and started a ranch. His name was legend, and he last won the saddle bronc world title when he was 53 years old.

No doubt about it, Bill Pickett was the man who brought bulldogging, now called steer wrestling, to modern rodeo. As the story goes, when Bill was a boy growing up in Texas, he watched the dogs subdue cattle, and he copied their technique. He could jump on a steer, bite its lip, and the steer would stop struggling. There's certainly no lip-biting in modern rodeo, but it's still spectacular to watch a cowboy leap from his horse and wrestle a steer twice his size to the ground. This is a timed event--no points for finesse in bulldogging.

The traditional events in rodeo are saddle bronc, bareback bronc, calf roping (tie down roping), team roping, steer wrestling, and of course the most popular of all events, bullriding. Of these events, only bullriding is of no use on a working ranch, although I doubt much steer wrestling goes on, either.

Women have a lower center of gravity than men, and even though they're generally not as strong, many women showed they could compete on the same level as men. During the 1910s until 1929, there were many prominent women who were champions in their own right, performing side-by-side with the men. But in 1929, Bonnie McCarroll (right) was killed in the bronc riding at the Pendleton Round-up in Pendleton, Oregon, 14 years after this photo. A huge outcry forced most of the rodeos in the west to ban women from competition, and the cowgirls headed east, but eventually, their opportunities died there, too. For a brief time in WWII, women were allowed to compete due to the lack of men, but as soon as the war was over, women were relegated to barrel racing. Some of the champion women athletes were: Prairie Rose Henderson, Goldie St. Clair, Bertha Blancett, Norwegian emigrant Tillie Baldwin (first woman bulldogger), and bullrider Tad Lucas.

Bullriding is a spectacular event, called the most dangerous eight seconds in sports. The only men in more danger than bullriders are the bullfighters--rodeo clowns, but their business is anything but funny. Some of the best I've ever seen are Wick Peth and Leroy Coffee.

I loved watching Leon Coffee fight bulls--he was an incredibly gifted athlete, the best at cowboy protection, and was a terrific entertainer. In Down Home Ever Lovin' Mule Blues, I patterned my hero's moves after Leon's style:
Brody did a little fancy footwork, loving the sounds of the boys' ooo's and ahhhs, then got a laugh out of them by snagging his green derby on one of the bull’s horns. For the grand finale, he teased the bull into charging, then did a handspring over the bull’s head and walked the length of his back, jumping off the tail end.
Another rodeo clown and bullfighter that I know personally is Jim O'Keefe. He gave me this scene:
Brody thrived on danger, just like all the other men she'd known until she moved to the city.

Fearless, daring, and downright foolhardy, Brody rushed to the side of the bull, jumped up, and jerked the bullrope's tail, releasing the hung cowboy's hand from the bull. The cowboy flew several feet in the air and landed off to the side like a sack of potatoes.

The bull whipped around and bashed Brody in the ribs with one huge horn. Even though Brody’s ribs were probably broken, he kept the animal away from the downed cowboy until the chute crew could drag the unconscious man off to the ambulance. Finally, the pick-up men herded the snorting bull back into the corral.
Jim's ribs have been broken a few dozen times. He has a plate in his head, steel rods in his spine, and has had well over 200 broken bones. This is actually fairly typical of a rodeo bullfighter.

Thrills and spills . . . rodeo is getting more and more popular as the years go by. Yes, the sport evolves, but it seems that the further away from the Old West we get, the more we savor the values of family, hard work, and an honest relationship with our animal friends and the earth.

Find a rodeo, put on your best hat and boots, grab the kids, and go have a great time!

Jacquie

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