The Real Deal; or, What Real Cowboys Do

by cowboylands

Let’s see, where was I? Why yes, hip deep in Lorne Greene’s pillow lips circa Bonanza…

Sigh, no. I was in deeply in the wonder that is the Gene Autry Museum (aka the Cowboy Museum) and writing up another draft of the novel. Unlike movie cowboys, who seem to either

a.) multitask–fix barbed wire fences, herd cattle, woo women, and shoot bad guys

or

b.) wreak vengeance in a single-minded fashion, a la Eastwood’s Man With No Name

I can’t rewrite a novel without everything in my life making the Big Pause.

Herewith, no further ado: Cowboys at the Gene Autry Museum who are the REAL DEAL.

First off, 1980s style.

I dunno if these gents listened to Stevie Ray Vaughn, Heart, or George Michael, but even without features, they still rock the lariat.

Next, you have to honor the lawmakers, especially when they were tribal police. Drop that cactus and put your hands in the air.

There’s something about a real-life gal who isn’t afraid to ride the bucking bronco–and win prizes for it. Mabel Strickland, Queen of the Rodeo.

And one of my personal faves, Wild Bill Hickock. His Dead Man’s Hand says everything worth knowing in life–Do not, repeat do NOT sit with your back to the door.

Real cowboys don’t write novels. They’re not that dumb.

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