Shoot-em-up

Lately I've been reading a lot of Louis L'Amour's books. Don't know why. Maybe it was the trip my husband and I took to Wyoming (cowboy land) this summer that got me interested in the old west. I actually had started reading books about the "wild west" a couple of months prior to our trip out there.

Wyoming is a beautiful state. A big disappointment was, however, when I saw "cowboys" using 4-wheel all terrain vehicles to herd cows through a chute. Not all the cowboys we saw did that, but some did. I'm not sure I like that kind of progress. The sheep we encountered (free range country) on our way home, were herded, however, by shepherds with staffs, like you would picture the shepherds in the Bible. Once again, I'm off track.

I wanted to be a cowgirl for a short period of my early life -- probably around the age of 10 through 12. I did get to do some horseback riding at that time in my life, not a lot, just a couple of times. Someone mom knew had a farm in South Jersey and they had a horse and saddle (or was it horses?) and I was permitted, with help from someone from church who drove me to the farm, to ride their horse. I loved it. I never got past the "trot" stage -- no galloping for me, but the few times I rode, I really enjoyed it.

And my dreams were running rampant at that time. Could I be a cowgirl? I had a rope and I did learn to make a lariat and use it to encircle objects like cowboys did on the TV. I learned to spin it and actually make the rope go in a circle instead of an oval. Other girls were jumping rope (not that I didn't, and I was good at it, too), but I was slinging a lariat over rocks and tree stumps.

Before this age, however, I recall getting my first cap gun. I was probably 6 or 7. I wanted one where there were actually fake bullets in it, and you could spin the chamber. The caps were disks that fit over the chamber near the handle, which broke away from the chamber so you could insert the caps, and you got six shots. Instead I got the older type cap gun. You just put a roll of caps down in a hold in the pretend bullet chamber, and threaded it up behind a plate so that when you pulled the trigger, it shot. You could have up to 50 shots with that type of revolver. But, I wanted something more authentic. The two guns at the top show these two types, the one on the left is the six-shooter, the one on the right is a roll-cap shooter.

I also received a holster. I only had one gun, so I only had to practice my "draw" with one hand. A couple of my friends and I would have "drawing" contests. First one to get his gun out of the holster and get off a shot was the winner. I was pretty agile and pretty fast at that. I also learned how to twirl my gun around my index finger and twirl it right into that holster. Now, my arthritic hands would drop the gun and if I tried twirling it, it would fly off and break a window or something more valuable, I'm sure!

As an aside, my dad collected miniature canons. And some of the canons were of a type where you could insert a cap behind a striker and it would make a sound like a canon going off. I still have several of dad's canons, sitting on a shelf getting dusty. Someday I shall pass them on to a grandson who is interested in that sort of thing.

As a second aside, my brothers had guns also. By the time they were ready for a cap-gun, there were other types available, like pretend rifles, pretend one-shot derringers, pretend cop (C-O-P) guns, etc. I know my brother, Mark, had a cowboy hat and two-holster gun set. But, alas, I have no pictures in my books to back that up. I have a picture of my other brother, Carl, and he is blowing on the end of his six-shooter, like he'd just shot someone and was proud of it. I guess he and Mark were playing cowboys and Indians. I often was the Indian -- another tale -- because I also made my own bows and arrows. And when I got older I would walk up to Mt. Ephraim (about 3 miles) and there was an indoor archery place, and I could shoot real arrows with a real bow into a real target. For $1 you got an hour's practice. I loved doing that.

I guess you could say I was a tomboy. I could hide out, become invisible, rope a rock, shoot straight, and sing, "Back in the Saddle Again." Those were the days.