The closest I came to being a cowgirl was when Jeb and I played Going West, standing in the old farm wagon which just happened to have been parked under the shelter with the tongue facing where the sun set. We'd spend hours with Daddy Mack's bull whip, pretending.
Having the prettiest baby in the world during the short time we lived in Texas made me Mother of a Native Texan.
Getting knocked flat by a mean red cow gave me fractured vertebrae that are now noticeable only on x-rays. My insurance gave me a hard time about paying the medical bills. They sent requests for 'details' of my 'accident' over and over, as if there was some motorist I could blame. I finally resorted to legal threats. What I wanted to say was, "I interviewed the cow and she said it wasn't an accident; she did it on purpose."
I could have been a Cowboy.
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