Cowboys, Indians and Black Bart (standard:other, 2327 words)
Author: msterry	Added: Apr 25 2006	Views/Reads: 3226/2061	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Coming of age story set in the 50's

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

little girl?  Why can't you act like other little girls, play with 
dolls, pretend you're a mommy?  Why are you so fascinated with guns and 
forts?” 

I watched as my sister pranced up the path. Gwen's hips swayed side to
side as if they were disconnected from her spine.  My feet dragged, the 
weight of her words pulling me down until I felt as if I were going to 
sink into the ground. 

“I don't want to be the mother.  That's what all the other girls want to
do.  I want to shoot bad guys.  It's much more fun shooting bad guys.” 

I opened the front door and entered the living room, Gwen followed
behind me. 

“Rocky go and wash up for dinner your father will be home any minute.” 
I looked up and saw my mom's face.  All the neighbors said she looked 
exactly like her mom.  Blonde hair that grows blonder in the summer, 
green eyes that tilt upwards at the corner, crooked teeth with a front 
tooth that turns in slightly, a dimple in her right cheek.  My dimple 
was on my left cheek.  Those neighbors didn't know what they were 
talking about.  I didn't look a thing like my Mom; I looked like my 
Dad, tall and broad shouldered, curly hair and blue eyes 

I went into the kitchen, reached for the faucet handle, and started to
turn the water on at the sink. 

“Rocky, how many times do I have to remind you that the kitchen sink is
not the place to wash your hands?  Now please go and wash up in the 
bathroom.” I walked slowly down the hall to the bathroom and just as I 
turned on the faucet I could hear brakes screeching in the driveway.  I 
hurriedly finished washing my hands, barely drying them before racing 
to the front door to meet Dad.  He was just closing the front door as I 
turned the corner. 

“How's my sweetheart? Kill any bad guys today?” he said. 

“I almost nabbed that nasty old Black Bart today but I'll get him
tomorrow.” 

“How's that old six-shooter working for you Matt?” asked my father.  I
looked up to see my dad chuckling as he reached down and picked me up, 
swinging me around in a circle. 

“Oh Dad, it's just perfect, the best present ever.” I answered. 

“Geez, won't be able to do that for much longer, you're really starting
to shoot up!” groaned my Dad.  “Honey, I just knew you'd love it.”  Dad 
chuckled softly looking up to see Mom standing there with her lips 
curved into a smile on her face. 

“Okay you two, let's go eat dinner,” said Mom 

Dinner tonight was hamburger steak, fried potatoes with onions and green
beans, my most favorite dinner in the world.  I could eat hamburger 
steak just about every day. 

“Tom, how was work today?” Mom continued to cut her hamburger as she
softly questioned Dad.  Mom always spoke with such a soft voice that 
everyone had to listen very carefully in order to hear all of her 
words. 

“Just the usual Meg.  Selling everything I could in the store.”  I
didn't have to look up to know his eyes were sparkling. 

“There was this one man who came into the store today and wanted to buy
a new television set as a surprise for his family.  I showed him every 
model in the store.  First he didn't like the picture quality, then he 
didn't like the shape of the console.  Next thing you know he decides 
that instead of a new television he'll buy a HiFi.”  Dad chuckled as he 
shared his story.  Every dinner was punctuated with my Dad's sure sense 
of what would make Mom smile.  “So then I had to demonstrate the 
turntable, the radio, the speaker volume on each and every model.  
Didn't take me long too long to realize this man didn't know a darn 
thing about televisions or HiFi's.  He spent nearly two hours in the 
store and wouldn't you know he finally bought the very first television 
I showed him.”  Dad's laughter was contagious and mom couldn't help but 
smile at his story. “Honey, Cotillion starts up next week.” My mom 
said.  “Isn't it time that we send Roxanne?  Gwen learned so much when 
she went and Roxanne's eleven now, soon she'll be a teenager and this 
way she'll learn how to dance, meet new friends, learn deportment.  
Roxanne, please don't chew with your mouth open.”  The soft refined 
voice was my mother. 

“Yeah Dad, Rocky needs to go, you should see her down in the canyon, all
sweaty and covered with dirt,” Said Gwen. 

I remember when Gwen had gone through cotillion just two years before. 
Mom went out and bought her long white gloves and a party dress that 
was required for attendance.  She came home every week, humming strange 
tunes and circling around the living room in a daze.  I couldn't figure 
out how she'd changed from my sister to this boy crazy dancing fool, 
besides you can't shoot a gun wearing that kind of glove, your trigger 
finger would slip when you went to fire at Black Bart. 

“Mom, none of the guys go to cot....cot.....cot” 

“That's cotillion, co –long “o” till yun, repeat if for me please.” 

“Co till yun” I parroted. 

“No elbows on the table, Roxanne, and please sit up straight.” “Now do
you see what I've been saying this last year, Tom?  Our little girl is 
very rough around the edges, completely undisciplined and if we don't 
do something now, who knows what'll happen?” My mother's face was 
beginning to glow warmly, her skin turning redder as her passion rose 
from her neck to her cheeks. 

I wanted to sink beneath the table, let the table cloth cover my face.
Unless I wanted to be just like my sister was going to have to figure 
something out that would stop my parents sending me to cotillion.  
First my Dad said I'm too big to swing around anymore, now they wanted 
me to become some silly dancing fool like Gwen, what's next? 

I awoke the next morning, a plan forming in my brain. 

“Mom, did your mother and father send you to cotillion?”  I was careful
to pronounce “cotillion” correctly 

“Honey, I grew up during the Great Depression, we didn't know from day
to day if we would have enough money to eat let alone worry about 
cotillion,” she said while delicately placing the fork to her lips. 

“Why is it so important to send me to cotillion?”  I had to be careful
not to go too far with this conversation, Mom would begin to realize my 
motives and stop all discussion. “Roxanne, I want my girls, you and 
Gwen, to have all the things I never had.  Things that help you to be 
beautiful young women, poised, intelligent, refined, all those things.” 


“Mom you're all the teacher I need.” I said hoping that this would sway
my mother. 

“Rocky, I just want the best for you.”  My mother's soft words caressed
my ears and warmth spread down my face. 

“Honey, cotillion is about learning what it is to be a young lady.  It
will teach you how to behave later in life.  I've done my best to learn 
those things on my own but I always wished that my mom and dad could 
have sent me to cotillion.” 

I looked up and saw the warm glow in my mom's eyes. 

“I'll go to cotillion if you want “I whispered “but can I still play
cowboys and Indians with the guys?” 

“You can play as long as you want to, besides who will protect us from
Black Bart if you don't?” 

I walked down the hall to my bedroom.  Gwen was there sitting at the
dressing table brushing her long blonde hair.  Since cotillion she 
spent a lot of time in front of the mirror in our bedroom.  She 
reminded me constantly to brush one hundred strokes a day.  Here she 
was in the middle of the day brushing her hair again.  I turned around 
and left the house.  I walked toward the canyon my mind swirling with 
thoughts of cotillion, guns, forts and dances. 

Later that afternoon I went back down into the canyon searching for
Frank and Dave.   I walked as quietly as I could, stepping carefully 
over the twigs covering the ground.  As I neared the clearing, I could 
hear Frank and Dave talking. 

“This really sucks” said Frank.  “When I got home for dinner last night
my mom was on the phone with my dad and they were talking about sending 
me to those stupid cotillion classes that start next week.” 

“I wonder if Rocky's going?” I heard Dave chuckling as he said those
words.  “Can you just imagine Rocky in a dress?” 

“Have you noticed she's starting to get boobs?” 

I could feel myself begin to glow, the color creeping up from my neck
until soon my ears would be as red as a beet.  Tears started to sting 
the corners of my eyes.  .  I looked down at my scuffed tennis shoes; 
the tip had a small frayed hole where I had scraped my toes across the 
asphalt. 


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