Cowgirl Sass & Savvy

Maybe it's the boots and hat

by Julie Carter

Like a lot of cowboys, Blayke sometimes found himself supporting his cowboy habit with a real job.

This time it was working construction by day and riding colts at night. He had leased a place with a lighted arena near Colorado Springs, Colo. It allowed him to make some extra money riding the horses and it gave him a place to get away from the city chaos he endured all day in his job.

In the course of his work, he met a guy who invited him to dinner with some "high class doctors" at the famous five-star Broadmoor Resort. Blayke knew this was where "all the rich people hung out." He was advised to dress up for the evening.

True to his cowboy nature, he broke out the old Resistol Black Gold hat, starched up a white shirt, a new pair of Wranglers and even wore his best boots.

Even with the effort, he recognized at dinner that he was underdressed for the occasion.

The doctors, surgeons and more, were wearing "fancy suits and all had gals with them that were 15 years younger wearing furs and dinner dresses."

Blayke survived dinner, although it threatened to confound him with five forks, cloth napkins and fine china. After dinner, the men retired to a "smoking room" for cigars and brandy. Conversations centered on money and investments.

With a financial portfolio that totaled a modest checking account and some cash in his pocket, it didn't take Blayke long to head to a place he could feel at home. Sidling up to the bar, he ordered a shot of Crown. When he found out it was free, he had another.

Noting that the doctors had deserted "all those dressed-up gals," Blayke soon had plenty of lovely company sitting next to him drinking shots. Within the hour, they had kicked off their high heels, let their hair down, and had come "unstarched."

It was then Blayke's cowboy brain kicked in and he suggested they all go down to the Broadmoor Lake and go skinny dipping. The bartender, quite entertained by the cowboy and ladies, handed them a bottle as they headed to the water.

The party was going swimmingly, so to speak, until the security guard spotted them. When he headed their direction, they grabbed their clothes and outran him to the parking lot. They jumped in Blayke's pickup and raced away, finding a place down the street to pull over and get dressed.

Not ready to give up the party, they located a honky tonk and Blayke proudly escorted the gals inside, now dressed to the hilt in furs and wet hair.

One of them was even barefooted as she had forgotten to grab her shoes.

Blayke felt certain that would be last time the docs would desert their women to drink brandy and smoke cigars. Either way, it had worked well for him.

City gals

Jerry was the kind of cowboy that women and men alike would notice and recognize as the genuine article.

He always wore good boots, good hats and George Strait starched jeans. There was no mistaking him for anything but the real deal.

Women of all types were attracted to him. One time, responding to some friendly overtures from a citified lady lawyer, he told her up front that he was happy as a loner, but if she wanted to go along for the ride, she would go in his world.

No secrets from the onset, but after a while the lady began to miss the bright-light activities of her world. She suggested they go to some clubs, fancy restaurants or some shows.

All of this met with no action from Jerry.

Riding along in his truck one evening, sharing the current dating dilemma with his buddy, he made the comment that sometimes things just didn't work out between cowboys and city girls.

"You just can't please some women," he said. "I already took this gal to two bull-nut fries and a steer roping. What more could she want?"

And that is why women never fantasize about being swept off their feet by a CPA.

Julie, unstarched, can be reached for comment at jcarter@tularosa.net