The manager's wife came out of the car with her little brood of three,
and then two visiting friends. These Soledad girls, as I call them, each
had a sunburst of yellow hair, were well bronzed by the Mexican sun, and
were sturdy little bodies. They were dressed in short skirts, with
leggings, topped with Tam o' Shanters, while about their waists were
cartridge-belts, with delicate knives and revolvers attached, and with
spurs and _quirts_ as accessories. They took up their men's saddles, for
they rode astride, except the two visitors, who were older and more
lately from Chicago. They swung their saddles on to the ponies, showing
familiarity with the _ladigo_ straps of the Texas saddles, and proudly
escaping the humiliation which alights on the head of one who in the
cow-camps cannot saddle his own "bronc." Being ready, we mounted, and
followed a cowboy off down the road to the _rodeo-ground._ The manager
and Madam Mamma rode in a buckboard, proudly following with their gaze
the galloping ponies which bore their jewels. I thought they should be
fearful for their safety, but after more intimate inspection, I could
see how groundless was such solicitude.
I must have it understood that these little vaquero girls were not the
ordinary Texas product, fed on corn-meal and bred in the chaparral, but
the much looked after darlings of a fond mother. They are taken South
every winter, that their bodies may be made lithe and healthy, but at
the same time two or more governesses crowd their minds with French,
German, and other things with which proper young girls should be
acquainted.
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