One of the best tie-down calf ropers ever to come out of South Texas, Juan Salinas grew up on a 15,000-acre ranch near Laredo, with the finest of horses to ride and hundreds of head of cattle to practice on. He roped in Texas rodeos large and small from the mid-1920s to 1935. From 1936 to 1946, he followed the national rodeo circuit, competing from Texas to New York’s Madison Square Garden. At the time, few if any other Mexican Americans competed in rodeo, and Salinas drew a lot of attention. Salinas also operated his family’s Texas ranch, where he ran cattle and raised prize roping quarter horses. In this account of his life and career, Salinas’s nephew, Ricardo Palacios, recounts the many tales his uncle told him—tales of friendship with Gene Autry, going to Sally Rand’s wedding reception, riding on the Rodeo Train, and sponsoring seven-time world champion tie-down calf roper Toots Mansfield. He also narrates life on the range, with his uncle riding across a pasture at full speed, gingerly holding the reins and a thirty-five foot coil of rope in his left hand while swinging the roping loop overhead with his right hand as he chased a three-hundred-pound calf for the throw. The story of Juan Salinas is also the story of the people of Mexican origin who live on the ranches of the South Texas brush country. Strong, rugged, independent, and hard-working, they knew social and economic success that has all too seldom been chronicled. Tío Juan was the family cowboy, the hero, the rodeo star, and Palacios tells his uncle’s story with warmth and admiration. In 1991 Salinas was inducted into the Rodeo Hall of Fame of the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum. He was also named Rancher of the Year by Laredo’s Borderfest and won the Ranching Heritage Award given by the King Ranch and Texas A&M–Kingsville. In 1993, he was inducted into the LULAC International Sports Hall of Fame. These were, Palacios writes, “fitting tributes to a champion and fine additions to his collection of trophy roping saddles, silver trophies, and champion’s buckles.”

We Who Work the West examines literary representations of class, labor, and space in the American West from 1885 to 2012. Moving from María Amparo Ruiz de Burton’s representations of dispossessed Californio ranchers in the mid-nineteenth century to the urban grid of early twentieth-century San Francisco in Frank Norris’s McTeague to working and unemployed cowboys in the contemporary novels of Cormac McCarthy and Larry McMurtry, Kiara Kharpertian provides a panoramic look at literary renderings of both individual labor—physical, tangible, and often threatened handwork—and the epochal transformations of central institutions of a modernizing West: the farm, the ranchero, the mine, the rodeo, and the Native American reservation. The West that emerges here is both dynamic and diverse, its on-the-ground organization of work, social class, individual mobility, and collective belonging constantly mutating in direct response to historical change and the demands of the natural environment. The literary West thus becomes more than a locus of mythic nostalgia or consumer fantasy about the American past. It becomes a place where the real work of making that West, as well as the suffering and loss it often entailed, is reimagined.

Turning the Pages of Texas is a collection of sixty essays about Texas books, authors, book collectors, libraries, and bookstores. It is a book for booklovers and bookish readers. Lonn Taylor writes from the point of view of a historian who has been reading books about Texas for seventy years, since he was seven years old, and who has known many of the authors he writes about. He presents his reflections about well-known figures such as John Graves, J. Frank Dobie, and Larry McMurtry. He also introduces readers to people like folklorist C. L. Sonnichsen, who wrote about Texas feuds; Julia Lee Sinks, who interviewed early settlers of Fayette County in the 1870s; Karen Olsson, who wrote a fine novel about the mystique of Austin; and David Dorado Romo, who describes himself as the “psychogeographer of El Paso” and is the grandnephew of a saint. Some of the authors Taylor writes about are truly obscure, like Gertrude Beasley, who published her autobiography in Paris in 1924 and died in a New York insane asylum, or Tony Cano, whose self-published autobiographical novel describes what it was like to be poor and Mexican in West Texas in the 1950s. Taylor also teases out the Texas connections of writers as diverse as William Sydney Porter, Hervey Allen, and H. Allen Smith, and he writes about tracking down Texas books in London and Washington, DC, as well as at Barber’s in Fort Worth, the Brick Row Book Shop in Austin, and Rosengren’s and Brock’s in San Antonio. This is a booklover’s book.

The enduring fascination of the American West marks this collection of essays by distinguished historians, investigative reporters, a novelist, and a celebrated screenwriter. All of these articles have won Wrangler Awards—the western equivalent of the Oscars—presented annually by the National Cowboy & Western Heritage Museum in Oklahoma City. Exciting storytelling, a hallmark of western writing, shapes every selection. C. L. Sonnichsen's 1986 revisionist account of Geronimo's life foreshadows the work of younger historians who continue to deepen our understanding of American Indian history. Jeffrey Pearson's story of the death of Crazy Horse and Greg Michno's novelistic rendering of the Lakota view of the Battle of the Little Bighorn represent history as practiced by scholars who are also powerful writers. Journalist-screenwriter William Broyles's narrative of the King family and ranch is a Texas saga as captivating as anything by Larry McMurtry. The renowned novelist Oakley Hall writes with a historian's precision about Wyoming, setting for The Virginian and site of the Teapot Dome scandal and the Johnson County range war. Focusing on Charles M. Russell, Raphael Cristy establishes the western artist's importance as a writer who overturned stereotypes about American Indians. Environmental studies are showcased in Dan Flores's essays on the demise of the great buffalo herds and the history of the horse trade. And no overview of the West would be complete without military and law enforcement history, amply represented by Robert M. Utley's work on the Texas Rangers, Paul Hutton's panoramic recounting of the Alamo, and Sally Denton's new look at the controversial Mountain Meadows Massacre, incorporating the latest forensic evidence. In what serves as a fitting coda to the violent yet inspiring history of the American West, Hutton offers a stirring account of Teddy Roosevelt's leadership at the Battle of San Juan Hill. This is a collection as pleasurable to read as it is rich with great and significant stories about one of the most enduring national epochs—the history of the great American West.

Lost in the New West investigates a group of writers – John Williams, Cormac McCarthy, Annie Proulx and Thomas McGuane – who have sought to explore the tensions inherent to the Western, where the distinctions between old and new, myth and reality, authenticity and sentimentality are frequently blurred. Collectively these authors demonstrate a deep-seated attachment to the landscape, people and values of the West and offer a critical appraisal of the dialogue between the contemporary West and its legacy. Mark Asquith draws attention to the idealistic young men at the center of such works as Williams's Butcher's Crossing (1960), McCarthy's Blood Meridian (1985) and Border Trilogy, Proulx's Wyoming stories and McGuane's Deadrock novels. For each writer, these characters struggle to come to terms with the difference between the suspect mythology of the West that shapes their identity and the reality that surrounds them. They are, in short, lost in the new West.

The lure of cowgirls and cowboys has hooked the American imagination with the lure of freedom and adventure since the turn of the twentieth century. The cowboy and cowgirl played in the imagination and made rodeo into a symbolic representation of the Western United States. As a sport that is emblematic of all things “Western,” rodeo is a phenomenon that has since transcended into popular culture. Rodeo’s attraction has even spanned oceans and lives in the imaginations of many around the world. From the modest start of this fantastic sport in open fields to celebrate the end of a long cattle drive or to settle a friendly “who’s the best” bet between neighboring ranches, rodeo truly has grown into an edge-of-the-seat, money-drawing, and crowd-cheering favorite pastime. However, rodeo has diverse history that largely remains unaccounted for, unexamined, and silenced. In Gender, Whiteness and Power in Rodeo Tracey Owens Patton and Sally M. Schedlock visually explore how race, gender, and other issues of identity complicate the mythic historical narrative of the West. The authors examine the experiences of ethnic minorities, specifically Latinos, American Indians, and African Americans, and women who have continued to be marginalized in rodeo. Throughout the book, Patton and Schedlock questioned the binary divisions in rodeo that exists between women and men, and between ethnic minorities and Whites—divisions that have become naturalized in rodeo and in the mind of the general public. Using iconic visual images, along with the voices of the marginalized, Patton and Schedlock enter into the sometimes acrimonious debate of cowgirls and ethnic minorities in rodeo.

Growing up on Green Street in Laredo, Texas, Ricardo Palacios made the wilderness his playground. The woods, the nearby creek, and the vastness of Chacon Creek Canyon transported him and his young friends away from the strife and poverty of the barrio and into the splendor of nature. Looking back on his life, Palacios reflects on seventy years of memoriesfrom his birth through his days at the all-male St. Josephs Academy Catholic school, capturing the powerful camaraderie he shared with his classmates and his experiences playing high school football. He next takes a hard look at his college years, during which he flunked out twice before finally making the commitment to graduate with honors and obtain a law degree. Palacios places his life experiences under a microscope, sharing periods of heavy alcohol use, very stressful years as a rookie attorney, and tales from the trenches about the pitfalls, successes, and failures of his legal practice. He describes his twenty-eight-year marriage, pondering how and why it failed, and tells of wonderful years raising his children on a cattle ranch, with plenty of opportunities for hunting and camping. Green Street Kid is more than the story of one mans life. It is a portrait of the life and culture of South Texas, where the majority of the population is Hispanic and conflicts sometimes develop between Hispanics and Anglos. It is a story of falling down and rising up again.