The Real Cowboys of New York City

By Amy Eric

Some lies are worth believing.Tanya's anxiety erupts after her disapproving mother dies. When her distant Rancher Dad Roy finds an explosive letter revealing his wife fell out of love with him, she runs to his bedside. To cheer him up, Tanya tells him that the descendants of the 10th avenue cowboys meet in Central Park every Wednesday night. She introduces him to the fake cowboys of New York City. After falling off a horse on 5th Avenue, Tanya and the cowboys end up splashed all over the news. She starts receiving notes from THE REAL COWBOYS OF NEW YORK CITY that threaten to expose her lie and destroy her strengthened relationship with her Dad.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amy Eric
• Release date: Jul 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227827289

Book preview

Part One: The Set Up

Chapter 1

What would David Bowie do? I asked myself as I glared at the ugly moon tattoo that adorned the chest of the young actress sitting across from me. He’d leave, and go make art . I saw this full moon turning into a black hole when gravity finally caught up with her. I tried not to cringe as her vapid personality took what remained of my sanity. She’d say things like: I really wanted to go to the Cannes Film Festival this year, but I couldn’t find the place in France it was at. And: I’d love be as skinny as those kids in Africa, but I couldn’t handle being poor.  The hardest part of my job as a so called celebrity journalist for an online teen magazine was spinning those nuggets of crap into pieces of gold. As the future Bachelor contestant stood up to show me her new tattoo of the freedom symbol on her back, I decided that I wanted to be her, so I wouldn’t feel inferior to people like her. I became so lost in my thoughts, I didn’t hear my cell phone ringing. Seeing Dad’s number alarmed me. I answered my phone without apologizing. Hi Dad, is everything okay?

This is not your Dad, its Billy, calling on your Dad’s phone. He’s been sleeping for over three days! Scared and helpless, I demanded, Wake him up!

I’ve tried, but I can’t. I think he’s still breathing. Billy sounded so calm I wanted to jump through that phone and shake him. Instead, I made another demand, Call an ambulance!

I can’t do that! He hates all h things, except horses. He’d go crazy if he woke up in a Hospital! I know that you’re his closest living relative, but as his best friend, ranch hand, and housemate, I’m going to make the executive decision. No hospitals! Besides, I’m the only person here right now. He lost his wife six months ago, and we haven’t seen you since the funeral. You’re gallivanting around in New York with famous bimbos, while your Dad can’t get out of bed! Billy’s thick Scottish accent made him almost impossible to understand when he got angry. In a state of panic, I defended myself. He told me he didn’t want me there. I offered to stay.

He was grieving. He wasn’t thinking clearly. He didn’t want you to know that he needed you! Billy’s yelling hurt my ears. I tried to calm myself by taking in my surroundings. The elegant, rooftop bar smelled like luxury perfume, and overlooked my beloved New York City.

Billy, I need you to calm down and answer a question: Are there pills beside his bed? Complete silence. "Are There Pills Beside His Bed?"

No, but I found an empty bottle of sleeping pills in his bathroom. My frustration turned into desperation. I’m coming. I’m going to the airport right now and catching the next plane home. Try to wake him up before I get there. I hung up the phone without giving him a chance to respond and turned to back to my interviewee. I’m so sorry. I have a family emergency I need to deal with. I have to end the interview now, but I have more than enough material to write a wonderful article. She looked at me with what I thought was empathy, before she asked, I didn’t get to tell you about my new movie. What about that?

You can tell me right now while I pack my stuff up.

I play a freedom fighter who falls in love with a terrorist. It sounds super serious, but it’s still a romantic comedy. I fall down a lot. Hopefully onto landmines.

It sounds great, and I’d love to hear more about it, but I just found out that my Dad has been sleeping for over three days.

I had a dog who did that once, he was dead. That stupid comment should have made me laugh, but it terrified me and that sinking feeling swallowed me whole.

I arrived at the Jackson Hole airport and ran through it on a mission. Thoughts racing thoughts. Racing thoughts. My breathing grew heavy, and my body felt full of lead. Panic attack. I ran to the ladies room, and searched my purse for my anti-anxiety medication. The contents of my purse spilled on the floor, but I found my sedatives. As I downed that pill like an addict, I realized that I hated prescription medication as much as Tom Cruise. I didn’t want to need medication. But my hyper active negative thoughts ruled me without it.

Even though I hated it, I couldn’t deny Jackson Hole’s beauty. A stunning green valley between the Teton mountain range and the Snake River. I drove with purpose until I arrived at my Dad’s 10 acre dude ranch. The grounds looked green and beautiful, but the house, barn, and three cabins looked like they hadn’t seen any TLC for twenty years. While my Dad’s cedar brown chalet style home felt more like home than my apartment, I didn’t belong there. I knocked like a crazed vacuum salesman, and found it hard to restrain myself when Billy answered. As a child, I thought he was a member of ZZ Top who left the group to become a singing cowboy. With no time for hellos, I asked him, Did you wake him up?

No, he won’t wake up, and I tried everything!

There’s one thing I’m sure you haven’t tried. Go and unplug his alarm clock and I’ll be right back. He gave me a look of disapproval, before I ran out the door and to the back of the house to uncoil the garden hose. I tested the jet setting on the nozzle to make sure the water would be cold and strong enough. I ran back to the front of the house, hose clutched tightly in hand. Feeling like an amateur fire fighter, I busted through the door and wasted no time getting to Dad’s bedroom, which smelled like Whiskey and dirty socks. Shocked by how corpse-like he looked, I pointed my weapon and prepared to shoot. Billy tried to talk me out of it. He’s never going to speak to you again. A hose is an h thing.

It’s not an h thing, it’s a garden hose.

A hose, is a hose, is a hose.

I don’t care if he speaks to me as long as he wakes up. Why don’t you go turn off the water? By the time you get back, the deed will be done. Billy rolled his eyes and left. My shaking hands pushed down on the handle of the nozzle, causing the water to shoot over Dad onto the head board. I gently lowered my hands until the water hit his face. I waited for him to move, while the water ran down his body, soaking his clothes and sheets. Total stillness. He looked like a ghost. I wondered when he stopped breathing, and if the water had killed him. Grief turned my body to stone, but I could still feel tears on my cheeks and knots in my stomach. I made a deal with God: let him live and I’ll start believing again. I couldn’t stand to look at him, so I turned to the hose. A hose, is a hose, is a hose indeed. Determined not to give up, I picked it up again, making one last attempt to wake him. Maybe the water got colder, or my force of will got stronger, but something jolted him to life. Suddenly, electricity pumped through his body. He started screaming, which made my crying more hysterical. With concern, I asked, Are you in pain Dad?

Get that hose away from me! He shouted. With perfect comic timing, Billy returned, said I told you, and walked away with the hose. I sat down on the edge of the bed, and watched him grow even more distant.

It’s okay now, the hose is gone. I’m so glad you’re awake. He glared right through me, breaking my heart.

Why are you here?

Billy called me and told me you had been sleeping for three days. He refused to take you to the hospital and he couldn’t wake you up, so I came right away. I reached for his hand, and he let me take it. With relief, I watched his soul return to his eyes, and calm return to his demeanor, but his voice still trembled when he spoke. Thank you for not taking me to the hospital. I hate h things.

You live in a house Dad.

No, it’s not. It’s a country cottage.

You didn’t hate h things before, why all of a sudden?

Your mother’s name was Helen.

Do you hate Mom for dying?

No, I hate her for writing this letter! He reached into the front pocket of his blue pajamas, pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to me. You can read it while I go put on some dry clothes, and put the sheets in the dryer. Billy will have dinner ready in about twenty minutes. He said quietly as I helped him take the sheets off of his bed.

I’m sorry I woke you up by spraying you with a hose. That was terrible.

Yes it was, but I forgive you. I’m sorry I took those sleeping pills. I needed to shut my mind down. That letter made me question everything, and those questions wouldn’t leave me alone. I knew the feeling. He pulled some clothes out of his drawers, and took the sheets from me looking utterly lost. I watched him walk hunched over like a broken man into the laundry room, feeling like I had an atomic bomb in my hands. With great worry and interest, I started to read the letter.

Dear Roy,

You’ve found this letter, because you were meant to. I purposely put it in the cookie jar where you hide your cigarettes. You only reach for your cigarettes when you’re questioning your feelings for me. Such circumstances have put us on the same page. While I feel very grateful for the life we had together, I feel that life was a lie. I don’t want you to live that lie for the rest of your life. God knows I lived it for far too long. I need to be honest and open with you for the first time, so I’m just going to come right out and say it. If I hadn’t gotten sick, I would have left you. I had fallen so out of love with you, I wasn’t even sure if I ever loved you in the first place. I can’t pinpoint exactly when it happened. We had been growing apart silently for a very long time, but the feeling got stronger until I was sure. I wanted to tell you, but I never felt that the timing was right. I changed and you didn’t. I don’t think you’re capable of changing. I no longer understood you, your undying love for cowboys, or your strange relationship with Billy. Is he the real love of your life? I had feelings for other men that I didn’t act upon. I felt guilty because you were taking such good care of me. I do appreciate your kindness and support through my illness, but near the end I couldn’t stand the sight of you. I spent my last hours wishing you were someone else. I couldn’t wait to die and be free of you. I’m sure that sounds so terrible, but that truth has set me free. I wasn’t your true love, and you weren’t mine. I hope we’ll both have peace now.

Wishing you happiness,

Helen

Chapter 2

Completely dumfounded , I stared at my mother’s letter for five minutes. I barely noticed when Billy came back into the room and announced, Dinner is ready. I looked up at him like a tragic Shakespearean character, and said, This letter is devastating. I thought my parents had a good marriage. Why would she write this?

I don’t know. I never understood why she did anything. She was the most emotionally disconnected woman I have ever met. That comment sounded strange coming from Billy, who wasn’t known for his insight.

Why would she want to hurt him like this?

I don’t have any of the answers, but I do have ribs in the kitchen waiting for you.

I’m not hungry.

Of course you are. A rack of my ribs makes everything better.

In his charming country kitchen my Dad ate like a man who had been asleep for a week. The smell of hickory brought back some of the best moments of my childhood. I sat down beside him and asked, Why didn’t you call me the moment you found that letter?

I didn’t think of calling you, because I couldn’t think of anything else. He replied as he wiped some barbecue sauce from his face.

I don’t think she wrote it.

Of course she wrote it, it’s her hand writing, and it talks like she used to talk. A lot of words, but nothing comes together.

Did you cheat on her or something?

No, but I could have since she hated me.

It doesn’t make any sense. He settled for her. She should have felt lucky to be with him. Billy said. I had to put my two cents in. That means nothing coming from you. You’ve always gone after women who were way out of your league. You have no right to judge.

I didn’t tell you this, but a month ago, I dated a woman named Bertha who is not the kind of statuesque beauty I normally go for, and for a job, she counted cars at the junkyard.

My life would be so much better if I could get an honest job like counting cars in the junkyard. I joked.

You can, the job is available. Bertha got fired because she’s dyslexic, and she counted the cars backwards.

Are you two still together?

No. she dumped me when I refused to pay her for counting horses here at the ranch.

She’s not lacking common sense. Do either of you have any idea when Mom lost hers?

Five years ago she told me that she was leaving me. She wouldn’t tell me why. I confronted her about it a few months later, and she said she had changed her mind. I guess I should have tried harder to get an answer from her, but the ranch was really busy at the time, so I had to throw myself into that. I didn’t even see her that much. She got so involved in the church, she didn’t have much time left for anything else.

Bingo! It’s the churches fault! I exclaimed.

According to you, that church is responsible for all of our problems.

All of my childhood friends spoke in tongues. That scars a person.

Church made her coward. She asked God to fix everything for her, so she didn’t have to fix anything herself. I needed to hear him say those words. Your mother trusted God way too much, because she was so passive. I should have hated her for it, but I didn’t. I should hate her for the letter, but I don’t. The letter is my fault, I didn’t give her what she needed, but I didn’t know what the hell she needed. I tried to be a good husband. I gave her everything I had for over forty years, and she still hated me. She couldn’t leave this world without making me feel like a failure, and I will never know why. The cracks in his usually monotone voice broke my heart, I felt desperate to help him, but I had no idea how.

I don’t know what to say. I wish the letter had been written to me. I know she was disappointed in me.

She wasn’t disappointed in who you became as a person. She was disappointed by your lack of interest in marriage and children.

It’s not that I wasn’t interested, those things just didn’t happen for me.

It’s not too late. You still have a good five years before your eggs are completely rotten. Billy joked. I’m going to excuse myself so I can go count horses in the barn.

Dad and I shared a long moment of silence before I could figure out what I wanted to say. I’d offer to stay here with you, but I think you need a change of scenery. Why don’t you come back to New York with me?

What would a cowboy like me do in New York?

Find the other cowboys!

What other cowboys? There aren’t any cowboys in New York.

That’s what you’re supposed to believe. You told me about the 10th avenue cowboys, who warned pedestrians about oncoming trains for 90 years until 1941. I found them so interesting, I wrote an article about them. No one published it, but I got to interview the son of one of the cowboys. He told me a secret I’ve kept until now. Every Wednesday night at ten o’clock, he, and other descendants of the 10th avenue cowboys get together and ride in central park. I didn’t really know what I was saying, or where the words were coming from, but I had turned into an incredible liar.

That doesn’t make any sense. What’s the point of them getting together, and why do they only do it at night? Fair questions that needed good answers, but I responded quickly to keep up appearances.

They get together to keep the idea of the New York cowboy alive, and be among their own kind. Different cowboys come every week, so it’s like a family reunion. If they met during the day, people would want to join them, and crowds would form. It’s an exclusive club for cowboys only. I’d like to go, but they won’t let me in. You on the other hand, are welcome.

But I’m not a descendant.

Yes you are. Your grandfather’s second cousin was a 10th avenue cowboy in the 1930’s. More bullshit he seemed to be buying. With curiosity, he asked, Why didn’t I know about that?

You never showed much interest in your family tree, but I did. I was determined to find a New York cowboy and I did.

Would they really let me ride with them?

Yes, of course.

Can I bring my favorite horse?

No, it would be too hard to get her there, but I’m sure that would let you ride one of theirs. Deep in thought, he considered the offer carefully. Part of me hoped he would turn me down, so my lie could die there.

I’ll go. You can stay here for the weekend and we’ll leave on Monday. He stood up and I started to panic. Smiling, he walked towards the door. Telling me, I’m glad you came. I’m looking forward to meeting the cowboys.

I spent the rest of the night trying to conceal the extreme anxiety my lie created. I joined Billy and my Dad at their nightly campfire. My Dad laughed as Billy badly played Bob Dylan songs on his guitar. Roasting marshmallows almost brought me back into the moment. While trying to figure out how I could put Cowboys in Central Park by Wednesday, I figured out that I couldn’t. I needed to call someone who could. After telling my Dad and Billy that I had a headache, I said goodnight, and went straight for my cell phone. My old room had been turned into a guest room, and the sky colored paint made everything in my life look blue. My phone felt hot in my shaking hand. I dialed Josephine Clark’s number, hoping to God that she would pick up. My pulse quickened after each ring and I started losing hope after five. I willed her to pick up and she did. Hello

Hello Jo, it’s Tanya.

Tanya, I haven’t heard from you in a long time, how are you?

I’m okay, and I’d love to catch up, but I need to ask you a favor.

What is it?

I need you to get some cowboys to ride horses in Central Park on Wednesday night.

I don’t understand. A much better reaction than I expected.

Let me explain. While I was interviewing another bimbo this morning, Billy called me and told me that my Dad had been sleeping for three days. He refused to take him to the hospital, so I flew here to Jackson Hole. I was able to wake him up, but I don’t think he wanted anyone to wake him up. He would never admit to this, but I think he’s suicidal. He found a letter that my mother wrote him right before she died, confessing that she fell out of love with him. Can you imagine how devastating that must have been for him?

Are you sure your mother wrote it?

"I’m not, but he is. I think he needs to leave the ranch for a while, so I suggested he come back to New York with me. He’s never visited me there. When he asked me what a Cowboy would do in New York, I had to come up with an answer, so I told him that the descendants of the 10th avenue Cowboys