{"id":6237,"date":"2026-10-13T18:57:02","date_gmt":"2026-10-14T00:57:02","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.kayturnbaugh.com\/?p=6237"},"modified":"2026-10-14T11:16:50","modified_gmt":"2026-10-14T17:16:50","slug":"the-last-of-the-wild-west-cowgirls-a-true-story","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.kayturnbaugh.com\/index.php\/the-last-of-the-wild-west-cowgirls-a-true-story\/","title":{"rendered":"THE LAST OF THE WILD WEST COWGIRLS: A True Story"},"content":{"rendered":"

[et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ _builder_version=”4.27.9″ _module_preset=”default” background_image=”https:\/\/www.kayturnbaugh.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/07\/paper.jpg” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_row column_structure=”1_2,1_2″ _builder_version=”4.27.9″ _module_preset=”default” background_enable_image=”off” custom_margin=”||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”1_2″ _builder_version=”4.27.9″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_heading title=”Goldie Griffith was one of a kind” admin_label=”subhead” _builder_version=”4.27.9″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”|10px|||false|false” custom_padding=”|10px|||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_heading][et_pb_text admin_label=”description” _builder_version=”4.27.9″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”|10px|||false|false” custom_padding=”|10px|||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n

AND she never shot a husband who didn’t deserve it…<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

She boxed. She fenced. She rode bucking broncos in the Buffalo Bill Wild West traveling tent shows, and a newspaper referred to the pretty young bronco buster as a “Heller in Skirts.”<\/p>\n

She was one of the first professional female athletes. She was an actor and stunt rider for the brand-new western movies that were taking the country by storm.<\/p>\n

She was married during a Buffalo Bill Wild West show at Madison Square Garden with a crowd of 8,000 in attendance, and Buffalo Bill himself gave her away.<\/p>\n

She became a rancher and owned several restaurants in the mountains of Colorado. She trained dogs for the war and applied to be the first policewoman in San Francisco. Was there anything she couldn’t do? She didn’t think so. This is the (amazingly) true story of Goldie Griffith’s life. With over 120 photographs and images.<\/p>\n

A 2009 WILLA Literary Award finalist for creative nonfiction.<\/p>\n

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AVAILABLE EVERYWHERE ONLINE<\/a>\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0AMAZON<\/a>\u00a0 \u00a0 BARNES & NOBLE<\/a>\u00a0 \u00a0 INDIEBOUND<\/a>\u00a0 \u00a0KOBO<\/a>\u00a0 \u00a0 APPLE BOOKS<\/a><\/p>\n

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Published:<\/span><\/span><\/strong> 2024 (Fourth Edition)<\/span><\/span><\/span>
Publisher:<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0<\/span>Perigo Press<\/span>
Genres: <\/span><\/strong>history<\/span>, nonfiction<\/span>, women
<\/span>Tags: <\/span><\/span><\/strong>cowboys<\/span>, cowgirl<\/span>, history<\/span>, horses<\/span>, rodeo<\/span>, Wild West<\/span>, women<\/span><\/p>\n

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\u00a0<\/h2>\n

REVIEWS<\/h2>\n

[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text admin_label=”reviews” _builder_version=”4.27.9″ _module_preset=”default” background_enable_color=”off” background_enable_image=”off” custom_margin=”|||24px|false|false” custom_padding=”|||24px|false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n

Gail Woerner, rodeo historian,<\/span> wrote:<\/span><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

Thank heavens Goldie\u2019s story wasn\u2019t lost because she was present at many significant early day western events and knew many of the people who helped the American West become important to our history. Sit back and read about Goldie\u2019s life, truly The Last of the Wild West Cowgirls. The experiences Goldie had in show business and ranching will keep you turning pages until you finish the book and wish there were more.<\/p>\n

Barbara Lawlor, The Mountain-Ear,<\/span> wrote:<\/span><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

Turnbaugh\u2019s descriptions of a novice climbing aboard a horse that is trained to buck reveals the depth of her research, and her ability to create a feel for the action that took place almost 100 years ago. You can taste the dust in Goldie\u2019s mouth, feel the sweat dribbling down her chest and smell the corral, the horse energy\u2026.The book puts one into the center of the struggles of a traveling show\u2026it’s an historic gem that was just waiting to be written.<\/p>\n

Clay Evans, Boulder Daily Camera,<\/span> wrote:<\/span><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

It\u2019s frankly surprising that Griffith is not better known \u2014 she was a boxer, fencer and wrestler who took up bronc-busting and who was \u201cgiven away\u201d in marriage by none other than Buffalo Bill Cody at Madison Square Garden. Turnbaugh\u2019s journalistic background serves her well in this lively, history-packed volume.<\/p>\n

Alvin Davis<\/span><\/strong> on http:\/\/www.barnesandnoble.com\/w\/the-last-of-the-wild-west-cowgirls-kay-turnbaugh\/1113668935?ean=2940013301344#productInfoTabs<\/span><\/a> wrote:<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

After I started reading it, I could not put it down except to sleep a few hours. It was a great \u2018read,\u2019 and as a western historian, I could not believe that I had never heard of Goldie Griffith Cameron\u2026she certainly deserves to be recognized as more than a bit player in the overall story of the West in times past.<\/p>\n

Steve Friesen, <\/span>Director, Buffalo Bill Museum & Grave,<\/span> wrote:<\/span><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

I very much enjoyed The Last of the Wild West Cowgirls. It is a well-researched blend of fact and informed imagination that brings to life the story of a very independent and colorful woman. Goldie Griffith: wrestler, cowgirl, bronc rider, entrepreneur and feminist. What a woman!<\/p>\n

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\u00a0<\/h2>\n

EXCERPT<\/h2>\n

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Prologue<\/strong><\/p>\n

***<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cThe divorce records are over there.\u201d<\/p>\n

I had interrupted the two young men\u2014one was leaning over the other\u2019s shoulder as they looked at a computer screen.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay.\u201d Only one other person was in the room, and she was taking notes from one of two obscenely huge books at a heavy wood table.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd I\u2019m wondering about this.\u201d I pulled out the copy I\u2019d made that morning before I left Nederland for the long bus trip to Denver. It was a court receipt from 1916.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I don\u2019t know.\u201d The young man frowned at it. \u201cThose numbers might not mean anything. I don\u2019t recognize them…\u201d He shrugged his shoulders.<\/p>\n

\u201cCould you check?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThis could take a long time,\u201d he warned. He looked at me as if he were hoping I\u2019d go away, but I smiled. I had all day. He disappeared with my piece of paper, and I settled on a hard chair and started looking for divorce records. The microfilm scratched through my machine, and the woman with the big books occasionally turned a page\u2014otherwise the room was silent.<\/p>\n

Was it a half-hour? An hour? The young man slapped a slim packet on the counter and beckoned to me. The legal-size papers were folded into fourths and filed inside a heavy, brown paper jacket tied with a tiny red ribbon. It looked like no one had untied the ribbon since that day in March ninety years ago. Gingerly I picked it up and moved to the other big table.<\/p>\n

With a small tug, my treasure opened. Inside was proof that the events I had been researching really happened. The people involved existed\u2014they had given evidence to a policeman. I wanted to whoop for joy, but I stifled my shout with a gagging sound that made the woman look up from her big book for a second, and the young man who was still standing at the counter stared at me curiously.<\/p>\n

I had a new respect for her tales. I\u2019d been listening to her stories as other people could recall them and on two oral history tapes she\u2019d recorded. I\u2019d seen the newspaper stories\u2014the ones in her scrapbooks and the ones I\u2019d found through my research\u2014but there was something so much more concrete about this little packet of court papers.<\/p>\n

That day, sitting in the basement of a sterile government building in downtown Denver, Goldie Griffith Sterling Cameron came alive for me. She danced across my mind\u2014a beautiful young cowgirl trying to make sense of what had happened to her life in Denver in 1916.<\/p>\n

\n

Chapter One<\/strong><\/p>\n

A Kind of Nightmare<\/strong><\/p>\n

***<\/strong><\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t have his spurs on, so he didn\u2019t jingle as he walked. He sounded like any other man\u2014his boot heels drummed a hollow thump, thump, thump on the tatty pine floorboards. He shrugged his slim shoulders into a worn work jacket and grabbed his wide-brimmed hat and leather gloves. Goldie could tell by the way he squinted at her suspiciously over his shoulder before he stepped out the door that he knew she was up to some mischief.<\/p>\n

She followed him outside into the frosty air.<\/p>\n

She hadn\u2019t seen him since that horrible day in Texas. She\u2019d been on her own the last couple of months, and she was broke\u2014she was down to her last twelve cents\u2014a dime and two pennies, three little coins that wouldn\u2019t last long. They hardly weighed anything, and when she rubbed her fingers across the outside of her coin purse, she couldn\u2019t even feel them. But then, if she went to jail, she wouldn\u2019t have to worry about her next meal, would she?<\/p>\n

Her husband should have come back to Denver with her, especially after what she\u2019d done for him before his trial. Instead, he\u2019d disappeared. When she heard he was back in town, she was furious. She found out that he was staying with his friend A.W. Simuel. This morning, when she\u2019d walked uninvited into Simuel\u2019s house, A.W. sneered at her. \u201cWhat do you need her for, Harry? You don\u2019t need her. She ain\u2019t nothin\u2019.\u201d Harry didn\u2019t defend her, and he and Simuel got ready to leave the house, as if she didn\u2019t even exist.<\/p>\n

The smells of thousands of cattle and horses from the next-door stockyards permeated everything in this part of the city. Today the breeze was slight, and that was good because she was only a pretty good shot. Not having to adjust her aim for the wind would make it easier to hit her target. Looking at the clouds gathering overhead she thought it might even snow one more time tonight, but what did she care, she wouldn\u2019t be back in her drafty apartment\u2014all she could afford since Harry had left her\u2014she\u2019d be in jail.<\/p>\n

Harry and Simuel stopped before stepping from the yard into the street. A young boy in overalls led an old, dappled horse down the middle of the dirt street, the horse limping and the boy skipping. A Model T rattled around them, honking before it disappeared around the corner, and a dog barked once in response. Then twice for good measure.<\/p>\n

The men glanced back at Goldie. She walked toward them\u00a0 and pulled the gun out of her muff. Simuel started to run, but he slipped on a lingering patch of ice. Harry began backing into the street, wanting to run like his friend, she could tell, but unwilling to take his eyes off her. Time stopped, and the three other men who happened to be out in the street were frozen with it. Only Goldie moved, inexorably, toward her husband.<\/p>\n

The trigger felt alive under her finger. She wanted so desperately, so fiercely to kill him. She didn\u2019t know she would cry, but she was blinking back tears, and she aimed unsteadily at Harry\u2019s chest. She squinted at the buttons of his shirt, sucked in her breath, and aimed a bit lower. \u201cAfter all you\u2019ve done to me, it\u2019s the least I could do for you,\u201d she couldn\u2019t believe she could say it so coolly.<\/p>\n

He was too calm, standing there, smiling at her like a naughty child. She hated him even more for it. \u201cGoldie, darlin\u2019,\u201d he drawled. Simuel had recovered from his fall and pulled at Harry\u2019s arm, trying to drag him away.<\/p>\n

It was enough to stop her tears. \u201cDon\u2019t darlin\u2019 me, you sidewinder. And Simuel, you piece of shit, I should kill you too.\u201d She waved the gun at the other man, and he jumped away from her husband. She took aim again at Harry and squeezed the trigger\u2014just the way he\u2019d taught her. She wanted him to suffer, and after she settled the gun so it was level again from the recoil she pulled the trigger a second time.
She wanted him dead.<\/p>\n

The white cloud that had billowed from the gun with the first shot now totally enveloped her, and it grew impenetrable when she fired again. The last thing she could see was Harry walking away like nothing had happened. She was still aiming at him, and her arm was steady, so she fired again. The acrid smoke was unbearable\u2014it made her eyes gush with more tears, and she started coughing. She could no longer see anything, no buttons, no Harry, not even the gun in her hand, although she could feel her wet cheeks begin to freeze in the cold March air.<\/p>\n

She was pretty sure she hadn\u2019t done the job. If she\u2019d shot him, she would have heard him fall and maybe cry out in pain. But there\u2019d been no other sound since the shots which still bounced around in the opaque air. She tried waving the smoke away from her stinging eyes. That was it\u2014the smoke\u2014she should have guessed that the ammunition in her gun might have gone bad sitting in her trunk while she waited for Harry to come back.<\/p>\n

Finally, she could see again. She couldn\u2019t make out either a corpse or a writhing body. Damn. He\u2019d slipped away again. It was the story of their life together. Furious, she turned to go back to her apartment.
A rough hand grabbed her arm and ordered her to stay put until the police arrived. The thought of the police made her hopeful that she had killed him.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs he dead?\u201d she asked anxiously, coughing and spitting up the words through the smoke still caught in her throat.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cNo\u2014no thanks to you,\u201d growled the deep male voice in her ear. Goldie heard other voices and squinted to see who it was through the haze. It was Harry and Simuel. With them were a tall bearded man in workman\u2019s clothes and a man she recognized from the stockyards. \u201cDon\u2019t you want to talk to the police?\u201d It was the bearded man, talking to Harry. Goldie saw Harry look her way, and she held her breath.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo sir, I don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut, mister, I think, I mean she just shot at you, don\u2019t you think…?\u201d<\/p>\n

The smoke had evaporated into the few trees, and Goldie could hear the mounted policeman galloping down the street towards the fracas. He probably heard the shots at the stockyards.<\/p>\n

\u201cShit.\u201d Ladies in Denver in 1916 didn\u2019t say words like that, but it happened to be the perfect word to express her feelings. Besides, she was no lady. She tried to shake off the man who was gripping her arm. \u201cDon\u2019t worry \u2019bout him, he\u2019s just a slippery ol\u2019 snake,\u201d she muttered, but the man wouldn\u2019t let go, in fact, his hold on her arm tightened, and he looked down at her with such distaste she almost felt like laughing. It had felt so good to aim the gun at her husband and fire. She was so tired of his tomfoolery. He was such a low-down, lyin\u2019, good-for-nothin\u2019\u2014she couldn\u2019t think of a word vile enough to describe him\u2014and the sooner she got him out of her life the better. The only good thing in their three-year marriage was the wedding, but no matter how many times she pulled out her scrapbook to look at the newspaper stories of that grand day in Madison Square Garden it didn\u2019t change the rest.<\/p>\n

Officer Art Wachter slid off the handsome bay with the white stripe that zigzagged from ear to nose. The officer dropped the reins and ran toward her. Lightning was trained to stand still when his reins were on the ground, and Goldie admired both the horse and the six-foot-tall man who stopped first to speak to Harry. She strained to hear what they were saying, but she couldn\u2019t make it out. She trusted Art to get it worked out.<\/p>\n

As Art walked over to her he shook his head. \u201cYou\u2019ll have to come with me to the jail, Goldie. It looks like you\u2019ve really done it this time\u2014I\u2019m going to have to charge you with assault to kill.\u201d Art sounded reluctant, but he added, \u201cThere\u2019s witnesses, and that\u2019s what they said happened.\u201d
Goldie just shook her head.<\/p>\n

The man who had hold of her arm gave Art her gun, which he had twisted out of her hand, but he didn\u2019t want to let go of her. He obviously didn\u2019t know who she was, but that would change when the newspaper people came to interview her. This time the whole world will know what a skunk you are, Harry, I can promise you that.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can let go of her now,\u201d Wachter told the man. \u201cShe\u2019s not going anywhere, are you, Goldie?\u201d Art had been friends with Harry and Goldie since their first week in Denver. \u201cGoldie, Goldie, Goldie. Why\u2019dya have to start shootin\u2019, at Harry, of all people? Can\u2019t you people just have regular arguments? I don\u2019t think I can help you out of this one.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s okay, Art. I\u2019m ready to go to jail. I could\u2019a spent the rest of my life in jail if I\u2019d jus\u2019 killed \u2019im.\u201d Goldie sneaked a look at Harry and then turned so she couldn\u2019t see him. Art caught her hateful look. \u201cYou and Harry have had your troubles, but that doesn\u2019t mean you should go and try and kill \u2019im. Harry swore to me he\u2019d take care of you.\u201d Art bit his lip. \u201cMaybe you should\u2019a given him a little more time, what with what he\u2019s been through.\u201d The bull of an officer cussed softly under his breath as he opened the door of the police automobile that had arrived to back him up. Goldie climbed into the back seat.<\/p>\n

She had been hoping she\u2019d get to ride to jail on Art\u2019s magnificent horse. It would have made a grand exit from the scene, but the machine from the police department would have to do. She took one last look at the horse quietly waiting for Art and the small crowd that had assembled to watch the action, making sure they were watching her. Art had asked Harry and the witnesses to wait for him, and they stood off to one side, talking among themselves.<\/p>\n

Art leaned over and spoke to her through the open door of the automobile. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Goldie, that we gotta take you to jail.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t worry \u2019bout me, Art. It was worth it. I jus\u2019 wish I\u2019da done the job.\u201d She said the last just loud enough for the small crowd to hear and was gratified to hear several gasps.<\/p>\n

She meant what she\u2019d told Art, even if it meant she\u2019d never ride a horse in the arena again.<\/p>\n

She\u2019d been in jails before, but it was to visit, not to sit behind the bars. Yesterday she had decided that even the prospect of being in jail forever would be a small price to pay to get Harry out of her life. When she heard he was in Denver and hadn\u2019t lifted a finger to see her, she was livid\u2014after everything she\u2019d done for him\u2014he should have come to see her, his wife. Overnight, her fury grew, and this morning she pulled the little gun from her show trunk, hid it in her muff, and, well, it was just too bad the ammunition had gone bad since the last time she\u2019d used the gun, and up in smoke, instead of into Harry.<\/p>\n

She was in the matron\u2019s quarters of the Denver jail, and she should have been crying, but instead she found herself almost giddy with relief. Thinking back on it, it was a stupid thing to do, but it sure had felt good. She knew it would be a big story in the newspapers\u2014\u201cWife shoots at husband, but misses,\u201d\u2014and she talked to all the reporters\u2014knowing that her best defense\u2014if she ever got to court\u2014was her story. It was time to tell the world what had really happened. The reporters loved the story\u2014she made sure of that\u2014even if it meant she had to invent a few picturesque details. All part of the entertainment business.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy\u2019d you do it?\u201d The young reporter for The Denver Post leaned toward her as he scribbled in his notebook.<\/p>\n

That was the question, wasn\u2019t it? Three years of lies, that\u2019s what did it, she thought. It was the lies that turned her heart to stone and put her finger on the trigger.<\/p>\n

The young man stopped scribbling and looked up. He seemed fascinated by her serene smile. She knew that he would believe what she told him. He was mesmerized as she recounted her wedding on horseback in Madison Square Garden. She didn\u2019t have to embellish that at all. It was grand\u2014grander than grand. She was a cowgirl with the Buffalo Bill Wild West and Pawnee Bill Wild East\u2014the Two Bills show\u2014and Harry was a dashing, daredevil cowboy. Their wedding was part of the evening performance at the Garden. At the time, May of 1913, the audience of eight thousand was the biggest on record for a wedding.<\/p>\n

Of course, it almost didn\u2019t happen. Now that she thought about it, it seemed that the whole year that ended in 13 was jinxed.<\/p>\n

The day before her wedding she was a nervous wreck, or at least that\u2019s what the newspapers reported. She was the butt of numerous practical jokes by the other cowgirls, and the newspaper stories said she fainted before that night\u2019s performance, although she didn\u2019t remember fainting\u2014feeling a little faint maybe\u2014but not actually crashing.<\/p>\n

Unfortunately, that wasn\u2019t the worst of it.<\/p>\n

During the show, she was riding as one of many escorts to two large prairie schooners circling the garden. That was one newspaper\u2019s version. Another paper reported that it was during a mock Indian battle. Another said it was during a Virginia Reel on Horseback which was part of the portion of the show known as A Holiday on the Ranch. She put all the stories in her scrapbook. All agreed that her horse bolted, probably from a blank cartridge she (or someone else) fired in the air too close to its ears. The horse careened to the Fourth Avenue side of the Garden, reared and tossed Goldie into a front row box.<\/p>\n

Some thought it was part of the show. But the bastion of sports news, The New York Herald, reported that \u201cmany men and women in the audience stood up, and some put their hands over their eyes in horror.\u201d The cries of alarm attracted ushers who sent for an ambulance to retrieve the unconscious bride-to-be. Some of the papers reported that her fianc\u00e9, Harry, sprang from his horse and carried her out of the arena.
The next thing she knew, she was flat on her back in an ambulance. Her head throbbed, and she wasn\u2019t sure she could move her right leg. \u201cMy wedding,\u201d she croaked through parched lips. The ambulance nurse shook her head and shushed her.<\/p>\n

The Bellevue Hospital doctor examined her and pronounced that she would have to spend the night. They gave her something for the pain, and she drifted off to sleep thinking only about her aborted wedding. The doctors wouldn\u2019t let reporters into her room, but they were quoted as saying that Goldie was resting easily and they wouldn\u2019t know until the morning how seriously she had been injured.<\/p>\n

She was in the hospital all the next day\u2014the day she was supposed to be married. \u201cWhat about my wedding?\u201d she kept asking. \u201cIt won\u2019t be today,\u201d the doctor said. \u201cMaybe next week. You must get some rest.\u201d Oh dear, she thought, Colonel Cody won\u2019t like that. He had told her how proud he was to host her wedding, and she knew he was counting on it to sell more tickets than usual. But she could hardly walk\u2014every movement shot pain through her back, and her head still throbbed, so she reluctantly laid in bed. Several times she cried, and then the nurse would bring her something for the pain.<\/p>\n

Many years later she would tell a reporter that it was a kind of nightmare.<\/p>\n

The next day when Harry dropped by to see her he seemed too cheerful. He looked her up and down. \u201cLet\u2019s see you move.\u201d Obligingly, she slowly and painfully bent each arm and leg for him. \u201cI don\u2019t think you\u2019re so bad. Let\u2019s get you out of here. We gotta weddin\u2019 tonight.\u201d He kissed her on the cheek, and that was that.<\/p>\n

The show went on.\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 …….<\/p>\n

[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”1_5″ _builder_version=”4.27.9″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section][et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ _builder_version=”4.27.9″ _module_preset=”default” locked=”off” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.27.9″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.27.9″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_text admin_label=”OTHER BOOKS” _builder_version=”4.27.9″ _module_preset=”default” background_color=”#000000″ custom_padding=”2px||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n

OTHER BOOKS<\/strong><\/span><\/h2>\n

[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row column_structure=”1_6,1_6,1_6,1_6,1_6,1_6″ _builder_version=”4.27.9″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”1_6″ _builder_version=”4.27.9″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/www.kayturnbaugh.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/10\/Ski-Touring-Routes-front-cover-web-e1791932370873.jpg” alt=”cover of book” title_text=”Ski-Touring-Routes-front-cover-web” url=”https:\/\/www.kayturnbaugh.com\/index.php\/ski-touring-routes\/” admin_label=”ski touring” _builder_version=”4.27.9″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”1_6″ _builder_version=”4.27.9″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/www.kayturnbaugh.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/07\/mpb-cover-web-2.jpg” alt=”cover of The Mountain Pine Beetle book” title_text=”mpb-cover-web-2″ url=”https:\/\/www.kayturnbaugh.com\/index.php\/the-mountain-pine-beetle\/” admin_label=”MPB” _builder_version=”4.27.9″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”1_6″ _builder_version=”4.27.9″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/www.kayturnbaugh.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/07\/Around-Ned-front-page.jpg” alt=”Around Nederland book cover” title_text=”8149AROUcvr.indd” url=”https:\/\/www.kayturnbaugh.com\/index.php\/around-nederland-2\/” admin_label=”Around Ned” _builder_version=”4.27.9″ _module_preset=”default” locked=”off” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”1_6″ _builder_version=”4.27.9″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/www.kayturnbaugh.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/08\/Following-In-Their-Footsteps_cov.jpg” alt=”Following in Their Footsteps book cover” title_text=”9780970253279_cov.indd” url=”https:\/\/www.kayturnbaugh.com\/index.php\/book\/following-in-their-footsteps\/” admin_label=”Following Footsteps” _builder_version=”4.27.9″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”1_6″ _builder_version=”4.27.9″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/www.kayturnbaugh.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/07\/Dining-Room-girl-cover.jpg” alt=”cover of Dining Room Girl book” title_text=”Dining-Room-girl-cover” url=”https:\/\/www.kayturnbaugh.com\/index.php\/book\/rocky-mountain-national-park-dining-room-girl\/” admin_label=”DiningRoom Girl” _builder_version=”4.27.9″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”1_6″ _builder_version=”4.27.9″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/www.kayturnbaugh.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/01\/AA_DenverBoulder2ed-front-page.jpg” alt=”book cover Afoot and Afield” title_text=”AA_DenverBoulder2ed-front page” url=”https:\/\/www.kayturnbaugh.com\/index.php\/afoot-and-afield-denver-boulder-fort-collins-rmnp\/” admin_label=”Afoot and Afield” _builder_version=”4.27.9″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

AND she never shot a husband who didn’t deserve it… She boxed. She fenced. She rode bucking broncos in the Buffalo Bill Wild West traveling tent shows, and a newspaper referred to the pretty young bronco buster as a “Heller in Skirts.” She was one of the first professional female athletes. She was an actor […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":5919,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"on","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6237","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-books"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kayturnbaugh.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6237","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kayturnbaugh.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kayturnbaugh.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kayturnbaugh.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kayturnbaugh.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6237"}],"version-history":[{"count":13,"href":"https:\/\/www.kayturnbaugh.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6237\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6319,"href":"https:\/\/www.kayturnbaugh.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6237\/revisions\/6319"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kayturnbaugh.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/5919"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kayturnbaugh.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6237"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kayturnbaugh.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6237"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kayturnbaugh.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6237"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}