Living the Cowboy Way in Kansas
But there's another cowboy I hope to meet -- the white-hat, Roy Rogers version. I find him 200 miles east, at the Prairie Rose Chuckwagon Supper near Wichita, where the evening starts with the crowd shouting "How-DEEE!" Minnie Pearl-style before reciting the Pledge of Allegiance, praying and tucking into brisket.
The Prairie Rose Rangers fill the building with yodeling, corny jokes and serious instrumental riffs on staples like "Ghost Riders in the Sky" (JoLynn the fiddler moonlights with a local symphony.) These clean-living cowpokes may have pistols on their hips and lassos on their saddles, but guitars are all they draw. Their harmonies keep my toes tapping as I ride on, searching for cowhands still making a living in the saddle.