Her name was Cynthia Anne Herndon. She was a Choctaw who ran with her two outlaw brothers back in the 1800′s…somewhere in Oklahoma. Although Indian, she wore the traditional dress of a pioneer woman. Only one difference…strapped to her side, hidden underneath the flour-sack dress, was a loaded six-shooter. She was as handy with the pistol as any man and apt to draw it quicker than any man. No one dare provoke her or challenge her position with the gang. She was fierce…like her warrior ancestors.
Black braids intertwined with colored beads framed her amber skin while black penetrating eyes stared a hole right through you. She seldom spoke but when she did, you listened.
Then one day, she up and disappeared never to be seen again. Cynthia Anne Herndon had fallen in with an old worn-out cowpoke, Pinkney Henry Dooley…a most unlikely pair. Nevertheless, it seemed to be a match made in…well, I’m not sure where the match was made…but it endured.
She unstrapped the six-shooter and never packed again. They were married in Comanche County on July 31st, 1872, farmed a little piece of ground, and had babies…in spite of the old cowpoke’s age. (Remind anybody of Abraham?) Let’s see, there were five…Bowie, John Thomas, Willie, Susan, and Mary Addie.
She passed down the Choctaw folklore of her people to her children who passed it down to their children and then on to the third generation…which included me.
Cynthia Anne Herndon Dooley was my great-grandmother.
