(THEME)
Sue Scott (ANNC): And now: The Lives of the Cowboys. Brought to you by Mojave detergent for on the trail. It contains more sand than any other laundry detergent. And now: The Lives of the Cowboys.
(THEME DOWN, HORSES SLOW WALK)
Tim Russell: I don't know how in blazes you and me ever wound up in Minnesota, Lefty, doing a dumb job like this. I mean, look at us.
Garrison Keillor: Just watch what you're doing, Dusty and don't let your horse step on em.
TR: We're cowboys, dang it. What if one of our pals from the Rocking R or the B-Bar-B should hear about this? You and me -- herding turtles.
GK: They're critters who started heading the wrong way, Dusty, and we gotta get em to the river bottom so they can hibernate in the mud before it freezes.
TR: Turtles! A herd of turtles!
GK: Heeyaw. (WHIP WHACK ON GROUND) Don't let em slow down.
TR: Slow down? If they were moving any slower, they'd be going backwards.
GK: We've made, I reckon, almost seventy-five yards today. We keep up this progress, they'll be in the mud by Tuesday or so. The river's right up yonder.
TR: It's just embarrassing, that's all. I'm gonna put on a mask, just so's nobody knows it's me.
GK: Fifty thousand turtles, Dusty, and they depend on us. A rare breed of painted turtle known as the Impressionist turtle because their markings are reminiscent of the painter Monnet.
TR: Who was Monnet?
GK: French guy.
TR: He ever paint turtles?
GK: I donno. Heeyaw. (WHIP WHACK) If we don't get em to the river bottoms they're liable to go extinct.
TR: Yeah? Well, welcome to the club.
GK: Oh oh. Who's this? Looks like a cowboy coming on a horse.
TR: Dang, I knew this was gonna happen.
Stephanie Davis (OFF): Hey! What you doing on this trail? These your turtles?
(GK, TR WHOAS....HORSE WHINNIES)
GK: Afternoon, ma'am. How's your day goin so far?
SD: Not so good. These your turtles, mister?
TR: What? -- Oh, my gosh, Lefty, look-- I thought they were small rocks and they're turtles!!!!
GK: This is our turtle herd, ma'am. Careful where your horse steps.
SD: This is a trail for cattle. I got a thousand head of cattle coming this way.
GK: Well, take em around.
SD: You go around. Turtles don't need a trail.
GK: These do. We gotta get em to the river bottom so they can dig down in the mud and hibernate before it freezes.
TR: In case you're wondering, ma'am, I'm not with him, I'm just riding along to keep him company.
SD: You move your livestock, mister, or you're gonna have turtle on the half-shell.
GK: You listen to me -- these are rare Impressionist turtles with markings reminiscent of the painter Monnet, and we're getting em to the river so as to preserve some beauty in the world.
SD: You mean Monet?
GK: No, I mean Monnet.
SD: The French painter?
GK: He was part French and part other things.
SD: Anyway, it's Monet, and I'm saying: move the herd. Unless you want two hundred pounds of turtle pate.
GK: Oh yeah?
SD: Yeah.
GK: Who says?
SD: I say. You ever hear of Calamity Jane?
TR: Yes, ma'am.
SD: I'm her daughter, Mishap Melissa. I'm the roughest rider in these parts and some of the other parts too. And you two don't look like cowboys at all. You look more like turtle herders.
GK: Well, we are cowboys, so don't make me get forceful with you.
SD: Then prove it. Let's see you rope and shoot and spit and whoop.
GK: You want me to rope, whoop, shoot, and spit?
SD: No, I want you to rope, shoot, whoop, and spit.
GK: That's what I said.
SD: No, you said, "rope, whoop, shoot, and spit," and what I need you to do is rope, shoot, whoop, and spit.
GK: Oh.
SD: You want me to write it down?
GK: Nope. I'd be happy to rope, shoot, whoop, and spit. But I don't want to stampede the turtles.
SD: (CLICK OF REVOLVER) Mr. Samuel Colt here says to rope, shoot, whoop, and spit.
(WHIRRING OF LASSO AND TOSS. GUNSHOT. GK WHOOP, HAWK AND SPIT AND DISTANT BIRD CRY)
GK: There. Satisfied?
SD: That was good. For a turtle herder. Okay-- your turn.
GK: Hey. I know you.
SD: You do? How?
GK: I saw you in Reno. You shot a man just to watch him die.
SD: That wasn 't in Reno. That was in Boise.
GK: Okay, you shot a man in Boise just to watch him die.
SD: I was in an outhouse. A two-holer. He reached over toward me and I plugged him and put him down the hole. And he didn't die, he just smelled like he did. --Okay, cowboy. Let's see you rope and spit and shoot and lasso. (TR WHOOP AND PIGEON FLURRY, GUNSHOTS, WHIRRING OF LASSO AND TOSS, HAWK AND SPIT). Not that bad. -- Did I ever date you? Somehow that spitting is familiar.
TR: I don't believe so. I never dated a tall woman. That's how come I got these back problems.
SD: Okay, but git these turtles moving, I need to come through with my herd. (GK, TR WHOOPS, WHIP CRACK)
(BRIDGE, AND FADE.....NIGHT SOUNDS....HORSE WHINNY)
(GUITAR STRUMMING)
TR (DREAMILY, RECLINING, HANDS BEHIND HEAD): Thank goodness we got done with them turtles. Three weeks on the trail at a slow walk. So where do we go from here, Lefty?
GK: I donno. Abilene.
TR: Last time we were there women treated us mean.
GK: Could go to Denver.
TR: You want to go back west.
GK: Not really. You want to stay here?
TR: Not really. You?
GK: Maybe.
TR: What for?
GK: People.
TR: What you need that for? We became cowboys cause we were sicka people.
GK: Not so interested in people plural as a person singular.
TR: Who?
GK: Don't know until I find her.
GK: (SINGS, MOONLIGHT ON THE COLORADO)
Cars along the highway to Wisconsin
Cars are heading down to Iowa.
Foreign cars with white wine and croissants in
Women magnifique and enchantee
Fall is in the air,
Wine and Camembert
And perfume strong enough to wake up the bears.
I imagine you are at the theater
Seeing La Boheme or maybe Faust.
I'm lying on the ground without a heater,
Drinking rocknrye and getting soused.
You are so chic
A walking boutique
I take one look and forget how to speak
Riding down the trail and herding turtles
How I wish that you were here with me.
You live in St. Paul
The belle of the ball
And I'm an old cowboy who sleeps in a stall.
Sitting by the river in the evening
How I wish that you were here with me.
TR: Well, time for me to turn in, pardner. Thanks for not yodeling.
GK: Mind if I yodel just a little.
TR: Is it necessary?
GK: It's how a man communicates a deep unspeakable need.
TR: Okay. One yodel.
GK: (YODELS) (FOOTSTEPS APPROACH IN GRAVEL)
SD: Somebody calling for me?
GK: Goodnight, Dusty.
TR: Who said I was going to bed now?
GK: Goodnight, Dusty. -- Come on, darling. Let's go for a walk. Let me tell you about the breeding habits of the Impressionist turtle.
SD: Okay, but I got my pistol.
GK: Good. Glad to hear it.
(THEME)
SS (ANNC): The Lives of the Cowboys. Brought to you by River Bottom long underwear, woven from moss. River Bottom-- you'll be glad you gottom.