Don’t Forget the Turkey!

I’m writing a historical novel set in New Mexico, in the 1870s. In an early chapter, my protagonist, Catriona, goes to a dance. Except in that time and place, it was known as a baile. It’s a common term in the southwest, describing a social gathering where people dance.

For a writer, a social gathering is a great way to set the scene and give it the flavor of the times and the place. It advances the plot and allows me to give my characters more depth and substance. Throw all these people into a social gathering and describe their interactions—it’s a great writer’s tool.

Catriona is the daughter of an army officer from a nearby fort. She’s accompanied to the baile by her father and another officer and his wife. Newly arrived in the area, she’s looking forward to the social event, her first in her new home. I describe her anticipation of a pleasant evening, the clothes that she and others are wearing, the venue where the baile is held, the refreshments, and so on.

Her first dance—a schottische—is with her father. From then on, she has many dance partners, as the locals spin around the floor—the waltz, the polka, square dances, accompanied by guitars and fiddles. In the interest of research, I went looking for examples of dances that were popular in the mid- to late nineteenth century and found Dance Through Time, which is on YouTube. This interesting channel provides descriptions and videos of various dances. In addition to those dances listed above, there were others, such as the galop and the mazurka. This is a terrific source for writers who set their stories in any decade. You can check it out at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gr2JrloB7pc.

Writing the chapter was a great deal of fun, especially one scene. Catriona has already danced—twice—with an earnest second lieutenant from the fort who keeps stepping on her feet. She’s trying to avoid a third session when:

A voice at my right said, “You promised me this dance.”

I turned my head and looked at my rescuer. He was a young man, about my age and a few inches taller, with even features and a head of sandy-colored hair. His slender form was dressed in clean brown pants and a blue shirt. A spark of merriment lit his blue eyes and when he smiled at me, I saw two prominent front teeth. He held out his left hand and I took it. Then he led me onto the dance floor, leaving the disappointed lieutenant standing alone.

“You looked like you needed rescuing from that fellow,” he said with a smile. “I saw him dancing with you earlier. It appears he stepped on your feet a time or two.”

“More than a time or two,” I said. “I fear the lieutenant isn’t much of a dancer. But he’s persistent. My name is Catriona MacNeill, by the way.”

 “Glad to know you, Miss MacNeill. They call me Billy. Billy Bonney.” The band began to play a square dance. “Ah, ‘Turkey in the Straw,’ one of my favorites.”

And that, dear readers, is how Catriona meets Billy the Kid.

How do I know “Turkey in the Straw” was one of the Kid’s favorites? Research, of course. That’s what we writers do, diving down various rabbit holes, including this one. There are a number of sources that say Billy loved dancing and was a skilled and popular partner for the young ladies at many bailes. In 1928, one of Billy’s compadres, Frank Coe, was interviewed by historian J. Evetts Haley. According to Frank, who played fiddle at many bailes, Billy was “a mighty nice dancer and what you call a ladies’ man . . . The Kid danced waltzes, polkas and squares.”

Frank added that Billy would often call out to the musicians, telling them, “don’t forget the gallina.” Which is Spanish for turkey.