Yes she can, and she will!

I been spendin' a lotta time with Koko. Well, actually, she been spendin' lotsa time with me and the chickens. She's sweet with them birds—helps to gather the eggs from the hens in the mornin', comes around after her lessons with Maybelle Worts or workin' with Lucky Lucy to look at the baby chicks in the hatchery, and she helps me get my star cluckers ready for productions of "Romeo and Juliet." Koko is delicate gentle with my birds, as she is with most things. She pays close attention to folks, observin' them and such, and marks things down in her mind. She's blessed peaceful to be 'round. Not the kind a child you have to constantly eyeball, like her brother, Jacy (bless his heart), but the kind you watch outa pure wonder at the magic they is to the world. Which makes me wanna protect her all the more just in case some owlhoot comes around wants to scoop her up and do her wrong or break her spirit.

Koko and Jacy lost just 'bout everything in the twister that destroyed their home—came here with nothin' but a little family and a lotta love. So while Johnny has made it his personal quest to make Jacy have all he needs as a young man, I've done my best to make sure she gets what she needs.

So, Sunday afternoon, Koko and I gots ourselves all gussied up for a gal's day in town. We went walkin' along the square, takin' in all the autumn shop windows full of delightful things. Stopped in at Annie Layfaette's cafe for spiced cider and apple pie. Went and bought her a whole buncha new dresses, and denims, and shirts and such. Little footed longjohns and flannel night dresses and shoes and socks and purty little knickers with the days o' the week embroidered on 'em. By the end of the day, we was plum tuckered out and draggin' our feet when we passed by Miss Emma Tree's Fancy Doll Emporium.

It was closed up for the night, but there in the window was a wondrous collection of beautiful baby dolls, and lady dolls, and fairy dolls. Dolls what wetted themselves or talked in every possible language. Dolls who had magic hair that grew short to long, changed color from raven to flaxen, or curled up from bein' straight.

But there twere one doll in that window that lit up Koko's eyes like the Fourth o' July: an American Girl Addy doll all in a pink striped dress, and black stockings, and sweet little boots—a black young lady doll with golden earrings and blue ribbon in her hair. Koko just had the look o' love that filled me with a wantin' to please her.

Now, I like kids—don't have none o' my own, but I sure do like 'em. Nature's seen fit to limit my inner workings to form without function, and my lifestyle (up to the time I landed on the ranch) ain't permitin' for the kinda care a yougin deserves. I ain't never had no ideas 'bout bein' a mama neither. But that don't keep me from lovin' youngins. Like I've always said: I don't got no plans for ownin' an elephant, but the baby ones sure is cute. So I's gotta say that little Koko has done stolen my heart away somethin' fierce, and I wanted nothin' more for Koko—who'd lost all her toys in the twister—than to have that there doll.

So, yesterday afternoon I headed back into town and paid a visit to Miss Emma Tree's Fancy Doll Emporium, but when I got there, I was faced with quite a site: a buncha folks in a tizzy, holdin' signs and a screamin' and keepin' the good and peaceful town folk and their yougins' from enterin' Miss Emma's without a fightin' and a scratchin'. But I'm Concha Loca, and there ain't no crowd of crazy folk gonna keep me from Sweet ol' Emma's place o' business. One good crack o' my whip and a set look in my eye, and them folks parted for me sure as the Red Sea parted for Moses.

Once inside, I found Miss Emma a cryin' in the back o' her shop, cowerin' like a cornered critter. I got her seated in a chair and brought her a glass o' water and calmed her some (wish I had some o' the Chief's bear piss tea), and asked her what all the fuss was about. All she could manage to do was point at a couple of sheets o' paper on the floor—somethin' printed out from the Internet.

It was a little story by a Mrs. Elizabeth Foss who writes for the Catholic Herald.

Every night, when I put my daughters to sleep, I snuggle next to them under the pink, rose-festooned canopy over their bed. We talk about all sorts of things and I stay until they drift off. During the quiet time before the blanket of sleep envelopes my little girls, I gaze through the semi-darkness at the dolls on the shelves opposite the bed. The dolls are lined up after a day of play, a beautiful, tangible testimony to the innocence of girlhood...They are American Girl dolls and they are an integral part of feminine childhood in our home.

Seems she and her husband has spent lots o' greenbacks (these dolls ain't cheap, and they come with all manner of pricey dresses and dolly toys that will cost a body more than a months salary) loadin' their daughters' shelves with these dollies. But she come to find out that the folks at American Girl is givin' some of the money they's make off the sale of an "I Can" wristband to Girls Inc.

Now, I know somethin' 'bout Girls Inc. 'cause they helped several of our cowgirls at the Stinkhorn make somethin' o' themselves when the world and life tried to tell 'em they tweren't nothin' special. Girls Inc. is a 141-year-old national nonprofit organization that sponsors educational and empowerment programs for gals, and wants gals "to be strong, smart and bold." The folks at Girls Inc. says that the "I Can" initiative supports three specific Girls Inc. programs—building girls' skills in science and math, developing leadership skills, and encouraging athletic skills and team spirit.

Since 1992, they's given over $1.8 million in college scholarships and have done all they could to help work on laws that prevent violence against gals.

I kept a readin' Mrs. Foss' purty little tale and come to find out the she and a handful o' "Godly" busy-bodies got their knickers in a bunch 'bout Girls Inc. 'cause despite all the other things the organization does to help gal youngins, Girls Inc. also supports a gal's right to choose, a gals right to get birth control, and a gal's right to pick her life pardner. Mrs. Foss even lies to you all sayin' things like the Girls Inc. web site don't have nothin' "suitable for girls" on it. She's all hepped up 'bout her little gals holdin' baby dolls on they's little laps, learnin' to be mommies, a thinkin' that Girls Inc. is bad because they make sure young gals don't gey real babies they can't love or care fer 'cause they don't have rich mamas and papas that can fill their shelves with expensive dolls.

Sorta like the baby gal Koko was 'fore the Chief 'n Daisy adopted her.

I'm gonna say somethin' that might seem ugly to ya, but I frankly don't give a hoot if you'ins don't have the mind to make sense of it. No child should have to have the life that Koko and Jacy had 'fore the Chief and Daisy came along and gave 'em a family. Koko and Jacy are lucky and blessed, but there is plenty more youngins out there waitin' for a family they ain't never gonna get, or livin' in a household that don't bring 'em no future. They's gals out there who come from homes with just one mama who is a gonna make more homes with just one mama. They's gals out there that need folks 'round them to tell them they's special. That they shouldn't take no guff from no one. That they can get themselves to college and get themselves a good job and raise they's kids in a house full o' love, no matter the number o' dolls on the shelf. And that's the kinda good work Girls Inc. does. It's probably the kinda work Mrs. Foss does fer her own little gals, 'cause she's lucky and blessed enough to have the sorta life that other gals don't.

Far as I can tell, Mrs. Foss, you been spendin' all your greenbacks on expensive dolls fer yer own little gals. So, I don't see the good in a worryin' 'bout folks not bringin' youngins into the world ifin you ain't out there doin' all ya can to helps the ones that is already here. And 'fore you go tossin' out all them fancy dolls and they's fancy doll clothes and books, maybe think about all the little gals out there that ain't got no dolls at all.

***

Last night, I tucked little Koko into my bed (we wuz havin' ourselves a little slumber party). She was wearin' her new little pink nightdress with the purple stars on it. Her hair all picked out in that fine little afro she like to wear, and she was clingin' to her brand new American Girl Addy doll. I sat on the edge of the bed to begin to read her the winner of a 1994 International Reading Association Children’s Choice Award and a 1994 Children’s Book Council Children’s Choice Award, Meet Addy, by Connie Porter. It tells the story of nine-year-old Addy Walker and her mama livin' in slave days, escapin' from the plantation they live on. It's a sad story so far, and a little scary, but nothin' I don't think Koko shouldn't be allowed to hear. She's a smart gal, Koko is.

And once't I was done readin', once't little Koko had drifted off to her dreams (I can only hope they's happy dreams), once't I'd kissed her on her pretty little cheek and let the Chief and Daisy look in on her too (they is such proud papas), I went online to the American Girl site to order Koko an "I Can" wristband. 'Cause I don't rightly think I want the Mrs. Foss' of this world ever tellin' our little Koko she can't.