A/N: Takes place before the movie "Rustler's Rhapsody".

Rescue, Repeat

Maureen O'Herlihan sat at her writing desk as a horse-drawn trolley car rolled by outside her window. The clop clop clop of the draft horse could only remind her of her son Rex, now nearly two years gone from his family and friends in St. Louis; with bright eyes and a spring in his step he left to seek his life's calling as a cowboy. On the desk, bound in ribbon, was a bundle of letters that he had written during his travels out west.

She had cried the day he waved goodbye, riding his horse Wildfire while the mule Isabelle pulled the wagon. The west was a dangerous place, and after a childhood of boarding schools and tutoring she thought he would have settled down into a life as a businessman, or perhaps gone on into the medical profession. She should have known that his finely honed shooting skills, his precision riding of the polo ponies, and interest in the geography of the western United States were strong indicators of where his heart lay.

The letters painted a picture of a west unimagined by her son.

My Dearest Mother: It has been a busy week and I've only now found the time to write my first letter from my travels. My first stop on my journey was in a small town called Prairie Lakeview. It looked like a nice town, but as it turns out a local cattle baron by the name of Captain Carne ran the town behind the scenes and was trying to run some poor homesteaders off their land before the railroad came through. The only single women were entertainers in a local theater that also sold alcoholic beverages. I helped the locals regain independence from the baron, but the town is not for me. I will write more when I settle down in the next town. Your son, Rex. P.S. - I'm glad I decided to play guitar and not piano, as the keyboard wouldn't fit in the wagon.

After the first letter arrived, when people would ask Maureen how her son was doing she would tell them that he was seeing beautiful country and meeting interesting people but wasn't ready to settle down yet. He was eating well and told everyone back home 'hello'. In a few weeks the second letter arrived.

My Dearest Mother: I've just now been able to settle down long enough to write a letter. The town of River Villas is beautiful, if a bit spartan. I'm sure in years to come the streets will be paved and more amenities will come, but it's only the 1880's so these things take time; New York City wasn't built in a day! I'm sure the town will thrive now that I've run off the greedy cattle rancher that was trampling some poor farmers' crops with his cattle to run them out of town. Please tell Father Flanigan that I only shoot people in the hands, and still hold life sacred. I've had my first taste of gin when the local theater and saloon ran out of milk. I still haven't found any paying work or my place yet, but I'm writing songs and still looking for a potential wife. I met a lovely girl who turned out to be Boss Turner's daughter; he was the cattleman I ran out of town. Unfortunately his daughter left with him before we could start dating. This should be a busy town when the railroad comes through; for now I'll have to ride to the next town. Your son, Rex. P.S. - tell my sister Pauline hello for me.

Maureen was pleased Father Flanigan understood Rex's use of a gun, and applauded his restraint in it's aim; he is a worldly man who has actually been to Kansas City. Maybe the Father would be willing to officiate a future wedding if it was held back in St. Louis. The third letter didn't hold much hope for a wedding, however.

My Dearest Mother: It's amazing how fast time passes when you're busy. Pigeon's Nest turned out to be more of a hornet's nest of bad guys. The local cattle master's herd was made entirely of stolen cows! Don't worry, I didn't get hurt but would you happen to know how to remove blood stains from a shirt? Please send answer and $400 to the Wells Fargo Bank here soonest. Your son, Rex the cowboy. P.S. - these theater girls sure are popular in these parts. And I haven't met a cowboy yet who dresses like me out here; they have no pride in their appearance but maybe this will change when the railroad comes in and brings real stores.

Now friends and neighbors heard how Rex was busy, acting in some sort of law enforcement capacity. No, he was meeting a lot of girls but hadn't found the right one yet. She no longer read them the letters out loud.

My Dearest Mother: Please tell Mr. Cord I apologize for the loss of the guitar he gave me. There was a fight with some cattle men that resulted in the demolition of said instrument over someone's head shortly after I sang to the daughter of the local cattle rancher, a man named General Martin who was trying to block the railroad from entering Rose Petal. The damage happened during the big showdown, which always seems to come about a week after I first enter town and start putting the bullies in their place. I managed to use one of my backup guitars to serenade the general before the marshal removed him from the corrupt sheriff's jail cell. It turns out his intention of blocking the railroad was just a ruse, and in fact he was in a partnership with some of the line's officials along with the local sheriff. Your instructions for stain removal and financial assistance are greatly appreciated. I'm beginning to find it a bit odd that the towns I visit always seem to need my help. I'm sure the next one has to be different; maybe for once the bad guy will be poor and the victimized citizens will be rich. Your son, Rex the Guitar Cowboy.

Maureen now started avoiding having any beef for meals at home; if the system was this corrupt then supporting it would be tantamount to siding against her son. It was too bad, she had such a nice recipe for beefsteak too. As she went on about the evils of the beef industry during visiting, fewer people asked how her son was doing.

My Dearest Mother: Enclosed please find the sheet music for four songs I've written, including my theme song I've finally finished. Please forward them to our family lawyer for purposes of copyright protection. Paradise Gulch proved to be just like the other towns, except this town's saloon also had a barbershop operating inside of it. I can now drink a gin without coughing, but still prefer sarsaparilla when milk isn't available. I'm starting to see a pattern in these towns, although sometimes there are small differences like the blacksmith is left-handed or the newspaper editor is from Boston instead of Philadelphia. And even though their self-appointed titles may change, the big cattle rancher always seems to be evil and greedy. Oddly enough in all my travels I haven't seen a single Indian or person of color, even here in Berry Grove; I can only assume they have their own towns that I haven't found yet. Please send $300 for new guitar strings and buckle polish. Your son, Rex O'Herlihan the Singing Cowboy. P.S. - just once I'd like to see a town named for something that was actually nearby.

Having a son that was published was quite an accomplishment, even if it was for music and not a book. And at least the tunes were quite catchy. The following letters read much the same as he traveled from town to town as the months turned into years. She read the latest letter to arrive.

My Dearest Mother: I don't think Oakwood Estates is going to be any different. Corrupt sheriff, railroad coming through, and a power-mad cattleman by the name of Colonel Ticonderoga, who just happens to have a beautiful daughter and a large contingent of cowardly henchmen. This time it's innocent poor sheepherders that are being threatened. But I did meet my first town drunk today; Peter was the first original thing I've run across in ages. I should be ambushed pretty soon by the bad guys, so I better get my rest. In the meantime, due to a broken wagon wheel please send $1000 for supplies and travel. Thanking you in advance, your son Rex O'Hurlihan the Singing Cowboy. P.S. - perhaps I've been too busy to notice, but I don't recall it ever raining since I've left St. Louis.

Saving the west is expensive business, Maureen thought as she walked towards the bank to arrange a money transfer. I sure hope he settles down one day.

The End

A/N: For my money perhaps one of the best western parodies made; I don't count Blazing Saddles because I consider it a comedy on race relations despite its setting. But much like Last Action Hero, RR was a genre parody that was underappreciated and one I wouldn't have seen except for the recommendation of a work colleague. But as much as it focused on Rex and his life, there must have been a home that he left because he writes his mother for money in the movie...