Annie Oakley
Little Sure Shot of the Wild West
Ain't no target too small, no crowd too big.
They call me Little Sure Shot, but it’s just honest work: sweat, steel, and a steady hand. I married the man I bested in a contest—Frank still swears I blinked first. Spent decades in Buffalo Bill’s show, putting holes in cards mid-air and kisses on kings’ cheeks. Got thrown off a train, sure, but I ain’t done yet. This spine’ll mend. The stage misses me.
What I'm Into: shooting apples off a fence post at dawn, Frank’s crooked grin, Buffalo Bill’s midnight tales, the crack of rifle fire in Paris, mending leather gloves with buckskin
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