The word chaps is a shortened word for chaparajos
or chaparellas, Mexican or Spanish words for this garment, ultimately
derived from the Spanish word chaparello. They are pronounced “SHAPS” by
Western riders and “CHAPS” by English riders.
The earliest form of protective leather garment worn
used by riders who herded cattle in Spain and Mexico were called armas
which meant shields.
Style variations adapted as vaqueros, and later,
cowboys, moved up from Mexico into the Pacific coast and northern Rockies of
what is today the United States and Canada. Mountain men also copied leather
leggings worn by Native Americans.
There are several variations:
Armitas: short legging with completely closed legs that have to be
put on in a manner similar to pants.
Batwing: cut wide with a
flare at the bottom.
Chinks: half-length
chaps that stop 2-4 inches below the knee with long fringe at the bottom and
along the sides.
Shotgun: as the name
implies, straight legged.
Woolies are a variation on shotgun chaps, made with fleece,
angora or with hair-on cowhide, often lined with canvas on the inside.
Zamorros: resemble
batwings but the leggings extend far beyond the boot with a distinctive flare.
Like old western counterparts, modern day cowboys
still wear all forms of chaps and chinks to protect their legs from livestock,
weather and brush. The flashiest chaps will be seen at horse shows and in rodeo
arenas. Farriers use them to protect their legs when shoeing horses.
Non-equestrian users include motorcycle riders, loggers and some are popular in
BDSM culture.
My pop L wears batwings, and his friend Jim R wears chinks.
From Lily’s Summer Cowboy:
A
man sat on the rocking chair, spinning a white Stetson on the toe of one of his
boots. A striped western shirt hung open over a grey t-shirt snugged against a
flat belly and faded Wranglers pulled over taut thighs.
This
was Maggie’s grandson?
Lily
swallowed and swiped her palms down her jeans, realizing for the first time how
she must look in a dust stained tank top and jeans, her hair in tangled
ponytail pulled through the back of a ball cap. “Hello.”
A
smile lit up his darkly tanned face. “Howdy.”
“I—uh,
I’m Lily.” She stood on her own steps, unsure how to proceed. “You’re Maggie’s
grandson?”
“Yes,
ma’am.” He stood and held out his hand. “Will Wainwright.”
“Nice
to meet you.” She took his hand and jolt of awareness went through her. Dark
brown hair, blue eyes that reminded her of ta summer sky. Chiseled cheekbones. Wow.
Maggie
had led her to believe her grandson was a teenager. This man was no teen.
Probably around twenty-five. A man. About a decade younger than Lily.
“I’m
sure sorry about your husband,” he said. “Gran told me what happened.”
“Thank
you.” This guy had probably never been touched by tragedy in his life. Suddenly
she felt ancient. “Would you like iced tea?”
“Sounds
good.” His husky voice raked over her nerves.
“Come
in, please.” Lily stepped by him and caught a whiff of his cologne. Woodsy,
leathery. Manly.
In
contrast, she needed a shower.
He
followed her into the house and Lily cringed a little. Never a great
housekeeper, during the growing season she barely had time to dust, much less
do a thorough cleaning. She led the way into the kitchen and grabbed two
glasses from the drainer and a pitcher of tea from the fridge. After pouring
them both a glass she took a seat at the kitchen table. He took off his Stetson
and placed it next to his right elbow.
They
both sipped, and for a minute Lily let herself enjoy the company of a man. The
house had been so empty since Jeff’s passing. She coughed on her tea. What?
Whoa! Will might be a man, but a very young one.
“You
okay?” Will grabbed her arm. “You need me to do a Heimlich?”
“I’m
all right,” she managed. “Just went down the wrong way.”
“I
hate when that happens.” His eyes crinkled at the corners and he released her
arm.
Lily’s
stomach did a little flip at that smile. God, he could be on the cover of a
magazine. What was wrong with her? Why was she getting all twisted up inside at
the sight of a pretty man? He was young enough to be her baby. Well, baby
brother anyway. Certainly not someone to get all googley-eyed over. Jeff hadn’t
been gone that long. She hadn’t even considered another man before now. Not the
right time to start.
Available:
about the AUTHOR
Falling in love with romance novels the summer before sixth grade,
D’Ann Lindun never thought about writing one until many years later when she
took a how-to class at her local college. She was hooked! She began writing and
never looked back. Sixty+ manuscripts and numerous awards later, she is an
Amazon bestseller! Romance appeals to D’Ann because there's just something so
satisfying about writing a book guaranteed to have a happy ending. Her
particular favorites usually feature cowboys and the women who love them.
D’Ann loves to hear from readers! Please contact her at:
https://www.facebook.com/DLindunAuthor
Street team—D’Ann’s
Country Girls : https://www.facebook.com/groups/838870409506195/
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