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101 Tamale Ridge by: Chuck Cusimano

“Well, yes sir,” said Walt, “I do own a strawberry roan, why?”

“I was just wondering where you got him and who raised him,” I said.

“I bought him from a man over at Capulin, New Mexico. A man named Hernandez,” Walt

said.

“I don’t know for sure but I think he raised him off of a mare they had and the stud belongs

to a man named Johnson.” The hair stood up on the back of my neck

“I’d like to see the horse,” I said. “Jim told me he’s a looker.”

“I’m camped over in the trees north a half of a mile,” he said, “Come look all you want.”

We all got up and went right then to see the horse.

I could tell that this horse was of the Tamale bloodline… No mistake about it.

The rodeo was over and both Big Jim and I came away with some of the prize money. Billy

Watkins was one mad young man. He could have won the bronc riding easily with the horse

they drew for him. Billy was drunk and didn’t make it two jumps before he was wadded up and

spilled onto the rodeo floor. I had a good bronc and wasn’t drunk or even drinking so I took the

top money that day. It was a little respite from the ranch but I was ready to go home to Tamale

Ridge and so were my two companions.

My mind was on the strawberry roan that the man known as Walt was riding. I was willing to

bet a hundred dollars that Tamale was the roan’s sire. Walt won the calf roping on that horse. I

heard several comments about the run. Everyone was impressed with the speed and the grace

the horse had.

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