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115 Tamale Ridge by: Chuck Cusimano

“Señor, Paco is dead. I’m sure,” Raul said.

“Carlos and Vincente are sheltered behind the rocks.”

Just then a bullet ricocheted off of the rock in front of Vincente. Vincente returned the fire. He

shot up into the buck brush above them. When Raul looked at his patron, he could tell that

Guerra was loosing a lot of blood. He feared for the man who had taken him in several years

ago and made a place in the world for him.

Some of the men thought Francisco to be harsh. Even on the border of being cruel but Raul

saw him as someone great. Those men, who knew Raul, also knew to keep their thoughts to

themselves.

Another shot from Vincentes rifle brought Raul back to the present situation.

Raul saw a form moving from where Vincentes shot scattered dirt. Raul snapped a quick shot

and saw the man fall to the ground and start slipping from the lip of the rim above them. Two

minutes passed before hoof beats were heard in the distance, fading from earshot.

“I think they are gone, Señor.” Raul said to his Patron.

He stood up slowly, searching the area with a sharp eye. He crouched running from one rock to

the other and made his way to the downed man he shot at. The man was dying. He looked into

the face of the gunman and watched as the man’s eyes glazed over with death..

He had killed a few men and he had killed many coyotes. Sometimes it was hard to distinguish

a man from a coyote. This was one of those times.

This man, who he did not recognize, would be left in the Sun for the coyotes, after his pockets

were emptied. He would not need to spend the few Pesos’ that were found in his pockets.

There was nothing else on the man of use to Raul. He went back to see about Francisco.

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