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124 Tamale Ridge by: Chuck Cusimano

We all three rode to the ranch on Trinchera Pass together. We found the place by asking

questions. When we rode into the ranch yard, a tall mustachioed, man in his seventies came out

of the rock house. He walked with a cane and he looked like he wasn’t in the best of health.

I said, “Howdy, are you Mr. Johnson?”

“That’s right, young fella. What do you men want?”

“We came to see a man about a horse,” Gilberto said.

“I reckon I could sell you a horse, or two, or three. How about, one for each of you gents?”

He asked.

“We’re only interested in one horse.” I said.

“What horse would that be mister?” He asked.

“We came to buy “Tamale,” I said.

“You must be at the wrong ranch mister,” he said. “There ain’t no horse on this ranch named

that.”

“I think you been callin’ him Alamo for so long, you must have forgot his real name”, I said.

“I got a stud named Alamo, alright but he ain’t for sale.”

When he saw the cash money start coming out of our pockets, the horse became “for sale”. We

ended up paying nine hundred dollars cash for Tamale and we took him home.

Tamale was still a good looking horse. He had held his age well and although no one had

ridden him for quite a few years, he appeared to be in good shape and fit. I’m not sure but, I

think he recognized Juan and I noticed Juan got quite emotional to see his old friend. Tamale

wasn’t as conditioned as our mounts so we took it easy getting back to Tamale Ridge. I felt like

a burden had been lifted from my shoulders when we finally put Tamale in his corral. I was sure

Uncle Trent was smiling down on me.

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