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127 Tamale Ridge by: Chuck Cusimano

going under again. His thoughts were that if he had another chance to be a better person, he

would be kinder to his sister and a better, more appreciative son to his father.

He had been working his hands to try to get free of the sappling. In one instance, the roots

became entangled in some sort of snag under the water. He held his breath until he was sure his

lungs would explode. He was hoping with all his heart that his prayers and promises were

working. He was sure he felt the wetted rawhide binds stretching a little. Finally, the rawhide

binds were loosened and he surfaced. He’d been under water as long as he could hold his breath

and as he surfaced, he gulped desperately for air. He swallowed some water with his gasping

and he started coughing to clear his airways.

The stump of an old tree, worked loose by years and many floods before this, came loose

further up the draw, as the erosion took its toll. The stump picked up speed as the rushing water

hurled it rolling with the angry water. Ramon had just got most of the water coughed out of his

lungs, when the stump hit him and delivered him unconscious. Knocked out, he rolled away

with the flood.

Raul stood in the small overhang, until the rain slowed and he made the decision to go ahead

and look for Ramon. If he got wet, doing so, it would not be the first time he’d gotten wet. He

rode within twenty-five yards of Ramon and didn’t know it. He rode by while the tree held the

boy down in the flood. Raul rode in the direction of the cattle and his beloved Patron. He

wondered how Francisco was doing. Was he still alive? Was the man he thought of as a father

dead? He would look for Ramon and he would keep his course in the direction of the round-up

camp. He rode through the night, calling for the boy as the weather turned cold. He was wet

from the rains, colder than usual and he had no coat or jacket with him. He shivered as he rode

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