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130 Tamale Ridge by: Chuck Cusimano

him. He drifted back into the world of the unknown. It would be days before he would wake up

again. Only then would he learn about the isolated tribe of Indians that picked him up from the

edge of the flooding water and carried him to safety. He didn’t know at this time, that someone

cleaned the bad head wound, fed him and revived him from the near death that almost claimed

him. It would be days before he would see the face of the young girl that tended to him day and

night.

The young girl, Ya-nee-jua, was the granddaughter of the medicine man. Her grandfather

looked in on the boy from time to time but it was the girl who kept vigilance over the

unconscious young man. She was responsible for him being here.

She was with the women gathering wood for the cooking fires, when she spotted the form of the

young man. She alerted the men, who were hunting for food. They carried Ramon to the mobile

camp. She was fifteen years old and if she could not find a suitable mate soon, she would be

given to the one who could make the best offer to her family. That was the way of it. Her

people were a poor people and survival was not easy. There were other tribes who would deal

out much misery and death to her tribe, if given the chance. She didn’t want to be taken by a

man from a tribe like that. That wasn’t the only reason she worked to save this young man, she

had been born with compassion for anything sick, wounded, or hurt in anyway. The more she

attended this unconscious young man, the more compassion and love she felt for him. She didn’t

really know what love was but she felt a special bond with him. When he would open his eyes,

even a small slit, she would coo over him and try to get some of the broth down his throat. He

had lain there for two full days and part of the day before. Her mother would see to the boy,

when the girl was called away by nature and for a short period of each day as sleep claimed the

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