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133 Tamale Ridge by: Chuck Cusimano

Gilberto and Juan had all come up with. They were going to charge people to bring their mares

to be bred to Tamale, for a price. They already had contacts willing to pay as much as $20.00 to

breed to the Stallion.

Gid was trying to keep records of all his foals and he would continue to do so with the outside

mares. Gid was a very smart man and getting better at keeping the records on the mares and

their foals.

Gid told Jim the last time he’d stayed with him that he believed someday to be able to go back

five or more generations and show the breeding of any foal that he ever raised. It sounded a little

far-fetched to Jim and what difference could it make? Who cared what mare was the mother of

any colt? Unless, Jim thought, that the mare was a daughter of Tamale.

Slowly as Jim rode, he began to see the advantage of knowing and being able to prove the family

tree of the horses. People were already doing just that in a small way.

He rode to Newberry and got down in front of the towns’ only café. That little gal that

worked here always had been an interest to him. He remembered the clean smell, like fresh

lilacs that she always had, when she came to his table. His last meal was several hours ago and

he could use some pie and coffee. He tied his blue horse to the rail and his other horse’s rein, he

draped over the saddle horn. He entered the restaurant and sat down at a small round table with

the blue and white checked tablecloth. He waited for the girl known as Lucy, to come take his

order. She was busy with other customers at the present time. He was still waiting when Billy

Watkins pushed the door open and stood at the open door staring at him.

The town lights of Las Vegas shone from a distance, as the train slowed and almost came to a

stop. I waited until several people got off and made their way to the platform in front of the

depot. I sat there only a few minutes and gathered my war bag and rifle and headed to the café

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