Page 144 - Tamale Ridge_113017

142 Tamale Ridge by: Chuck Cusimano

I thought about Juan, Gilberto, Claudia and the new arrival soon to come to Tamale Ridge as I

drifted off to sleep. Soon I had dreams of the beautiful, young, Señorita that I would once again

ask to be my wife.

I unloaded my horses and after eating a meal, crossed the Rio Grande and headed straight

toward Rancho Seco. I had already rehearsed what I was going to tell Francisco Guerra to

try and gain his approval for the hand of his daughter. I also spent a lot of time working on

something smooth I’d say to Rosemarie to try to convince her to come home with me. The

possibility of not bringing her back to New Mexico with me was a thought I didn’t want to think

about.

I rode the hot, dusty, desert trail toward the Alamocitos and watched the desert reptiles and

spiders, as they scattered out of my way. I was approaching the Alamocitos and thought about

how involved I was with this little spot. I first smelled and then spotted some smoke in the small

patch of cottonwoods and approached slowly.

You could never tell who, or what you could run into in a place such as this. It was the

equivalent to a desert oasis in Arabia. As such, it was the only water for a long way in either

direction and was known to nearly everyone who depended on it to survive in the desert.

I hollered to the camp both in Spanish and English before approaching. I knew this could save

my life, as no one wanted to be surprised, or sneaked up on.

“Entren con quidado,” came the reply, telling me to come in carefully.

“Gracias,” I said as I rode into the clearing.

The middle-aged man introduced himself as Ricardo Quintana, a cattle raiser near Coyame. We

sat and he offered to share his abundant meal with me. I could read sign pretty well and had

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