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166 Tamale Ridge by: Chuck Cusimano

The sheriff offered to give me a ride back to the hotel but I told him I would stay the rest of

the night. He said he would go by and tell Rosemarie that I was okay and that I would see her in

the morning.

I sat and held Uncle Robert’s hand until just before daylight and watched him come in and out

of consciousness. He died at five after three in his sleep. I didn’t weep for him right then. I felt

the loss but the tears didn’t come. I made arrangements with the doctor to get the funeral plans

going and told him I’d pay the costs. The doctor agreed to see to the plans and we could have

the funeral in three days. I told him I’d be back in town for it. I told him I would bring the

pallbearers.

I wanted to be alone so I walked back to the hotel and found Rosemarie awake and glad to see

me. It was just past four thirty in the morning.

“Gid!” she exclaimed, “I could not sleep not knowing what you were doing.”

I told her the entire story and after Olivia was ready, we went down to the café and ate an early

breakfast.

It was no easy task to get all our horses ready and on the road but we finally got all our

baggage loaded and strapped on to a couple of horses that could be trusted to act as pack

animals.

The sun was shining already but we were on our way. We’d get home about two in the

afternoon, still early enough to see the place. I told Rosemarie and Olivia that we would have a

bunch of colts and fillies on the ground and could by now, even have a new baby.

“Gilberto and Claudia will have made you an aunt by now,” I told Olivia in Spanish.

“I’m looking for seeing heem,” she said in English.

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