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27 Tamale Ridge by: Chuck Cusimano

“But you still made the ride and you still won me the bet!”

Jim reminded me of the incident:

Jim and I were still in Vera Cruz, Mexico to help keep the peace and we got to talking to

another Marine when the subject came up about riding bad horses that bucked. This other feller

grew up in Montana and bragged up a pretty good story about how he could ride anything that

wore it's hair on the outside. Jim had seen me ride a couple of broncs since we’d been together

and made a bet that I could ride one better, prettier and longer than Montana. There were some

horses and mules in our outfit and one particular outlaw that they gave up on ever training him

for anything except to pull cannons with. We called him “Rattler” cause he was as mean as a

snake. He was dangerous on the ground and real bad to paw you, or kick you, if he saw the

chance. The only saddles we could get our hands on, were them old McClellens that the U.S.

Cavalry used to ride so, that’s what I used.

We got ol’Rattler forefooted and knocked down long enough to get the wood on him and I

jumped on while he was getting up. He come close to getting me at first but I found that right

sturrip and I recon I rode him pretty handy. Montana paid off the bet and said he didn’t even

want to try to ride him. We all wound up in a little cantina. That was where we then saw an

American saddle.

There was a real good looking horse tied to the rail outside the joint and he wore a Texas rig.

We saw an older gent setting at the bar with a pretty Señorita and they were lost in conversation.

The feller looked to be a white man but he was sure brown from the sun. They barely noticed us

as we came in.

We stayed to ourselves and enjoyed a few drinks. Ole Montana drank a lot. I guess he figured

since he had to furnish the money, he might as well get his share. We heard a Mexican feller

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