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35 Tamale Ridge by: Chuck Cusimano

around. Where had I seen this horse before? I went back in the cabin and poured a fresh cup of

coffee for Juan.

“Here you go old timer,” I said as I handed him the steaming cup.

“Gracias Señor. I cold!” he said.

“What are you doin’ ridin’ around in this kind of weather?” I asked.

“I no was cold when I leave Mexico Señor. It no start snoween till I get to Santa Fe,” he

said.

He drank the coffee and I poured another for us both and he started taking off his heavy coat.

“Señor? Ju see the lleguas, the Señorita che send you?” he asked.

“Yes, what’s the deal? Her papa will want to kill me now for sure!” I stated.

“Che, La Señorita, che want ju to take the mares and if ju want pay somtink, ju send the

mohney,” he said.

“What is Francisco Guerra going to say?” I asked.

“He no say nothink! Señorita Rosemarie, che haf her own horses. Since her mawther die,

che no haf nothink except her horses. And me. Juan Torres. He take care that girl.”

He continued,

“Señorita Rosemarie, che talk about ju ever since we speak at the Alamositas. Che tell it me,

“Juan, ju take the best three mares I got it and take to Señor Thacker for to raise the colts.”

I told him I would ride into town and send her the money tommorow.

“Señor, we no go somplace mañana! The snow he no queet for two days.”

I would have to take his word for that, I thought as I poured another cup of hot coffee. We

talked for hours and I put off asking about my uncles death. I would wait for a better time. Old

Juan was right. Two full days before it quit and the sun came out on the white snow. The pines

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