Page 72 - Tamale Ridge_113017

70 Tamale Ridge by: Chuck Cusimano

I thought the mares and foals should be put someplace where they could get more grass and as if

Francisco, had read my mind, said.

“It is time to move these to another place. They have eaten all that is to be had.”

“This is only half. My daughter, she owns most of these.”

“Señor I will take twenty mares, I will pick half from this herd and half from the other herd.”

I added, “If that is all right with you.”

“Of course,” he said, then, he looked at me.

“Señor, I am not a fool, I see the way you and Rosemarie look at each other,” he continued,

“It is not wise for you to consider asking her to return with you to America. She will not go

and I will not allow it.”

“You will pay for the mares. You take them and you will leave.”

“I would like to ask her for myself, if you will permit me,” I said.

“No Señor! You will not ask,” he said.

He had two men with him and, with their help Gilberto and I picked ten mares with foals. We

drove them less than a mile to the ranch where we put them in a corral.

I knew that Francisco could understand English very well and could speak it if he wanted to, so I

just rode along and saved any conversation with Gilberto for later. After we corraled the mares

along with their foals, we went about three miles west to look at the other herd.

“Is it unusual for a young Señorita to be so interested in horses?” Guerra asked me. Then he

added,

“I mean in your country?”

“It is a little,” I agreed.

70