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72 Tamale Ridge by: Chuck Cusimano

“Señor,” he shouted, “this is not your trouble. We will handle this.”

“I am going with you!” I hollered back as we ran across the desert.

When we got to the rancho, a woman was crying out in the yard. Francisco jumped off his horse

and was shaking the woman, demanding details. I ran to the barn, caught Handy and brought

him to Guerra. He was very excited but he took his saddle off the horse he was riding and put it

on the buckskin. Finally, Contesa, the woman in the yard, calmed down enough to tell the group

of men assembled here which direction the man had taken Rosemarie. Contesa said that the man

must have hidden in Rosemarie’s room and waited till she fell asleep or, maybe snuck in during

the night and waited until morning. He must have tied her up and hauled her outside to a saddled

horse. He then took off with her kicking and trying to get away.

“We can catch them if we get going,” I said.

“Vamanos!” Guerra said.

We had less than three miles to go. We followed the tracks of a single horse to a cave in the side

of a hill. A shot rang out and a bullet glanced off the sand in front of Guerras horse’s feet.

“Cabron!” He said.

“Francisco Guerra!.... I will kill your daughter!” the man shouted from the cave.

“What do you want?” Guerra asked.

“I want you to pay for the death of my wife and child!”

Two of Guerras men had already started around the cliff to get above the cave. I had done as

everyone else and got off my horse and led him behind some brush and rocks out of gunshot

danger. We were behind some boulders and those of us that had guns, had them at the ready.

“I will kill your daughter!” again the man repeated.

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