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90 Tamale Ridge by: Chuck Cusimano

front of them. I must have slept for a long time because when I woke up, we were slowing

down.

“Que pasa, muchacho?” I asked Gilberto. He was wide-awake and looked fresh.

“We are coming to Las Vegas, Señor,” he said.

His English was getting pretty darn good for the time we had to work on it.

“Well,” I said. “Let’s stay a couple days and go see Antonio.”

“Boss, I like that idea,” he said.

I made a deal with the railroad office to leave my mares, colts and two saddle horses in the

stockyards. After we ate, we rode out to the ranch to see Antonio. While we were eating,

Sheriff Joe Andry found us and we had a good visit. I was surprised when Gilberto started

talking to him in English. Joe was surprised too.

“Gil,” He said, “You speak the English tongue real good.”

“Thanks sheriff,” He answered.

We rode out to the ranch where Antonio was working and I let Gilberto visit with his brother. I

found the ranch foreman and talked him into going back to town with me so he could see the

foals.

“I’ll buy all the horse colts and pay top dollar. You can ship ‘em to me on the train when

they’re weaned.”

I agreed and we shook hands. I waited another day for Gilberto and rode out to the ranch.

After we visited for a while, we came back to Las Vegas and waited a short time for the train.

We finally got to Raton, unloaded the mares and colts and started up Dillon canyon and back

home. We were coming home with eighteen mares and their foals. Some of the best quality I

ever saw, next to my own. The foals weren’t babies any longer. They were, at the youngest,

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