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91 Tamale Ridge by: Chuck Cusimano

three months old. Old Juan was waiting for us out in front of the cabin. He was straining his

neck to see what and who was with us. He looked pleased with the remuda of horses we had but

he looked like he was expecting someone else.

“La Señorita? Che no cam weeth you?” Was the first thing he asked.

“No Juan. Lo ciento.” I’m sorry. I did ask her. I said.

“Ju breeng lleguas y potrillos! Muy buena las lleguas!” Meaning he approved of the mares

and foals.

“Gilberto, he luke like he tired.” Juan said.

“Si Juan. El muchacho es muy cansado. Tambien, Gilberto es mucho hombre.” I said.

I meant every word of it. Gilberto had come through like a man beyond his years. That bed sure

felt good that night but I had a lonely, empty spot inside for a pretty Señorita down Chihuahua.

I wasn’t going to give up on the idea of her coming to live here, very soon.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The sun was up before I was that next day and Gilberto and I rested more than usual. Juan

had been doing a good job of keeping up with things. He seemed happy to have us home again.

He had made some bread and had a big pot of chile and frijoles cooking on the wood stove. It

was June already and most of the work was done until fall. We talked about the trip and I told

Juan about Gilberto’s girl. Gilberto almost busted in half every time I’d bring her up. I told him

if he didn’t quit smiling so big, his face was going to disappear.

We both told the story of the man who tried to take Rosemarie and Gilberto told of how I

rescued her in the cave. We described him and Juan said he knew the man. His name was

Rafael Ochoa. He used to try to act more important than he was.

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