Mexican Water

We had been to buy some horses, from a stockyard, far away,

And wanted to get back before the snows.

So we rode the horses harder than we should, it’s fair to say,

And with hindsight, it was foolish, I suppose.

But thought, all we need is water,

And the horses will be fine,

Though we’d ridden many, many miles,

In such a little time.

Heading for Nogales and El-Paso on the border,

With the ground as dry as tinder -wood,

And not a sign of water.

Then we passed a little township,

With a deep, fast flowing creek,

The first fresh water we had seen

In just over a week.

But we did not steal their water,

No, we asked them, so polite,

But of course we were just Mexicans,

While those we asked were white.

And they said we’d get no water there,

No, all we’d find is death,

And they fired their rifles in the air,

Until finally, we left.

But we had to have that water,

Or our horses, they would die,

And who’d those Gringo’s think they were?

Us Mexicans have pride.

So we emptied out our canteens,

And we let our horses drink.

Loaded up our weapons,

And we sat a while to think.

Building up our courage

With Tequila and with Rye.

They’d let us have that water now,

Or defend it with their lives.

By sunset we were ready,

And Alfredo with his friend,

Led the main remuda back

To where the river bends,

Behind a grove of Mesquite Trees,

Shaded from the town,

While the rest of us stood guard,

Unless those Gringo’s came around.

When suddenly a rifle barked,

And Jose’ screamed and fell,

I turned and fired instinctively,

And heard somebody yell.

Then another dozen weapons

Sent their messages of death,

And I watched my brother Pedro,

Take a bullet to the chest.

He lay there by the water,

As the horses fled in fear,

Begging me to help him,

Though he knew that death was near.

And I tried  my best to reach him,

Amidst a hail of smoke and lead,

Eventually I made it,

But I found my brother dead.

Insanity engrossed me,

Mixed with bitterness and rage.

How could they cut a young boy down

At such a tender age?

What happened next I only know

From what I was later told.

Apparently my fury,

Made me act both rash and bold.

Firing both my pistols

As I rushed into the trees,

A madman so consumed with hate,

Revenge, my only need.

Determined I would kill them all,

Or die while I was trying.

An evil demon ruled my heart,

There’s no point in denying.

Some say they heard the Gringo’s beg

For me to spare their lives.

Some say it was a miracle, to them

That I survived.

God must have stood my corner,

Or perhaps the Devil did,

Because I killed them though they begged me,

And those that ran away and hid.

Then we rounded up our horses,

And we let them water well.

Did the other townsfolk notice?

It’s impossible to tell,

But nobody came to stop us,

Once the smoke had cleared away,

And those Gringo’s that attacked us,

We left where their bodies lay.

But we buried ours, they murdered,

Then we mounted up to ride,

And not one of us survivors,

Are ashamed to say, we cried,

As we rode back to our homesteads,

Our families and our cattle,

With heavy hearts and deep regrets,

And Pedro across my saddle.

By S.E.Ralph

25-8-2023