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436 pages, Kindle Edition
Published January 10, 2017
“What you looking at me for, niña? It ain’t my fault. Sumbitches got the drop on us good.”
From under the sombrero she’d taken off a dead bandito last December, her big ol’ black eyes were glaring a hole right through me. She’d held up her left hand to let me know again they’d taken her silver ring.
Here it comes.
Like a clap of thunder, she slapped her hands, stomped her sandaled foot, and jabbed her middle finger down the side trail.
“ Qué? You want me to go after them thieving desperadoes? I ain’t got no caballo, pistola, carabina, or escopeta,” the last being her own shotgun the road agents took. “You know they even took your derringer, uh, poco pistola.”
She slashed her hand cross her throat, then made a strangling motion and a scary gurgling choking noise. I know a lot of bad Mex words for people you’re mad at, and I bet she was thinking all of them and some I’d never heard. I say thinking, seeing Marta’s as mute as an angel’s statue, not that she’s exactly an angel.
What follows is indeed gritty, funny, bloody, and ultimately satisfying on a fundamental level. Not only does it add to their growing legend, but after the money they’ve recovered so bloodily is again lost in a bank robbery, it sets up Bud and Marta for the inevitable harder ride to come.
There are plenty of stock supporting characters—the by-the-book Army officer, the Texas Ranger, the beautiful but shady lady, the black-Indian half breed scout—but each is given three-dimensional life outside of their tropes, and an all-important sense of humor. Take this exchange between West Point educated officer Zach and cowboy Musty—“Honi soit qui mal y pense,” said Zach. “That means ‘Evil be to him who evil thinks.’”
“That ain’t Mex,” said Musty. “What is it?”
“Latin.”
“Latin. Ain’t never heard of that injun tribe. They way up north?”
“More eastward,” said Zach.
In addition to getting his job done, we get to see Bud take more steps on his road to maturity. And, clueless as ever, we see him trying to puzzle out just what it is that makes him love Marta.I liked watching her. Pretty as a filly in a parlor when she cleaned up. Her eyes, she looked at me, and I couldn’t drag my peepers away from her. Even when giving me her stern look, which I saw a lot. But it was somethin’ else. What did Clay call her, one of those sawbuck words? “Determined.” Clay said that meant to never give up and to concentrate. Whatever she was doing, she was concentrating up to her chin. And there was that other thing. I jus’ never knew what she was going to do. Kept me with my boots in the stirrups, you know? I mean, with most cattle you jus’ know what they’re going to do, the same old thing they all do. But there’s always a few in the herd, there’s no telling. Hell, all the cattle could be fighting to get away from a puma, but there’s one who’ll decide to go after the killer critter her own self. That would be Marta.
Maybe I should just be honest and say those five stars are all for Marta. But if I could, I’d give a few more stars too, for the author. Not only did Gordon Rottman show us both Marta and Bud growing into formidable individuals and into a rock-solid couple without her saying a word, but he tells their story through the voice of uneducated, virtually illiterate Bud without making either of them seem stupid or pitiable. In fact, I found Bud’s voice so engaging that when his grammar is repeatedly corrected by the painfully well-educated (but deadly) femme fatale Mera, it makes her seem the annoying one.
Like The Hardest Ride, I found Ride Harder impossible to put down. Please do yourself a huge favor and read it. Just don’t read it first. Marta would be angry with you.
**I received this book for from the publisher or author to facilitate an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.**