From
"What Do You Mean The Cook's Not Mexican"

Mango Salsa
2 c. fresh mango, chopped
1/2 c. red bell pepper, chopped
1/2 c. green bell pepper, chopped
1/4 c. red onion finely chopped
1/2 jalapeno chile (stem, seeds and ribs removed), finely chopped (optional)
1 tbsp. fresh cilantro, finely chopped
1/2 tsp. sea salt
1/2 tsp. El Gringo Loco seasoning
Juice of 1 lime
1 tbsp. honey

Preparation:  Combine all ingedients and chill for 1 or 2 hours before serving. If fresh mango isn't available, drain canned mango and proceed with the rest of the recipe. However, as always, the fresher the ingredients, the better the salsa.
    This is a superb complement to fish and chicken dishes and can also be served on spring greens or spinach as a salad. If using for salad you may wish to add 1 tbsp. canola oil.
    You may want to julieen green onion stems (cut into small strips lengthwise) to use as a garnish.  Yields approx. 3 cups. Can be made a day ahead.


Ranger's Revenge
      The previous night’s storm had settled the dust, giving the land a just-washed appearance. A light north wind gave the air an earthy tang. Jim noticed something amiss as soon as he went to feed the horses. Despite the breeze, the windmill was not turning. Jim crossed the pasture to examine it.
        Doggone it," he muttered when he looked up at the mechanism, "Storm must’ve loosened one of the gears, maybe the pinion. Looks like it bent a couple of the blades too. I’ll have to get right on this."
        Julia was standing on the porch as Jim hurried back for some tools. "Jim, breakfast is just about ready," she called.
        "It’s gotta wait a while. The windmill’s busted. I’ve got to fix it."
        "A half hour while you eat won’t make any difference. Or would you rather have cold hotcakes?"
        "I reckon you’re right." Jim washed up and headed inside to join his wife and son for the morning meal.
        Once breakfast was finished, Jim and Charlie got the needed tools from the barn and headed to the windmill.
        "We’re goin’ for my new pup today, aren’t we Dad?" Charlie asked on the way. "You promised."
        "We sure are, Charlie." Jim grinned and tousled his son’s blonde hair. "Soon as we get this contraption workin’ again, we’ll saddle the horses and head over to Mr. Hines’ place."
        Jim peeled off his shirt and hung it from one of the windmill’s cross braces. Unbuckling his gunbelt, he hung it alongside the shirt. He shoved hammer, wrench, and screwdrivers behind his belt and began his climb.
        "Found the problem," Jim shouted down to Charlie as soon as he reached the top of the mill’s tower. "Wind bent a couple of the blades, and they jammed the gears. I’ll have it fixed right quick. Why don’t you start gettin’ the horses ready?"
        "Sure thing, dad."
        Charlie headed for the corrals to fetch Sam and his own gelding, Ted.
        Jim hooked a knee over one of the timbers to brace himself and pulled the hammer from behind his belt. He was about to swing at one of the bent blades when a rifle slug smashed into his back, knocking him off the windmill’s tower. His boot caught in a cross brace for a few seconds, holding him suspended in mid-air. Another bullet ricocheted across the top of his skull, sending a wave of blinding pain through his head. His body pulled loose and plummeted, landing stomach first on the edge of the wooden stock tank. The tank’s wall collapsed under the impact. Jim’s body hurtled across the yard propelled by the water rushing from the tank. The flow subsided quickly, leaving him sprawled in the mud.
        Charlie raced from behind the barn at the sound of the shots. He saw his father lying face-down and unmoving.
        "Dad!" he screamed.
        The sound of approaching hoof beats caught his attention. He looked up to see a group of riders, guns at the ready, topping the rise overlooking the Blawcyzk ranch. Running to the windmill Charlie pulled his father’s Colt Peacemaker from its holster. He snapped off one shot. His bullet took an oncoming raider in the stomach. The rider sagged over his horse’s neck, clinging to its mane until the hard-running roan’s motion spilled him from the saddle.
        Another of the riders leveled his rifle and fired. A slug tore into Charlie’s chest. He spun, staggered for a few feet, and fell face-down alongside his father.
        The riders galloped into the ranch yard.
        "Sure made our job easier with that ranger bein’ such a nice plain target up on that windmill," one of them said. He spat into the dirt alongside Blawcyzk’s body.
        "Never mind that. Let’s just get the stock and get outta here," the leader of the renegades ordered. "A couple of you pick up Smitty and get him on his horse."
        The outlaw Charlie had gut-shot was writhing in anguish where he’d fallen.
        "What about the woman?" another asked. "Blawcyzk’s got a real good-lookin’ wife."
        The leader grinned in anticipation. "Yeah, I reckon we’d better take care of her too. She’s gotta be around here somewhere."
        As if in answer, Julia appeared in the doorway, holding Jim’s Winchester. Instantly one of the outlaws leveled his revolver and fired, his bullet striking the rifle. Julia lost her grasp on the gun as the bullet’s impact slammed her back into the door frame. Her head struck the corner of the frame, stunning her. She slumped to the porch floor.
        The leader dropped from his horse and headed for the house. "You boys round up the stock," he said. "Once I’m done with the woman you can have what’s left of her."
        "You want to burn the buildings, boss?" 
        "No! The smoke would attract someone’s attention. That’d bring ’em down on us too fast. We’ve done what we set out to do, kill Jim Blawcyzk. Now round up those horses. We need to be ridin’ in half an hour."