The Floating Outfit 48

by J. T. Edson

  ‘What a pretty watch, muchacha,’ Florencia Cazador remarked, in the heavily accented English she had picked up during her childhood around the small towns on both sides of the Rio Grande. Strolling with sensuous grace across the luxurious second bedroom of Don Ramon Manuel Jose Peraro’s living quarters above Bernardo’s Cantina, she reached with her left hand to take hold of the item to which she was referring and went on, ’57, it’s real pretty.’

  ‘It is,’ Mavis Dearington replied stiffly, pulling back a trifle without offering to rise from the comfortable bed on which she was sitting. ‘My parents gave it to me the Christmas before they died.’

  No snob, the slender red headed American girl was nevertheless far from enamored of the way in which the voluptuous Mexican beauty was behaving!

  However, because of the manner in which she had been treated by her captors—after the first rough handling—Mavis was more annoyed than disturbed by the derisive and offensive over-familiar attitude of Florencia.

  Taking everything into consideration, apart from her deep concern for the welfare of Hettie Bonaparte, the red head was far less perturbed by her situation than she would have envisaged or believed possible if she had merely been imagining what it would be like to be the victim of a kidnapping by a gang of Mexican bandidos.

  Nothing had happened as Mavis had anticipated!

  On recovering from the punch delivered by Juan Pablo, the red head had not been allowed to render any assistance whatsoever to the big black woman. Instead she had been compelled to stand and watch while Hettie was revived by having tequila splashed into the bleeding grazes caused by the kicks she had received from Matteo Cantrell and forced into her mouth. Regardless of the protests made by the seething girl, the woman—who was obviously suffering serious injuries—had been loaded aboard the fringed topped Surrey. After an envelope had been stuffed into the pocket of her dress, the reins were wrapped around her barely operative hands and the horse was set moving in the direction of Wet Slim.

  Not until after the vehicle and its barely conscious burden had gone from sight had Mavis given any thought to her own position!

  Despite her educational standards on some subjects having been far less extensive than would be given to a later generation, the red head was far from unaware of one danger she might be facing. In fact, she had heard that the raping of female captives was the usual habit of Mexican bandidos. However, while she had been prepared to defend herself with every means in her power before submitting to such a fate, the need to do so had failed to materialize. None of them had offered to molest, or even so much as touch, her. Neither had she been searched, nor was the gold pendant watch—the only item of value she had with her—taken from her.

  Instead, when the horses had been collected from their place of concealment, Mavis had had the loop of a lariat passed over her shoulders, and beneath her arms. After it was drawn not too tightly around her waist, she had been told to mount the poorest of the animals. On doing so, her ankles were fastened to the stirrup irons and wrists secured to the saddlehorn. With the precautions against her escaping taken, the party had set off through the woodland. She had been led by Cantrell to a point on the Rio Grande at which she had considered a crossing would prove extremely difficult. This had not been the case. Rather she had found it was easy to go over due to some freak of geography causing the current to flow more easily and the water level to be lower than it seemed at first sight.

  The journey from the river to the small town which the red head had learned was named, ‘Escopeta’ had passed uneventfully. By the time the journey had ended, aided by her excellent physical constitution, she had already thrown off the worst effects of the blow. However, having accepted that escape was impossible under the prevailing conditions, she had concentrated upon saving her energy and strength. As a result, even the throbbing pain had died away from her jaw.

  Although Mavis had found nothing about which she might complain in her reception at Bernardo’s Cantina, she had been left with no delusions over her exact status. Introducing himself as ‘Don Ramon Manuel Jose Peraro’, with an air of such pompous pride she might have found it amusing or pretentious under different circumstances, the leader of the bandidos had explained the situation in a way which left her in no doubt of what a potentially dangerous a predicament she was in. Genteel manners notwithstanding, she had deduced he was a ruthless man who would not hesitate to carry out the thinly veiled threats he had made when describing what would happen should the ransom he had demanded fail to be forthcoming.

  Despite considering she was in no immediate danger, the sum required for her safe return being well within her own means to supply, it had been far from pleasant for the red head to think of how much her future well being and life even was dependent upon her father’s half-brother. Knowing she would not come into possession of her considerable fortune, over which Philo Handle had control, until her next birthday, she was all too aware of how much he had to gain should he refuse to pay the ransom.

  Not that Mavis believed the refusal would take place!

  For all that, the red head had been unable to prevent herself from considering the possibility!

  Escorted upstairs and into what Peraro had described as the ‘guestroom’, Mavis had found it to be spotlessly clean and excellently furnished. In spite of the grim warning underlying the explanation, she had been amused by his indicating the sturdy iron bars at the window and remarking that they had been installed to remove the temptation of trying to escape from his ‘honored visitors’. Such attempts as had been foolishly made, he had gone on, invariably ended in failure. What was more, the would-be escapers had always been caught outside the town and by men who were so annoyed by the inconvenience that they had inflicted painful summary punishment.

  Having taken the warning to heart and being of a philosophical nature, the red head had decided to avoid doing anything which might bring such percussions on her. Left alone, she had laid on the comfortable bed and fell asleep. Night was just falling when she awoke, but she had felt completely refreshed. Clearly having heard her stirring, a girl who had the appearance of being an Indian and employed in a menial position had looked into the room and announced food would be coming shortly.

  However, when the door had next opened, it was not the Indian girl who came in!

  Remembering the way Florencia had behaved in the barroom, Mavis had deduced something of her relationship to Peraro. While they had not spoken to one another, the red head had found the mocking scrutiny to which she had been subjected by the Mexican beauty most irritating. Nor had the demeanor of the other been any less annoying as she had sauntered across the bedroom, flaunting a body which the red head was willing to concede was exceptionally curvaceous.

  ‘A present, heh?’ Florencia said, her gaze filled with disdain and mockery, still fingering the watch. ‘Well, maybe you should give it as a present to me.’

  ‘Certainly not!’ Mavis refused. ‘I told you who gave it t—!’

  ‘I said I wanted it, muchacha,’ the Mexican girl interrupted, giving a tug which snapped the chain. ‘And I’m taking it!’

  ‘Give it back to me!’ the red head demanded, starting to rise. ‘Like hell!’ Florencia answered, placing the palm of her right hand against Mavis’ face and shoving.

  Caught unawares and off balance, the red head was returned to the bed. Before she could regain her wits, the Mexican girl had tipped her on to her back and was kneeling astride her stomach. Held down by the weight, which was pressing her deep into the thick and soft feather mattress, she was unable to exert anything like the full power of which her slender body was capable. Instead, as she struggled feebly, the watch was dangled before her eyes and her left breast was seized.

  ‘I said I’m taking this, muchacha!’ Florencia announced, working the fingers and thumb of her right hand as if kneading dough for making bread. Reveling in the agony she was clearly inflicting upon the weakly responding gringo girl, she continued in a savagely sadistic
tone, ‘So I’m taking it and if you tell Don Ramon what I’ve done, I’ll tear you into little pieces—Savvy?’

  ‘G—G—Get o—off m—m—me!’ Mavis croaked, trying to pull the hand from her bosom and being hindered by the depth to which she was embedded in the mattress she had earlier regarded as most comfortable.

  ‘I said do you savvy?’ Florencia hissed, giving a squeeze to the mound of feminine flesh she was grasping and eliciting a squeal of torment from its recipient.

  ‘Y—Yes!’ Mavis replied, in something close to a sob, the pain bringing tears to her eyes. Realizing she was merely adding to instead of reducing her suffering by pulling at the wrist she had grabbed instinctively, she released her hold and repeated, ‘Y—Yes. I—I un—understand!’

  ‘Bueno, I thought you would!’ the Mexican beauty declared and, giving a final grinding motion with her talon-like fingers and thumb, went on, ‘That’s to make sure you don’t forget what you’ll get if you start whining to Don Ramon, muchacha.’ Uttering the reminder, Florencia opened her hand and wriggled from the bed. Standing with arms akimbo and legs spread apart, in a way which displayed her magnificent body to its best advantage, studying the expression on the face of the American girl satisfied her that she had achieved her purpose. Although the presence of Señora Castrillo had prevented her from carrying it out last time, on every other occasion when she had been able to deliver the warning in such a painful fashion, there was no complaint about the theft. Nor did she anticipate there would be from her most recent victim. From what she remembered of the gringo women she had seen during visits north of the Rio Bravo, (with the exception of ones who were sufficiently poor to have come from backgrounds similar to her own) they had no more aggressive spirit than the pampered Creoles 25 who were usually selected for kidnapping by Peraro.

  Giving a disdainful laugh as she gazed into the tear filled eyes of her victim, the Mexican girl turned around. Swinging the watch by its chain, she began to stroll in an insolently hip-rolling and sensual fashion away from the bed. Her whole demeanor was indicative of the contempt she felt for a person who would allow her to take a treasured possession in such a feeble and craven fashion.

  Unknowingly, Florencia was making a mistake!

  Unlike the wealthy Spanish girls who had previously been the subjects for the kidnappings, most of whom were not long from a cloistered existence in mission schools, Mavis had been encouraged all her life to be sturdily independent and courageous!

  Therefore, despite having been caught unawares and rendered incapable of making an adequate resistance because she had been sunk so far into the yielding and clinging mattress, the red head did not have the kind of nature which was willing to let such treatment go unavenged!

  Struggling until she was free from the clutches of the bed, Mavis came to her feet. Sucking in a deep breath, she angrily wiped away the tears with her left hand and her right gingerly massaged the throbbing breast. Then, with her vision cleared although the ache from her bosom continued, she flung herself after the departing girl. Despite her anger, she instinctively refrained from giving any verbal notification of what she was intending. Nor, muffled as they were by the thick carpet, did her pumps make any sound as she was advancing. Closing the distance, she attacked as directed by memories of numerous childhood scuffles.

  Struck unexpectedly from behind, Florencia felt an arm pass around and tighten across her throat, while another encircled her waist. Shoved forward by the impact, the weight of her assailant was to her left. Giving a strangled screech of protest, she was dragged over sideways to land on top of her attacker. This proved to be no advantage. Before she could think of capitalizing upon her position, she was rolled over the body of the other girl and on to her stomach. The original holds upon her were released, but this was just as lacking in benefit as alighting on the red head had been.

  Given no time to think of taking any action, Florencia found herself being straddled and held down. One hand sank into her back hair, twisting at it and grinding her face into the carpet. The other set of fingers and thumb caught her just as fiercely by the left wrist. Momentarily dazed by the unexpected turn of events, despite the thickness of the floor’s covering having cushioned her landing and saved her from being more adversely affected, she was unable to prevent the shaking to which the trapped limb was being subjected from causing her to release the watch she had stolen.

  At which point, Mavis displayed an equally poor judgment!

  Releasing the wrist and hair on seeing her property fall to the floor, the red head compounded the folly by easing herself upwards a trifle. Relieved of the weight and grips upon her, Florencia responded immediately. Leaning and reaching towards the watch, Mavis heard a noise similar to the furious spitting of a cat confronted by a dog. Before she could comprehend what was portended by the sound, the thinly clad body underneath her thrust upward with a convulsive heave of such force she was dislodged and over balanced. Toppled from her briefly occupied perch, she rolled away from the Mexican girl.

  Coming to a halt after a couple of involuntary turns, the red head thrust herself on to hands and knees. Not far away, she saw Florencia was-doing the same. Their eyes met and, for a moment, they crouched motionless. Then, as if on the receipt of a signal, they propelled themselves at each other with all the fury of a pair of enraged bobcats contending for ownership of a choice piece of food. Coming together, hands driving ahead to respectively sink into hair or grab at flesh, the force with which they made contact almost brought them to their feet.

  Not quite, however!

  Still locked together, but with no conscious control over their movements, the girls tilted sideways and fell. Nor did their return to the floor cause them to break apart. Instead, to the accompaniment of angry squeals and furious exclamations in two languages, they began to roll across the carpet. They went in a whirlwind tangle of flying arms and legs, flailing hands, waving feet and snapping teeth.

  Opening the door to bring in the meal she had fetched from the kitchen, the Indian girl who acted as maid to the kidnap victims stared at the embattled pair for a moment. Then, mindful of the treatment which Peraro insisted be given to such captives, she gave an alarmed squawk and dropped the tray she was carrying. Spinning around, she fled along the corridor towards the stairs leading to the first floor.

  Engrossed to the exclusion of every other consideration in their wild and close to mindless struggling, neither the red head nor the Mexican beauty realized the young woman had come and gone!

  If she had seen the maid, being equally aware that her behavior went against the rules of conduct towards the victims of kidnapping laid down by the bandido chief, Florencia might have tried to break off the fight and flee from the cantina before his retribution could descend upon her!

  As it was, not knowing her activities had been discovered by a person with no cause to hold friendly feelings toward her as a result of her bullying and over-bearing behavior since becoming the mistress of Peraro, the black haired beauty went on doing something which was likely to lead to her being made regret the greed which had led her to flout his wishes.

  ‘Is something troubling you, Jesus?’ Ramon Peraro inquired, as he stood at the counter with his two sub-leaders and the alcalde of Escopeta.

  ‘Not me, patron,’ Jesus “Obispo” Sanchez replied, turning his gaze from where the Indian girl employed as maid for the kidnap victims was going towards the stairs with a tray of food for the latest acquisition. Nodding towards the bandidos who were assembled in the bar-room, he went on, ‘But some of the men are wondering why you had the gringo girl brought here. You’ve always insisted we didn’t do things like that north of the Rio Bravo, as it could bring us trouble.’

  ‘My boys aren’t worried about it,’ Edmundo “Culebra” Perez asserted. ‘If those “mother-something” Tejanos think they can come down here and fetch her back, we’ll give them the same that Presidente Santa Anna gave those other bastards at the Mission San Antonio de Valera.’

>   ‘I don’t doubt that,’ Sanchez answered, but refrained from pointing out he shared the opinion of many other Mexicans that the loss of lives incurred during the siege of the establishment to which his rival had referred had played a major part in the defeat of Presidente Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna at the decisive Battle of San Jacinto on Thursday, April the 21st, 1836. 26 ‘But the patron has always steered clear of taking their women and one as rich as this will have a family with enough influence to have the Yankee Government complain to Mexico City—And that could bring down on us the kind of trouble we don’t want.’ Glancing from one to the other of the sub-leaders as they were speaking, Peraro was disturbed by what he had heard. It was the first time either had openly questioned a decision he had made. Yet Sanchez had just done so. Nor had there previously ever been any reference to ‘my boys’, with the emphasis on the first word plainly indicating the formation of cliques within the gang as a whole.

  To the bandido chief, the diversions from normal behavior were a cause for concern as they were tantamount to a challenge to his authority!

  When they had first met their leader earlier in the day, Sanchez and Perez had been ill-at-ease. Each had expected to be taken to task, if nothing worse, for their respective and equally abortive attempts to kill the Ysabel Kid. Although inwardly seething at the need to do so, being mindful of the plans he had for the near future, Peraro had merely thanked them for trying to do him a good turn even though the double failure had cost the gang two ‘good’ men.

  Judging the conversation which had taken place, the bandido chief suspected he had made an error in tactics. Unless he was mistaken, the two sub-leaders regarded his acceptance of their disobedience as a sign of weakness. In the kind of society he ruled, such a supposition could lead to serious trouble unless it was suppressed. Unfortunately, with the conditions he expected to prevail shortly, he was unable to carry out the suppression for the time being.