Citadel of Death (A Captain Gringo Western Book 11)

by Lou Cameron

  Captain Gringo saw the black wall of mangroves beyond Mimi as he said, “Let’s drop it for now. We have to close up.”

  He walked faster to catch up with the girl who acted as if she knew what she was doing, considering how dark it was. There was no beaten path he could see in the moonlight but Mimi went directly to some weeds growing on the banks of the drainage ditch separating the swamp from cultivated land.

  She hunkered down and said, “Ah, here is the log poor grand-père used to bridge the ditch.”

  Captain Gringo hunkered down to help her and together they lifted the hidden rough plametto log. They got it upright on one end and he heaved to drop the other end on the far bank. It landed with a dull damp thud. He asked the girl, “Are you sure it’s not rotten, Mimi? Palmetto doesn’t last long on the ground in this climate and you said it’s been a year or more since you were out here, right?”

  Mimi didn’t answer as she scampered gracefully across to the other side and called back, “See?”

  He saw. The log had bent under her ominously and she couldn’t weigh more than a hundred and ten. He said, “Gaston, you’d better go next.”

  Gaston had been watching. He said, “Oui, I think it will hold me, but what about you?”

  “If I have to swim I have to swim. Here, take my gunbelt.”

  Gaston did so and gingerly crossed the log to join Mimi. Captain Gringo noticed it bent even more under Gaston’s weight and he had a good fifty pounds on Gaston. He didn’t see any caymans or salt water crocs, but the ones who got you were seldom the ones you saw. He took a deep breath and started running, or, rather, splashing, for the log bent under the surface as he crossed it, but it held—just. So when he joined the others on the far side he lifted the end and swung it around to send the improvised bridge floating off in the gentle current. Then he said, “Damn, we should have brought that lamp from the shack. It’s black as a bitch in here.”

  Mimi said, “I can feel the path with my bare feet, Deek. Everything else under the mangroves is wet.”

  So he told her to lead on and followed, strapping on his gun rig again as Gaston brought up the rear. He wasn’t barefoot, although his mosquito boots had taken some water over their tops and his toes were squishing, but he could feel the so-called path under them. It felt as if they were walking across a big spring mattress. There was no dry earth in a mangrove swamp, but floating weeds and rotten vegetation tended to raft thickly between the stilted trunks of the close-packed trees. Mimi and Gaston were shorter, so Captain Gringo caught most of the low branches with his face in the dark. He held a hand up. It helped. But not much. Aside from mangrove twigs the air seemed filled with hanging Spanish moss and spider webbing. He sincerely hoped any spider who took umbrage wasn’t one of those big bastards that ate birds. Spiders down here had something wrong with their glands and could grow as big as a man’s hand. The natives said the ones with fatal stings were smaller. He hoped they knew what they were talking about, and that he didn’t wind up kissing any of them in the dark. He called ahead, “Mimi, you’re walking too silently. Scuff your bare feet to let the snakes know you’re coming.”

  Behind him, Gaston muttered, “Leave her to her own devices, Dick. It’s true the ground snakes tend to slither off a trail when they hear the footsteps of creatures too big to swallow. But the tree boas can swallow anything and tend to, how you say, home in on the sounds of movement in the dark.”

  Captain Gringo grimaced and said, “Jesus, you just cheered me up a lot! Do you know where you’re going, Mimi? There are no stars to navigate by even if we could see the damned sky.”

  “I told you,” Mimi said, “I grew up playing in these mangroves, Deek.” So he felt a little better for a while. Then they were out in the open on a sandy hammock and Mimi stopped. The light was better in the clearing, so he could see the puzzled expression on her face. He asked, “What’s wrong?” and Mimi said, “I do not understand. This island was never here before.”

  “Merde alors,” Gaston said. “We’re lost!” So Mimi started to cry again.

  Captain Gringo said, “Hey, everybody calm down. We’re ahead of the game since nobody could possibly find us, wherever we might be. We’ll build a fire in the sand and dry out. As the sun comes up we’ll be able to tell east from west, so what the hell.”

  Mimi pointed uncertainly and added, “I think Sinnamary must be that way.” But Captain Gringo insisted, “It’ll still be there in the morning. The first thing you do when you’re turned around in the woods is stop and think it over. Plunging on wildly is the way you really get lost.”

  “But, Deek, I am sure I am only a little turned around. I could not have taken more than one or two wrong turns back there.”

  He started kicking fallen branches into a pile and replied, “Yeah. One wrong turn would have done it. We’re on dry land and all three of us are soaking wet. We’ll dry out, catch forty winks, and back track when we have more light on the subject. Didn’t I hear someplace that you can eat mangrove fruit?”

  “Oui,” Gaston affirmed, “but mangrove wine makes more sense. The fruit is trés insipid, since it is little but sweet pulp.”

  “Okay, you two gather some anyway. It’s been a while since our last square meal and the sugar and water will at least keep us going. This sand will be dry enough to sleep in our clothes, once it bakes near the fire a while. You and I will take turns on guard, Gaston.”

  “Merde alors, what are we to guard against?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why one of us has to stay alert at all times. Are there any natives in this swamp, Mimi?”

  The Creole girl shook her head. “Nobody lives in here, but of course people hunt and gather the mangrove fruit and Spanish moss from time to time.”

  “There you go, Gaston. Want to flip a coin for first watch?”

  “No, I want a steamboat ticket back to Costa Rica. Come, Mimi, let’s gather our mundane midnight snack, hein?”

  They left Captain Gringo to build the camp fire and once he got the damp punk tinder going it was no big deal. He’d learned in Apache country long ago to make his camp fires small, like an Indian. Aside from casting no sky glow, a small fire was easier to keep going and, since a flame was a flame, gave off more sensible heat than a white camper’s roaring blaze. You could sit close to an Indian fire and get warm all over instead of baking on one side and freezing in the other. As he hunkered over the smudgey fire he realized for the first time how much he needed to dry out. A little known danger of the tropics was pneumonia. Many a so-called “jungle fever” was the common cold. It never got really frigid in the tropic zone, but the contrast between the baking days and cool clammy nights could lead to nasty chills. He took off his boots and wet socks and put them on sticks driven into the sand to dry. He sat with his clammy bare feet near the coals and let the heat soak into his moist crotch as he luxuriated. As his pants began to dry he could smell Mimi’s urine mixed with his own groin sweat. He saw no need for this rather distasteful blend of body odors to give him a dawning erection, but that was the trouble with sexual instincts—they never acted sensible. The whale shit and musk they put in expensive French perfumes were more subtle, but had the same sneaky effects. He wasn’t sure if he bought that Darwin theory, but there sure were times when he suspected some of his ancestors had been stinky little critters sniffing at one another a lot.

  Mimi and Gaston rejoined him, carrying some fruit that looked like plums. As the three of them sat by the fire chewing and spitting the pulp in the flames he said, “You’re right, Gaston, there’s not much to them. But what the hell, maybe we’ll meet a deer or something someday.”

  “Someday ought to be soon,” said Gaston, “for all this is doing is giving me an appetite for solid food. I did not get as wet as you, since I had sense enough not to grow up so alarmingly. I think I shall take the first watch. I had better patrol a bit, too. To mount the proper guard, one should know how many directions the foe can approach one’s camp, non?”

  Cap
tain Gringo nodded and Gaston rose, leaving most of his share of mangrove fruit unconsumed. The little Frenchman was tenser than he let on and the walk would probably do him good. Captain Gringo reached for another faggot for the fire. Then he hesitated and said, “These hardwood branches seem to make nice coals and I don’t want to bounce any light off that low overcast above us, Mimi. Are you warm enough?”

  She said, “Yes. I did not get very wet, except when I ... oh, God, don’t look at me. I am so ashamed.”

  He sniffed and said, “Hey, it’s all dried up, so forget it. This sand is pretty dry, too. You’d better get some sleep.”

  Mimi said, “I have no place to lay my head.” So he took off his linen jacket and spread it on the sand between them, saying, “Here, put your face on this and you won’t wake up spitting sand.”

  “What about yon, Deek?”

  “I’ll lay my head beside yours, of course,” he replied, removing his guns and setting them aside not out of reach. He saw she was reluctant, so he swung his legs away from the fire and drew her down beside him, saying, “See? There’s room for both of us. I hope you don’t snore.”

  They lay side-by-side, their breaths mingled as he patted her and added, “You really need the rest, Honey. I know you’ve been through a lot and you don’t feel sleepy yet, but it’s a good idea to catch up on one’s beauty sleep whenever there’s a chance. God knows when we’ll have another chance.”

  She lay quietly, almost against him, and said, “I feel so ashamed. I feel like I am in bed with you.”

  “That’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he added, telling his erection to knock it off for God’s sake. Mimi giggled shyly and said, “This is silly. I feel very wicked, even though I know you don’t want me.”

  “Hey, let’s not get sickening about this, Honey. I never said I didn’t want you. I’m just well bred.”

  “Pooh, you’re being gallant because I shamed myself back there on the trail. You must be very disgusted with me. I can still smell what I did to your pants and my skirt.”

  “You want to take them off?”

  “Oh, Deek, don’t be naughty.”

  “I’m trying not to be. It would be a lot easier if you’d stop talking about your body functions. I told you everybody does it, Mimi. They do other things with the same parts, so let’s drop the subject or get to the nice parts.”

  She gasped and asked, “Oh, are you talking about the wicked things men and women do together down there, Deek?”

  He said, “I wouldn’t say it was wicked. Maybe a little, uh, informal.”

  “Oh, I think you are just trying to make me feel better about soiling myself. I know you must be disgusted with me.”

  He snuggled closer, held her against him with one arm, and ran his free hand down her flank as he kissed her and reached under her skirt to pet her where she seemed to feel so ashamed. She responded to his kiss but tried to cross her legs as he cupped her firm warm mons. Her pubic hair was perfectly dry, now, although one finger seemed to be getting very wet at the moment. She rolled her lips to one side and gasped, “You mustn’t! I have not had a chance to bathe since I went pee pee!”

  He said, “I don’t mind. If we have to keep harping on your sweet little pisser, we may as well get to know it better.” Then he kissed her again before she could start the usual guff about being a nice girl. He knew she was experienced as soon as she began to move her hips in response to his clitoral stimulation. He didn’t want to hear who’d broken her in, but it had obviously been an expert. He was wondering how he was going to unbutton himself without losing a tactical advantage when Mimi reached down between them to unfasten his fly, protesting all the while that he was being most wicked. He rolled into the saddle as she hauled his organ grinder out and spread her thighs in welcome as she guided it into position. But as she felt it entering her she gasped, “Oh, whatever must you think of me!” So he said, “I think you’re wonderful” and drove it into her to the hilt.

  She wrapped her arms around him, raising her knees and spreading them wider as she complained, “Your belt buckle is scratching me and you are going too deep!” So, knowing he was home safe, he stopped and got his pants down around his thighs without removing himself from the scene of action. As they started again he knew she was fibbing about it being too deep because she was trying to inhale him, balls and all, as she bounced her firm little rump on the hard packed sand under it.

  His scrotum had to stay out in the cold between her hot buttocks no matter how she tried, because she really was built nice and tight, but he had no complaints. Mimi was a great little lay. So he pounded them both to mutual orgasm and when she screamed aloud he warned, “Take it easy. Gaston will come running to see who’s getting killed. And, speaking of Gaston, let’s move back from the fire so we can strip and do this right!”

  She lowered her feet to the sand on either side of his legs and said, “Oh, I had forgotten Gaston. He’ll be shocked to discover I am not a good girl!”

  Captain Gringo said, “Disappointed, maybe. I don’t think you can shock Gaston. But let’s not frustrate him by making him watch. Come on, let’s get back in the dark a ways.”

  So they did so, Mimi protesting all the time he was undressing her that she felt terribly ashamed. But as he spread her skirt on the sand for a new beginning the little Creole girl got on top, stark naked, and proceeded to bounce like a child on a merry-go-round as he kissed her teasing nipples and helped her with a palm cupped under each thigh. The way she could spread her legs was incredible and though they were well back from the dull red glow of the camp fire, he could see her tawny body as she loomed lovingly over him. He was fixing to come again when they heard Gaston calling out, “Alors, where is everybody?” and Mimi dropped close against him, face flushed and vagina twitching in mingled desire and embarrassment. Captain Gringo called out, “We’re all right. Uh, it’s a sort of private party, Gaston.”

  The old Frenchman laughed, “Ah, you have my blessings, my children. If you’re at all interested in anything else, I just heard a distant steamboat whistle. We seem to be closer to the shoreline than I assumed. Now that I have reported this perhaps unimportant news, I shall resume my appointed rounds. But one assumes I am to be relieved sometime in the future, hein?”

  Captain Gringo laughed and as he saw Mimi wasn’t ready to take charge, again, he rolled her over and got on top as she protested, “We must stop, now that he suspects us, Deek!”

  He said, “He doesn’t suspect, Honey. Now that we don’t have to worry about him, let’s do it right!”

  He commenced to suit action to his words but though Mimi was responding nicely indeed from the waist down she went on bitching about Gaston thinking she was a bad girl and how she’d never be able to face him again in the daylight. Captain Gringo said, “You can face me, now, can’t you?”

  “That’s different. A woman is not ashamed of her body after she’s shared it with a man. Now that I know you so well I can confess I have done more than pee pee with what you are abusing so marvelously. But I am afraid to face anyone else who knows I am not a virgin.”

  He didn’t reply until he’d had a long shuddering orgasm. Then, as he kept moving politely to help her out, he said, “Don’t worry. I think Gaston has that part figured out. I don’t think he’ll make obscene gestures and stick his tongue out at you, Mimi.”

  There was a lull in the conversation as the Creole girl went wild in his arms again. But after she’d subsided from her own orgasm she started muttering dumb things about Gaston again and it was getting tedious. He could understand her feelings. He’d once shared a small room with a sister he was screwing and another he wasn’t.

  At first, at least.

  It had been a lot more comfortable after they’d all gotten better adapted to the cozy situation. So he rolled off, sat up, and said, “Wait here.”

  “But, Deek, I’m still hot.”

  “I noticed.” He grinned, getting to his feet. He walked to the fire, picked up his gun rig
, and strapped it around his naked hips as he called out, “Hey, Gaston?”

  The wiry little Frenchman materialized on the far side of the dull red glow to say, “You must know you are nude, so let’s not discuss the matter. What else is going on?”

  “I’ll take your watch. You’d better take Mimi. It seems we have a shy nymphomaniac on our hands and the sooner she’s screwed everybody the sooner she’ll shut up about it and concentrate on guiding us through this fucking swamp.”

  Gaston’s teeth gleamed red in the firelight as he said, “A fucking swamp indeed, but are you sure you do not mind sharing, Dick?”

  “I don’t generally make a habit of it, but this may be a medical emergency. Go tell her you’re not disgusted with her for Pete’s sake!”

  So Gaston went, as Captain Gringo moved toward the tree line, slapping at a mosquito that seemed to want to suck him off. There weren’t as many mosquitoes deep in a swamp as there were around the edges as a rule. So that was something to think about. He needed to think about something as he heard Mimi’s distant voice call out, “Oh, no, Gaston, I couldn’t!”

  He started to explore the limits of the sandy hammock as it seemed she could, judging from the occasional distant giggles. The hammock was surrounded on all sides by the same mangroves growing in water and muck. So they weren’t on the far side as he’d thought. He cocked his ear as he heard something louder than Mi mi albeit further away in the darkness. Gaston had been right: it did sound like the siren of a coastal steamer. But it was something else. He’d heard that sound before, if only he could remember where and when.

  His perambulations had taken him around to where Gaston and Mimi were between him and the fire. So he stopped, bemused, as he saw them outlined by the ruddy glow of the fire. Gaston had her on her knees and elbows and was giving it to her dog style as she kept asking him what “Deek” would think if he knew they were being so wicked. “Deek” grimaced and moved on. He knew it wouldn’t hurt so much when it was time to ditch the little Creole, now that she’d dropped her shy act. He told himself he was finished with her, too.