by Lou Cameron
Thanks to his earlier inspiration from prettier ladies he either couldn’t or shouldn’t have tonight, he ejaculated in Tobasca almost at once. She felt it, sighed morosely, then seemed to take it as a great compliment when he didn’t whip it right out. He didn’t have to do any work at all, at first, thanks to her amazing bounciness. It felt nice to just lie atop her, rocked in the cradle of her depth with his chest against what felt like two big pillows while she thrust up at him in what would have been a bone-jarring experience if she’d had any bones at all near the surface of her smooth, fat body. Tobasca rolled her head back and forth in the ferns, moaning that his cock was too big for poor little her as she tried to swallow him balls and all, then came in a vast, shuddering orgasm that threatened to bite him off at the roots.
When they had lain quietly for a time, she sighed and said, ‘Oh, thank you, Captain Gringo. That most understanding of you. You swear you will not tell Gaston?’
‘Of course not.’ He lied, adding, ‘I don’t want to fight him, and you are the kind of woman men fight over, querida.’
‘They used to. I was not nicknamed Tobasca because of the color of my hair. In my youth I was considered a very good lay.’
He moved teasingly inside her and asked, ‘You’re still pretty good, old girl. Let’s see if there’s any more where that last come came from.’
‘Oh, sí, sí, fuck me all you wish! Pero, won’t your other adelitas miss you? I know I would miss you if I was used to getting this every night! It is no wonder it takes two for to satisfy you, you marvelous creature!’
He began to pay her back for her earlier efforts in his behalf by moving faster as he growled, ‘Tonight I think it will take three.’ So she said she felt most happy she was one of them and began to move with him again. She beat him to orgasm, went as limp as a whale could, and as he kept pounding her submissive flesh, crooned, ‘Oh, you make me feel so little and helpless. You are so big and strong in every way. I admire a man who needs no vice for to satisfy himself. Where did you ever learn to fuck like a toro, toro mio?’
He laughed and muttered something about a friendly cow he’d met one time. She didn’t get it. He hadn’t wanted her to. She began to buck some more as she came with him this time. Then she sighed and suggested, ‘I can suck you if you wish. But, forgive me, I am most tender between the legs now.’
He declined her gracious offer, saying he was satisfied, too, and helped her get dressed again. She said it might be better if they were not seen moving back into the light together. He agreed they had to be discreet and took his own time getting dressed and back to the hut he shared with Emesta.
He’d hoped to find the little mestiza asleep. She was wide-awake and naked atop the bedding. As he began to undress again, and this was getting tiresome, Emesta said, ‘Guess what? My cramps have stopped. Perhaps I am not off my period after all. Shall we find out?’
He gulped and said, ‘Let’s not be hasty. We don’t want to ruin the bedding, and what the hell, it’s pretty late.’
Emesta insisted, ‘It is never that late. I bet I know how to get you back in the mood. Ah, you have washed well since visiting Teresa, one hopes?’
He laughed and said, ‘I never touched Teresa tonight.’ So Emesta said, ‘Bueno,’ and went down on him before he could stop her. From the way she started sucking he assumed Tobasca had been cleaner than he’d had the right to imagine, and Emesta was right about one thing. It sure got a guy back in the mood.
The next morning, after breakfast, El Generale sent for the two soldiers of fortune and told them, ‘My scouts report an isolated rancho atop the mesa to our west. They have no telephono line and many horses in their corral. A few of us will ride on ahead aboard our mules for to raid them, eh?’
Captain Gringo asked if he could make a suggestion, and when Verdugo nodded, he said, ‘We’re pretty far south of your border, and unless they have mounts for all your people, we won’t be able to move faster than we have been. Wouldn’t it make more sense to pick up the ponies peacefully?’
Verdugo frowned and replied, ‘What a novel idea! But how do you propose we get them to give us their horses without a fight?’
As Helena came out to join them, looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, Captain Gringo said, ‘Easy. We offer to buy some horses from them. If they raise horses, they must sell horses. Am I talking too fast for you?’
Verdugo scowled and said, ‘Sí, I am not in the habit of buying what is mine for to take!’
‘I’ve noticed that. Yesterday we took a lot of dinero off those other outlaws we smoked up. What’s the sense of having money if you never spend any? There could be other bandits left to fight. Meanwhile, why pick fights with people you don’t have to? If we can get them to just sell us some horses, they’ll have no reason to fight us or, worse yet, report us to the Costa Rican Cavalry. See?’
Helena did. She said, ‘The Yanqui is right. I will ride with you. For to show them we are peaceful travelers as we approach them for to trade in peace. How much can horses cost, and, in any case, we have plenty of money and not enough ammunition for to fight the whole world, eh?’
Verdugo pondered as he inhaled some more coffee. Then he nodded and said, ‘I am well-known for unusual tactics. I am glad I thought of such a sneaky trick. Bueno, I shall take a couple of men for to herd the horses, as well as these two soldados de fortuna who look less like bandits than the rest of us. You had better stay here, Helena. I said I would try to get the horses in a friendly manner. I did not say I would come back without them, no matter how those rancheros feel about it.’
He rose and motioned the soldiers of fortune to follow him. Helena followed, too, insisting, ‘Idiot. You have to get close enough to talk to them before you can discuss horse trade with them. I shall ride with you. The party will look more innocent with a skirt in its company. If they behave in a foolish manner. I know how to fight as well or better than most of your men in any case.’
Verdugo asked Captain Gringo’s opinion. The worried American didn’t want Helena pissed at him for yet another reason. So he shrugged and said, ‘She looks pretty tough to me.
In the end she got to ride along, packing a carbine across her dainty thighs as she followed her man, the soldiers of fortune, and two peon soldados. It took the small party the better part of two hours, even mounted, before they topped a wooded rise and saw a modest spread beside a mountain stream in a parklike flat-bottomed valley. Captain Gringo suggested, ‘Let me take the lead in this beat-up Anglo suit. That uniform you’re sort of wearing might give them the wrong idea, Generale.’
Verdugo shrugged and reined in as Captain Gringo and Gaston rode slowly down the slope ahead of the others. A dog started barking before they were within rifle range of the stucco buildings and well-stocked corral beyond. A pair of hard-cased hombres came out on the veranda, holding their carbines politely, muzzle down. Captain Gringo hailed them and raised an empty hand. One of them waved him closer. When he was close enough to talk, he explained, ‘We are looking for horses, señors. Do you have any here for sale?’
The older ranchero nodded gravely and replied, ‘For sale, of a certainty. We do not raise horses for to fuck. May one ask where el señor has come from on those skinny mules?’
‘We have come far, in peace, and we agree our mounts are not much. What are you asking a head for your fine ponies?’
‘¿Quien sabe? Each horse is a different color. All are good. But some are better. How many mounts are we speaking of?’
‘You have two dozen, no, twenty-three I see from here. To save time, what do you say to a flat rate if we take all of them off your hands?’
‘The six of you require twenty-three mounts? You should have told your friends we are not cannibals here. We can sell you nineteen. No more. We, too, would rather ride than walk, and the nearest town is far in any case.’
El Generale started to grumble. But Helena shut him up as Captain Gringo dismounted to bargain. The rancheros thawed as they saw tha
t he was a serious person, and by the time they’d agreed on a price, they were downright friendly, as they should have been, considering how they were skinning him. But what the hell, it wasn’t his money, or even El Generale’s money. So they shook on the deal, and Verdugo’s men roped the mounts selected together to lead off. As they worked to form the train, some horses objecting, Captain Gringo asked the now friendly rancheros if they had a recent newspaper he could buy from them as well. One said not to be silly and went in to fetch a day-old edition of La Prenza for him. He folded it away, shook hands again, and mounted up to follow as the two lead guerrillas moved the long line of linked horses back up the open slope toward the line of trees. El Generale and his woman followed with Gaston bringing up the rear.
They almost made it. The horses were moving into the trees when, behind him, Captain Gringo heard two shots. He turned in the saddle to see Verdugo hunched over, clinging to his mule’s name, as Helena hit the ground farther down the slope. Gaston was riding his way, gun drawn and using it as a quirt to gallop his own mount even faster.
The Frenchman shouted, ‘Into the trees, tout de suite!’
But Captain Gringo replied, ‘Into them yourself and secure those horses! I’ll get Verdugo!’
He rode back to do so as Gaston shouted a curse and rode on. He could see at a glance that Helena lay dead, even closer to the now silent and sinister housing in the distance. He pegged a revolver shot at the spread to keep it that way and then put his .38 away to grope for El Generale’s dropped reins. He yelled, ‘Hang on! How bad are you hit?’ as he got them both moving up the slope again. Verdugo gasped. ‘Bad. What about my mujer?’
Captain Gringo didn’t answer as he loped them for cover, braced for a bullet between the shoulder blades all the way. But nobody fired, even though it seemed like a million miles and a million years to the line of trees. He burst through the scrub into the inviting darkness beyond. He was surprised to see Gaston seated calmly a few yards in. He asked about the others and Gaston replied, ‘I sent them on ahead with the horses. We have to talk, Dick.’
They were speaking English. El Generale might not have been listening too carefully in any case as the American said, ‘Let’s keep moving, then. He’s hit bad. Look at all that blood running down his leg. The sons of bitches got Helena too!’
Gaston shook his head and said, ‘Mais non, I shot her, right after she shot him from behind. I did not wish her to make a habit of it, and you could have been next.’
Captain Gringo reined in and muttered, ‘Okay, if it’s safe to lie him down, we’d better lie him down. I don’t think she’d have shot me. I’ll explain later.’
Gaston helped him get Verdugo to the forest duff with a saddle pad under his head before he rose to keep an eye on the trees to the west, saying, ‘Those rancheros are no doubt as confused as we are, and one never knows about curious kittens, hein? How bad is it and, more important, why did you go back, you idiot?’
Captain Gringo told him to shut up as he examined Verdugo. The carbine round had hit him from behind and come out a lot bigger through his chest wall. Verdugo hiccupped and asked, ‘Is it night already? I can’t see you hombres. Where are we?’
‘Take it easy. You’ve lost a lot of blood and you’re still oozing pretty good. We’re okay. Nobody’s after us right now, Generale.’
The mortally wounded man hiccupped again and said, ‘Hey, I got the hiccups. Somebody get me some water. Helena, are you there, you lazy bitch? Fetch me some water, poco tiempo!’
Captain Gringo had no way to say it gently. So he told Verdugo, ‘Helena was hit, too, worse. Don’t wiggle around so much. I’m trying to stuff this exit wound, and you’re not helping much!’
Verdugo stared blindly up at him and replied, ‘They have killed my adelita? By the tits of the Virgin they shall pay for this! Help me up! It is true that she had a nasty disposition and was not as great a lay as she thought she was, but I still mean to make them die in considerable pain!’
Both soldiers of fortune stiffened as they heard hoofbeats coming from the east. But it was only Marcos, one of the men sent on ahead with the horses, He dismounted near them, saying, ‘I sent Gordo on ahead and came back for to help you fight. How bad is our commander wounded, Captain Gringo?’
The American mutely showed him the blood-soaked kerchief he’d given up trying to pack the ghastly wound with, and Marcos removed his sombrero and made the sign of the cross.
El Generale opened his eyes again, seeing nothing, and called out, ‘Attention to orders, men! Until I recover from this scratch, Captain Gringo is in charge! He will show you how to pay the bastards back for their treachery. You will all do as he says or, by the balls of Christ, I will skin you alive as soon as I get over this attack of hiccups!’
It was the last thing he ever said. He hiccupped blood a few times and then went limp. Captain Gringo felt his pulse, closed his eyes, and said, ‘He’s dead. We’ll bury him back at the camp. Let’s get out of here.’
Marcos moved to help but asked, ‘Are we not going back to wipe that rancho out, Captain Gringo?’
The American said, ‘Not just yet. El Generale ordered me to take over his mission, not to get anyone else killed.’ Gaston waited until they were all mounted and leading the dead Verdugo home across his mule before he mused, sardonically, ‘Eh bien, I suppose that when one fucks a man’s woman, he feels the least he can do is save his life. But now that you’ve gotten over that foolishness, Dick, is there anything to prevent us from, how you say, making the next streetcar?’
Captain Gringo said, in English, of course, ‘I never fucked his wife. That’s probably what killed him. You heard him turn his command over to me. So now I’m really fucked up.’
‘Mais how? If you are in command, there is nothing to stop us from simply waving a fond farewell now, non?’
‘No. We can’t leave these people stranded miles south of their own country. We have to get them safely home. Or home, anyway. I don’t think my new duties call for another Nicaraguan civil war, do you?’
‘Idiot! You owe these guerrillas nothing! They were holding us prisoner until just now!’
Captain Gringo shook his head and said, ‘They didn’t know that. We were the ones who were fibbing. They’re not bad people, Gaston. Even if they were, I accepted when this poor slab of meat made me his segundo. With him dead it’s my duty to take care of the outfit, and somehow I don’t think the Costa Rican Cav will understand if they catch a mess of Nicaraguans this far south of their border.’
Gaston sighed and said, ‘Merde alors, and curse West Point ten times! I was afraid you might still remember your misspent youth reading shit of the bull about a soldier’s duty!’
‘You want to take off, Gaston? There’s nothing to stop you now.’
Gaston growled, ‘Oh, shut up, you know my old army filled my head with the same shit of the bull, you idiot.’
Nobody back at the guerrilla camp saw fit to argue about Captain Gringo’s rise in the world. One of their own gave witness that El Generale had turned over the command to his chosen segundo, and everyone remembered what the big Yanqui had done to Robles, who had ignored the dead leader’s instructions.
So El Generale was buried with full honors, if not as deeply as he might have wished, and once things simmered down, Captain Gringo got out the newspaper he’d picked up at the rancho to see if there was anything worth reading.
There was. Captain Gringo read the lead story twice to make sure of his facts, then called Teresa over to his fire. As she dropped to her knees at his side he said, ‘There’s nothing about this outfit so far, thank God. But your grandfather sure has been busy. Someone came back for seconds. They didn’t manage their second ransom pickup as well as their first. This time your grandfather’s men shot the sorry son of a bitch and turned what was left of him over to the police. His name was Pedro Rojo. Anyone we know?’
Teresa screamed and started to cry. He shook her to make her stop, and she calmed down enough to
gasp, ‘I can’t believe it! Pedro was the capataz of my own rancho! I would have trusted him with my life! It must have been another Pedro, no?’
He showed her the picture on the front page of La Prenza. It had to have been taken while he was still alive, judging from the self-satisfied smile on the weak but handsome face. Teresa sobbed as if she’d been stabbed and said, ‘It is him, my own capataz. I see, now, how my own servants betrayed me. But how do you suppose that wicked Melina turned them against me?’
He shrugged and replied, ‘Easy, if she’s the same Melina I know. Your foreman looks even dumber than me. Anyone he gave orders to would have to obey him. But look on the bright side. It was the staff of your town house in Limón, not your grandfather’s, who slipped you that unusually stiff drink. If Don Alberto’s servants were in cahoots with the kidnappers, they’d have never caught this bozo when he came back for more ransom.’
‘I am still sure his young wife was behind it all.’ She insisted, adding, ‘Perhaps she was unable to hear everything that was being said in my poor foolish grandfather’s house, eh?’
‘So far he hasn’t been acting all that foolish. It says here that they let Rojo have the ransom, trailed him to guess where, your place, and shot it out with him.’
Gaston had been listening across the fire, seated between his oddly matched adelitas. He said, ‘The plot thickens, Dick. Do you not find it curious that Don Alberto would wish this Pedro person dead before he recovered his grandchild here?’
Captain Gringo shrugged and said, ‘They gave him the chance to surrender alive, they say. Try it this way. Don Alberto knew the bastards didn’t have her anymore.’
‘How could he know such a thing, my trusting child?’
