by Lou Cameron
But Captain Gringo shook his head and said, “Stay here with the others, Zurdo. You have friends and relatives they can get at if they see you went for help.”
Without waiting to see if he was being obeyed, the tall American started down the slope, digging in his heels. The hillside had long since been stripped of brush for firewood and the weathered lava soil and rock was treacherous. He half walked and half slid down to where the slope began to bottom out, but he was still a good hundred yards from the village when a trio of riflemen stepped into view around the corner of the alcalde’s house. Captain Gringo waved the kerchief and kept going. He got to within pistol range before one of the men called out, in English, “You can stop right there and keep your hands friendly. Who the fuck are you and where the fuck did you just come from?”
The American stopped and called back, “The name’s Walker, we just came down off the mesa, and I’ve got guys covering you from the rim rocks up above.”
“Big deal. We’re out of range from them ridges and you know it. Did you have something particular in mind or do you just enjoy dying?”
Captain Gringo said, “I’m leading irregulars on a mission with the approval of San Jose. I heard there were Yank guerrillas here and came down to see if you want to join up.”
There was a long silence. Then another man asked, “What’s the deal, Walker? Are you the same Walker the spies call Captain Gringo?”
“Yeah. Who’s your leader?”
“Me, and my name’s none of your lucking business. We got us a good thing going for us, here. We’ve been getting all the booze and ass we want and we’re charging two bits a gallon for the only water for miles. You want to buy some water, Captain Gringo?”
“We’ve got water, and we’ve got you out manned and outgunned, but I didn’t come down here to talk tough. I’ll pay you each a dollar a day with a bonus after we complete our mission. Remember I’m talking about a legal mission. When it’s over, you’ll be able to spend your dinero up in San Jose.”
There was another pause in the conversation as they apparently argued about his offer. Then-the self-appointed leader said, “We might go along with five bucks a day. You still ain’t said what you’re after.”
“I don’t intend to, unless you guys join up. How long do you think you can hold out here like this?”
“As long as we have to, friend. We’ve already been on a fucking mission and we didn’t like it much. We didn’t find nothing. So there was no point going back empty-handed. When we found this place waiting to be plucked like an apple, we just went into business for ourselves.”
Captain Gringo frowned and said, “Christ, don’t tell me Greystoke hired you guys, tool”
“Greystoke? Who the hell is Greystoke?”
“The guy I’m working for. You were sent to look for a secret naval base, right?”
The other leader hesitated before he said, “What if we were? There ain’t no fucking secret base, and, believe me, we looked! I don’t remember no guy named Greystoke at the U.S. Consulate. What does he look like?”
The penny dropped. He’d thought Uncle Sam had been keeping an awfully low profile, and that explained the shortage of knockaround guys in San Jose, too. He called back, “He’s a bald guy. Wears a lieutenant commander’s uniform. Didn’t you meet him when our Naval Intelligence guys briefed you?”
“Naw, we just talked to some guy with an attaché case and a Chicago bankroll. We never went to the consulate. He said he was hiring us on the Q.T. He mentioned a bonus, too. But he said not to bother coming back for more if we didn’t find us a German submarine. So we took him up on it. I know you’re rep, and I’d cut you and your guys in on what we’ve got here, if there was more to go around. But there ain’t.”
Captain Gringo said, “Shaking down peons for pennies isn’t my line. You’re welcome to it, but I wouldn’t hang around here much longer, if I were you. The Costa Rican Army’s pretty hot stuff, and they shoot bandits on sight.”
“Aw, go look for your fucking submarine. You’re in no position to tell anyone how to run their lives, Walker. You’re on a fool’s errand.”
“Maybe. There’s a lot of coastline between here and Panama, buddy.”
“I know. We just stumbled over most of it. I don’t know how the story about them Germans got started, but I know it’s all bullshit. Seeing you’re a fellow Yank, we’ll let you fill your canteens before you move on, but you did say you was moving on, didn’t you?”
Captain Gringo nodded and said, “Yeah, I’m not getting paid to take back villages for Costa Rica. I’ll see how many of my guys need water.”
He turned and walked away, not looking back, even though his backbone itched between his shoulder blades. They didn’t fire and he was soon out of range. They were really dumb as hell.
He struggled up the steep slope to Gaston and the others. He told everyone to move back from the rimrocks and stay out of sight before he filled them in on the conversation. Then he said, “They’re going to wonder why none of us come down for water.”
Gaston nodded and said, “But of course. They know we’d never march on without filling our canteens, once invited.”
The Detroit Harp said, “Sure, and we do need the water and that’s a fact, but I’m not sure I trust them, Cap!”
The tall American nodded and said, “It’s better than even money they’d ambush anyone who went in. They could use our guns and ammo and they don’t want us telling anyone where they are. We’ll wait until it’s dark before we take them.”
Gaston said, “We are to take them? Merde alors! How? The alcalde’s house is built like a fortress!”
Captain Gringo said, “I know. They’re going to start stewing long before sundown. They won’t know if we’re still here or not. I’m counting on them forting up good in that house while they get set for an attack.”
T.B. Jones looked totally confused as he said, “That’s what I’d do if I was them, Cap. Fifteen guys could hold off an army from behind them ‘dobe walls, and we don’t have no army!”
Captain Gringo said, “Maybe not, but we’ve got brains, which is more than they can say. You guys just find some shade and smoke if you’ve got ‘em. Those poor dumb bastards won’t have a chance when we hit them, after sundown.”
Chapter Eleven
The leader of the gang holding the village was peering out a second-story window as the sun went down. The light was fading fast, this close to the equator, and the dusty slope behind the house was deep purple, now. A henchman joined him to say, “There’s a dame out front who wants water. She says she has no money, but she ain’t bad looking.”
The leader said, “Let her have the water and tell her to beat it. This is no time for any of us to have our pants down! I’ve heard about this Captain Gringo. He’s one mean hairpin.”
“Aw, shit, they probably left hours ago. If you were so worried about him, why didn’t you shoot him in the back when you had the chance?”
“Don’t talk like such a chump. You don’t shoot a guy under a parley flag unless you know how many of his friends are watching and what they’ve got to hit you with. I was hoping they’d take me up on that water so we could get the drop on them, but the bastard was too smart for me.”
“Maybe he’s so smart he just lit out, boss. He’d be dumb as hell to try and take us, wouldn’t he?”
“I hope you’re right. Do we have a man at every window with a rifle?”
“Sure, everyone’s taken cover like you said. Even if they sneak in while it’s dark, they won’t be able to pick off any stragglers out there. The front door’s barred and we’ve got furniture piled against it, like you wanted. These windows are barred. So nobody can get in at us, even if they rush us with ladders.”
The leader grimaced as he stared out the window. He said, “Jesus, it’s getting black out there. I can’t see fifty yards up the slope, now.”
His henchman soothed, “They can’t see you, neither. The only lamps still lit are downstairs,
where there’s no windows facing the slope. I say let ’em come. We’re as safe here as if we were locked in a’ vault.”
The leader suddenly gasped, “Good God! Look!” and they both watched as what looked like a burning haystack rolled clown the slope toward them. It rolled over and over, bouncing over rocks and trailing sparks until, as it got to the gentler slope behind the house, it stopped and continued to burn, like a bonfire. The leader stared at it and muttered, “Okay, so we know they’re there, but what the fuck was that all about?”
His henchman shrugged and said, “Beats the shit out of me. It looks like they tied a mess of brush together and tried to roll it against the house after they set it afire. I don’t see what good it did them. Even if it reached the wall, the wall’s a yard thick and fireproof. The roof tiles won’t burn, either. If you ask me, Captain Gringo’s not so smart, after all. You see what they’ve done? They’ve illuminated the last few yards of open ground they’d have to cover if they rushed us!”
The leader grinned and said, “By God, you’re right! I can’t see much beyond that blaze, but everything between us and it is lit up neat as hell!”
Then they heard a noise that sounded like a thundering herd of buffalo and the floor began to tremble under their boots. The leader gasped, “Kee-rist! What’s that?” and then, before his horrified follower could answer, they both saw a boulder, ten feet in diameter and almost round, smash through the pile of burning brush as it bounded end over end directly at them!
They only caught a glimpse of it, for after rolling all the way down the slope from the rimrock that Captain Gringo’s men had levered it over with considerable effort, the big chuck of rock was moving fifty miles an hour! It smashed into the house like a giant bowling ball aimed at nine pins, and the results were horrendous. The boulder rolled completely through the first-story guts of the dead alcalde’s house, and caved it in like a house of cards. But the thick adobe walls and heavy tile roof weren’t pasteboard playing cards. The debris weighed tons and most of the gang was crushed to strawberry jam as it crashed down around or on top of them. The leader and a few others on the upper floor survived the fall as they went suddenly down with the house in a cloud of timbers and roofing tiles. But as a man here and there tried to rise amid the dust and confusion, Captain Gringo opened up with his machine gun, just beyond the fire he’d placed to illuminate the scene!
He fired with the Maxim braced against one hip, hosing a stream of hot lead into the ruins. Shattered oil lamps under the wreckage had spattered burning kerosene and as flames licked up here and there through the clouds of brick dust, the writhing screaming victims of his attack looked like they were already in hell. But it was just a foretaste of the hereafter they deserved. Captain Gringo spattered blood and brains until nothing moved or made a sound but the settling dust and knuckle-snapping fingers of rising flame.
As he stood there with the silently smoking Maxim still trained on the awesome scene of destruction, Gaston appeared out of the darkness behind him and the boy, Zurdo, pranced back and forth like he was about to wet his pants as he shouted for the world to hear, “We have saved you all, my people! Come see what Captain Gringo has done. Bring your water jars! Our village has been liberated!”
As cautious faces appeared on the far side of the ruins, Gaston said, “That is astoundingly true, Dick, I have seldom seen a place more liberated. You certainly are a sloppy and most noisy craftsman.”
Captain Gringo said, “I thought it was pretty neat. Where are the others?”
“Covering you, up the slope, as you ordered. I took the liberty of strolling down to congratulate you, but they seem rather impressed with you, these days. You have them trained to where they don’t make a move unless you tell them to.”
The heat from the boiling water jacket was uncomfortable as it soaked back through the rest of the metal he was holding, so Captain Gringo put the Maxim down to cool before he turned and waved his men in. As they gathered, grinning like a winning team after a one-sided game, he said, “Bomber, Harp and T.B. You three make a security sweep with Zurdo, here. Make sure we got them all and don’t take anyone’s word in a doorway. Some surviving son of a bitch could be holding a gun on a housewife from inside.”
The Harp said, “Sure and we know the form, Cap. Let’s go, Zurdo. I want to meet some girls.”
As they circled the ruins, Captain Gringo told the other five, “We’re going to secure the plaza and the well. You, Collins, take charge of the machine gun. Watch it. It’s hot.”
Collins, an older soldier of fortune with a drinker’s nose but alert eyes, asked, “Do you want it cleaned and reloaded, Captain?”
“No. I’ll do that myself before we leave. There’s half a belt of ammo left in it and I don’t want it disassembled until we have a firmer grasp of the situation, here. The rest of you guys leave rounds in your chambers and keep your eyes open. Follow me.
He circled the smoldering ruins and when they reached the well their shadows were long and black on the ruby firelit pavement of the plaza. Some women had beaten them to the well and were eagerly filling their water jars. But when they saw the Americans they moved back, looking uncertainly at the ragtag band outlined by the flames behind them. Captain Gringo called, “It’s all right, señoras. We came to help you, with your village boy, Zurdo.”
Zurdo had been saying much the same, apparently, for more women were approaching with empty water containers and a delegation of cotton-clad men hove into view, carrying their sombreros in their hands. They stared in awe at their rescuers and the massive boulder that had come to rest on the far side of the well. An older man cleared his throat and said, “I am called Jesus Garcia and these others have asked me to speak for them. We have no alcalde, now, but we wish for to make you welcome and to thank you properly for what you have done. We are poor people, but I have the last of our silver here and—”
“Por nada.” Captain Gringo cut in, adding, “Keep your money. All we ask is water and shelter for the night. Those ruins will bum out and cool soon. I don’t think the fire is hot enough to melt the coins those others extorted from you. So, while it may be a bit grim; you should be able to dig it out of the ashes in a day or so.”
A tear glistened on the old man’s cheek in the red glow as he said, “El señor is a saint as well as a real man! You and your heroic men are welcome to stay forever! What we have is yours, since we would have nothing if you had not come!”
The boy, Zurdo, appeared to join them, with the other three men of Captain Gringo’s band. Zurdo was grinning ear to ear as he shouted, “You got them all, Captain Gringo! I have just seen my sister and she still has her honor! Viva Captain Gringo!”
The other villagers took up the shout as even more began to join the crowd around the well. A woman shouted and began to drum her heels on the pavement as others started keeping time to her flamenco with their clapping palms. A second woman, and then two more, joined in her skirt-flouncing display as a man shouted, “Someone get some wine out here!” Another shouted, “I go to get a goat for to make la barbacoa! We shall have a fine fiesta!”
Gaston, at Captain Gringo’s side, said, “I like parties, Dick. Don’t you?”
The tall American glanced around at his grinning men and said, “All right, guys. You’ve earned a celebration, but let’s not overdo it. I want everybody sober and unmarried when I’m ready to move on in the morning.”
The Detroit Harp grinned and asked, “Is it okay to get engaged, Cap?” and Captain Gringo said, “Yeah, but let’s not overdo it. These are simple people and if any of them are insulted or raped I’m going to take a mighty dim view of it!”
“Aw, Jasus, Cap, we’ve all been at it down here long enough to know the customs. Me and the boyos will act dacent.”
“Okay. All of you refill your canteens and empty your rifle chambers before you leave my side. The signal to assemble here in the morning will be one pistol shot. If you hear one earlier, get back here on the double. I don’t have ammo to
spare for a second shot and anybody who’s not ready to roll when I am gets left behind.”
He’d had to shout his last words as the crowd around them started getting noisier. He turned to say something to Gaston, but the little Frenchman was dancing with a fat woman. Captain Gringo hoped she was either single or had an understanding husband. He’d seen that look on Gaston’s face before.
Captain Gringo elbowed his way to the well and picked up the machine gun that Collins had placed on the stone rim. He didn’t see Collins, but the next time he did, he meant to chew him out for leaving the weapon where it could have been knocked down a water shaft. The boy, Zurdo, joined him with a pretty barefoot girl of sixteen or so in two. He said, “I wish for you to meet my sister, Joselita, Captain Gringo.”
Captain Gringo smiled down at the girl as she blushed, prettily, and said, “I am your servant forever, señor.”
An older, harder looking version of Joselita came over and Zurdo said, grudgingly, “This is my mother, señor. She also wishes for to thank you.”
The older woman had a rose in her hair and didn’t look much over thirty. She’d have been quite pretty if it hadn’t been for the world weary eyes and bitch lines at the corners of her now smiling mouth. She said, “You saved both my daughter and myself from a fate worse than death, señor. I don’t know how we’ll ever repay you.”
Captain Gringo figured that if getting laid was a fate worse than death he was talking to a ghost, but he nodded politely and replied, “Por nada, señora.” Then he asked the boy, “Zurdo, do you have some place I can take this gun apart on a table? I could use a bed, too.”
The boy glanced at his mother, who nodded, and said, “I will show you to our house, Captain Gringo. There is a table in our kitchen and you can use my bed.”
“Your bed, Zurdo? Where are you to sleep?”
Zurdo laughed and answered, “Who wishes for to sleep when la fiesta is just getting started? You will have the whole house to yourself, señor, if you insist on remaining so calm when everyone else is going crazy!”
