Blood Runner

by Lou Cameron

  Captain Gringo noticed that the albino, Blanca, not only skipped breakfast but also had ducked back inside her hut as the sun rose high enough to shine into the poolside clearing. He threw his clean-off bone in the fire, rose, and went to see what she was up to.

  He found Blanca in her hammock, eating from a gourd bowl. She started to hide it as his outline bulked in the doorway. Then she smiled and said, “Oh, it’s you. I don’t let the others watch me eat.”

  “I know you’re a bruja, but do your Indians really think you never eat, Blanca?”

  “Oh, they know I eat and sleep like other people, when they think about it. The idea is not to have them thinking about it too much. Your Queen Victoria has many children, no?”

  “She’s not exactly my queen, but yes, she has a mess of kids.”

  “Then she must fuck a lot, true?”

  He laughed and said, “I get your point. Now that I think about it, Her Majesty must look pretty silly if she wears her crown to bed. Our own brujas hide their appetites, too. Are you in here to keep from getting sunburned, Blanca?”

  “Of course. I am safe enough under the trees at any time. But I mostly move about at night. The older brujas who instructed me say this, too, impresses people.”

  “Yeah, it’s sort of spooky. With those unpigmented eyes, you must see in the dark like a cat.”

  “Darkness is more comfortable to me. Come sit with me. We can’t make love, right now. But I like to feel you near me. Has Sor Pantera been your other woman long?”

  He joined her on the hammock as he answered cautiously, “Not very long. Why do you ask?”

  “I have been thinking about last night. It was most exciting, but a bit … too much.”

  “Look, I didn’t suggest you girls get so, uh, familiar. I thought you enjoyed it wild.”

  “Oh, I did. But it was like a pinch too much spice in the pot. When we had finished, and I lay in your arms, I couldn’t help thinking how much nicer it might be to be alone with you.”

  He didn’t answer. He’d encountered this situation before. Sex was a complicated situation at best. One part of the beast with two backs lusted for novelty and liked it hot and dirty. Something else made people long for tenderness and romance. That was probably why happily married men went to whorehouses. You couldn’t have it both ways with the same people.

  Blanca finished her stew and put the bowl aside as she rubbed a pink foot against his pant leg and mused, “I wish it was dark. I’d like to have you right now, all to myself.”

  He was seated sideways on the hammock, with Blanca on his right, her back in line with the hammock and her pale knees drawn up between them. He slid a palm between her thighs soothingly and said, “We might ask my friend, Gaston, to sleep with Sor Pantera tonight.”

  “Oh, do you think she’d mind? I didn’t know she knew the Frenchman that well.”

  “She didn’t know you that well, either. I think Sor Pantera likes novelty.”

  Blanca smiled and said, “That would save my having to kill her.” Then she took his wrist in her hands and moved his hand all the way to her naked lap.

  He started to caress her there, his mind in a whirl, as he muttered, “You can’t mean that, Blanca. I thought we were friends.”

  “Put two fingers in. We are friends. You and I. The others mean nothing to me.”

  She adjusted her rump against the netting and added, “Oh, I like the way you do that. Don’t stop.”

  He started working to please her, but as he used his free hand to unbutton his shirt she said, “No. Don’t take your clothes off. I told you we can’t be seen making love.”

  “What do you call this, then?”

  “We are just sitting here talking, if anyone comes in on us. But I don’t want to talk for a minute. I want to come.”

  He frowned in silence as he understood. It didn’t occur to the little witch that feeling up a naked lady might leave a man with needs of his own to satisfy. She was a spoiled child at heart. A selfish little savage used to having her every whim catered to by the superstitious natives. She expected him to satisfy her and just sit here with a hard-on. She was using him as a casual love toy and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. One word from her could mean the death of them all.

  And so, as Blanca opened her thighs and began breathing harder, he gave her an expert hand job, his own lust fading as he felt rather disgusted with the whole situation. He had to figure out a way to get himself and his companions out of this fix, or, failing that, gain control. Just making love to the freakish little bruja wouldn’t be the answer, he knew now. Blanca was incapable of true affection. She used the words for love or friendship as she used all other Spanish words. She didn’t think in Spanish. Her private thoughts and desires were worded in her mind in the guttural sounds of a race who saw the universe from another angle entirely, an angle he’d probably never understand completely. He’d run into this problem before, too, in the Indian-fighting U. S. 10th Cavalry. As a white officer leading black troopers against Apache he’d learned all people did not think the same way. He’d learned to understand his black troopers in time. What made an Apache tick still eluded him.

  Yet there were ways to get through the barrier of a totally alien way of thinking. Apache played by funny rules, but a white man could learn enough of them, in time, to plan his next move. The trick was to stay alive long enough to pick up a few hints.

  His train of thought was interrupted by Blanca suddenly gripping his wrist harder and hissing softly between clenched teeth. He saw her colorless breasts were flushing pink as she writhed in desperate silence on the hammock, and when she suddenly went limp with a contented smile he didn’t ask the usual dumb question.

  He left his hand in place until he saw she was dozing off. When he felt her grip relaxing he withdrew his hand and got softly to his feet. He went back outside and walked over to the pool. He squatted down and washed his hands in the shallows. If the fish bit, they bit. He was feeling grimy as hell.

  He went back to where Sor Pantera and Gaston were still eating and muttered, “Keep your goodies, but let’s go for a stroll. We’ve got problems.”

  They got up to follow him along the edge of the pool. Sor Pantera threw her monkey paw into the water and wiped her hands on her skirt as the water started to boil where she’d thrown the meat. Gaston sighed and said, “Most handy for garbage, but I could use a bath.”

  Captain Gringo said, “This isn’t very gallant, but we’ve got to talk turkey. I’m sorry Sor Pantera, but Gaston has to know about our odd relationship with the bruja.”

  Sor Pantera said, “You told me to make friends with her. I didn’t invite you to join in, but Gaston, here, is a man of the world.”

  Gaston grinned and said, “I spent a most interesting night in a hammock, too. Our brown friends are friendly indeed.”

  The American smiled crookedly and said, “They must like novelty, too. But they seem to be just playing with us while they make up their minds about other fun and games. They keep slipping in and out of the bush like shadows. Have you any firm figures on their numbers, Gaston?”

  The Frenchman shrugged and said, “I can’t get them to line up for a roll call and they all look alike. But, offhand, I’d say we’re outnumbered about five or six to one, not counting women and children.”

  Captain Gringo nodded and said, “I make it about forty families, too. That’s the usual size of a hunting band. If we could get them all together in one bunch ...”

  “Ah, great minds do run in the same channels, my old and rare. But how are we to manage such a tempting target for the Maxim? And how are we to hold them together while you mow them down?”

  “That’s a good question.”

  “I know. That is why I asked it. We have an all-or-nothing situation here. Should only one of the band get away to join other Indians in the forest, they would doubtless start picking us off with poison arrows at a more prudent distance.”

  Sor Pantera asked, “Why can’t
we just stay on friendly terms with them, muchachos?”

  The American replied, “The bruja just said she was getting bored with you. All things considered, I think she has a short attention span. I might be able to romance her another night or so before she gets enough of my style. I told her you’d sleep with Gaston tonight. She wants a solo command performance.”

  Sor Pantera glanced at the grinning little Frenchman, looked away with considerable color to her dusky cheeks, and stammered, “Oh, I suppose I should thank you for such consideration?”

  Gaston chuckled and soothed, “Consider me as a brother, Sor Panera. Our young friend will no doubt miss you, but he’s right. I have met Indian women before. They come in two varieties in bed. The more the merrier, or carving knives at two paces.”

  He added, in a softer tone, “Come to think of it, white women are like that, too. Do you think we could sacrifice my own frail flesh to the little witch after she wears you out, Dick? What I may lack in size I make up with enthusiasm, and we have to keep her happy, non?”

  Captain Gringo grinned and said, “That might be the answer, for the moment, but sooner or later we’ve got to gain the upper hand on this bunch and I don’t think Blanca is the answer.”

  “Mais non, the bruja is the problem! I don’t suppose you know any card tricks, eh?”

  “Come again?”

  “Magic. We must look as strange to the San Bias as their familiar little witch. I read in some book about a civilized man gaining control of some primitive tribe by knowing there was to be an eclipse of the sun. I wish I’d paid more attention to astronomy in my youth.”

  “Yeah, I read Mark Twain’s books, too. These natives probably know the stars better than we do, if they’re like other Indians I’ve met. We’re not going to impress them with parlor magic. Blanca was trained by older witches. She’d probably whip our tails in any sleight-of-hand contest.”

  They were a third of the way around the pool by now and an Indian with a drawn bow stepped out of the jungle shadows with a scowl to point his chin back at the huts. So Captain Gringo nodded, turned back, and said, “I was just about to say that slipping out of here didn’t seem like such a hot idea.”

  Gaston said, “Look at the bright side. The Army must still be looking for us.”

  “You call that the bright side? I may not have mentioned this to you before, Gaston, but you’re weird!”

  Sor Pantera nodded and said, “I, too, fail to see anything to cheer about in our present situation. We have been cut down to a mere handful. Our cause is as good as lost and we have been captured by Indians with the government searching for us, even should we escape.”

  Gaston chuckled and said, “Exactly. It is most confusing for everyone. The soldiers will have a devil of a time picking up our trail, now, and if they should manage to wander this far from the railroad, our little San Bias friends will be up to their bare bottoms in your revolution and the soldiers, no doubt, will wonder where the Balboa Brigade picked up all those bows and arrows!”

  The girl laughed and said, “I hadn’t thought of that. These Indians have accepted us, for some reason. They’re still totally savage to other strangers and if the Army thinks they’ve joined us ...”

  “Blanca will figure that out fast enough.” Captain Gringo cut in, adding, “You forget she’s more educated than her more primitive followers. She can add two and two. Her tribe’s not big enough to take on any army in a stand-up fight. They’re inland to avoid a real war with armed whites.”

  “But if the Army gives them no real choice—”

  “There’s always a choice. The 10th Cavalry was chasing Mexican border raiders one time when I rode with them. The Mexicans ran for Apacheria and holed up among the White Mountains, deep in Geronimo’s home range. Unfortunately for them, Geronimo didn’t feel like a war with us that summer.”

  Gaston nodded and said, “I read about Geronimo’s changes of mood. What did he do, turn the bandits over to you?”

  “Not exactly. The Apache left them for us to find, staked out on ant piles and smeared with honey. Since we had the Mexicans we’d been chasing into his mountains, we took the hint and didn’t ride farther.”

  “Ah, I see. If Blanca were to leave us near the railroad, wrapped as gifts, the Indians she leads would be left to their own devices.”

  Sor Pantera shuddered and asked, “What are we to do? We can’t run away. That pink little bruja may soon tire of keeping us as pets. If we try to fight them—”

  “We’ve been around that block. Have either of you met any other San Bias who speak Spanish?”

  Gaston said, “One of the girls I spent the night with speaks a few words of whorehouse Spanish. Why?”

  “You’re going to have to butter her up, even if it means treating Sor Pantera, here, as a brother indeed. You say they gave you two San Bias girls?”

  “Two sisters. I don’t know who was given to whom, but the three of us found it most amusing.”

  “Good. Keep it that way. Sor Pantera is good at amusing people, too. She’ll help you keep the sisters happy. Meanwhile, try to teach them more Spanish and find out as much as you can about the village cliques. There’s always at least a couple of rival factions in a group this size. You know the way it’s played, Gaston.”

  “But of course. The English are best at divide and conquer, but any Frenchman who grew up in a small village is familiar with the game. Who will kill Blanca? You?”

  So there it was, out in the open like a gob of warm spit.

  Captain Gringo grimaced and said, “I’m hoping it won’t come to that. But I will if I have to.”

  Sor Pantera murmured, “Brrr! I thought you liked her!”

  “Yeah, we had a lot of laughs together, didn’t we? As long as we’re telling tales out of school, I thought she liked us, too. The bruja has no more feelings than an animal in heat. She could turn on us at any time. We need some other Indian playmates, muy pronto.”

  Gaston said, “I told you I’ve made a good start with two sisters, but are we not likely to be exchanging one basket of snakes for another? The entire bunch strikes me as most primitive, hein?”

  The American explained, “Blanca is probably more twisted than the others. She’s a physical freak, a trained witch, and semi-educated just enough to be twisted in her thinking. These others are simple fisherfolk and hunters. They probably see things in terms of simple good and evil. Even if I’m wrong, we know that Blanca is amoral and treacherous.”

  They were back to the fire, now, and one of the other Panamanians was complaining about an infected sore on his shin. Sor Pantera knelt down to comfort him, leaving the two men on their feet. Gaston took the American by the arm and led him on, as if to inspect the pond from a new angle. Gaston lowered his voice and asked, “Have you considered it my way, Dick? Look at the worthless clods. Aside from Chino and Sor Pantera, there’s not a fighter among them.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Madero and Old Hernando have held up pretty well without complaining.”

  “Merde, peasants don’t know how to complain. I have a plan.”

  “No doubt it’s most practique?”

  “But of course. You will be sleeping alone with Blanca, tonight. I will be with Sor Pantera and the two sisters. The other Indians will be polite about watching, so we slit three throats and take Sor Pantera and the machine gun and—”

  “Don’t be an ass. Sor Pantera would never go along with deserting her comrades.”

  “Eh bien, we slit four throats and take the machine gun. By the time anyone looks into either hut in the cold gray light—”

  “You not only make me sick, it’s dumb! How the hell are two white men supposed to get away from a tribe of pissed-off hunting Indians? The San Bias know this country. We don’t. It wouldn’t take them more than a few minutes to cut our trail, and they travel light with those bare asses and poison arrows!”

  “True, but if we made for the railroad I doubt if they’d follow.”

  “Oh, sure, tha
t just leaves two guys and a gun against the whole Colombian Army! How did you get so brilliant, Gaston? Did your mother read to you a lot or did a cow step on your head while you were learning to like shit?”

  “This is no time for compliments, my old and rare. We are in trouble. There is a time for sentiment and a time to run for the life boats. It is most unfortunate if there is not room for us all in the boat, but I fail to see how sinking with the ship can be of service to anyone.”

  “You fail to understand simple words, too, Gaston. I said no and I meant no. If you cut out on me, you’d better get so far away we never meet again. If you hurt Sor Pantera or those Indian girls, you’d better find another planet.”

  “Ah, your feelings for the hairy creature are more than sex, after all? You puzzle me. I got the impression you wished for me to take her off your hands.”

  “I do, and she’s great in a hammock. But I don’t want her to live because she’s a good lay. I want her to live because she’s a human being. I’d explain that to you, Gaston, but we’ve had this conversation before and, somehow, I don’t think you know what it means to be a human being.”

  “Perhaps you are right. You know I have been at this business a bit longer than yourself, hein? Stick with me, as you Americans say, and by the time you’re my age, you’ll be less sentimental.”

  “Jesus, I sure hope you’re wrong.”

  “I am never wrong about the game we play. When I met you a few months ago you hesitated at least a bit to kill a man. Today I find you plotting the murder of a pretty little girl you’ve made love to.”

  He laughed and added, “I can’t tell you how proud it makes me feel to see you coming along so nicely.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Greystoke of British Intelligence sat under a revolving fan in the unlisted office of a certain American shipping company. The fat American stared back through a cloud of cigar smoke. It was siesta time and the streets outside the dark office were quiet. Anglo-Saxons found siesta a better time than midnight for secret meetings in this part of the world.