Slocum and the Bandit Cucaracha

by Jake Logan

  Rema’s food was good and spicy, but the time was short, and after they finished the meal, Slocum paid her. She stood on her toes to kiss him, then told him to come back and see her. He nodded, mounted and hoisted Nada up behind him, and they rode off.

  “She is a good friend, but for a grande hombre like you, she would steal you.” Nada laughed as she leaned over to talk to him while riding behind his back.

  “Oh, no, she wouldn’t do that,” he teased, and she retaliated, using a soft fist to his kidneys.

  The route she directed him to take certainly was a back one. It was more like a game trail than a road, but she delivered him to a place above the ranch by midmorning. On their bellies, they spied on the corral and the jacals through his telescope.

  “All I see are women and a few children,” he said, handing Nada the instrument.

  She held the scope in both hands and agreed. “What shall we do?”

  “I dislike getting tough on women. They’re often just victims of their men’s actions.”

  “They may tell us to get even with their men.”

  “Not likely. But we better go see what we can do.”

  She scooted over and kissed him. “You are serious about not hurting women. I wish there were more men like you.”

  He nodded and collapsed the scope, and they went for his horse. In a short while they rode inside the ranch, his hand on his hip ready to pull out the Colt if any opposition appeared.

  An older woman came to meet them when they rode in. A few younger women drifted over as well, but hung back.

  “What do you want here?” Her frown hooded her dark eyes.

  Nada slipped off and hurried to stand in front of the horse. “We bring you no harm. We came to find the woman kidnapped from a hacienda who some men kept here.”

  “Look around. We have no such woman here.”

  Nada agreed. “But she was held here. Where did they take her?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do. She is a mother and did you no harm. Her husband wants her home.”

  “I don’t know what you speak about.” Acting haughty, the woman raised her chin and shook her head.

  Nada came right back at her. “I could turn this big hombre loose on you and have him pull your fingernails out by the roots to help your memory.”

  “Who are you?” the woman demanded.

  “I am not important. Look at your hands. How much pain is in store for you?”

  “She is not here. They took her away yesterday morning. She wanted to be with her lover.”

  “Who is that?” Nada asked with a frown.

  “The one who kidnapped her.”

  Nada turned to Slocum, who was looking around. “You hear her?”

  He turned back to face the woman. “La Cucaracha has her?”

  “Sí, señor. We had nothing to do with them holding her here.”

  He drew a deep breath. Her lover? Why would she think that about Martina?

  Martina was a rich woman living with a man who was a great provider. How in the hell could she be under the spell of some worthless bandit? He couldn’t believe his own ears.

  “Surely you are mistaken about her affection for this bandit?”

  The woman swung around, and the three younger ones standing back nodded in agreement with her.

  One of them spoke up, “Señor, I heard her ask the men to take her to him.”

  Still shocked, Slocum wondered why they lied so well. “Ask her where this one hides out,” he instructed Nada.

  “Where is this Cockroach at?” Nada said sharply.

  “Sierra Vista,” the woman said, like it was no secret.

  Nada turned for Slocum’s response. He knew that town. Taking the information under consideration, he nodded. “Tell her gracias.”

  “Is that all we need?” Nada asked. When he told her yes, she ran for the horse and brought it to him. He mounted, then caught her arm and tossed her on behind him. He saluted the women, and they left the place.

  “What do you think now?” Nada asked when they were out of earshot.

  “I find it hard to believe that Martina had taken a lover like him.”

  “Lots of women have been led off by some worthless hombres.”

  “But she has a son she seemed to adore, and she was always so loyal to her husband.”

  Nada hugged him and put her cheek on his back. “I am sorry we heard such bad news.”

  “You wish to go to Sierra Vista?”

  “With you?” She squeezed him tighter.

  “Who else?”

  “Of course. I would ride to the end of the world if you would take me.”

  “We’ll go to Sierra Vista. I have friends there who will put us up.”

  “Good,” she said, acting like an excited young girl.

  “Why did no one know the Cockroach had been up there?” he asked and reined his horse around a small landslide on the mountainside.

  “I never heard anyone say he had been there before that woman told us.”

  Lots of new information had turned up. Most was different than he expected or than he ever dreamed—he still wasn’t taking it all for fact. He booted Baldy into a trot.

  8

  In a small village that Slocum and Nada passed through, Slocum bought food from a vendor and then rode on to a place along a gurgling stream. There in the sundown, sitting cross-legged on the ground, they ate their burritos and talked about Sierra Vista.

  “You have never been there?” he asked Nada.

  “I have never been far from where I live. I am a coward, no?”

  “Many people never leave where they were born. They aren’t cowards.”

  “Oh, you say that to please me.”

  “No, when they come out of the womb, they are planted in that place.”

  “I never heard of that before.”

  When she finished eating, she brought him some water in a tin cup to wash down his food. Then he straightened his legs and she sat on his lap.

  “Who are you, hombre? You speak good Spanish, but you are no Mexican.

  “I am from America. We had a big war, a terrible war, a long terrible war. At the end it changed everything for me.”

  “No woman? No babies? No casa?”

  He turned her face toward his and kissed her. Her hands sought his face and clung to him, their mouths sipping honey and fire. In search of her womanly source, his hand slid under her skirt and over her smooth, short legs. She widened her knees for him to explore. When his finger penetrated her, she moved her butt closer to him. He played carefully with her clit until it at last stood erect.

  Her red face and rapid breathing told him all he needed to know. His arms under her legs, he swept her up and took her to the bedroll. When he set her down, she shed the dress and he toed off his boots. She tore open his pants and dropped to her knees. Her hand, twisting and pulling on his erection, soon had his pump primed, and she responded by taking his tool into her mouth. The instant her hot tongue touched the sensitive skin on his dick, a bolt of lightening shot to his brain. He clutched her head, and she took most of the length down her throat. Her efforts churned his stomach and he wanted to dance on his toes to escape her attack. Her mouth and tongue soon made his head swim even more.

  He came and she rose up with the white foam dribbling from both sides of her mouth. “Oh, you are wonderful.”

  In moments they were in the bedroll, and like a serpent she had rolled under him and stuffed his erection inside her pussy. He went for his prize, pounding her ass between her raised legs with a fury. Their world spun on a fast axis until excitement pulled his trigger. His balls cried out when he fired another volley inside her.

  They collapsed in a pile, still connected. She eased him out and rolled over, cuddling up to him like a spoon. He replaced his dick inside her, and she reached back to clap his bare hip.

  “Thank you, my lover.”

  Sometime in the night, he woke and discov
ered they were still attached and moved to go in deeper. His actions roused her, and she reached back to help him get closer. “Mother of God—I can’t believe it. Oh, please don’t quit.”

  Dawn was a small purple light coming over the mountain when he rolled her over and gave her another good breathtaking romp from the top.

  A short while later, sitting in the saddle, he hoisted her up behind him. Eating some crackers and jerky as they rode on their way, they talked and laughed about nothing in particular.

  In midafternoon they rode up a backstreet in Sierra Vista. High-walled estates lined the stone street. Bougainvillea vines and red flowers cloaked the walls, and a familiar gate stood open. Slocum rode in and a gray-headed, straight-backed woman came to the doorway.

  “Slocum,” she said. “We were not expecting you.”

  “Shush, lower your voice. No one else is either.”

  She laughed like a woman caught in her own joke. “Juan, close the gate and take his horse. We have a guest, and he brought us a pretty lady.”

  He swung the beaming Nada down onto the stone paving. “Nada is her name. Nada, this is Donna.”

  “Oh, Slocum,” Donna said. “It has been a long time since you visited us. What brings you here in vaquero clothing to this casa?”

  “A friend’s wife was kidnapped, and in the attack he took several bullets and one cost him his arm. So since he is healing—I am looking for his wife.”

  “And you, Nada?”

  She shrugged, still looking around, impressed at the sprawling flowers and opulence of the place. “I am only his helper.”

  “You are very pretty. He is fortunate to have such lovely company. Come into the house. I will feed you, then if you wish we can draw you a warm bath and let you rest. The patrón will be home late tonight. He went to the mines to see about some timbers they need.”

  “I trust he is all right?”

  “Don Carlos is fine. He will be happy to see you,” she said to Slocum.

  “I need to know about this bandit, La Cucaracha. He’s the one who kidnapped my friend’s wife.”

  She shook her head. “He is not in Sierra Vista. Who said he was here?”

  “Some women we talked to in the mountains. They said some men took the kidnapped woman here to that man.”

  Nada nodded to back his story.

  “We can ask Don Carlos, but I believe those women lied to you. Come eat and then have a bath.” She looked Nada over. “I have a fresh dress that will fit you too.”

  “Gracias.” Nada made a curtsy for her.

  “Nothing is too good for this hombre.” She clapped Slocum on the arm.

  “I agree, Donna. I really agree,” Nada said.

  Later, taking a bath, Slocum still felt lost. First they said that Martina went to her lover in this village. Then Donna, who knew so much about the town, said the bandit wasn’t here. Damn, he was chasing loose ends and still niggled badly about the Martina’s lover story.

  Time would tell. Someone came into the bathroom when he stood up. Nada attacked him with a towel. “I think you need to be dried off, hombre.”

  “Oh, I need a new brain.”

  “What is your plan?”

  “After dark I am going to scout around and see what I can find out.”

  “I want to go. I have never seen a real town.”

  “It could be dangerous.”

  “I’m pretty streetwise for a country girl.”

  “But it will not be a place to let down your guard.”

  “I won’t.”

  “All right, but I warned you.”

  She fussed with drying off his privates and then looked up at him. “Why have I not known you all my life?”

  “I don’t live in the Madres.” He pulled her up and kissed her hard on the mouth.

  “Oh, I knew this would be fun, but not so much.”

  “We better get ready for supper.”

  “Oh, Donna found me this wonderful dress. I won’t look like the puta from the mountains wearing it.”

  He spanked her on the ass and sent her off.

  In the front room, Slocum drank some of his absent host’s whiskey and waited. Donna came in and said they were still fixing Nada’s hair. He smiled and thanked her. “When is Don Carlos coming in?”

  “You know men, they get involved. With women sometimes, and business the rest of the time.”

  He nodded and grinned at her words. He’d known this woman well enough over the years, from the large mole beside her twat to the scar on her shoulder where a jealous lover had once tried to carve her up. Donna was a generous woman who took care of her boss and his amigos. She was a good administrator for Don Carlos too. Slocum was surprised that Don Carlos had not married her by now. But when it came to women, Don Carlos was a butterfly flitting from flower to flower, like some others he knew.

  When the delighted Nada joined them, with her hair in great curls to her bare shoulders, she looked like a rich man’s wife. His approving smile made her blush. Donna decided they should eat. There was no telling when her truant employer would get there. The milk fat lamb was delicious in mint sauce. The enchiladas were baked to perfection and her hot apple pie was mouthwatering.

  “I am so full I may burst,” Slocum said.

  “Good. He’s such a vast hombre to fill,” Donna said privately to Nada.

  She agreed.

  After Nada changed back into her traveling clothes, she and Slocum left the casa and moved on foot through the streets to the square. A band played in the center on a raised stand. The good horn player’s snappy renditions carried across the dancers under the Chinese lanterns. Mexican people were raised on dirt floors and they could dance on that surface too.

  A handsome young man came over and politely asked to dance with Nada. He bowed to both of them politely, and Slocum told her to go ahead. At the edge of the crowd, Slocum looked over the shadowy faces for someone familiar. He saw no one but kept up his search of the crowd. After the song ended the young man returned Nada and thanked him.

  “His name is Salazar. Mendez Salazar. He must have money,” she said.

  “He doesn’t plan to take you to meet his grandmother, does he?”

  She gave Slocum a feigned punch in the side. “He was polite and well mannered.”

  “Listen close. Someone here knows Martina’s whereabouts.”

  “Oh, I am listening.” She made Slocum dance with her next, and he saw a man in the crowd with a long scar on his left cheek. He should know that hombre—where did he know him from? They swirled around to the music and he lost sight of Scar Face.

  “Did you see someone you know?” Nada asked.

  He gave her a sharp nod, and she pressed her small body against him again.

  At last at the edge of the crowd he led her back a step or two into the shadows.

  “Who was it?”

  “A man with a bad knife scar on his left cheek. I should know him.”

  She shook her head that she didn’t know anyone like that. “Salazar is coming back.”

  “Learn what you can.”

  Pleasantries were exchanged, and Salazar led Nada away to dance some more.

  When she returned, she told him that Salazar had offered her ten pesos to spend the night with him.

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I am not for sale. Was that all right?”

  “You don’t need to do that for me.”

  “Good, I will sleep with you then. He must be very rich to offer so much money for one night, no?”

  “He made a generous offer.”

  “Maybe I should live here.”

  “Maybe, but what if he invites four horny bucks over to share you with them?”

  “That would be bad.”

  “Let’s move around the square. I want to see this Scar Face again.”

  “Certainly.” She took his left arm and they eased through the looser crowd on the outside. They passed by sour-smelling batwing doors and on toward a cantina where the cr
owd was loud and the piano music tinny and bad compared to the band in the square.

  Slocum held her back. He was able to see Monte up ahead with his back to a porch post. They detoured and stepped back to observe him.

  “Did you know the man with him?” she whispered when Monte and another man walked away.

  “No.”

  “His name is Cordova. He is a cattle buyer. I wonder what they are doing?”

  “Does Monte work for him?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t think Monte ever works.”

  “Wait.” Slocum caught her arm. “That man smoking the cigar in the doorway of the cantina ahead. See him? He is a pistolero who once worked on a hacienda I stayed at.”

  “What is his name?”

  “They called him—I’ll think of it in a minute. Oh, yes. His name is Flores.”

  “What should we do?”

  “Buy him a drink as though we want to hire him.”

  “I should go along?”

  “Sure.”

  He led her to the cantina’s door, and the man looked at them at first as though he didn’t know Slocum.

  “Pardon, señor, but isn’t your name Flores?” Slocum asked.

  The man frowned at him. “Where do you know me from?”

  “A hacienda in Sonora where you once worked. Are you employed now?”

  “No. Do you have work?”

  “Let’s go in and have a drink. We can talk in there about it.”

  “Sure. You know my name. What is yours?”

  Slocum tossed his head toward the side of the smoky room. “Find us a booth, and we can talk there.”

  The man agreed and turned on his heel to lead the way.

  At last in a side booth, Slocum introduced Nada and then told Flores his name.

  “Ah, sí. I remember you. You are the gringo.”

  Slocum nodded. “You know this hombre called the Cockroach?”

  “To know much about him is a death wish.” Flores shook his head.

  “You know where I can find him?”

  The man drew in his breath. “Why? Do you want to die?”

  “He kidnapped a woman—the wife of my good friend—and left my friend shot up, so I am looking for her.”