The Great Game (A Captain Gringo Western Book 10)

by Lou Cameron

  “But, Dick, what if someone else should see our fire?”

  “I said there were two ways. Gaston’s more nervous than I am, so he won’t build a campfire and he’d probably be surprised if I did. Putting myself in his saddle, I think I’d ride on with Mother Juana Maria and hope to spot us on the horizon, come sunrise.”

  The girl looked uneasily around at the silvery grass that faded into blackness well short of any horizon and said, “I am frightened, Dick. What if we get lost? What if we pass the mission in the dark?”

  He shook his head and said, “Impossible. Our mounts won’t carry us that far before morning. We can’t risk a faster pace than a trot in this light and of course we’ll have to rest them once an hour or so. If we’re lucky we’ll be a little more than half way there by the time it’s light enough to see. If we’re very lucky indeed, we should make the mission before it gets too hot for the mounts to carry us. We may have to siesta on some hammock, but—”

  “Dick, I am a Bride of Jesus, and we are alone together,” she cut in.

  He grimaced and said, “Hey, let’s not get silly! Gaston and me risked our necks to save your honor back there, remember?”

  She looked away and said, “You are right, and I am sorry. I don’t know why I spoke like that, just now. I didn’t feel awkward around you as long as the others were with us, but now ... never mind, shall we ride on?”

  He nodded and clucked his mount forward, taking a bearing on the big dipper. He’d set a course due north. Gaston would probably do the same. When and if they stumbled over one another again they could dope out just where the damned mission might be, if there was a damned mission and these two darned weren’t trying to pull something over on them.

  Captain Gringo had been on the run too long to trust a stranger just because she was young and pretty and said she liked him. He’d never been led into an ambush by anyone dressed as a nun before, but there was always a first time. And she sure wore fancy shoes for an orphaned peon girl. He switched to English as he pointed at the sky and said, “The tail of the dipper’s below the horizon, but that’s the north star, there, and it never drops out of sight, even this far south.”

  She answered, “Por favor, no hablo la lengua inglesa.”

  So she hadn’t bit, if she spoke English. But what good British spy would fall for such a bush league trick, right?

  He said, in Spanish, “I said we’d better watch where we’re going. The ground’s starting to get mushy. Hear how our hoofbeats splash?”

  She didn’t fall into that trap, either. She said, “Oh, what are we to do if we come to more floodwater, Dick?”

  It was a good question. He knew the footing was too uncertain to risk even a trot and sunrise was sure as hell fixing to catch them out in the open with one pistol between them, assuming he was packing the only one around here. He said, “I’m surprised you and Mother Juana Maria didn’t think to bring along any weapons, Dominica.”

  “Jose had a shotgun in the wagon, but we lost it,” she replied.

  Okay, if she’d been issued a Webley she wasn’t ready to announce it, even given a graceful chance.

  He tried to tell himself it didn’t matter if she and the older woman were travelling under false colors. Assuming the worst, they’d been on some dumb mission of their own, not out to trap him and Gaston some way. They were all strangers who’d met by chance, whoever anybody might be. Even if Dominica was some sort of secret agent, she wasn’t interested in any secret he might have. What the hell did he care if she kept some of her own? He just wanted to get rid of her and be on his way, damn it!

  He saw a blur of moonlit motion ahead and reined in to call out, “Hey, Gaston?”

  There was no answer. He glanced over at the nun, sitting her own mount quietly, and said, “Wait here. I’ll scout ahead and call back if it’s all right.”

  “What if somebody shoots you, Dick?”

  “Ride like hell. Meanwhile, just sit tight. I don’t want to lose track of you, too.”

  He clucked his mount forward. It acted shy about going, but he heeled it hard and insisted. He started missing Dominica before he’d gone far enough to matter. He saw the motion again, low and just ahead. He reined in and swore softly. It was moonlight on running water, damn it to hell! He studied the slough for a time, called out again to Gaston, then turned to ride back to where he’d left the nun. He said, “We’re cut off by another flood channel. I don’t understand this at all. We’re only five miles or so from that last place we forded. Gaston and Mother Juana Maria have to be on this side of the creek -ahead. So where the hell are they?”

  He started to reach for his gun. The girl said, “Oh, no, if you fire your gun for Gaston, and someone else hears it—”

  “You’re right.” He grimaced, putting the .38 back in its holster.

  She asked, “What if they did not see the water in time? Sometimes there are cayman or piranha even in the temporary streams and—”

  “Hey, both of them? One or the other would have been riding ahead. Would you follow me if I took a dive on horseback into a river, Sister Dominica?”

  She laughed, relieved, and said, “Oh, you’re right. And I told you to call me Niqui, Dick.”

  He noticed she didn’t pronounce his name Deek, the way most Spanish speakers did. He didn’t comment on this as he answered, “Niqui it is, then. I thought it made you nervous to be alone with a man like this?”

  She sighed and said, “Es verdad. Right now my heart is pounding and I don’t know why, but I wish for you to call me Niqui anyway. What are we going to do now, Dick?”

  He assumed she meant travel plans. He said, “Well, we can’t risk trying to ford strange waters in the dark and it’s sort of silly just sitting here in the saddle. Let’s find some high ground and cover. I think it’s safe to build a small fire, in the brush. The clown who used to ride this gelding had some coffee in his saddle bags, along with a mess kit and what I sincerely hope is refritos. We’ll rest our mounts while we put something in our stomachs and wait for some light on the subject.”

  He led them back the way they’d just ridden. As they passed the tree-covered hammock nearest the river ahead she asked, “Why do we not stop here, Dick?” and he explained, “You and your friends already made that mistake, remember? We’ll be safer further from where everybody passing has to stop, and the next hammock should be drier, too.”

  She said, “Oh, you are so wise. I never would have thought of that. What sort of business are you and Gaston in, Dick?”

  “We’re sort of traveling salesmen.”

  “Oh, dear, I’ve heard dreadful stories about you traveling salesmen.”

  “That’s all right. You’re not a farmer’s daughter.”

  He reined in at a likely island of trees and dismounted, handing his reins up to the nun as he said, “I’d better check and see if any snakes made for high ground. Wait here.”

  He drew his revolver and struck a match as he entered the tangle. He saw they were in luck. The tree-shaded ground under the trees was sandy and dry. A screen of brush grew all around like a privet hedge. Nobody passing would be likely to spot a modest campfire in a sandy hole he could easily scoop with the spade he’d brought along.

  He got the nun and the horses. He tethered the mounts to the outer twigs of the brush, leaving them free to graze, and invisible in the dark in any case. As Niqui sat on the dry sand, he scooped out a shallow fire pit, filled it with kindling and dry branches, and lit a little blaze an Apache would have approved of. The pretty little nun looked even less nunnish as the ruddy glow illuminated her features. He noticed her wimple was pushed back and that her hair was a dark shade of red. He waited ’til he’d put the coffee pot on to boil before he commented: “I thought you girls shaved your heads.”

  Niqui laughed and said, “Heavens, we’re a nursing order.” Then she removed the cowl entirely, tossed it aside, and ran her fingers through her luxurious red mop, adding, “Oh, that feels good. My head’s been itchy all
day.”

  He frowned and worked on the tin of refritos or whatever as he asked, “You mean different orders of nuns have different rules, Niqui?”

  “Of course,” she said. “Our order spends less time counting our beads, if that’s what you mean. We have a mission to care for the bodies of the poor, and that keeps us busy enough. We let the Sisters of Carmel worry about their souls.”

  He filled a pan with the contents of the food canister he’d found in the bandit’s gear. Had Mother Juana Maria said they were Sisters of Mercy or had she mentioned some other order? What the hell difference did it make to a Protestant, anyway? He didn’t know what the rules were in any order, but Niqui sure seemed casual, considering.

  As he put the food on the fire she sniffed and asked, “What are you cooking, Dick?” and he said, “Hard to say. It looks like refritos, with some sort of herbs mixed up with the bean paste. Almost anything helps, when you start with mushy beans.”

  “It smells delicious.”

  “Yeah, we’re both hungry. There’s no sugar for the coffee, but that’s starting to smell right, too.”

  Niqui moved closer as he poked at the refritos. He hadn’t realized how much he needed a warm meal until just now. Hadn’t realized how long it had been since he’d had a woman, either, until he caught another whiff of her perfume. Did nuns wear perfume? He supposed an order that allowed long hair wouldn’t be stuffy about other small luxuries.

  It was still pretty stupid to be getting an erection at a time like this, so he said, “I guess the stuff’s warmed up enough,” and proceeded to fill the mess kit for her, adding that he’d eat from the pot. He poured two tin cans full of coffee and warned, “Careful, don’t burn yourself,” as their fingers touched. Damn that Gaston! This was no time to be alone with a pretty lady, nun or not. He knew he’d never be tempted to flirt with Niqui as long as Gaston was watching with his all-knowing eyes. He knew his temptation was an exercise in futility, too, if Niqui was really what she claimed to be. And how the hell was he to find out if she wasn’t? The odds were fifty-fifty, and he didn’t want to make a mistake!

  Niqui sat back and took a spoonful of the insipid looking bean paste, washing it down with coffee before she opined, “My, it’s quite good.”

  He tried some himself. It wasn’t bad. The herbs or whatever seemed to make the beans more interesting and he was hungrier than he’d thought. They both settled down to consume the modest meal as the little fire winked between them. The flames sure looked pretty, purple and green.

  What the hell kind of wood burned purple and green? He took a swallow of black coffee, repressed a belch, and then, as the fumes came out his nose, he laughed and said, “I’ll be damned, it’s marijuana! That’s what they mixed in the refritos!”

  Niqui looked owlishly at him and asked, “Who is Maria Juana? Mother Superior is called Juana Maria.”

  He laughed again, wilder than he’d intended, and said, “You’d better not eat any more of that stuff, honey. You look like it’s already hitting you.”

  The little nun frowned and said, “Nobody had better hit me,” as she took another heroic swallow of the cannabis-laced bean paste, belched discreetly, and added, “Wheeeeee!”

  He said, “Jesus,” and she brightened and said, “Oh, that’s my husband. I’m a bride of Jesus, you know.”

  “I know, and you’re getting stoned. We’d better stop eating this stuff, Niqui. I’ve got forty or more pounds on you and I can feel it.”

  “Oh, do you feel like flying, too, Dick?”

  “No, I’ve just got a hell of a hard-on and ….did I say that? Sorry.”

  Niqui swallowed the last of the drugged refritos in her mess kit and asked if there was any more. He shook his head and said, “There’s a little left, but I don’t think you ought to have any more. It’s full of dope. Strong as hell, too. Might have something worse than marijuana in it. Botany sure gets wild down here.”

  “Am I drunk, Dick? I don’t feel drunk. I feel ... let me see, I feel like taking my clothes off.”

  “I sure wish you wouldn’t do that, Niqui. I’m a little mixed up, too, but I seem to remember reading something somewhere about it being naughty to fuck a nun. Did I say fuck a nun? Strike that from the record. Jesus, what on Earth did they put in those beans?”

  Niqui said, “I wish you wouldn’t keep talking about my husband. I’m feeling a little cross with Jesus, tonight. You see, our marriage has never been consummated and they told me it was a sin to relieve myself with my hand, but, damn it, a girl has feelings!”

  Captain Gringo was having feelings, too, but he was still fighting them when Niqui slipped her habit off over her head, placed it on the ground, and reclined stark naked atop the folded cloth to ask him, with an inviting smile, “Would you like to consummate me, Dick?”

  He shook his head to clear it. It wouldn’t clear. But his pecker was going to explode like a bomb if he didn’t do some damned thing with it, and it sure seemed silly jerking off in front of a nun.

  The fire was subsiding to glowing coals, filling the clearing with ruby light and purple shadows as he wondered why he was taking his own clothes off. It wasn’t really that hot, but that strange lady over there was naked, so what the hell, a guy had to be polite. Niqui laughed as he gravely folded his pants in a neat pile. She said, “I see your privates. Does it always wave around like that?”

  He took a bearing on her, crawled soberly over on his hands and knees, and said, ‘Hi there, I’m Dick Walker. Who the hell are you?”

  She rolled on her back, opening her firm thighs to welcome him as she husked, “I forget who I am. Let’s consummate.”

  That sounded reasonable, so he lowered himself a mile or so until her turgid breasts cushioned his fall and, below the waists, their bodies greeted one another like old friends. He was barely clear headed to notice how easy it was to enter her, although, once she clamped down and embraced him with her thighs she was tight and lovely to explode inside. She laughed and asked, “Did you just come?” and he said, “I think so. Want to try it again?”

  She sobbed and said, “Oh, shut up and consummate me, you silly!” So he did. They were going at it hot and heavy when she suddenly gave a startled gasp and said, “My God, I’m being raped!”

  He stopped, leaving everything in place, and muttered, “That’s the trouble with cheap dope. I’m starting to remember who we are, too.”

  Her vaginal muscles contracted sensually around his shaft as she sobbed, “This is terrible. My order would never approve. What will I ever tell Mother Superior?”

  “That you enjoyed it? Why tell her anything, Niqui?”

  She started to shove him away, moved her hips experimentally, and held him closer as she sighed, “Oh, we’re probably going to Hell, anyway, and I do remember how good it felt when you consummated me before.”

  He decided she might be ready for some more consummation and began to move his hips, gently. The little nun arched her back to take it deeper as she sighed and said, “Well, I’m going to have a terrible time at Confession in any case. Could you move a little faster? It couldn’t feel that good with my head starting to clear but … oh, my God, it feels even better! Don’t stop, Dick, don’t ever stop!”

  He tried to kiss her as he pounded harder. But when their lips met she rolled her head aside and protested, “Please, don’t, it seems so wicked to go all the way.”

  “Are you serious? We’re about to come together, baby!”

  “I know. I have no control down there, but don’t you think kissing, too, would be wicked?”

  He said, “Let’s try,” and this time she let him, returning his passion with a resigned sigh as he tongued her, pounded her, and felt her shudder in orgasm as he came deep inside her.

  He braced himself for some screaming and scratching as he felt her relaxing inside around his shaft. But she said, “Oh, that was lovely. Do we have to stop, now?”

  “Not if you don’t want to, Niqui.”

  “I don’t wan
t to. I know I should. We’ve committed a terrible sin, but I’ve never been so happy. Do you suppose I’m in love with you, Dick?”

  He certainly hoped not, but this seemed a cruel time to say so. He answered with silent thrusts until he could tell by the way she was responding that words were the last thing she had in mind. Now that she’d gotten over what must have been quite a shock to her, Niqui settled down to some good old-fashioned barnyard rutting and he noticed she moved like she’d done it before. That reminded him of his earlier suspicions. She still had her high button shoes on, but she hadn’t been wearing a stitch under her modest habit. They lay on top of her clothes in the soft sand, so it was easy enough to explore for concealed weapons with his free hand. He cupped a palm under her buttocks and she giggled and said it felt naughty but nice when he fingered her anus while feeling for a gun with the back of his wrist. He didn’t find any gun, but she asked if it was true that some bad girls took it down there. He said he’d heard rumors to that effect and she purred, “I want to try everything, tonight, Dick. You’ve no idea how often I’ve wondered what this would be like, and now that I’m ruined as a nun anyway ...”

  He frowned and said, “Oh? How do you figure you’re ruined, Niqui?”

  “Silly, you’re inside me even as you ask such a question!”

  “I thought you could go to confession or something.”

  “Oh, I shall. I have to. But naturally I can’t remain with my order after breaking my vows so marvelously. I’m sure Mother Superior will release me, once I tell her I’m going away with you to be your woman forever.”

  There was absolutely no way to answer that without looking like a shit, so he didn’t try. He rolled part way off, rolled her on her side, and tried a new angle. She laughed and said, “Oh, it feels nice this way, too. But when do you wish for to put it in my rear, dear?”

  He said, “I don’t think we’d better. I might hurt you,” as he started moving fast enough to distract her. He didn’t know if she’d like it Greek or not. He was afraid to find out. It was going to be one bitch of a mess, now that she’d gotten used to taking it old-fashioned! He’d have kicked himself if it had been possible. Damn his suspicions and damn that dead bandit who made such funny refritos! He seemed to be stuck with a lapsed nun, who enjoyed being lapsed and expected him to do something more honorable in the near future. How the hell did you explain to such an innocent kid that a soldier of fortune had no business getting married to anyone? He’d had a couple of whales cry when it was time to ride on!