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!”
Captain Gringo shot a wistful look around them and said, “If you can keep your head when all the others are losing theirs, you probably don’t under- stand the situation. That’s a joke, son, but I’ve got to wake up in the morning with a clear head and a gun that works. Let’s go.”
He noticed the two women of the household remained behind at the party as Zurdo led him into the darkness beyond the firelight. Since the village was tiny, the house wasn’t far. Zurdo opened a door and struck a match to light a candle just inside. The interior was an open el, with the kitchen area in one wing and three bedsteads built into the adobe walls of the other. Zurdo moved the candle over to a raw plank table near the beehive fireplace and put it down. He asked if Captain Gringo needed anything else and when the American shook his head, Zurdo was off and running to get back to the brawl.
Captain Gringo could hear the sounds of merrymaking from here as he placed the Maxim on the table and took his cleaning kit from a jacket pocket. As a pro who traveled light, he packed a minimum-sized flat tin of the absolute necessities. He had a couple of small wrenches and used the edge of a dime-sized coin for a screwdriver. Once a few key screws and nuts were on the table, the Maxim could be field stripped by hand. He used the two little vials from the kit to clean and re-grease the block action. Then he unscrewed the barrel, removed it from the water jacket, and peered through the bore as he held it toward the candle like a telescope. It wasn’t badly fouled, thanks to the new smokeless powder Remington was using, now. He dropped a length of fishing line down the barrel, tied a wad of rag soaked in cleaning fluid to one end and an oily rag to the other. Then he took turns pulling each through the bore by the string until he was satisfied with the bore’s silvery sheen.
He put the gun back together, replaced the half-used belt, and lugged it around the corner to the sleeping el. He propped the gun in a corner, went back to the table, and cleaned his pistol before putting the kit away. He found a water jar and took a drink. Then he stepped out into the back yard and took a leak. He wasn’t hungry, but it had been a long day and he didn’t know when he’d get another crack at a bed. So, despite not really feeling exhausted, he decided to try for a flop.
The boy had forgotten to tell him which of the three beds was his, but what the hell, all three of them were likely to stay up all night at the celebration in the plaza. He chose one at random and blew out the candle to undress in the dark. Then he got in and pulled the wool blanket over his naked flesh. There were no sheets, but the pillow was cotton and smooth. It was scented with perfume, so he knew he was either in Joselita’s bed, or, more likely, her mother’s. Dirt poor peons found even cheap perfume expensive, but the boy had said the older broad had certain extra ways of earning pin money. He didn’t feel up to changing beds. Zurdo didn’t look like he’d bathed in recent memory.
He lay there in the dark, trying to go to sleep as the sounds of music and laughter from the plaza tinkled in the distance. He didn’t want to think about the mission, but he wasn’t tired enough to put it out of his mind. Those other soldiers of fortune had said this coast was innocent, too. Could Greystoke have been telling the truth about the submarine base being over on the other side of the mountains? That was a dismal thought. It made more sense the other way. Greystoke had sent them on a fool’s errand to cover his own devious tracks. But, then, why had someone from the U.S. Consulate sent those unwashed bastards over this way? Was Uncle Sam being devious, too?
He muttered aloud, “Greystoke knew Americans were operating on this side. Uncle Sam thinks he has priority in Latin America, so Greystoke sent us the wrong way to keep Washington from telling the British to butt out. They and the Germans were both watching to see if the British would ignore the Monroe Doctrine. He knew they were expecting, him to. Right. He hires a bunch of bums everyone knows about and sends them in a direction nobody gives a damn about. Berlin and Washington probably both think Greystoke’s a harmless twit. That’s what he wanted them to think. Meanwhile, real British agents are free to search anywhere they want!”
He felt his eyelids getting heavy, so he closed them. But sleep refused to come. Why had the Americans sent those other bums, and, if they’d made a sweep of the west coast without finding anything, didn’t that mean there was nothing to find?
“Don’t be stupid.” He told himself. “If the place was easy to find, people wouldn’t be busting a gut looking for it! That gang of cutthroats didn’t have enough sense to hold the high ground after inviting an attack. They could have walked right past an elephant without spotting it. All they really told you is that the German whatever must be reasonably hard to spot. But you already knew that, so get some sleep!”
He heard the door open and called out, “Zurdo?”
A feminine whisper answered, “Hush! Zurdo is flirting with the Morales girl. He will not be back tonight, if I am any judge of the Morales girl!”
Captain Gringo propped himself up on one elbow with a frown as he heard the swish of garments falling to the floor. Then a naked lady got in bed with him and proceeded to kiss the shit out of him.
He returned her kisses with enthusiasm as he ran his hand over soft excited flesh. She plastered her turgid nippled breasts against his chest as she fondled his aroused erection and sighed, “Oh, muy toro! Let me get on top!”
He lay back and let her mount him as she lowered her face to his to tongue him. He ran one hand down her spine to cup a buttock and the other up into her hair. He felt the thorny stem of a rose, but kissed hard, anyway. Young Joselita had been too much to hope for.
He hissed in surprised pleasure as Zurdo’s mother enveloped him in her moist warm groin and started moving with astounding skill. Gaston had often chided him for being too romantic for whores, and he agreed that whores know how to better than most nicer girls. His reasons for refusing their offers were pragmatic rather than delicate. He’d laid too many women, himself, to be bothered by following another man’s act. It was their cold-blooded attitude about sex that he didn’t like. A man felt like an idiot bouncing up and down on a broad he’d just argued money with. But this one was obviously doing it for her own pleasure as well as his, and bitch lines or not, she was not bad looking, and wild in bed.
She literally milked him off with her experienced pulsating twat, and he could tell by her contractions that she spoke the truth when she said she was coming, too. It was no wonder she hadn’t been too understanding about her daughter’s reluctance. She was a born earth mother who loved to screw.
They relaxed in each other’s arms as they came back from Paradise a ways. Then he said, “Let’s do it right, this time,” and rolled her over without withdrawing as she hugged him with her thighs. As he got on top and started moving, she raised her knees to his armpits and locked them there to help him bounce. But she whispered, “Hurry. I must get back to the plaza before anyone misses me. They will say bad things about us if they find out.”
He didn’t argue. He liked the warm afterglow, when the sated woman in his arms was someone he liked. But this one was a wild animal and he didn’t want to wake up with her, anyway. He didn’t even know her name, but it didn’t matter. She was pure raw sex, and damned good at it, too.
She started moaning with barnyard passion as she dug her nails into his buttocks to urge him deeper as she corkscrewed her pelvis astoundingly. He didn’t hold back to be polite. She’d said to hurry and it was great to use her selfishly, knowing she had no soul for him to worry about. He was sure he’d come ahead of her, but he didn’t. She went wild under him as she had a shuddering multiple orgasm and she was still coming when he exploded inside her.
They lay there panting and sweating, as contented as pigs rutting in a sty. Then she sighed and said “I must get back to the party. That was very nice.”
He grinned and said, “Por nada. Are you coming back?”
She chuckled fondly, twitched her internal muscles, and said, “If I can. But let me up before we get hot again. The gossips in this village have dirty minds and I have been gone at least fifteen minutes!”
He rolled off and she slid out of the bed and dressed in the dark with expertise before she slipped out without long good-byes. Captain Gringo smiled in the dark as he lay back, relaxed and drained. There was a lot to be said for a nice quick uncomplicated lay. He was ready to fall asleep, now.
He did. And he must have been having a bad dream, because he sat bolt upright, staring in the dark as he wondered what had awakened him and where he was. He got his bearings as he ran his hand over perfumed wool and heard the sound of castanets and a guitar in the distance. He heard the rustle of cloth, too, and sighed. She’d come back for more, apparently.
He wondered what time it was and what she’d say if he told her he wanted to go back to sleep. A voice whispered, “Are you awake?” and he said, “I am, now. I see you got away from the old biddies.’
“Si, everyone is either very drunk or sleeping, now. Nobody suspects I have returned to the house, Querido.”
She climbed in bed with him and husked, “Take me, my hero!” and he put his arms around her automatically. But he’d really had it with this bawdy old slut and. He ran a hand over a breast the size of a cupcake, explored further, and, as she kissed him eagerly, knew he held a smaller, different woman in his arms!
As he drew his lips from hers he asked, “Joselita?” and the teenager laughed and asked, “Who did you think it was, my mother?”
“Uh, I didn’t know who you were. I’m still half asleep. But where is your mother, Joselita? And, more important, does she know what you are up to?”
Joselita snuggled closer and said, “Don’t worry. She’ll never suspect. She is getting very drunk at la fiesta and she thinks I am a virgin.”
“I can see how an idea like that might get around. Your brother said you’d offered to kill yourself before you’d get in bed like this with a man.”
“Pooh, those brutes who made us pay for drinking water were not nice. I never give myself to a man who is not nice. But you are most nice and—” Her fingers curled around the new dawn of his erection and she purred, “Oh, you are nice indeed!”
He rolled her over and got in the saddle. The thinner and firmer thighs hugging his hips added spice to his renewed appetite and there was just enough difference between mother and daughter’s internal plumbing to drive him to a fresh desire. He got a hand under each of Joselita’s little buttocks and pulled her on like a boot as she hissed in pleasure. She was small every way and he hit bottom. He asked, “Does that hurt?” and she answered by screwing her cervix around the tip of his shaft as she moaned, “No. I love it.”
She apparently did. And, unlike her mother, twice wasn’t enough.