by Lou Cameron
Gaston lit a smoke and insisted, ‘I am too wound up to lie down alone right now. I wonder if those Indians girls are restless as well.’
Captain Gringo laughed and said, ‘I know one is. I suggest you try the fat one, though.’
Gaston grinned and said, ‘I might have known, you sneaky child. Mais why am I discussing my sex life with you instead of the love of my life, hein?’
He clumped out and down the back steps as Captain Gringo lay back, determined now to really call it a night. But he’d just begun to doze off when he became aware he had another visitor. It didn’t clump at all like Gaston and, when she proceeded to slide into bed with him, stark naked, he knew for sure it couldn't be Gaston!
He chuckled sleeply and said, ‘I was hoping you’d come back for more, honey.’
Then, as he gathered her closer and got a better feel of what he was gathering, Jean sighed weakly and confessed, ‘Ay, I was lost the moment ye touched my secret place. I’ve been fighting ever since to resist my passion, but the Gude Bookie says self-abuse is an even wickeder crime against nature, ye ken!’
‘We wouldn’t want you to go against the Good Book,’ he responded, rolling atop her with no further ado.
She gasped, ‘Och, is that any way to treat a lady?’ but began to respond indeed once he had it all the way in and, damned if it didn’t feel nicer, or at least a nice change, from the smaller, plumper Carib lassie he’d just been doing the same thing with!
He wondered why as he enjoyed her less familiar flesh in a delightfully delicious fashion. Pure logic dictated no two reasonably attractive women could feel all that different in the dark without at least one of them being a freak of nature. The white girl could probably be considered a greater conquest if a guy considered women prey, and of course Jean was prettier in broad daylight. But hell, old Yoyo had been pretty enough, and there simply wasn’t any way to improve her shapely little brown body. So why was it such a thrill when Jean wrapped her longer, thinner leg around him, a little higher up, and how come her love-maw felt so exciting as it pulsed warmly on his renewed enthusiasm?
He decided not to worry about it as he felt his desire growing even stronger and stiffer in her. When you got right down to it, logic had nothing to do with sex. A purely logical guy would just jerk off and save himself a lot of time and trouble, the poor dumb bastard.
He was glad he’d enjoyed another woman first that night – not because he still kept score like a kid, but because he knew he’d have come by now in such an exciting partner and he sure wanted to make this last!
Jean was moaning in pleasure between clenched teeth as he pounded harder and harder, enjoying the way he seemed to be able to teeter on the very brink of orgasm. She dug her nails into his back and pleaded, ‘Och, dinna stop, dinna stop, for I’m a’most there and it’s sorry I am for being sae slow, darling!’
She wasn’t moving her pelvis slowly at all as she hugged him deeper and clamped down with her internal muscles. He tried to hold back as she begged, ‘Just a wee bit more! For God’s sake dinna fail me noo!’ But no man born of mortal woman could have kept from coming in a woman who moved so nicely. He ejaculated in her, touching bottom, and she cursed in the Gaelic, then sobbed in surprised delight as he managed to keep going. She gasped, ‘Och, Flora was right, ye are a monster, but it feels sae gude!’ and then she screamed through clenched teeth as she came in turn, drawing blood with her wildly clawing nails.
He gasped, ‘Jesus, take it easy!’ as, not content with clawing him to death, Jean bit his collarbone hard and damn near bucked him off the bed with her wild pelvic gyrations. He was almost there again, so he hooked an elbow under each of her knees and spread her long limbs up and out to either side to finish her off right, hitting bottom with every stroke as she rolled her head from side to side across the pillow, moaning in mindless passion.
As they came together and collapsed in a confused ball of cuddle, Jean’s face was wet with tears. He kissed them away as she sobbed, ‘Och, ye must think me a terrible slut, ga’ng to bed wi a mon wha did the same to my ain sister!’
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He kissed her and petted her where it mattered more as he soothed, ‘I’m sure Flora would have wanted it this way. But speaking of relatives, do I have any big brothers to worry about, now?’
She sniffed and said, ‘Nae. I’m the last MacTavish, noo that Flora’s been murdered. Our mathair deed lang ago and our athair died at sea twa years back, ye see. Sae noo I’m alone, and in bed wi’ the mon my ain sister was promised to!’
‘I’m not sure anyone made any promises, Jean. But do you want me to stop?’
She sighed and answered, ‘Nae, it’s too late. Ye ken I did my best to resist ye, ye wicked beastie, but from the first time I saw ye wi’ nae pants on, I kenned I was lost. Flora told me about that. Ay, and the way ye had of posting in the saddle all nicht as well! Ye might ha’ noticed it takes me langer than most to get over the brig wi’a mon.’
‘Don’t knock a good thing, doll box. Is that why you’ve been acting so shy since we met?’
‘Ay, I’d be a fool to lie aboot being a wee virgin, but until noo I’ve been mortally disappointed in men. My sister said ye had a time convincing her as well.’
He grimaced and said, ‘I guess some things just run in families. But do we have to talk about other people right now? Your sister was a sweet kid. I’ll never forget her and I’mout to get the bastards who killed her. But what’s done is done. So would you like to try it again, dog style?’
‘Dinna be crude. Would ye let me get on top if ye can it up again, dear? Ye shouldnae finger a lass like that if ye canna treat her right, ye ken!’
He agreed to the simple justice of her plan. His neck was hurting again for some reason and it felt a lot better to rest his head on the pillow as she rolled atop him, reached down to guide it in, and said with a giggle, ‘Och, I see ye do rise like a gentleman in the presence of a lady!’
She did some rising and falling indeed as she took command of the situation. He was almost as surprised by his stamina this night as she was. There was nothing like saving it up for a really good lay, and it helped even more when she was willing to do all the work. But by the time they’d managed that way, even Jean was willing to just smoke and cuddle for a while. He asked her cautiously if he had any outraged local rivals to worry about, in view of her confession about having tried this before with less result.
She took a dreamy drag on his cigar, exhaled the smoke, and purred, ‘Nae, as Flora must have told ye, we’ve ever been discreet here in New Dunmore. The hame lads are inclined to take a wee bit of fun as a firm promise and sae a lass must be careful wha she experiments wi’ before deciding. Och, think of the trouble a woman would be in if she wed a mon wha couldna satisfy her!’
‘I heard that can happen. You and your sister both traveled a lot, right?’
‘Ay, it was her turn to skipper Thistlegorm when ye met her that time. I first tried sex wi’ a lad in Liverpool, when I went there to trade. I was ever so disappointed. Nae doubt it serves me right for trying it wi a Sassenach. Though, in truth, the Lochaber lad I slept wi’ in Glasgow was nae honor to Scotland the Brave!’
‘I wish you dames wouldn’t brag in bed. Let’s talk some more about your trading business instead of monkey business. We hardly got to talk, coming down here aboard your schooner.’
‘Ay, I feared ye’d have yer wicked way wi’ me, dared I let ye catch me alone. Ye must admit I was right. A lass must be discreet about such matters in her ain hame waters, ye ken.’
‘Don’t sweat it. I don’t kiss and tell. Let’s get back to those Oriental pearls someone’s been shipping from these same waters.’
She began to fondle his limpness sleepily as she snuggled closer and said, ‘I told ye, Dick, nae pearls of color come from the Caribbean. Flora thought there might be a way to work a vessel over to the other coast, but she died before she found it, if there is a way at all. I dinna think there can be. The Atrato flows fresh from
the higher jungle to the west.’
‘How high are we talking about?’
‘Wha can say for certain? Not even our ain Caribs gae all the way upstream. The interior tribes are nae Caribs, and auld caiths are lang remembered, ye ken.’
‘Caiths?’
‘Och, sorry, I meant battles. In the auld days, the Caribs fought the interior tribes. Ay, and anyone else they met, to hear them boast. We’ve ever gotten alang wi’ Caribs because we speak the same language, I imagine.’
‘Caribs speak Gaelic?’
‘Nae, warrior. The original settlers, mostly lowlanders, brought alang some bragh highland fighting men to deal wi’ any Indians or Spaniards wha offered trouble. Once the Caribs had met a lad wi’ a highland war cry on his lips and a Lochaber axe in his hands—’
‘I get the picture,’ he cut in with an amused smile. Then he asked, ‘What about your Hispanic neighbors?’ She began to stroke him harder as she explained, ‘Och, we never had trouble wi’ the Gomez clan until their Don Federico came back from Paris filled with grand ideas a wee while ago. We wanted naught to do wi’ the poor papist loons as lang as they left us alone, and there was naught on our side of the delta they seemed to want until noo!’
‘Okay, let’s figure out what they want. It can’t be your pearls. They’re as free as you are to fish for them out at sea or trade with Indians for them.’
‘Ay, they must just want our land, then,’ she replied as she proceeded to stroke harder and kiss her way down his ribs.
He said, ‘That’s not it. There’s more unclaimed jungle than any one man could want, the other way, with nobody to fight for it.’
She didn’t answer. She couldn’t talk with her mouth full and he was suddenly in a less conversational mood as she bobbed her head up and down with his renewed interest pursed tightly between her lush lips. He knew it was a waste of time to ask her about things she didn’t know anyway. So if she let him survive the night, he’d just have to find out himself, right?
He was served breakfast alone in bed, which was probably just as well. Yoyo might not have understood. But by the time the naked Carib girl was there with his hot chocolate, Jean had dressed and slipped away discreetly. Yoyo seemed to want to serve him more than breakfast and said she was sorry she’d acted so silly the night before. He told her he forgave her but that he was just too busy right now for more jigjiga. He’d have to work something out with Gaston before she started crying again.
He got up, took a whore bath at the corner washstand, and got dressed before he went into Gaston’s room to wake the Frenchman up. Gaston was already up indeed, going sixty-nine with the other serving wench, bless her fat brown behind.
Captain Gringo coughed and, when Gaston took his nose out of her crotch, said, ‘I’ll wait for you outside. But make it snappy.’
‘A gentleman never snaps, you peeping species of Tom. I’ll be right with you, as soon as I finish this child’s lesson in common courtesy. Did you know she’d never heard of this position?’
Captain Gringo didn’t answer as he turned and went outside. For one thing, he doubted that very much. Sooner or later everybody tried everything if they liked one another at all, and he was sure neither Indian girl had an enemy in the world.
He sat on the front steps to wait. The sky was clear and cloudless. It was shaping up to be a hot day, this far inland. It was early morning, yet the only living creature in sight was a yellow cur-dog, chewing on a bone across the cratered roadway. He sincerely hope it was an animal bone. Nothing had been done about the wrecked Campbell house. But surely they’d at least buried the bodies by now?
A million years later Gaston came out, buttoning his fly. He took a deep breath and said expansively, ‘Oh what a beautiful morning, non? Tell me, was Yoyo as much fun in bed?’
‘That’s one of the things we’d better talk about. But let’s find out where everyone else is first. Didn’t you they meant to hold another meeting this morning?’
‘Oui, down at something called a kirk, beyond the fishing boats. It sounds très fatiguant. I’d rather talk about Yoyo than listen to barbaric speeches in mangled English.’
Captain Gringo said they could do both as he got up and moved downstream, Gaston tagging along, still bitching. He told the Frenchman he seemed to have one dame too many on his hands.
Gaston told him that was silly, explaining, ‘A man can never have too many women, unless he feels ill. What is wrong with the petite Yoyo?’
‘Not a thing, if you can get her to go along with playing three in the boat. She probably would. The other lady may have more, ah, delicate notions.’
‘In that case why not stick with the good sport? What have you been up to behind my back, you rogue? Wasn’t that you and Yoyo breathing so passionately as I tiptoed past your door last night?’
‘Not entirely. Okay, you’ve got to know sooner or later. I’ve gotten to know Jean MacTavish a little bit better, but if you even tell those Indian girls—’
‘What do you take me for, a schoolboy?’ Gaston cut in, adding, ‘I learned not to gossip about such matters from my dear old Aunt Mimi as a beardless youth. A good thing, too. Uncle Pierre would have killed us both. Regard, I see a specimen of Scotchman making for that tall frame building just around the bend. Do you suppose that could be what they mean by a kirk? How odd. It looks just like a rather shabby Church to me.’
Captain Gringo told him to shut up and led the way to the little kirk. It was crowded inside. No women had been invited, but the men alone were making enough noise for a meeting of the DAR.
Nobody seemed to notice the soldiers of fortune. Nobody seemed to be paying attention to what anyone else was saying as each made his own speech in Gaelic or Doric English, which wasn’t much easier to understand. An occasional curse was flung in Spanish as well. Captain Gringo noticed more than one face in the crowd he’d have never taken for a Scotsman anywhere else. Apparently, the local Carib girls had been very friendly long before he and Gaston had arrived.
He nudged the Frenchman and said, ‘Let’s get out of here. It’s a waste of time.’
Gaston said, ‘Merde alors, you just noticed? It was a waste of time to come down here to this swamp in the first très fatiguant place!’
They went back outside. Somewhere a bagpipe was softly sobbing. There was nothing more interesting going on back the way they’d came, so they followed the noise and the path around the bend.
The frame structures this far down the bayou were a bit more substantial. There was a rambling tin-roofed trading post cum general store, a cartwright sharing a shed roof with a smithy, a sail loft, and a ship’s chandlery.
Captain Gringo glanced thoughtfully west across the brooding waters of the bayou, saw nothing over that way but trees, but observed, ‘This is the part of town I'd want to blow up, with or without a flying machine. They must have been after the Campbell house to begin with.’
‘Or the one we were in at the time!’ Gaston objected darkly.
Captain Gringo shook his head and said, ‘We weren’t as good a target, even if the other side knows anything about us. Campbell was the only big frog in this puddle that could make all the little froggies jump the same way at the same time. Why blow up a lot of potential loot when you know where the only natural leader lives?’
Gaston shrugged and replied, ‘Eh bien, mais in that case what are we still doing in such a rough neighborhood? With the only boss dead, who could we be working for? More important, who is at all likely to pay us for our services?’
Captain Gringo growled, ‘If I knew for sure Don Federico was behind Flora’s death, it would be on the house. But you may be right about everyone down here being sort of confused. Let’s see who’s playing that bagpipe. All the men are supposed to be in church right now.’
The piper wasn’t hard to find. They simply followed the noise around a corner to see a skinny little guy with Indian features and rusty hair pacing up and down as if on parade, blowing a dirge on an old set of pipes.<
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He stopped when he saw them and called out, ‘I hope ye warnna disturbed by my practice, gude sores. I hae the chanters muted, but some sound must still coom oot, ye ken.’
Captain Gringo said he liked the sound of the pipes. If a guy could tell a cantina girl he loved her, he could say just about anything.
So the piper introduced himself as Rusty Lemmon and added, ‘If it’s why I’m alane oot here wi’ my pipes ye’d be wondering, there be some in the village wha dinna think much of my piping, sae it’s a gude time to get in some practice.’
‘You don’t find the meeting worth your time, Rusty?’
‘Och, I’d as lafe pay a visit to a crowded chicken coop. The auld loons wi’ cackle the morn or more wi’oot agreeing on anything. I may as well take advantage of the time, since business wi’ be slow till they agree to go on disagreeing.’
Captain Gringo asked him what business he was in, and Lemmon folded his pipes up as he replied with a grin, ‘I’d be running the trading post if there was any mon here to trade wi’. Ye didna think I was a piper by profession, did ye?’
Captain Gringo laughed and said, ‘I wasn’t sure. Is there any money in bagpipes?’
The trader shook his head and said, ‘Nae. It’s only recently I’ve taken to trying with these auld pipes of my seanair, I mean my granther. I forgot how few hae the Gaelic these days. If it’s my high cheekies ye’d be wondering aboot, it’s true my granther was too ugly to get a white lass, but I’ll hae ye ken I’m a true Scot in spirit, if nae by blood entire. Is there anything I can do for ye, gude sores? I heard about Annie MacDugall.’
Captain Gringo said, ‘Well, next time you’re open, we could use some .38 ammo and tobacco, if you stock them.’
Lemmon brightened and said, ‘Och, say nae more, gude sores! I’d be proud to provision ye wi’ what ye need! Coom, the place is but aroond the corner. Ye must hae passed it as I lured ye here wi’ my dulcet pipes!’
They followed him back the way they’d just come. As they passed the open front of the smithy, Captain Gringo caught the gleam of polished brass in the gloom and stopped.