Renegade 23

by Lou Cameron

  The girls joined them at the table, and as they all dug in, Pilar asked what they were talking about. Captain Gringo explained about letting the other party get a good lead and Pilar said, “I do not like it. We usually slip out of town before daybreak, Deek.”

  He said, “I know. But they’re not smugglers. They’re greenhorns.”

  “What if we are stopped by curious law officers, Deek?”

  “We tell them we’re going out to gather firewood or something. You girls aren’t combining business with pleasure this trip, are you?”

  Pilar looked away and asked, “Whatever do you mean, querido?”

  He grimaced and said, “Oh boy, I might have known. How much silver are you taking over the border with you, doll box?”

  “Only a little. Just a few ingots. Is it important, Deek?”

  “Only if we run into Rurales, I suppose. We’ll probably have to shoot it out with the pricks anyway. But let’s not deal any more cards from the bottom, Pilar. Are you sure the silver’s the only thing you were holding out on?”

  She pouted and said, “I did not hold anything out on you, querido. When you asked about it, I told you about it, no?”

  “I guess so. Who are we smuggling silver to, if the road to the Guatemalan lowlands is cut off?”

  She looked away with a stubborn set to her jaw. He nodded and said, “Right. You did mention El Caballero Blanco in admiring terms last night. Okay. So we don’t have to worry about his band, and you say the other bands are small and sneaky. I want you to listen carefully before you fib to me again, Pilar. Are you listening like a good little girl?”

  She nodded, and he said, “Numero uno, neither the company we’re working for nor Gaston and I give a damn about the political situation in Guatemala. You know we’re both wanted by the law. So we couldn’t betray your White Knight if we wanted to. Agreed?”

  She nodded again, and he said, “Numero segundo, your pal El Caballero Blanco must like money or you wouldn’t be smuggling it to him. He must know some Guatemalan trails that aren’t on any map or he wouldn’t be in a position to spend any dinero he gets from anyone. Do you think we could make a deal with him?”

  She frowned and said, “El Caballero Blanco does not like Anglos, Deek.”

  He said, “That’s not what I asked. Nobody likes us as much as we like ourselves. But United Fruit still buys all the bananas they want down this way. We’re talking cold cash, not popularity. You know the mission. You know we don’t get the final payment until we get that over insured Red Cross girl out alive and well. If Guatemalan rebels, wild Indians, or the man in the moon is willing to help us get her out, I’m willing to cut them in on the action.”

  Gaston frowned and growled, “Merde alors, we are talking about my money, too, Dick!”

  Captain Gringo switched to English as he muttered, “Upshay utshay, you asshole. A hundred bucks is a lot of money down here and that’s all we’re talking about.”

  Pilar asked what Gaston was bitching about. Captain Gringo smiled reassuringly and said, “Por nada. He’s just a worrier. I just told him I was sure El Caballero Blanco was a sensible hombre. How do we go about contacting him, Pilar?”

  She shrugged and said, “¿Quien sabe? We are to deliver the silver to some friends of his in Guatemala. We may not meet him at all. This could be a good thing for you two, querido. When I tell you he does not like Anglos, I do not mean he is undecided about them! He has proclaimed more than once that Yanqui imperialists are the curse of Central America.”

  “Do you think he’d overlook our past misdeeds for a hundred of our dollars or more? How much were you girls promised to get along so well with us, by the way?”

  Pilar didn’t answer, but Concepción said, “Oh, we are each to get two hundred Yanqui dollars, once we finish this job, Deek.”

  The soldiers of fortune exchanged glances. Gaston nodded and said, “Mon Dieu, the company must think you girls are good if they are willing to pay so well for your services, hein?”

  Captain Gringo kicked him under the table and said, “Finish your breakfast. We’ve still got to lash our gear to a pack saddle.”

  He turned back to Pilar and said, “Since you don’t seem ready to answer my question yet, I won’t press you to right now, querida. But think about it. Talk it over with Concepción here, in private if you like.”

  He finished his coffee, stood up, and told Gaston, “I’ll be with the mules, if you ever finish stuffing yourself.”

  He left the kitchen. Gaston was smart enough to chase after him before the girls, who’d started later, could finish and join them.

  The two Spanish mules tethered in what was supposed to be a guest room for people had shit all over the floor and one of them dropped another couple of turds nervously as they rolled their eyes at the strangers. Captain Gringo saw that one packsaddle in a wall niche had already been laden with the girls’ trail gear. He picked up a bare one and with it moved toward the more constipated mule, saying softly, “Easy, boy. I’m willing to be friends if you are.”

  Gaston said, “Watch it, Dick. That one’s a biter!” Captain Gringo answered, “Never tell an old army man about mules. The other one’s a kicker and bucker. I’d rather risk a bite on the ass than our gear scattered all along the dusty trail. Would you get our stuff from the next room while I saddle this son of a bitch? Leave the machine gun for last. I want it on top.”

  “Merde alors, now who’s telling an old hound how to sniff trees?” snorted Gaston, leaving to get their gear while the tall American made friends with his transportation.

  The mule didn’t want to make friends. He sidestepped the packsaddle pad and, as Captain Gringo held his rope halter, tried to bite his hand off.

  It didn’t work. Captain Gringo punched its muzzle, hard, and said soothingly, “You didn’t really want to do that, did you?” Then he twisted the nose noose painfully tight and added as gently, “I’m putting the pad on now, mule. You don’t get to breathe again until I do.”

  The mule got the message. Like those of both its horse and donkey ancestors, the mule’s mouth and nasal passages were not connected. So it could only inhale through its nostrils, which made a head cold fatal to its species, and made it easier to control than it wanted to be, when a man understood basic equine anatomy. The mule stood still as Captain Gringo put on the pad, let it take a breath, and then saddled and cinched with no further argument.

  Gaston staggered in with a lazy-man’s load and helped him lash the bottom layer to the packsaddle. The mule noticed that Gaston was smaller than the one he’d given up on, for now, and tried to bite the little Frenchman, who grabbed its muzzle and said, “Surely you jest!” and bit it savagely on one ear, drawing blood as the mule tried to protest but couldn’t, with Gaston’s fingers up its nose.

  Captain Gringo said, “Hold him. I’ll get the next load.”

  He brought their sleeping rolls in from the next room and lashed them to the mule. Then he went back for the ammo and, last of all, the machine-gun. He lashed that, wrapped in a tarp of course, with the muzzle braced over the rear fork and the breech nestled by the forward one. Gaston offered him the harness rope and said, “Eh bien, while there is time, let us see how much silver they are smuggling, non?”

  Captain Gringo said, “Non. Don’t mess with their pack. It’s not going to be easy to get to if Pilar smuggles as good as she does other things, and they’ll be in here any minute.”

  Gaston shrugged, then winked and said, “The fat one is a trés formidable lay too. So I’ll forgive you, this time, for getting the pretty one.”

  Captain Gringo didn’t answer, which was just as well. The two girls came in to join them. Pilar frowned at what they’d just done and said, “Just a moment, Deek. That was the mule, we intended to use!”

  He said, “I figured he was the best one, too. We’ve got a much heavier load, Pilar. Old buck there won’t get us in as much trouble scraping your pack off on a tree as he would ours. If you lose your sleeping roll, don’
t worry. I’m sure we can work something out.”

  Pilar pouted and said, “His name is Eduardo, even if he is a bucker. This is most unjust. Both these mules are mine, and you have taken Roberto, my favorite! It is true Roberto bites, a little, but he is steadier on the trail.”

  Captain Gringo nodded and said, “That’s what I just said. You’d better load your Eduardo with your packsaddle if you’re going with us today, muchachas. It’s getting late and we don’t want that Red Cross too far out ahead of us.”

  So they did it, bitching all the while, and a short time later they were all on their way east, toward the foothills of the Sierra Madres.

  To get there, they had to get out of the village first, and that was a bit more complicated than expected. Gaston, walking ahead as Captain Gringo led the lead mule, spotted the shore patrol first and hissed, “Sacre species of triple-thumbed toads! What are those trés adorable sailor boys doing in the native quarter at such an ungodly hour?”

  Captain Gringo said, “Let’s ask them. Drop back and let me do the talking.”

  Gaston started to argue, but didn’t. He could see it would look worse if they tried to avoid the patrol at this late date. The navy men had stopped in the shade of a live oak and were regarding the two men, two women, and two mules with undisguised curiosity. So far they hadn’t drawn their pistols. Hoping to keep things that way, Captain Gringo stepped up the pace to approach them with a friendly smile as he asked in English, “Have you guys seen that Red Cross team this morning?”

  The petty officer in command replied, “They left town about half an hour ago. Who wants to know?”

  Captain Gringo moved closer, still smiling, as he tried to think up an answer they might buy. The petty officer’s hand was on his pistol grips now. So the taller American kept both his hands in very plain view as he said, “We got a late start and we’re trying to catch up with the column.”

  “That’s not what I asked you, mister. Who the hell are you and do you have any papers to prove it?”

  Captain Gringo said, “Sure,” as he put a hand inside his charro jacket, hoping their mothers had never told them about shoulder holsters. But the day was saved when one of the junior members of the patrol took another look at Captain Gringo, grinned, and said, “Hey, I know you. I was with Chief Wilcox at the market last night. How come you’re in Mex duds this morning?”

  Captain Gringo didn’t answer and the shore patrolman said, “Oh, right, stupid question.”

  The petty officer turned to the patrolman who’d met Captain Gringo before and growled, “You know this guy, Mason?”

  “Sure. He’s secret service. Chief Wilcox said so.”

  Captain Gringo sighed and said, “He’s got a big mouth, too. How in hell am I supposed to keep secrets if the navy keeps blabbing about my mission to everyone?”

  The new patrol leader laughed and said, “Don’t get your shit hot, SS. We’re on your side. Uncle has you watching them Red Cross jerk-offs for some reason, right?”

  “I’m not supposed to tell.”

  “Shit, you don’t have to. Most of them are damned furriers and the Mex government’s being a pain in the ass about it, too. Is there anything we can do to help, SS?” Captain Gringo laughed easily, said there wasn’t, as he thanked them just the same, and they all parted company alive and well.

  Gaston murmured, “Merde alors, that was close, and we have yet to reach the city limits of this trés petite village!”

  Captain Gringo said, “So pick ’em up and lay ’em down, but don’t look back!”

  “There you go telling your teacher how it’s done again, Dick. How on earth did you sell that trés strange story to them, anyway?”

  “It’s a long story. Suffice it to say, everybody likes to look smarter than he really is. Slow down. I didn’t mean you should hop, skip, and jump when I said to keep moving. If we don’t want to catch up with that column, we’d better take it easy. A long column always moves slower on the march, even when it’s all male.”

  “There you go again, you fucking species of cavalry trooper. If we walk too slow, those adorable sailors we just passed might wonder just how serious we are about catching up, non?”

  “Non. They’re trained pros and they think we’re shadowing the Red Cross for Uncle Sam, see?”

  Gaston laughed and said, “Great minds run in the same channels, then, since that is exactly what we are doing. Ah, oui, regardez that fresh mule dropping in the dust ahead.”

  “I just did. They haven’t found it yet. That means they’re less than half an hour ahead of us. But we’d better not call a trail break until we’re out of town.”

  They plodded on as the sun rose higher and the dust got hotter. Then, when they came to a banana grove by the side of the road, Captain Gringo led the way in, made sure that, as he’d assumed, nobody was working the unripe bananas, and tethered the mule to a stalk as he announced, “We’ll shade here for at least a couple of hours. I hope. Pilar, you know this neck of the woods. Are we likely to have company here this morning?”

  Pilar shook her head and said, “I do not think so. These bananas belong to old Tío Renaldo and he is a lazy drunk even when it is time for to pick them. But I do not think we had better take our clothes off while we fuck, just in case.”

  Captain Gringo laughed and said, “We’ve got too much ground to cover to tear off a piece every time we take a break, querida. Haven’t you ever heard of just resting?”

  He flopped to the weedy grass in the moist shade to recline on one elbow as Pilar flopped down beside him, saying, “You said we would be here two hours. How much rest does anyone need, Deek? It is too early for to eat again, and we have not walked far enough for to be tired. Are you cross with me because we argued about the mules?”

  He said he wasn’t. So she said, “Bueno,” and hoisted her dark peon skirt up around her naked hips as she lay back and spread her brown thighs. He said, “For God’s sake, it’s broad daylight and we’re not alone, you know!”

  She said, “Yes, we are. Gaston and Concepción just went for a walk among the bananas, hand in hand. I do not think they went for to pick bananas, do you?”

  He looked around, saw she was right, and said, “Just the same, some damned body has to watch the mules and that road over there, and I’m not worth a damn at that with my pants down.”

  “Just unbutton your fly, then. I will not mind. Those new pants look smooth.”

  “They are. They’re clean, too. I mean to keep them that way for now, and besides, I’m not worried about the mechanics involved. I just can’t guard our lives and supplies and screw at the same time. Can’t you wait until tonight, for Pete’s sake?”

  She said, “Tonight may never come, and I am hot now! If you will not fuck me, I shall have to satisfy myself some other way.”

  He laughed and told her to be his guest. He was only kidding, but Pilar rolled to her feet, reached up into the nearest banana tree, and selected a green banana. A big one. Then, as he watched, bemused, the tough little mutt dropped down to the grass again and proceeded to fornicate with the local vegetation. It looked dirty as hell. So why was it giving him a hard-on to watch?

  He knew if he watched her slide that big green substitute in and out of that hot little snatch much longer he was going to get jealous and change his mind. So he got to his own feet and moved over to check the cinches on the mules or something. The mules were fine. They liked it in the shade, eating weeds, and Eduardo’s half-assed attempt to kick him missed by a mile and was only in fun. He looked back. Pilar had that banana going in and out as if she were churning butter inside her. Her eyes were closed and she rolled her dark head from side to side as she moved her hips in passion, mockery, or both. He grimaced and walked closer to the road. He wasn’t expecting to see anyone coming along it from either direction. So he was more than a little surprised when he did.

  Two dozen armed and dangerous-looking men were riding west toward the seaport at a bone-jarring but mile-eating steady trot.
Like Captain Gringo and Gaston, they were dressed in gray charro outfits. But they were not vaqueros or anything else as human. They were Rurales, and Los Rurales didn’t ride in such big bunches unless they were on the trail of somebody El Presidente Diaz really wanted a lot!

  Captain Gringo knew he was high on their list as he faded back through the bananas, drawing his .38 as he crawfished. There was no way in hell he was about to stop twenty-four homicidal maniacs with five bullets. But taking at least five of the pricks with him beat any higher hopes he might have if they failed to just ride by!

  He could no longer see the dusty road now, but from the steady, sound of hoofbeats it didn’t seem they were going to stop to pick bananas, Lord be praised.

  He made it back to the mules and cut around to start unlashing the machine gun as Pilar stopped jerking off long enough to ask what was going on, in a too-loud voice. He snapped, “Rurales! Keep still!”

  She didn’t. She wailed, “Oh, my God! Save me! Save me!”

  He cursed, spun around, and took a running dive at her to clap a hand over her mouth and hiss, “Jesus, Pilar! Have you gone nuts?”

  She stared wild-eyed and struggled with him as he soothed, “Easy. Easy. They seem to be riding on. Here, let me give you a hand with that banana.”

  He removed his hand from her mouth and took the free end of the green banana firmly in hand to dildo her with it some more as he said, “That’s why I didn’t want the real thing in you just now. Nobody thinks too straight when they’re excited, But you sure get excited a lot, for a girl who’s supposed to be used to playing hide-and-seek with the law!”

  She spread her brown thighs wider and put a hand on the back of his wrist to help as she replied, “I am used to ducking customs agents. But, Madre de Dios, Los Rurales are not supposed to patrol these parts. Some evil person back in the village must have betrayed us! Ah, could you do that a little faster, querido?”

  He could and he did, as he shook his head and said, “They could be after almost anyone who doesn’t admire El Presidente Diaz, and there’s a lot of that going around in Mexico these days. I didn’t notice a telegraph wire along the road we took out of town. Is there a telegraph Pilar?”