Casa Rodrigo
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almost maniacally.
“Don de Rodrigo! But how did you…?” Perez turned his attention back to
Tobias. The boy smiled wickedly, then lifted the knife in his hand for Perez to see.
Perez saw the glint of metal and quickly turned, realizing he had been set up.
He spun in time to see Bernardo swinging a branding iron. He tried to duck, but it
caught him square in the head.
And then there was nothing.
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Bernardo watched Perez's eyes cross slightly. The man wavered, blood
trickling from the side of his forehead. The overseer's body quivered ever so slightly;
then his legs seemed to fold beneath him, and the rest of his body collapsed.
Perez hit the floor with a clatter.
Bernardo felt an enormous swell of exhilaration fill and expand his chest. He
never would have thought he would get such a thrill, such a rush and gratifying
satisfaction from knocking someone out cold. He looked down at Perez and kicked
him. His former overseer didn't move. He didn't groan.
He looked at the branding iron in his hand. The very same one used on him
the night before. His right buttock quivered as if it still retained the memory of the
searing flesh. Bernardo winced, pushed the thought aside, and let the iron drop to
the floor with a clang.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tobias run toward him and come to his
side.
“Is he dead?” Tobias asked.
“I don't think so. He just passed out.”
“You should kill him,” Tobias said coldly.
“No,” Bernardo replied, though his instinct told him it would be for the best.
But he was too aware of the eyes watching them from across the foyer. The house
slaves stood as if awaiting orders.
“I have enough things in my life to answer for, Tobias. I don't need this
particular dead man on my conscience.”
“And if he wakes up?” Tobias asked. Bernardo sucked air in sharply, then
noticed the pistol tucked into Perez's breeches.
What a stroke of luck! Bernardo leaned over and pulled out the pistol. He
tucked it into his own breeches.
“Help me!” Bernardo grabbed one of Perez's legs. He pulled, but his muscles
screamed at him. The man was too heavy. It had been difficult enough getting out of
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bed and putting on his clothes, let alone lifting the branding iron and striking Perez
with all the force he could muster.
Tobias tucked his knife into a pocket and pulled on the other leg. But Perez
still wouldn't budge.
“Goddamnit! Pull harder!” Bernardo said, gritting his teeth. Perez moved a
little. Suddenly, several black hands surrounded them and reached for various
parts of Perez's body.
Bernardo grinned as he, Tobias, and two other slaves dragged Perez slowly
across the floor, down the hall, and into the kitchen, where they propped him up
against the wall just behind the door.
“Tie him up!” Bernardo commanded, tearing off one of the sleeves from his
loose, dirty shirt. He pried Perez's mouth open and shoved the material inside. He
stood and looked at the two women who had come to their assistance.
“Gracias,” he muttered. “If he wakes up, hit him.”
“Con qué, señor?” one of the women asked. Bernardo scanned the room.
“Ah yes. Here. Hit him with this.” Bernardo hurried to the wall on his left.
Several pots and pans hung from nails. He grabbed a large cast-iron skillet, tested
its weight—even though his arms shrieked—and handed it to one of the women.
They looked at one another, then looked back at Bernardo.
Bernardo raced from the kitchen, Tobias at his heels. As he ran down the
hallway, he heard a hollow twang and a thump and knew that the women hadn't
bothered to wait.
At the front door, Bernardo stopped and waited while Tobias picked up the
branding iron.
“What's that for?”
“You'll see,” Tobias said with assurance. Bernardo noted the look of
determination on the boy's face. It was clear the boy had a plan of his own in mind.
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But there was no time to find out what it was. Bernardo would simply have to trust
the boy.
“Very well. Are you ready, then?” Bernardo whispered and clapped the boy on
the shoulder.
“Don't be afraid. Be brave. When I tell you to run, run as fast and as far away
from here as you can. Follow the main road. When you get to Casa Rodrigo, ask for
Dante. He'll keep you safe until I return. Understand?”
Tobias nodded.
Bernardo took a deep breath and opened the door. The boy stepped out,
stopped, then turned to look over his shoulder.
“You won't forget your promise?” Tobias asked.
Bernardo shook his head and smiled in encouragement. The boy promptly
disappeared.
* * *
Alonso slowly made his way through the brush followed by Dante.
He still felt as if he could sleep for several days, but when he had come to, his
first thoughts had been of Arbol.
No one had insisted he stay in bed, which Alonso had found odd. It was as if
they all had part of some unspoken agreement and knew what he must do.
Dante had already gathered pistols, powder, and balls, as well as a knife. They
had to travel without torches, lest Raúl see them coming from a distance, and by
foot.
And while Dante explained how his father wanted to get rid of Perez, thinking
that the best way was to say Dante had run away, the still-weak Alonso wondered
why his father simply hadn't terminated him. Unless it would have roused Raúl's
suspicion. Briefly, he wondered if his father had anticipated Raúl's reaction. If he
had planned to use his own son as bait. Of course, even if he had, none of them
could have counted on the fever that had overtaken Alonso.
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Then he realized there was probably much, much more he did not know about
his father.
Alonso sighed and pressed on, stopping only when he heard the sound of Raúl's
voice, distant but clear.
“… before you escaped. Forty-five!”
Slash!
Alonso froze in place, his body cold. He knew the sound. He'd heard it before.
He shuddered involuntarily, as if it were his own back being flogged. He hurried
along as quietly as he could, following Raúl's voice.
“Forty-six!” Slash! A moment later, “Hijo de puta!”
As Alonso drew nearer, followed by the spry Dante, who was obviously excited
by their adventure, Alonso thought he heard another voice, but couldn't make out
the words.
Must be Perez. Alonso pressed on.
“Al carajo contigo, pendejo!” Raúl hollered. His voice sounded so near. Just a
few more steps.
“Now get the hell out of my sight before I beat you next!”
Alonso peered through the bushes and saw Perez walking away from Raúl. He
gingerly pulled back one of the branches for a more complete view and was horrified
at the sight before him.
Arbol hung in midair, wrists and ankles tied together. His body was limp, and
his eyes were clo
sed. His head lolled to one side, his mouth wide open and drooling.
“Forty-seven.”
Slash.
“Scream, you filthy bastard! I want to hear you scream!” Raúl cried.
But no sound came from Arbol.
“Do you think he's still alive?” Dante whispered.
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“Of course,” Alonso whispered back. But inside, he wasn't so sure. Alonso
released the branch and stole a glance over his shoulder at Dante. He didn't dare
look the slave in the eye.
“Forty-eight.”
Slash.
A groan. Soft but audible. Alonso turned his attention back to the scene
playing out before him and peered through the gaps in the branches. He saw Arbol
lift his head back, eyes closed, attempting to speak.
“Forty-nine.”
Slash.
A long quiet moment passed. The silence was unbearable. Alonso sat rooted to
the spot, his gaze locked with Dante's as they both waited.
“Ahhhh! Fuck it,” Raúl murmured. Alonso dared to pull back one of the
branches once again and peered through the bushes. He gasped at the sight of Raúl
coming closer, coiling the cat-o'-nine-tails.
Raúl froze. He thought he had heard something. He cocked his head to listen
but heard only the sounds of the jungle behind his house as insects tuned up for
their nightly orchestrations.
“Perez?” Raúl called out. No answer. He listened more. “Tobias?” Still no
answer. Raúl pulled the patch from his eye as if that would help him see. But the
eye was still puffy. There was only a thin slit of vision. He sniffed at the air, face to
the sky, then turned his attention back to the swinging body.
Raúl ran his dirty fingertips across the fresh cuts, welts, and bruises on Arbol's
back. His cock stirred just as Arbol moaned softly, distantly.
The slave's head still lolled to one side. He stepped in front of Arbol and looked
up at the angelic, almost peaceful face on the beautiful brown man. He stopped and
wondered a moment, reminded of someone. There was something in the boy's face,
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something about the way he held his head that looked familiar. Raúl tried to place
the image, but the details refused to come to him. So much had happened during his
life. He'd seen so many slaves. Still, there was something beautiful about Arbol.
Raúl reached up with his free hand and caressed Arbol's smooth face. He
groaned pleasurably, his lust building. His cock stirred even more than it had when
he had first started to flog Arbol.
Licking his lips, Raúl cocked his head again and watched almost lovingly as he
caressed Arbol's long, sinewy neck. He ran his hand from the slave's collarbone to
his shoulder, then down to his chest. Raúl tweaked one of the slave's nipples, then
leaned forward, licked, sucked, and bit down. Arbol groaned, his lips parting, a flash
of white showing. His eyelids fluttered.
“I can see why young de Rodrigo is so taken with you,” Raúl mumbled as Arbol
stared at him with glazed eyes. Suspiciously, Raúl looked over his shoulder.
Satisfied there was nothing there, he turned his attention back to Arbol's swaying
body. His eyes had closed again.
Raúl traced a path down the slave's sweaty, bloodied torso, down the center of
his belly, toward his groin. He grabbed hold of the very root of Arbol's cock and
squeezed as an odd, appreciative sound escaped him.
With one rough movement, Raúl tore at Arbol's pants and whistled at the
sight. He assessed the length and thickness of Arbol's cock as it hung, still soft,
away from his body.
“Oh yes.” Raúl sighed, his voice somewhat tremulous. “I can definitely see why
he is so smitten with you. What a fine, fine specimen you are.”
“Jesus Christ!” Raúl stepped back and circled Arbol. He stopped to admire his
handiwork on the runaway's wide back, which tapered down to a narrow waist. He
noted the swell of the slave's hips and licked his lips as he drank in the sight of the
high, round ass that looked as delectable as a summer melon.
But where was the mark? Raúl looked closer. No branding. Bernardo must
have lied.
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Why? Why would he lie?
He squinted, running a hand up and down Arbol's legs, inside his thighs. He
even squeezed Arbol's balls and lifted the pendulous cock, running a fist lovingly
along the entire length. Just for good measure.
With a satisfied grunt, Raúl stood erect.
“That son of a whore lied to me! But no matter. The slave's mine now.”
Raúl turned and walked toward the back of the house, where a pile of cut
firewood had been stacked. He tucked a log under each arm and one in each hand,
then came back and picked a spot to start his fire.
A brushing sound made him turn. Tobias was coming around the side of the
house with a branding iron in hand.
“Tobias!” Raúl exclaimed. He patted the boy's face when he drew near. “Not so
dumb after all.”
Raúl took the branding iron from the boy.
“Now go and fetch me a lantern.” Raúl kicked at the dirt in the ground and
laid the logs in place.
A moment after Tobias had gone, something rustled in the distance. Raúl
froze. He looked up and listened, but all he could hear was the whirring of insects.
Still, something made his flesh crawl and the back of his scalp tingle.
Slowly, as if nothing were amiss, Raúl approached the runaway's body. He was
still unconscious. Raúl turned his attention to the bushes just beyond and narrowed
his eyes. He scanned the foliage, but it was too dark to see if something or someone
was hiding back there.
Raúl turned as Tobias came back out.
“Make a fire,” Raúl commanded. “Then fetch me a bucket of water.” Raúl
looked around once more, turned, then slowly and deliberately made his way to the
armory.
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Chapter Twenty-one
Alonso wiped at his mouth with his forearm, embarrassed to have been so
disgusted by the sight of Arbol being whipped that he was forced to crawl away and
vomit. Luckily he had managed to retch in relative quiet with Dante kneeling
beside him, a hand on his back, trying to offer what comfort he could.
When his heaving stomach had calmed enough, Alonso sat up with a grimace.
“Are you all right, señor?”
Alonso thought he saw concern on Dante's face, but couldn't be sure. The
image swam a little before him. He felt light-headed.
“Maybe we should go back,” Dante suggested and pulled at Alonso's hand.
But Alonso resisted.
“I'm not leaving until I see Velasco's face staring blankly up at the night sky,”
Alonso whispered vehemently. He took a deep breath and exhaled forcefully. “Are
you with me?”
Dante nodded. It was now or never.
Alonso pulled the pistol from his pants, held it up, and crept out from behind
the bushes. All was quiet before him. For the moment. Raúl was in his armory, and
Tobias had gone, leaving the small but growing fire. Alonso stepped farther into the
open. His gaze was on Arbol, but he
kept glancing toward the armory.
Behind him, Dante scurried toward the tree from which Arbol hung, and the
wiry little man began to climb.
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Hurry! Alonso stole glances as Dante scrambled along the large branch. He
tucked the pistol into his breeches and wrapped his arms around Arbol's thighs to
keep him from swaying and spinning.
He was quite aware of the urgency, but it was difficult not to think of their
moments together when Arbol's cock whacked against the side of his face. Unable to
resist, he buried his face longingly between Arbol's thighs. He inhaled deeply,
praying, looking forward to a time when he would soon be able to enjoy Arbol again.
Slowly. Lovingly.
Arbol's body suddenly grew much heavier. Burdened by his tall, muscular
frame, Alonso collapsed beneath Arbol's weight and fell to the ground. Arbol
groaned loudly and muttered as Alonso was pinned beneath him.
Alonso rolled Arbol off him, and Arbol cried out. Alonso froze and looked
toward the armory. He thought he saw a shadow move, but there was no sign of
Raúl.
Hurriedly, Alonso reached to cut the rope from Arbol's wrists, then realized
Dante still had the knife. He looked up, but Dante was already scurrying across the
limb.
“Alonso?” Arbol whispered.
Alonso looked down at Arbol and saw the ghost of a smile as his eyelids
fluttered. His brown skin was slick and shiny in the flickering of the fire.
“You…you came for me.” Tears streamed down his face.
“I couldn't leave you to that monster.” Alonso cradled Arbol's upper body. He
tried not to touch Arbol's back, but there was little choice. Everywhere Alonso
touched seemed to cause Arbol pain.
Alonso lowered his lips to Arbol's forehead as if that might make him feel
better.
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A soft thud made Alonso snap his head up, startled. Fear clutched at his throat
and filled him with dread as Raúl came toward him, dragging Dante behind him in
a choke hold.
“Well, well, well. What have we got here?” Raúl spoke softly as he approached,