Bandido Blood

by J. R. Roberts

  “The smell of a woman pleases a man,” she remarked. “But not when she smells too strong, no?”

  Clint smiled, watching her. Maria’s body was lovely. Her breasts were large and firm with hard brown nipples. Maria’s torso was sleek and tan and her hips flared before tapering into long, shapely legs. The Gunsmith wasn’t too tired to appreciate a beautiful woman and his manhood stirred with anticipation.

  He removed his clothing as he watched Maria. As soon as he’d stripped off his long johns, Maria was in his arms, her wide moist mouth pressed against his. Her hands found his penis and stroked it to full length. Clint fondled her breasts, gently thumbing the nipples erect. He lowered his head and kissed the soft, warm flesh.

  Clint drew on Maria’s nipples, sucking gently as his hands continued down the curves of her body. Two fingers found the wet, hot portal of love. He rubbed and probed slowly. Maria moaned with pleasure, rocking her buttocks back and forth to the rhythm of his touch.

  “Lie down, my hero,” she urged. “Let me show you how a woman should treat her man. ”

  The Gunsmith obliged. He clenched his teeth and winced when his back touched the blanket draped over the rough ground. The wounds he’d received from the flogging were still raw and painful although he’d applied a camphor ointment when they’d made camp. He realized he’d probably have to repeat the treatment after he spent some time with Maria—but, hell, it’d be worth it.

  Maria knelt beside him and slowly ran her hands over his hairy chest and abdomen. She lowered her lips to his neck and shoulders. Clint sighed with pleasure as she kissed and gently nipped his flesh. Gradually, her mouth moved to his chest. Maria’s hands found his hardened penis and stroked it carefully while she kissed his bare stomach.

  A shiver of erotic glee traveled through Clint as she slowly traced the tip of her tongue around his navel. Her mouth continued to move until she slipped her lips over the head of his penis. She licked, chewed and sucked with passion and skill until Clint was about to reach his limit.

  Then Maria raised her head and shifted a leg over his loins to straddle him. She guided his member into her love center. They sighed in unison when he entered her. The girl wiggled her loins against Clint, working his hard cock deeper. Clint pressed the backs of his heels against the ground as he arched his back to add thrust to his penetration.

  Maria, in the dominant position, handled the role with enthusiasm and skill. She stroked his chest, ribs and abdomen with one hand, while the other was thrust under her own buttocks until her fingers found his testicles. Maria rocked her body gently, her featherlike touch massaging his balls as she moved.

  The girl moaned and gradually began bobbing her body up and down, riding the length of Clint’s throbbing, stiff shaft. The Gunsmith bucked his body in rhythm to hers and Maria gasped with pleasure when his member plunged deep inside her.

  Clint felt himself reaching the peak of his endurance as Maria clenched her teeth to hold in a scream of delight. At last, the woman quivered in a tremendous orgasm and Clint blasted his hot, creamy load into Maria’s magnificent womb.

  “Oh, my hero,” she sobbed. “It has been so long since I have done this willingly. I had almost forgotten how good it can be. ”

  “Then we’ll have to make certain this night is vivid enough to sustain you for a while,” Clint replied.

  Chapter Thirty

  The trio continued their journey after dawn. There had still been no sign of el Espectro or evidence that he had followed them into the Black Cathedral. Yet, this did not prove they weren’t being pursued, only that the bandits had not yet caught up with them.

  Neither the Gunsmith nor his female companions relaxed as they rode. If el Espectro had managed to reach San José first, he could have already destroyed the village. The bandits might be waiting for Clint to return to San José, or if el Espectro knew the terrain, he may have already sent men into the Negro Catedral to lie in wait for the Gunsmith.

  Every rock formation and boulder seemed sinister, a potential hiding place for bandido assailants or hostile Yaqui Indians. Clint gazed over the natural walls of stone. Outgrowths of rock and clusters of stone on ledges could provide perfect cover. An ideal spot for an ambush, the Gunsmith thought grimly, his hand resting on the grips of his holstered Colt revolver.

  After two hours that seemed like decades of sheer tension, they emerged from the Black Cathedral. The bare, featureless terrain of the desert was almost a relief. The Gunsmith checked his canteens. One was empty, the other less than half full. If we don’t find water by noon . . . Clint thought. Well, I hope Maria’s right about her directions. I’d rather go to San José and fight el Espectro than die of thirst out here.

  His concern was needless for they reached San José later that morning. The villagers saw them approach and excited shouts summoned everyone into the center of the hamlet. Most of the peónes cheered and waved sombreros in welcome. A few waved rifles or revolvers overhead. Others didn’t appear to be pleased by the Gunsmith’s return.

  Clint spotted two members of the crowd he especially welcomed—Father Rameriz and Elena Jimenez. The Gunsmith dismounted and the lovely little Mexican girl flew into his arms. She kissed him hard on the mouth. Voices cheered once more. Someone sighed, “Estar enamorado! ”

  “Oh, Clint!” Elena said. “I feared you might not return. Gracias a Dios! You are here!”

  “Welcome back, my friend, ” Father Rameriz said, extending a hand. “Elena and the others arrived last night. They had quite a story to tell about you, my son. ”

  “Unfortunately,” Clint replied, taking the priest’s hand, “we haven’t come to the end yet.”

  “You too believe el Espectro will come in search of his escaped prisoners,” Rameriz said grimly. He wasn’t asking a question.

  “I know he will, Father. After all, he sent out a search party when Elena was the only fugitive. Now his security is in even greater jeopardy. ”

  “From what Elena told me, ” the priest remarked, “el Espectro seemed to have little regard for the security of his camp. He was surrounded by a half-built wall and posted guards only on his prisoners, without stationing sentries to patrol the perimeter of his base. I am not a military man, but this seems most careless to me. ”

  “Your observations are accurate as usual, Father. ” Clint smiled. “But el Espectro wasn’t being as careless as it may seem. The bandit’s real name is Rafael Garcia. His brother is Captain Garcia. With the rurale boss as an ally, why would the Ghost be worried about an assault?”

  “Madre de Dios!” Rameriz shook his head. “That explains why the rurales attacked Elena and the others. It also means we can not go to Fort Juarez for help for they too are our enemies. ”

  “Not all of them, Father, ” Clint explained. “Garcia told me that just he and the four men with him on patrol are dealing with the bandits. The bastard thought I was going to die so he probably told the truth.”

  “But how could the other rurales remain ignorant of this for so long?” Rameriz asked.

  “Well, we don’t know how long el Espectro has had his headquarters in the Devil’s Belly,” Clint answered. “He still doesn’t have his damn wall built, so I don’t think he’s been there much more than six months or so. He’s been operating in Mexico for years, but I bet he didn’t set up here until his brother took over command of Fort Juarez. ”

  The priest nodded. “And that was about eight months ago.”

  “As for keeping the secret from his men,” Clint continued, “that wouldn’t be too difficult for the post commander to do. He probably sent out patrols to certain areas, purposely sending only his personal henchmen when it required approaching the bandit lair. The others were always sent in the opposite direction. ”

  “Sí,” the priest agreed. “It would be possible at that. It must be or this could not be happening.”

  “What matters now,” Elena said, “is what are we going to do?”

  “The rurales?” Rameriz asked.

/>   “They’re too far away to help now, ” Clint replied. “Before we could reach Fort Juarez, the bandits would catch up with us. ”

  “Besides,” Maria added, “how can we convince them that their post commander is in league with el Espectro? What proof do we have?”

  “That isn’t a problem, ” Clint told her. “We’ve got ample evidence. Right, Marsha?”

  “Yes, ” the blonde confirmed. “I can tell them what happened and that your claims are true . . . if they’d listen. ”

  “They will,” Clint assured her. “Your father is a congressman and no rurale officer is going to dismiss your word—not with El Presidente Juarez in office. ”

  “This is a minor point, ” Rameriz sighed. “As you say, Clint, there is not time to go to Fort Juarez. ”

  “I’m afraid not. There’s only one way to deal with el Espectro and his gang. We’ll have to fight them ourselves. ”

  “You are a bold man, my son,” Rameriz said. “A true warrior. Yet, the people of this village are farmers. They are not prepared to fight a small army of bandidos.”

  “Thirty-five men aren’t exactly an army,” Clint stated.

  “They are to us,” Rameriz insisted. “The bandidos are well armed and familiar with violence.”

  “And they’re bullies, not soldiers, ” Clint told him. “They’re not used to having anyone hit back at them. Your people have a few rifles and revolvers . . . ”

  “Sí,” the priest admitted. “They took the guns from the bodies of dead bandidos. That doesn’t mean they know how to fight with such weapons. ”

  “They’ll fight, ” Maria declared.

  She took Clint’s face in her hands and kissed him fiercely on the mouth, purposely rubbing her body against his crotch. Then Maria turned and smiled coyly at Elena who looked furious. She stepped toward the center of the village and began shouting at the peónes. Although Clint could understand little of what she said, her Spanish contained a taunting quality and she held her hands on her hips in a defiant manner.

  The peónes stared at her in astonishment as she drew her Bowie knife and held the blade high. Maria turned and pointed at Elena and continued to address the citizens of San José in a snide voice. Then she pointed at “Señor Clint” and said something about him.

  “What’s she saying?” Clint asked Rameriz.

  “She told them they have to fight, ” the priest answered. “She said that she has killed el Espectro’s men with a gun and with a knife. Even ‘little Elena’ has killed the bandido scum. She says, ‘If you call yourselves men, then you too will fight and Señor Clint will lead you.’ She tells them to follow you, my son, because you are wise, brave and good.”

  The Gunsmith noticed many peónes staring at him with expectation and hope in their eyes. Others seemed embarrassed, shamed by their fear. Then other former prisoners of el Espectro’s camp spoke to them. They gestured at Clint and pointed at themselves with pride. Obviously, they were telling elaborate war stories about their escape from the bandits’ clutches and their battle with the rurales.

  “Maria,” Clint called to the girl, “don’t let these fellas get too confident. We don’t want them to be too scared to fight, but we don’t want them to go into combat with the idea this is going to be a turkey shoot either. Underestimating an enemy is a surefire way to get killed. ”

  “I’ll tell them, my hero, ” Maria replied with a smile, pleased that she’d been chosen as Clint’s spokesperson instead of Elena.

  The younger woman also noticed this and glared at Clint. The Gunsmith didn’t have time to explain to her that he wasn’t favoring Maria because he felt more for her than he did for Elena—and in fact, he couldn’t have honestly said which woman he liked more—but Maria was older and her personality was more commanding. She wasn’t apeón and her manner was neither submissive nor shy. The men would listen to her, but they’d be inclined to ignore “little Elena. ”

  Too many lives were at stake to be concerned with either woman’s ego. Clint had to concentrate on the main problem that threatened every man, woman and child of San José—el Espectro. Father Rameriz placed a hand on Clint’s shoulder.

  “I am not a man of violence, my son,” the priest said. “But we have no choice. If we do not fight, el Espectro will slaughter us. Perhaps we can not win, but at least we can die like rams instead of sheep, no?”

  “Rams butt heads out in the open, ” Clint replied. “If we try to fight the bandits on their terms, we’ll be shot to pieces. What you said about our side being largely inexperienced and not as well armed as the enemy is true, Father. We have to take on el Espectro in a manner that will compensate for these disadvantages. ”

  “But how will we do that, Clint?” Rameriz asked.

  “We pick the battleground,” the Gunsmith told him. “Not here. San José wasn’t built for an ambush. We’d be cut to ribbons here. ”

  “Then where . . .?” the puzzled priest began.

  “I know just the place,” Clint smiled.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  When the Gunsmith and the people of San José arrived at the Negro Catedral several of the superstitious peónes crossed themselves and muttered prayers as they stared up at the rock formations with dread. Clint saw this and reported their behavior to Father Rameriz.

  “Will you tell your people not to be afraid of this place?” Clint urged, wrapping the bullwhip around his neck. “Tell them the walls of stone are not evil. Didn’t God make the rocks? Is it just a coincidence that this place is a natural fortress that will provide us with ample cover when we fight the bandidos? ”

  “Your point is well made, my son,” the priest agreed. “The Devil is not a builder. He can only tempt, mislead and influence. He is the Prince of Lies, not the Creator. There is no evil on earth unless man brings it upon himself. ”

  “I’m glad to have you here to talk to them about this, but I still wish we could have found some safe place for you and some of the others. ”

  “The old ones and the children?” Rameriz sighed. “I am a blind man so I am also a burden on a battlefield. ”

  “You’re a very brave and remarkable man, Father, ” Clint said. “But you can’t see and that’s one hell of a drawback when it comes to trading bullets.”

  “This is true, my son. ” The priest smiled. “But you may yet be glad I am here. ”

  “Clint?” Maria called to him as she strode forward. “We’ve only got six rifles, eleven pistols and one shotgun. There’s very little ammo and what we do have is limited to forty-five and forty-four calibers. ”

  “It wouldn’t help much to reload anyway,” Clint declared. “Not with inexperiencedpeónes against seasoned bandidos. If we don’t take them out with the first attack—or at least cut down their number dramatically—they’ll swarm over the rocks before our people can deal with it. They’re not trained well enough to handle a sudden change in tactics and we don’t have time to teach them. This has to work the first time.”

  “Why did you encourage them to bring their machetes and sickles?” Maria asked.

  “If it comes to hand-to-hand fighting,” Clint explained, “they’ll do better with knives and tools they’re familiar with rather than trying to use a rifle butt at close quarters. ”

  “How can you be certain el Espectro will even pass through the Black Cathedral?” Father Rameriz asked.

  “I’m not,” the Gunsmith confessed. “That’s why we had to evacuate the village. It’s possible he’ll approach San José from another direction. I don’t like exposing kids and old folks to danger, but the bandits would massacre them if they were left in the village alone and el Espectro showed up.”

  “But you think he will come this way?” the priest inquired.

  “Yes, I do, ” Clint replied. “The way I figure it, el Espectro didn’t track Elena and the others or he would have already hit San José by now. That means he heard the gunshots when Maria rescued me from the two mad dogs he’d left at the camp. He must have heade
d back there, found we’d already left—with Marsha, his yellow-haired prize—and decided to hunt us down first. If I’m right, he’s probably only a couple hours behind us—he could arrive here at any minute. ”

  “That means we must prepare swiftly, my son,” Rameriz stated.

  “That’s already being taken care of,” Clint assured him. “We’ve moved the horses to a semicircle of rocks away from the main walls. All the animals except Duke have been ground-hobbled to keep them from wandering about and giving away our position. ”

  “And your horse will not wander?” the priest asked.

  “He’ll stay put unless I call for him. I’m stationing the men with rifles—”

  “The men?” Maria inquired stiffly.

  “Okay, you’ll be there too. ” Clint sighed. “Anyway, I’m putting everyone with a rifle on both sides of the pass, positioning them high on the rock walls to put the bandits in a crossfire. However, the men with pistols—”

  “Don’t forget me, Clint,” Marsha Woodland declared. She held a revolver in her fist.

  “I told you I don’t want you involved in this, ” the Gunsmith replied.

  “I know how to shoot, ” she insisted. “And I’ve got a personal score to settle with those bastards. I’m going to kill some bandidos today, Clint. That’s all there is to it. ”

  “Aw, hell,” Clint muttered. “Okay, the folks with pistols will be stationed on one side only. Men—I guess I can say that this time—armed only with machetes and sickles will also be at that rock wall. The others, in charge of our surprise, will be at the summit of the opposite cliff.”

  “Your strategy sounds good in theory, my son,” Rameriz commented. “I hope it will serve as well in actual practice.”

  “We’ll know when el Espectro and his men arrive, ” the Gunsmith said. “Right now, we have to get everybody in position. ”

  “Perhaps I can help you know when the bandits are coming,” the priest remarked.

  Rameriz raised his stave, which now featured a sharpened end, and drove the point into the ground hard. Then he knelt beside it and clamped his teeth around the shaft. Everyone except the Gunsmith and Maria thought his actions were bizarre and irrational.