PEG BOY

by Berube, R. G.

  “So was he worth saving? I bet he’s one great fuck, eh, Ernest?”

  “You’ll never find out!”

  “Aw..., come on..., ain’t we partners and everything? You remember that Mexican kid I picked up in China Camp? I passed him right on to you when I got done with him, didn’t I? Hell, you gotta share with your buddies!”

  “You stupid son-of-a-bitch,” Ernest whipped around and faced Matt. “You split that kid in half and I almost got blamed for it when he died. You sure got out of that cabin fast and left me holdin’ the bag you stupid shit! That kid dammed near brought the whole town down on us with his screamin’. If I hadn’t cut his throat, he’d still be hollerin’. You big, stupid shit..., don’t do me any more favors like that. And stay away from, er..., what’s his name...? Hey, amigo..., que tu nombre?”

  Santiago understood the question. “Santiago,” he said dryly, spitting out the words.

  “Yeah? Cute! So Ox-ass, stay away from my Santiago you hear?”

  “Cheap son-of-a-bitch! Matt was angry.

  “Fuck you, Matt. Get your own piece of ass.”

  The thin man looked exasperated and intervened. “Let’s cut the bullshit about who is going to fuck whose little boy. Personally I just can’t see what you guys see in these kids, anyway. Give me pussy anytime!”

  The other two started laughing. “Why you hypocritical bastard,” Ernest screamed. “You’re the biggest faggot on the river! Everyone knows it. Why do you keep trying to hide it?”

  Lucien left them and came to the fire. He looked into the boy’s eyes, and then looked quickly away.

  “Come on Lucien, we gotta’ decide where we’re goin’ for this stuff.”

  They studied the map for a while and speculated about how far up the river they would need to travel. Ernest called to Santiago.

  “Hey amigo, did your father tell you where the gold dust and claim were on this map? Come here..., tell me where the dust is buried.”

  Santiago had learned a little English, just enough to be understood, but now he shook his head as though he did not understand what they were saying.

  Matt approached and stood over him. “You will talk when I get through with you, amigo.” He made the sign of fucking with his hand and fist.

  Ernest laughed as he nodded his head in disbelief. “You stupid mother-fucker..., how the fuck do you think the kid is goin’ to understand when he don't speak no English? That’s why I’m talkin’ to him in Spanish.”

  Matt spun around and faced Ernest. “You’re awfully loose with your mouth and with callin’ people names! You know, you ain’t too big to get your ass whipped, little brother. I can still do it!”

  “You could try lard-ass. You ain’t what you used to be.”

  Lucien was irritated by the constant arguing of the two brothers.

  “It’s no wonder your ol’ lady walked out on all of you..., if you two fought like that when you were kids.”

  “We get along real fine now, don’t we Matt? We use to fight all the time when we were kids. Hell, this here ain’t fightin’. We just discussin’ stuff.”

  Lucien walked to the fire and removed a firebrand to light his cigar.

  “I think you two should kiss and make up so that we can be on our way. We don’t know who these guys were plannin’ to meet and who might be following. I’ll feel better when we’re out of here.”

  “Okay, get the kid to break camp. Be sure to watch him. Don’t leave anything around that anyone else can find. Let’s get going!”

  Ernest untied Santiago’s wrists and ankles, but tied a longer rope to each ankle so he could walk but not run. Santiago was careful to observe how the men got along. He saw that the one called Ernest was the leader. The fattest one tried avoiding the other two, who seemed always in confrontation. It was apparent that Ernest had claimed him for his own and the others did not like it. When Lucien had tried touching Santiago between the legs while they were loading the mule, Ernest had walked up to the man and hit him between the shoulders with the butt of his rifle.

  They were ready to move from the site. Santiago looked around. He felt a pain in his heart for leaving his father behind. The body was somewhere, perhaps not far from where they stood. Without intention he began to cry silently. He felt a coldness enter his heart and became filled with it. In that moment he lost a part of himself. The men had killed more than a body. For that part of himself that they had robbed, he felt a loneliness and a sorrow. He was mystified by the glimmer of joy he sensed through his despair, and he began to realize that this joy was for the freedom of action it brought. That freedom was the shedding of a chain that gave him power to do whatever would be necessary to survive and for the retribution he knew he was duty-bound to administer.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The men went out of their way to avoid every settlement and campsite they approached.

  Santiago suspected the men to be known desperadoes. On the way to Long Barn two incidences occurred that showed how the men operated. While on the tail they met an old man who foolishly bragged of having found a sizable nugget. After having shared their whiskey with the elderly prospector, they were able to get him to speak more loosely. After wishing the old man well, they parted company. Matt followed the old man while the other two moved on. Later in the afternoon Matt caught up with them and brandished a large nugget of gold the size of a small plum. Ernest slipped it into the pouch he carried tied to his side. He looked at Santiago and realized the boy understood what they were saying by the look on his face. He laughed as he drew his finger, like a blade, across his throat to indicate what had happened to the old man. The others joined him in laughter.

  It was at this point Santiago knew he would need to kill them, as he had no doubt that the three planned to dispose of him whenever they decided he was of no further need. While plodding along the trail he thought of how he would go about the plan. Santiago knew he needed to do it as soon as possible. Every day that passed was one less day allotted to him, one closer to his death. His thoughts of escape were often interrupted by those of his father. The visions presented his father’s face and his resolve to kill the men grew bolder, and his hate, deeper.

  The men decided to stop and make camp after the sun had set behind a mountain ridge and the twilight shadows made the trail difficult to see. They referred to the map often and their excitement grew as the destination seemed closer. Santiago was forced to set up the tent and gather firewood. Lucien prepared the meal. Santiago stayed out of their way, not wanting to give them any reason for abuse. The other two huddled and plotted. They spoke of the assayer in Columbia, and Santiago understood enough to realize that it was he who had warned the desperadoes that a man called Cali and his son were in possession of a valuable map. Santiago placed Stilman on his list.

  When the food was ready and the coffee brewed, Ernest brought Santiago a plate. He sat beside the boy and watched him eat. He reached and touched Santiago’s leg, edging his fingers closer to his crotch. Santiago moved to avoid the man’s advances. Ernest became more aggressive.

  “You think you’re too good for me? Well you’ll find out that I take what I want when I want it. If it weren’t for me, those thugs would have blown a hole through that pretty head of yours, and then fucked you afterward. You’re nothin’ but scum like the rest of us! Don’t push your luck!”

  Santiago knew pushing his luck was exactly what he was about to do. But provoking this man would not serve his purpose for the moment. It was he, after all, who had saved his life. Perhaps Santiago could find his own special way of repaying the debt.

  “Please, señor, do not hurt me. I will be good to you, yes? Yes, I will be good to you when you put yourself in me. I am very good!”

  Only by cooperation would he have the opportunity to strike back.

  “So, you do speak English after all! You will be good to me, eh? Maybe you and me can be friends? You’re as beautiful as a woman and judging from last night, you are an even better fuck. Yes, maybe wi
th a little training and practice, you could be turned into a little wife.”

  “Wife...? Si señor, I think I understand what you are saying. I will be your wife and you will not have cold nights because I will hold you and satisfy you well!”

  The combination of English and Spanish, given that they both knew fragments of each other’s language, worked. Ernest was impressed with the boy’s change of mind. The talk was getting him horny and he wanted to fuck him again but decided not to press it this time and get the boy more on his side.

  “It looks like you’re not as dumb as we thought. Good for you!”

  “You will be gentle with me for a few days, señor? I was damaged inside, last night. It hurts and I want to heal to be better for you. But I can do many other things until I am better!”

  “Yeah, I plan to find out all the other things you can do. Sure, I’ll take it easy for a while. But you better be good in other ways! We’ll see tonight.”

  Ernest joined the others and they laughed when he told them what Santiago promised.

  “You play your cards right, Matt, and I may even let you have some.”

  Santiago had slipped Ernest’s knife out of its sheath as he had talked to him and the man had never felt it. Santiago slipped it inside his boot. When they were ready to go to bed, Ernest untied Santiago’s hands and told him to go to the tent and set out the bedding.

  “You ain’t goin’ to let him sleep in there and us, out here, are you?”

  Lucien was less indignant about sleeping outdoors as he was upset about not getting at Santiago.

  “Nope, only long enough for me to get a little action. Then I’ll tie him up under the lean-to. Get some sleep. I’ll wake you when I’m done.”

  Santiago had placed the knife just outside the tent flap so that it could be reached easily with an extension of the hand. He could not chance to have it found inside. Then he heard Ernest call out in alarm when he realized the knife was missing.

  “Either of you got my knife? I had it before we ate and now it’s gone.”

  “Maybe you were using it to eat. Check by where you and the kid were talking.”

  Santiago did not dare look behind as he untied and laid out the sleeping gear. He then took the lantern and walked to the fire for an ember to light it. The men were looking about, searching.

  “I can’t find it!”

  “When was the last time you remember using it?” Lucien was watching Santiago. “Did you have it on you when you went with the kid for firewood?”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I used it out there to cut moss.”

  “Maybe you left it there,” Lucien called back from the bundle of gear he was searching. “It ain’t here!”

  “I guess you’re right. I don’t remember brining it back. I can go get it in the morning.”

  Matt walked up to Santiago. “Check the kid.”

  “Why, how could he have it? Ernest scrutinized Santiago from head to fool. “You,” he pointed to the boy. “Get by the fire where I can see you!”

  Santiago stepped close to the fire.

  “Undress.”

  He pulled off his shirt and pants and felt the cold air on his back and gooseflesh spread over his body so that his nipples hardened. Naked, he showed himself to all and saw how the other two were mesmerized.

  “Alright you little show-off. Put your clothes back on and get your ass in that tent.”

  “Ooooeee..., my-oh-my..., but he sure is somethin’! That boy’s got more between his legs than all of us put together. Are you stickin’ it to him or is he stickin’ it to you little brother?”

  “The only one around here whose asshole is big enough to take that piece of meat is you, Matt. So keep acting like one and I may give the kid a chance to see if he can fill yours!”

  Matt turned in anger and headed for the lean-to with his blanket. Ernest laughed and with his arm around Santiago’s waist he led him to the tent. For this performance, Santiago decided he had to be his best. First he would make their touching last long enough for the others to fall asleep. He needed to persuade Ernest to drink more so he would be uncoordinated. He noted that Ernest’s rifle had been left in the lean-to.

  In the tent he set the lantern so it glowed just enough for him to see. Ernest removed his clothes and shivered as he grabbed at the boy. Pulling Santiago down to himself, Ernest covered them with a blanket. Santiago took the man’s erect penis between his thighs and moved himself so that he stroked the cock. Ernest lay back and was much less the aggressor than the previous night. After a great deal of mental preparation, Santiago began to work his way down the man’s body with his tongue, letting it touch the tender places until Ernest wiggled in ecstasy. It took tremendous control for Santiago to withstand the urge to vomit again.

  “Señor, perhaps a little whiskey for me..., and I can perform for you like last night? The whiskey would dull the pain.”

  Ernest was thrilled at Santiago’s willingness to please him. He reached for his saddle bag and bought out a bottle, swigging at it and handing it to the boy. Santiago tipped it to his lips and took a little so his mouth would smell like he was drinking. They passed the bottle between them several times. Santiago continued making Ernest squirm with probing and licking. He estimated that they had been in the tent about an hour. Ernest was getting to a point where the stimulation would have to come to something. Suddenly he knew exactly what he had to do, and he knew it would work. It was as though he had a precognition of how it would all turn out.

  Santiago leaned close to Ernest’s ear and in his sexiest voice he whispered, “Ernesto, stay where you are. I want you in me, but I must do it so that I will take you comfortably and satisfy you properly.”

  Ernest lay on his back with both hands behind his head. He was feeling very smug and drunk. He found it difficult to realize his good fortune of having found a boy so willing, especially after what had been done to him and to the father. Maybe he and the father had not gotten along? Maybe the kid was just a slut. What did he care? He was being serviced as he had never been serviced before. Maybe he would hang on to the kid for a while longer..., maybe he would even....

  Santiago straddled Ernest and carefully lowered himself on the man’s hard penis. The pain was so excruciating that he feared he would not be able to fulfill his plan. He bit his lip and tears spilled from his eyes. Ernest was enraptured, eyes closed, and did not notice the hate filling Santiago’s face. Santiago began to move so that he clamped the man’s penis within his rectum. Ernest moaned. Santiago continued the motion as he leaned far enough to reach beyond the tent and grab hold of the knife. His fingers were around the handle. He increased his motion and made sounds in his throat to show he was excited and nearly at the point of climax, but in reality to cover the sound of his movements. Ernest’s breathing became louder as he moaned again as his head tossed side to side, lost in ecstasy.

  Just before ejaculation, Ernest moaned even louder but it ended in a gurgle when the knife sliced through cartilage and the severed head took on a macabre smile. Santiago heard a wicked swooshing of air as the man’s last breath mixed with the blood and his lungs filled with it. Arms and legs twitched and jerked until all became still.

  Santiago leaped from the body as the blood splashed everywhere. He smelled its warmth, its richness, so much so that he finally vomited. He saw by the light of the lantern that Ernest’s head had rolled to the side and was facing downward. He picked it up and with the mouth opened, placed it on the man’s own penis.

  He moved quietly but swiftly, still naked, and crossed the opening between the tent and camp-fire. He saw the two men sleeping side-by-side in the lean-to. A rifle was still propped near its entrance, the same one that had killed his father. He sat directly in front of the fire, which put him almost four feet from the men. He was in line with them so that when they sat up, they would be perfect targets. He raised the weapon and took careful aim to where he thought their heads would be. When he had the barrel steady he let out a blood-curdling s
cream that had the desired effect. The two men bolted upright. Just before the blasts they saw Santiago seated on a log by the fire, naked and covered with blood, wild-eyed, laughing madly. As each head lined up with the barrel, the gun sounded twice and a part of the head of each was blown away. Both bodies were thrown back with the force of the shots and there was little left above the shoulders that could be recognized.

  Santiago washed his hands and rinsed himself of blood. He folded the blanket, wrapped some food, took a pistol and shotgun, packed a good supply of ammunition, and loaded whatever else he thought would be of use. He left much behind, not wanting to overburden himself. The mule was packed and he began to walk with the animal behind, tethered to a rope.

  It was only after he had traveled some distance that he recalled the nugget in Lucien’s pouch. He had not taken it. Not having knowledge of its value he was inclined to leave it as he detested the thought of returning to the camp. Yet he knew they had made a great deal of it! They would not have bothered killing the old man if it did not have worth. He returned.

  Coming into the camp was like walking into a haunted place. He felt the evil as a force that prevailed all around him. It took great determination to crawl back into the tent and face the horror he had created. The smell of blood still filled the air. He avoided looking at the severed head. He felt about the tent until he found the belt to which the pouch was attached and quickly crawled out. Santiago made one more round of the camp to be sure he had left no trace of himself. He searched the other bodies and took a knife and some American money.

  It was not until three hours after he had left the site that he felt safe enough to sleep. With a campfire for warmth and protection against prowling animals, and with the mule secured nearby, Santiago constructed a lean-to of fir-bows and laid down. The silence and peace was the first he had felt since his abduction. The stillness was so pronounced that he felt himself kept awake by it and he listened as the animals moved about in the brush, but they did not frighten him. It was the human animals for which he had developed fear. He thought of the loved ones he had lost. His entire family had been taken from him. He knew now that the only way he could survive was to strike the first blow. Santiago fell asleep with the face of his mother in mind.