The Three Mercenaries

by J. R. Roberts

  “Can I come in?” she asked, looking up and down the hall. She was concerned about being seen.

  “Of course.”

  He stepped back to let her in, then closed the door. She turned to face him, giving him a sloe-eyed look. It was obvious what she had on her mind, and who was he to disappoint her?

  But there was one thing.

  “Does your sister know you’re here?” he asked. “And more important, does your brother-in-law know? I don’t want him coming in here with a rifle.”

  She did a little wriggle thing with her shoulders, and the peasant blouse—already off the shoulder and halfway down her arms—fell to her waist. Her large bare breasts were beautiful, with perfectly shaped rounded undersides, and dark brown nipples.

  “Do you really care?”

  He was aware that his mouth was hanging open, so he closed it.

  She pulled the blouse up over her head and tossed it away, then dropped her skirt to the floor and kicked it, making her breasts bobble a bit. The tangle of black hair between her legs was dense, but he knew what was beneath it.

  “You don’t need that gun, Señor Clint,” she said.

  “As long as we know Rodrigo isn’t coming in here, guns blazing.”

  “Do not worry,” she said. “I promise you no one will interrupt us.” She put her arms out. “Now come to me.”

  He put his gun back in the holster hanging on the bedpost, then did as she asked. She wrapped her arms around him, pressed her bare breasts to his bare chest, and kissed him hungrily.

  Her hands moved over him, undoing his trousers with great dexterity. She was obviously an experienced girl, and while she was Carmelita’s little sister, she was perhaps not as young as she appeared to be.

  He stepped back and reached for her breasts, held them in his hands, and lifted them to his mouth. He feasted on her dark nipples, taking them in his mouth, nibbling them, sucking them, making her moan and clutch at his head.

  They staggered back toward the bed together, but before they could fall onto it, she leaped up and wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms grabbing on to him around the neck. He held her tightly, his hard, erect penis caught between them. She rubbed her pubic bush up and down on him, then leaned back and brought him down on the bed on top of her.

  He was reveling in the smell of her. Although she was fresh from a bath, there was also an earthy odor to her skin, and another, special odor from between her legs.

  As he kissed her body, she put her hands up over her head and stretched luxuriously. He pressed his face between her breasts and breathed her in, then kissed his way down to her belly, licked her navel, then kept moving down. Her thighs were smooth, and he couldn’t help thinking she was Carmelita, but years ago. She had the same brown, smooth skin, the same lustrous hair.

  He kissed her thighs, saving the best taste for last . . .

  * * *

  The three mercenaries met in a small cantina at the other end of Acuña. They wanted to talk to each other without Clint Adams around.

  They had a beer each and exchanged information they’d gotten from their contacts.

  It all came down to the same thing.

  Roberto Del Plata . . .

  “I know Del Plata has worked for Montoya before,” Harker said. “He has a good crew.”

  “So they won’t recruit anyone else?” Piper asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Harker said. “He’s got his own men, and they’re all good.”

  “So now we’re facing more than just Montoya and his family,” Autry said.

  “I don’t like it,” Piper said. “We need to talk to Clint.”

  “About what?” Autry asked. “Runnin’?”

  “No,” Harker said, “he wouldn’t run any more than we would. I think I know what Piper means.”

  “Go ahead,” Piper said.

  “We need to pick the ground,” Harker said.

  “Choose our own battlefield,” Piper said.

  “And that means . . .” Harker said.

  “Leaving Mexico,” Autry said.

  They both looked at Piper.

  “Hey,” he said with a shrug, “that works for me.”

  THIRTY

  Clint’s face was not so much buried in Raquel’s crotch as it was burrowed in. The combination of the fresh-from-the-bath smell and her own earthy, sweet-sour odor was heady.

  She was gasping and actually growling as he worked on her with his lips and tongue. She lifted her knees to spread herself even more for him, and kept her hands on the back of his head. When she knew she was going to scream, she turned her head and tried to bury it in the pillow, only partially succeeding . . .

  * * *

  “Montoya will not be comfortable in Texas,” Harker said. “This I know.”

  “Well, we want him uncomfortable, that’s for sure,” Piper said.

  “What about Del Plata?” Autry asked. “Will he be uncomfortable, as well?”

  “No,” Harker said, “he’s a fighting man, he’ll fight anywhere. But Montoya’s in charge. This will throw him off.”

  “So,” Piper said, “we only need to convince Clint to take the fight to Texas, and that it will not be the same as runnin’.”

  “I don’t think that will be hard,” Harker said. “He’s a smart man.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Piper said, “because in the end he’s gonna call the shots. If he says stay, we’ll have to stay.”

  “We could walk away,” Autry offered.

  “And which of us is going to do that?”

  “Not me,” Autry said. “I wouldn’t want to miss the fun.”

  “Me neither,” Harker said.

  “You guys are nuts,” Piper said. “This ain’t gonna be fun. Killin’ ain’t fun.”

  “Maybe not,” Autry said, “but fightin’ is.”

  He and Harker clinked mugs and drank.

  “What’ya suppose Clint’s doin’ now?” Piper said. “Maybe we better go over there.”

  “I don’t think so,” Autry said. “That little Mex gal’s got his pants off by now.”

  “You back talkin’ about that again?” Piper asked. “How do you know that?”

  “I told you,” Autry said. “I know women.”

  Piper shook his head and said, “I’m gonna get some tequila. Anybody?”

  “Another beer,” Autry said.

  “Me, too,” Harker said.

  “Comin’ up.”

  Piper got up and went to the bar.

  “How much do you know about him?” Harker asked.

  “A lot,” Autry said. “He’s a good man.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “I don’t know that much about you, though,” Autry said.

  “Well,” Harker said, “I’m a fighting man, just like you two.”

  Piper returned with the drinks.

  “Whatayall talkin’ about?”

  “You,” Autry said.

  “Fightin’ men,” Harker said.

  “Speakin’ of which,” Piper said, “what about Del Plata? I’ve heard about him, but never seen him.”

  “He’s a good man,” Harker said, “good with a gun, a knife, and his hands.”

  “Good with a gun?” Autry asked. “We talkin’ Gunsmith good?”

  “None of us are Gunsmith good,” Harker said, “but I don’t think it’s gonna be that kind of fight.”

  “No,” Piper said, “this should be a helluva bloodbath, nothing mano a mano.”

  “I don’t think anybody wants to go mano a mano with Clint Adams,” Harker said.

  “I sure don’t,” Autry said.

  “You think he’s as fast as his reputation says he is?” Harker asked.

  “Who knows?” Autry said. “He sure don’t flaunt it, though.”<
br />
  “No, he don’t,” Piper said, “but I think he only has to be half as fast as they say he is.”

  “For our sakes,” Harker said, “I hope he is.”

  “Let’s drink to that,” Autry said.

  THIRTY-ONE

  When Clint woke up, Raquel was lying on her side with her back to him. He looked at the window, and although it would never get any direct sunlight, there was no light at all. It was nowhere near time to get up.

  He had a full erection, so he moved up on her and let his cock rest between the cheeks of her buttocks. He rubbed it there until she stirred and reached behind her to take hold of him. He kissed her neck as she stroked him, then she lifted one leg so he could slide between her thighs, up and into her.

  She was wet, slick, and warm, and she nestled back against him as he moved in and out of her. She groaned and moaned and, at one point, scooted away from him, expelling him momentarily so she could turn onto her back. He straddled her then slid his hands beneath her to cup her ass. She lifted her legs, and he pounded into her until he exploded with a yell . . .

  * * *

  The next time he woke up, there was light coming through the window, and Raquel was slipping into her skirt.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Good morning,” she said with a smile. “I must go and work.”

  “Right now?”

  “Sí,” she said, straightening up. Her blouse was already on. He’d missed seeing her don it.

  She came to the bed and kissed him.

  “I’ll be out in a few minutes,” he said.

  “You should sleep.”

  “No,” he said, “my friends will be here for breakfast, and we need to talk.”

  “Breakfast will be ready,” she promised.

  * * *

  After Raquel left, he washed up and put on his last clean shirt. He strapped on his gun, left the room, and walked down the hall. When he entered the cantina, he saw the three mercenaries sitting there, drinking coffee.

  As he approached the table, Autry gave him a knowing look.

  “What?” he asked, sitting down.

  “Do I know women, or do I know women?” the big man asked.

  “Shut up,” Clint said, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

  The other men laughed as Raquel appeared carrying trays of food. She set them down on the table, pressed her hip against Clint’s shoulder, and went back to the kitchen.

  “So?” Clint asked. “You find out anything from your contacts yesterday?”

  The three men had decided that Autry would do the talking for them.

  “We all found out the same thing,” he said. “Montoya has hired Roberto Del Plata.”

  “And who’s he?”

  “Probably the best fighting man Mexico has to offer,” Autry said.

  “So just him?”

  “No,” Autry said, “he brings his own men with him, all very good.”

  “So now we have some professional fighting men to face as well as the Montoya family.”

  “Exactly,” Autry said.

  Piper and Harker, their mouths full, nodded their agreement.

  “What about you?” Autry asked. “You said you had an idea you wanted to think about overnight?”

  “That’s right,” Clint said. “I gave it a lot of thought last night.”

  “And?” Piper asked.

  “I think we need to make Montoya uncomfortable,” Clint said.

  The three men exchanged a glance, and then Harker asked, “How do we do that?”

  “We take the fight elsewhere,” Clint said. “We don’t let Montoya pick the place.”

  “And where did you have in mind?” Harker asked.

  “Texas,” Clint said. “If that’s all right with the three of you.”

  “It’s fine with us,” Autry said.

  Clint looked at Piper.

  “Okay with me,” the man said.

  Clint studied the three men, then sat back in his chair.

  “You already thought of that,” he said.

  “We did have a talk among ourselves along those lines,” Autry said.

  “Okay, then,” Clint said. “Where in Texas?”

  “Val Verde County,” Harker said immediately.

  “Why there?” Clint asked.

  “We won’t have to worry about law.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “The judge there is crazy,” Harker said. “He holds court in a saloon called the Jersey Lily, in a town called Langtry.”

  “I heard of him,” Autry said. “Judge Roy Bean.”

  “Never heard of him,” Clint said, “but that sounds fine to me. The question is, how do we get Montoya there?”

  “Oh,” Harker said, “that part will be easy.”

  “How so?” Autry asked.

  “He wants Clint really bad,” Harker said. “That means he’ll follow him . . . anywhere.”

  “He might even think you’re runnin’,” Piper said.

  “Not if we all ride out together,” Clint said. “If we do that, he might think we’re trying to draw him out.”

  “So you think you’ll have to ride out alone?” Harker asked.

  Clint nodded and said, “Then the rest of you can come later and meet me.”

  “And what if he catches up to you before we do?” Piper asked.

  “We’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  Inocencio Montoya gathered his family together and introduced them all to Roberto Del Plata and his men as they stood in front of his hacienda.

  “These men will be aiding us as we avenge Juanito against the gringo, Clint Adams,” Montoya said.

  “Why do we need them, Papa?” Pablo asked.

  “Because the gringo has aligned himself with other gringo mercenaries,” Montoya said. “Señor Del Plata and his men will take care of them, while we—the family—take the necessary vengeance on the one they call the Gunsmith. Is this understood by everyone?”

  It was understood by most. For those who did not understand, they would talk to others as they rode to Acuña.

  “We ride today,” he said, “now! Andale!”

  With Inocencio Montoya at the head of the column, they rode to Acuña.

  * * *

  Earlier, Clint explained his plan to Rodrigo, outlining his part for the man.

  “It’s very simple, Rodrigo,” he said. “You tell them the truth.”

  “The truth, señor?”

  “That you heard us talking about going to Texas.”

  “But, señor, they will follow you.”

  “That’s what we want, Rodrigo,” Clint said. “We want them to follow us.”

  * * *

  Montoya rode into Acuña, and the street was empty. Citizens had heard what was about to happen, and had taken to their homes and businesses, locking the doors. They were, however, at their windows, for who wanted to miss this?

  “Adams!” Montoya shouted. “Clint Adams!”

  Sheriff Calderon came out of his office.

  “Do not get in my way, Sheriff,” Montoya said.

  “I am just here to watch, Señor Montoya,” the sheriff said. “This is between you and Señor Adams. I would not want to miss this.”

  Montoya ignored the sheriff, looked over at the front of Carmelita’s Cantina.

  “Clint Adams! Come out.”

  Montoya and his men waited, their horses fidgeting.

  “Del Plata,” Montoya said, “with me.”

  “Sí, señor.”

  They both dismounted and approached the front of the cantina with care, in case Clint Adams and his men were at the windows.

  But they weren’t . . .

  * * *

  From outside of town,
Clint and the three mercenaries heard Montoya and his men before they saw them.

  “Take cover,” Clint said.

  They dismounted, stood at the heads of their horses to keep them quiet, and watched as Montoya, his family, and his hired men went riding by, heading for Acuña.

  “I didn’t count, but that’s a lot of men,” Piper said.

  “I counted twenty-five,” Autry said.

  “So did I,” Clint said.

  “We left just in time,” Harker said. “In town it would’ve been a bloodbath.”

  “And the town would pay,” Autry pointed out.

  “Let’s mount up and get to Texas,” Clint said. “It won’t take them long to discover we’re gone from Acuña.”

  They mounted up and headed for the border.

  * * *

  Montoya and Del Plata entered the cantina. The only people inside were Rodrigo, his wife, and his sister-in-law.

  “Señor Montoya,” Rodrigo said. “You have come to—”

  “Silencio!” Del Plata said, and clubbed Rodrigo to the floor with the butt of his rifle.

  “Rodrigo!” Carmelita cried, rushing to her fallen husband. Raquel remained standing at the bar. Del Plata walked up to her and used the barrel of his rifle to push down the front of her blouse so that her bountiful breasts bobbed free, the dark brown nipples hard and distended.

  “Del Plata!” Montoya snapped.

  Del Plata turned to look at Montoya, then dropped the barrel of the rifle. Raquel’s blouse stayed as it was, though, with her breasts in full view. Del Plata felt his mouth go wet. He would have to come back here.

  Montoya reached down to help Rodrigo to his feet. There was a welt on his cheek from the rifle. Carmelita glared at Montoya and Del Plata.

  “Where is Clint Adams?” Montoya asked.

  “He is not here, señor,” Rodrigo said.

  “I can see that,” Montoya said. “What I asked you is where did he go?”

  “Señor—”

  “Don’t make me let Del Plata do what he wants to your sister-in-law . . . or your wife.”

  Del Plata looked at Carmelita. She was a pretty woman. Too big for his taste, but he wouldn’t mind seeing her without her clothes. She had her sister’s skin, probably had the same chocolate nipples. Yes, it would have been interesting to be in a room with both of these women, naked.