Chapter 8
At Amarillo a swarthy, stocky black-haired man with a thick moustache awaited them, sombrero in hand. It was Luis Delgado, the foreman of his ranch. Luis was paunchy, but with tremendous muscular strength, as several peons who had tried to pick a quarrel with him had found to their sorrow. He was expert with a knife, with a lasso and he was also an expert in bed. He was a man of forty, with little education but a shrewd cunning mind, typical of peasants who have to fight for their survival and wring their food from the land. Jack Mordaunt had met him in a tavern in the suburbs of Mexico City the year he had bought the ranch and having observed how Luis held off five would-be assailants by simply using a chair and his own superb strength, he had made Luis a proposition of being foreman of the ranch.
Luis had a great deal of admiration for this gringo, once he had discovered that Jack Mordaunt liked cunt as much as he did and if anything, had far more experiences in the upper strata of pussy, the kind Luis in his economic circumstances could never hope to fuck. He had taken to the ranch as a duck takes to water and made a good profit with it, raising cattle and growing some crops which the fertile soil made thrive.
As for Dolores, the mother had been an Indian and her father a Mexican mule driver. The product of this unlikely had become a passionate, fiery, swarthy-skinned magnificent Venus - or rather, almost an Amazon, for Dolores was in her twenty-sixth year, five feet seven and a half inches in height, with a slim waist that two hands could nearly span and a magnificently supple set of hips; upstandingly rounded asscheeks, two cantaloupe-like titties set closely together and high-perched on her magnificent chest. She wore her thick black hair-even blacker than Eunice's-in an upsweep, with two thick curls dangling from the back of her head, to each of which a ribbon bow was tied. This was the mark of the gringo, she claimed; it symbolized to the aspiring peons who would give a month's pay to fuck her, that she was already spoken for and had an Americano for her lover. Dolores had been Jack Mordaunt's mistress for about six years. He had found her in a crib in a little town in Guadalupe where she had been sold by her stepfather after she had proudly and ferociously refused to go to bed with him. Several whippings with a strap had not broken her fiery spirit, so he had slipped a drug into her milk and when she was asleep, dragged her off to the crib and sold her to the bordello owner for a hundred pesos, plus the stipulation that he be allowed to fuck her free of charge once a week for two months, a stipulation which the avaricious whorekeeper willingly agreed to in view of Dolores's fiery, seemingly untamable nature. But the first time her stepfather had shown up to claim his part of the payment, Dolores hadn't understood this at all and had kneed him in the crotch, putting him out of commission for a good long while. Later, as he lay bellowing in his agony, he had ordered the bordello keeper to whip the side off her and she had been dragged, fighting and clawing and kicking, by three men who worked as bouncers for the house, down to the cellar where, hung up by the thumbs, she was about to be flogged with mule-whips-when Jack Mordaunt, by a stroke of luck, strolled into the whorehouse to find a little pussy for distraction. He caught sight of Dolores as the three men dragged her down the stairs and in the melee which followed, followed unnoticed the little procession to the cellar. When he saw them strip away her dress and then her panties and one of the men obscenely goosed her, another pinched her nipples and a third poked at the thick, crisp, black curls of her cunthole, Jack had gone into action. He broke the jaw of one of the bouncers, kneed another in the crotch and disarmed another of a knife which he turned back into his assailant, thus wounding the man with a sharp but not mortal belly wound. Then he had cut Dolores down, given her back her dress and panties and carried her out of the house. When the owner remonstrated, he handed the man three one-hundred peso notes and said that he was buying her.
That night Dolores lost her virginity and gained a permanent lover. In her gratitude and admiration for Jack Mordaunt's display of prowess and courage, there was nothing she would not do for him. She sucked, she fucked, she loved to be buggered after a playful spanking and she also, for his delectation, when he once spent a vacation of three months down at the ranch, had Luis bring in peasant girls from the area and she herself took part in a Lesbian orgy until the sight of the entwined naked bodies made Jack suddenly seize her partners or herself for an appeasing fuck.
It was understood to Dolores and Luis, while they might pursue their own pleasures, might not have anything to do with each other. Jack Mordaunt had laid this down as a law and once, when he had caught Dolores putting her hand inside Luis' trousers and fondling his big, dirty prick, he had turned her over his lap and given her such a bottom-warming with a hairbrush that she had tearfully promised never to do so again. At the moment, Luis had a seventeen-year-old mistress named Rosita, a flashing-eyed beauty who was as wanton as Dolores in her own way, who lived with him in a little cottage near the hacienda which Jack occupied with his beautiful Mexican-Indian sweetheart. He had, in fact, just left Rosita's arms to drive to the railroad station to meet his employer.
"Luis, this is my wife, Eunice."
"Senora, I am enchanted. What a beautiful gringa! Senor Mordaunt, I felicitate you. As always, you show the finest of taste. I am ready to drive you and the Senora to the ranch."
"And how the things go there?"
Luis shrugged fatalistically. "Bueno, bueno. This year, the cattle are eating well and there is plenty of grass, but the price is not good. I am thinking perhaps I should finish them corn and wait until the price goes up. That big restaurant, the Servador, in Mexico City, wants prime beef. Maybe they will pay a little bit extra, what do you think eh?"
"Not a bad idea. I've plenty of money anyway, so it doesn't matter what the ranch does this year. Let's go."
When he had got off the train at the stop before Amarillo, Jack Mordaunt had sent his faithful foreman a wire in code, using Spanish words since Luis was not a particularly good linguist in Jack's tongue. Luis was to plead a sudden emergency back at the hacienda, or perhaps in his own family, although he had none except Rosita and leave them there at the border to find their way to the ranch alone. Jack Mordaunt had something in mind.
So, after a few hours, once they had gone through customs, Luis turned to his employer and shook his head. "The car, she break down soon, I think. Dolores is very sick - Rosita too. I think it is fever, Patron. Maybe I better go ahead. You two don't want to drive so fast. I see somebody at the garage, I get them to send a car. All right?"
"Sure, Luis." He winked at his foreman. "Eunice and I aren't in any hurry to get to our new home, are we, Eunice? All this scenery and the mesquite and the river and the little huts? It's the first time she's seen Mexico, Luis. We're going to make it a memorable time for her, aren't we?"
"Everything is in readiness at the hacienda, Senor Jack. Dolores, she will cook a feast for your homecoming. But what she do when she finds you have a wife already, Senor Jack?"
Eunice Mordaunt glanced curiously at her husband. Who was this Dolores and why was Dolores, obviously a servant, to have any right to express feeling as to whether her employer got married or not?
Her unspoken question went unanswered, for Jack Mordaunt nodded, lit a cigar and bade Luis send a mechanic from the garage with a rental car, telling his foreman to offer as an inducement a fifty dollar bill. Luis drove off with a wave of his hand, promising that the hacienda would be in fine condition once the Senora and Senor Mordaunt arrived.
"I don't understand, Jack," Eunice said coolly, "Why couldn't we have gone back with him? I don't mind fast driving and don't like this desert country, really. It's so desolate."
"Don't forget that Santa Ana killed a few thousand Texan's at the Alamo for looking down on this desolate land, baby," he chuckled. "I'll admit it's not the best cattle-raising land in the world and it's only the start of the Border, but where the ranch is there's plenty of green and a little creek, and plenty of peace and quiet. We're going to have a wonderful honey moon there, huh, baby?"
With this calmly put his hand over her breasts. Eunice gave a little gasp, glanced up and down the street hastily, pushed his hand away and whispered sibilantly, "For God's sake, Jack, stop doing things like that to me in public! You make me so ashamed when you do! Why can't you treat me decently?"
"I'm not going to start a public argument right now, not in front of a lot of Mexicans who probably don't understand English. In this country, Eunice, the man is king of the camp and the woman is there to serve him. It's a pretty good philosophy and that's one reason I've spent a lot of vacations down here. Ah, there comes the car Luis sent to us."
The transaction was quickly completed. The young driver, who had a guitar strung around his neck and who looked somewhat effeminate, agreed to take the Senor and Senora Mordaunt to the ranch for a fee of eighty-five pesos. Jack Mordaunt nodded, smiled, opened his imposing wallet and counted out the requisite pesos, adding five as a tip with a promise of five more if they made it by the end of the day or at least early in the morning of the day.
"Are there any towns between here and my ranch?" Jack Mordaunt asked.
"Si senor. There is Mortamalo, about fifteen miles from here. Does the Senor want to stop there? We will not arrive at the ranch until very late in the day, perhaps when the moon is already up. Does the Senor mind?"
"Not in the least. Make a stop at Mortamalo. I have to send a wire."
Eunice sat silently beside her husband in the back seat of the old Ford station wagon as it rumbled down the road. Her lips tight and her eyes were narrowed with disapproval. She wished with all her heart and soul that vile honeymoon would be over. Where he take her after that? Where would he live permanently?
Jack sat back silently, his arms folded across his chest, a smile on his face. He was so excited he could hardly contain. At Mortamalo he would make a few phone calls. He had once tried to sell a radio script of his own to a Mexico City station. They had been very complimentary, though they not bought it. Since then, the theatrical bug had bitten him. And he still had the script-its idea could be adapted to fit Eunice in as heroine!
Arrived in Mortamalo, he left Eunice in the car and went to enjoy another glass of cavada that excellent Mexican brew which quenches thirst as does little else in Mexico. The bartender set a frosty bottle before him at a sign and eyeing him, when Jack Mordaunt nodded, poured out a drink for himself and one for Jack, fortunately not raising too much foam, which Jack detested.