Interregnum, A Curt Huntinghawk Story, Part 4

 markwildyr.com, Post #130

 

Okay, so Hawk’s gotten himself into another pickle… just as he had when he found Ramon out in the desert. But Luis Carlos Delgado y Ortiz is a different sort of guy. Educated… and not the typical wetback.

 As an aside to readers, I understand the term “wetback” is offensive to some. I seriously considered purging the word from the Huntinghawk stories but came to the conclusion that the language of the border at the time the events took place was more important than being politically correct. So with apologies, the term remains.

 At any rate, Luis is a different breed of cat. You will recall that last week, after a gun battle with drug runners during which his new working partner Robert was wounded, Hawk found some immigrants on the desert on their last legs and provided aid before calling in La Migra. One of them, however, eluded capture until Hawk found him at Dragon’s Back and took him home. He fully expected Luis to be gone when he came home after work. So what happened?

 

* * * * *

INTERREGNUM, A Curt Huntinghawk Story, Part 4

 Robert hadn’t been released from the clinic yet, so Amadeo assigned Hawk another partner, a kid they called Cooch, a stolid local tribesman who did his job and minded his own business. The kid did what he was told with grunts when he could avoid a more verbal response. Fortunately, the day was relatively uneventful, two mules who didn’t put up a fight and six illegals. The Rezes accounted for most of the wetbacks in this district even though illegals weren’t their responsibility.

When Hawk entered his house that evening, he was surprised to see Luis sitting on the couch watching television. “What’s for dinner?” he asked, drawing a puzzled look from his guest. “If you’re going to freeload, least you can do is help out.”

“You want me to prepare your meals?” Luis demanded. “Are you loco? I have never cooked anything in my life.”

“You know how to handle a can opener, don’t you? Open us some tuna, fix something, dammit!”

“You hungry, you fix it!” the boy flared.

“Come on,” Hawk said turning back to the doorway. “It’s La Migra or the desert, your choice.”

“No!” the boy said. “All right, I will fix your meal, cabron!”

“Fuck it,” Hawk said. “I’ll fix my own. But carry your own weight, Luis. You’re one strange wetback, you know that?”

The boy’s eyes smoldered. “I am no wetback!”

“You’re over here illegally, aren’t you?” Luis didn’t answer. “Then you’re a wetback. What’s your story, anyway?”

“Story? Ah, my history?” He shrugged eloquently. “I got born. I went to school. I sneak across the border to look for work. That is all.”

“Bullshit! You’re no peon looking for work. You ran away from home, didn't you?”

The eyes blazed again. “Why is it your business?” As Hawk glared at him, the boy relented. “All right, that is true. I go to university last year and meet some gringo students. They tell how good it is at their school and show me pictures. My father would not listen when I asked him to send me. He says I must stay in Mexico and become…” The kid bit his lip. “We have a big fight. I leave the estancia one night and leave a note saying I am going to America anyway. I have money with me, but only a small bag with extra clothes. I find a man who takes people across the border.” Luis shrugged again. “The rest you know.”

“So you’re some pampered patron’s son who stuck his neck in it when he didn’t get his way.”

Luis’ face clouded. “Yes, my father is a rancher…a big rancher. But I work hard for him and study hard at school. I do not want to be a rancher. I want to doctor the animals not butcher them…what you call it? A veterinarian. If I don’t leave, he will make me stay on the ranch.”

“Let me guess. You lost your money when you dropped your bag somewhere out on the desert.”

The kid flared again…he was good at it. “I drop it when I help the woman carry the baby. She was about to fall down…lag behind. The baby was more important than a bag.”

“You’re right about that, at least. Well, let’s drive into town and get something to eat at a drive-in.”

“No!” Luis protested. “You will take me to La Migra! It is a trick! You take me there, and they rape me!”

“What’s this with you and rape, kid? Curt Huntinghawk’s word is as good as Luis Carlos Delgado y Ortiz’s any day of the week. Let’s go get something to eat. You like hamburgers?”

The boy brightened. “With cheese, no? And fries. So that is your name, Curt Hunting…hawk?”

“You can call me Hawk.”

For the rest of the week Hawk expected the boy to be gone when he came home from work, but Luis was always there with some kind of meal prepared. The boy was right …he was no cook. They ate poorly made sandwiches, but at least he tried. After a not so subtle hint, Luis reluctantly picked up the house during Hawk’s absence, his distaste so obvious that Hawk had trouble keeping from laughing. He knew exactly what the boy was thinking…he was being turned into a house servant. Hawk could almost hear his unexpressed words: “Me, Louis Carlos Delgado y Ortiz, a fucking house servant!”

Coping with his houseguest made life more interesting, but what got Hawk through his week was a call from Grove. Painfully aware of Luis listening to his end of the conversation, Hawk eagerly absorbed the news from the other end. Stabilized further. Hopeful. Remission. All words of encouragement. Then…got a job. Helps with the bills. Words of dismay. He wasn’t coming back right away. At the end, they spoke of love and things that excited Hawk and filled him with an aching loneliness. Finally, the conversation ended.

Luis eyed him speculatively. “Your girlfriend? Where is she?”

Hawk stared at the instrument in his hand. “Back east. Mother’s sick.”

The boy laughed. “Your face stopped being so sour. It lit up and got…more handsome. Guapo. You married to her?”

Hawk drilled him with a stare. “No, not married.” Luis faltered, his eyes dropping away. Hawk realized that he was still half-erect, and that the boy had seen. The youth was nervous the rest of the evening.

Hawk came suddenly awake in the middle of the night. Footsteps! Maybe Luis had decided to leave. So be it. Hawk tensed when the door to his bedroom opened. Luis appeared at the side of the bed, peering intently through the darkness.

“What do you want?” Hawk growled.

The boy jumped in surprise. “You…you were calling out, saying things. I thought maybe something was wrong.” Hawk put his hands behind his head and gazed up at the boy, conscious that a patch of moonlight illuminated the bed while leaving Luis in deep shadow. “You dream about your girl, no? That call?”

“Yeah, maybe I was dreaming about that call.”

“Hawk…uh … I do not want you to rape me, but I can…help you, no?”

“Help me how, Chico?”

“What did you call me? That’s…that’s what my mama calls me. Chico.” The boy’s voice dried up, and Hawk realized with a start that he was lonely.

“Help me how?” Hawk repeated.

“I don’t know. Get relief maybe? But I don’t want to get raped.”

“And how would you give me relief if I don’t fuck you?” Hawk asked crudely. “You’ll suck my cock?”

The boy almost recoiled physically. “No! I just thought maybe, you know,” he lifted his hand. “Like that.”

Vulnerable, Hawk swept back the covers, revealing his nakedness.

“¡Dios!” the boy exclaimed. “You are so big!” Hesitantly, the boy placed a hand on Hawk’s chest. “Your heart is beating so hard.” The touch became a caress. The hand moved down his torso, paused a moment in the pubic hair, then grasped him. Luis fell to his knees beside the bed and slowly began a stroking motion.

Luis gasped as Hawk’s hand slid over the edge of the bed and groped him, coming alive at the touch.

Hawk drew in his breath sharply and came. Shuddering through his climax, scissoring his legs against the clean sheet, he waited for the dirty, smarmy feeling to engulf him.

Relieved that it did not, he drew the boy out of his shorts and stroked him slowly. Luis refused to get up on the bed but submitted to Hawk’s steady kneading. At length, the boy cried aloud and fell forward, his forehead coming to rest on one of Hawk’s chest. Recovering, the boy stood awkwardly and backed out of the room without a word. Hawk spent a few minutes thinking about what had happened and how he felt about it before falling to sleep.

 

* * * * *

Okay, temptation reared its head, and despite Grove, Curt succumbed to it. Or perhaps it was because of Grove. Did his partner’s phone call set Hawk up to fall? And somehow getting it on with Luis doesn’t have the same feel as it did with Ramon. What will happen next?

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Website and blog: markwildyr.com

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 And now my mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. You have something to say, so say it!

 Until next time.

 

Mark

 New posts at 6:00 a.m. every Thursday until the story is completed. Then we’ll revers to the first and third Thursday of the month.