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?

 My contact information is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email: markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

Twitter: @markwildyr

 The following are buy links for CUT HAND:

 DSP Publications: https://www.dsppublications.com/books/cut-hand-by-mark-wildyr-420-b

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Cut-Hand-Mark-Wildyr-ebook/dp/B073D86RWV

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/book/cut-hand/id1256084273

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/cut-hand-2

 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.

Hawk—Otra Vez (Part 3 of 3 Parts)

markwildyr.com, Post #116

Complications, complications, complications. Last week, Hawk found Ramon and whisked him into hiding. Now what happens? Ramon is a fugitive now, so that places Hawk in danger, as well. How can this possibly end?

Next week, I’ll return to publishing every first and third Thursday.

*****

HAWK—OTRA VEZ

Part 3

The next day was merely routine patrol. Hawk, never as talkative as his buddy, kept his silence. Around midday, Grove glanced at Hawk and growled in exasperation. “Shit, you went looking for the Mexican kid last night, didn’t you? You musta looked all night because you’re asleep on your feet. Lean back and catch forty. I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”

Hawk did just that.

Hs kept delaying a decision over what to do about Ramon. At first, because the boy needed to recover from exposure and dehydration. Then he found other excuses to delay a decision. Ramon had been cooped up in Hawk’s house for almost a month when Grove pushed Hawk into a corner.

“Let’s go across the border and visit the cat house.”

“Man, I’m running short this month.”

“Yeah, me, too. Okay, tell you what. Let’s call Sheila and Berry for a couple of rounds at the Mesa and then take them back to your pad.”

Fearing a refusal would excite suspicion, Hawk agreed. They reported in and made ready to leave.

“Pick you up at your place in a few, bro!” Grove said on the way out the door.

Hawk had his mouth open protest when the boss called him inside the office to ask his opinion of two new applicants Amadeo had been interviewing. After Hawk put in his two cents, he worried about Grove showing up at his place before he got home. Using the phone on the desk he and Grove shared to dial his house, he let it ring once, hung up and dialed again. Ramon answered.

“Gotta talk fast. Got roped into going to the Blue Mesa with my partner this evening. Couldn’t get out of it. And  Grove wants bring the girls back to the house later. I hate to ask this, but when we pull up can you go to the barn and wait in that emergency hideaway we fixed up?”

“Sure. Ramon hide in barn while Hawk fuck puta.” Hurt and distaste laced the boy’s voice. “Sorry, Hawk. Ramon know you have to put up face for others. He hide.”

“Thanks. Grove is coming to the house to pick me up, but I oughta get there before he does, okay?”

Hawk hung up the phone and headed out the door to find the Dodge sitting at an odd angle. He’d picked up a nail somewhere on the way to work this morning. It took twenty minutes to change the tire. When Hawk pulled into his own driveway, Grove’s pickup was sitting at the curb. He got out and explained about the flat. Grove didn’t seem interested.

“You got company?”

“No, why?”

“Got the impression somebody’s in there.”

“Look, I’m a mess. I need to clean up. Why don’t you meet the girls, and I’ll be there as quick as I can. We can’t all ride in your pickup anyway.”

“Berry wants to show off her new Taurus. She’s picking us up here.”

Hawk mentally cursed as he stomped across the porch and made a show of unlocking the door. There was no sign of Ramon when he entered.

“Damn, you keep a clean place,” Grove commented, looking around the spotless living room and wandering the rest of the small house. No doubt he was checking the place out. Hawk was pulling on a clean set of jeans when the women arrived in a bright red Ford. He scrambled to get outside before they could come in.

Grove was his usual lively self, and it proved infectious. Hawk tried calling the house with his special ring a couple of times, but there was no answer. The party accelerated. The four of them stopped just short of being blasted but escaped the place without getting into a fight, although Grove almost managed it a couple of times. Hawk breathed a silent prayer of thanks when Berry took them to her apartment.

The girls dropped them off at Hawk’s place well after midnight. Grove asked to come inside and use the restroom, although normally he wouldn’t have been bashful about watering the azaleas, if there had been any azaleas. Probably wanted to see inside of the house again. Grove left the bathroom door open while he pissed, sounding like a garden hose filling a galvanized bucket.

After his friend left, Hawk found Ramon hiding in the barn, cold and unhappy.

“La Migra come for Ramon now?” the boy asked.

Hawk frowned. “No. INS isn’t coming. Why’d you ask that?”

“But Ramon have to go now.” The boy’s voice broke.

“Sooner or later you’ll have to, we both knew that,” Hawk said soothingly.

“Hawk no understand. Hawk compadre, he see Ramon.”

“What!”

“Ramon hear truck. He go to window, pull back cortinas, and look right at this Grove. He look back at Ramon.”

“Shit!” Hawk swore.

“Ramon sorry.” He paused. “He muy handsome, that Grove. Pretty like Hawk, but not so big. Hawk do things with him?”

“No.”

“But Hawk like to do it with him, no?” Ramon blurted, striking uncomfortably close to the truth.

“Ramon. I have a little savings. We can get you a place across the border. I’ll come be with you when I can.”

The look in the boy’s eyes went straight to Hawk’s heart. “Ramon no be Hawk’s puta.”

“Be reasonable, Ramon. Tomorrow Grove’s going to ask me about you. He thinks you’re an old girlfriend’s little brother. He’ll understand me helping you, but not living here indefinitely. It’s different now, kid. You’re a wanted fugitive. You escaped from custody. When they catch you, you’ll be sent to a federal prison. But if you’ll let me get you a place across the border—”

“No! Ramon no sit home and wait for Hawk. Ramon love Hawk. If no be in Hawk life, is better go back home to Durango.”

Hawk blinked as he saw something precious slipping away. “Look, we don’t have to do anything right away. Let’s think about it and do the rational thing.”

“Ramon leave while Hawk work tomorrow. Best.”

“Promise me you won’t do that. If you have to go back, I’ll take you myself. I don’t want you on that desert.” He tried to lighten the mood. “Let’s go to bed and talk again tomorrow.”

Grove was waiting for him in the parking lot the next morning. “You get rid of the Mexican kid?”

“Damn, Grove, I can’t just throw him to the wolves.”

“What’s the matter with you, Hawk? You’re jeopardizing your job, maybe even your freedom. Why didn’t you ask for my help? Don’t you trust me?”

Hawk stopped dead in his tracks. “That hurt, Grove. I didn’t to involve you because it might jeopardize your career? Helping Ramon is something I gotta do, but I can’t ask you to risk yourself.”

“That’s what friends are for. Anyway, you know you’ve got to do something, don’t you?”

Hawk sighed and accepted the reality of the situation. “I’ll take him back across tomorrow.”

“Better drive to California and take him across at Tijuana. Busier there. Nogales is too close. Word might get back to someone here.”

Hawk worked the day in what was just short of despair. Grove seemed to understand, because he kept talk to a minimum.

He was half-afraid Ramon would be gone when he got home that evening. Instead, the boy had cooked a good dinner, but Ramon’s eyes were puffy, and Hawk suspected he’d been crying.

Now, the kid tried to man-up. “When we go?”

“Early tomorrow. I’ll drive you to San Diego and we’ll cross at Tijuana. Where will you go, Ramon? What will you do?”

“Go home. Get job. Ramon damn good man, he find job.”

After dinner they cleaned the kitchen together and watched a little TV. Long before Hawk’s customary bedtime, Ramon looked over at him and put together a complete sentence in flawless English. “Will you make love to me?”

Without a word, Hawk led the youth to bed and mounted him gently, face-to-face, and with a smile his lips. Soon the joy of the occasion overtook the gravity of Ramon’s mood, and the boy returned the smile. The orgasm, when it came, was no less forceful because of the tender nature of their loving. Ramon stayed Hawk’s hand, keeping him from drawing the boy’s seed from his body. Ramon clasped him to his breast for a long time, neither speaking nor moving. At length, he released Hawk to go clean up.

While Hawk was in the shower, Ramon opened the curtain and stepped inside. Taking the soap from Hawk, he lathered his lover from pate to sole. He shyly asked Hawk to turn around and laved the deep cleft, soaping all the way to the sphincter. After he took a rag and rinsed away the soap, he spoke.

“Ramon never forget Hawk. He see bird high in air, he think of Hawk. He see falcon in tree, he ache for Hawk.”

Hawk leaned into the wall and parted his feet as Ramon hugged his back and thrust his groin at Hawk’s buns without penetrating them. The boy’s breath in his ear became ragged, his words unintelligible. Hawk understood his young lover was seeking a moment he could savor forever. Without thinking about it, he relaxed his muscles, parted his cheeks and endured the pain even as he savored the startled expression of disbelief and wonder escaping Ramon’s throat. Hawk sensed the boy becoming the man.

The beauty of Ramon’s parting gift bled Hawk’s strength away. Without warning, the boy exploded, shuddered, and withdrew. As Hawk turned to him, Ramon slid down the side of the shower all the way to the floor, his legs splayed in front of him, a look of utter joy on his face. Hawk joined him and held him close, allowing the spray of clean water to shower them anew.

Without understanding how, Hawk knew he’d made the future better for this beautiful Mexican youth. His mind centered on the boy’s name. Aguila… Eagle. This night, Ramon had become an Eagle for his Hawk.

*****

Heartbreaking but tender ending, and one that is safer for Ramon… and incidentally, Hawk, as well. They government really does put some return offenders in federal prisons for stays of six months or longer. And often, young ones like Ramon are used violently by their older and stronger fellow inmates.

But what about Grove? What in the world’s going to happen there? And can you imagine the impact when… and if… two strong men like Curtis Huntinghawk and Grover Whitedeer get together? Maybe one of these days I’ll get around to posting that story.

Please consider ordering Cut Hand and Johnny Two-Guns from Dreamspinner Press. I’d like to convince them to publish the rest of the Cut Hand Series, including the unpublished manuscript Wastelakapi… Beloved, It’ll take some help from readers to get Dreamspinner interested.

My contact information is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email: markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

Twitter: @markwildyr

The following are buy links for CUT HAND:

DSP Publications: https://www.dsppublications.com/books/cut-hand-by-mark-wildyr-420-b

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Cut-Hand-Mark-Wildyr-ebook/dp/B073D86RWV

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/book/cut-hand/id1256084273

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/cut-hand-2

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. on the first and third Thursday of each month.