PEG BOY (12 page)

The sheepskin
coats Padre Juan Carlos had advised they purchase in San Francisco were well
used and they were happy to have taken his advice. The air was thin and frigid,
but they were accustomed to thin air and high elevations. They were not
bothered by the elevations as much as they were by the cold. They climbed
steadily, sometimes unable to follow the river because of impassable
outcroppings of rock or landslides. The mule carried a heavy load and progress
was slow. Don Emilio led them and Santiago followed behind, pushing and
prodding the animal to keep it from balking. He was continuously distracted by
the splendor of the surrounding scenery. The mountains shot into the clouds so
that their summits were lost. The lush green of the conifers contrasted with
the whiteness of the snow so that the green was even more startling. He saw
tracts of many animals but saw little actual wildlife, save a few deer and the
birds that continuously squawked and rose from the trees at their approach.
They purposely spoke in loud tones to frighten animals off the trail.

It was with
surprise and terror that Santiago turned to the sound of a breaking branch to
find a full grown bear following the trail only a few yards behind. He was
close enough to see the vapor from the animal’s mouth. It lumbered along the
trail, its nose to the ground, following their scent.

“Father!”

Santiago meant
to whisper but the sound of his voice came out as a shout. The bear growled
once, then stood on its hind legs and advanced with its front legs pawing the
air. They saw the horrendous claws tear nearby trees as its huge head swayed
side to side.

With little thought
Don Emilio fired his pistol into the air above the animal’s head. The bear
stopped and dropped to its feet, then turned and ran in the opposite direction.
The mule had looked over its shoulder and he had seen the bear and caught its
scent. It had reared on its hind legs and had begun to bray as it shit,
uncontrolled. Santiago had not watched where he stepped and walked into a pile
of mule shit as Don Emilio broke into laughter. He roared until tears fell down
his cheeks. Santiago kicked the mule and tried to wipe the shit off his boots
in the snow.

“Why do you
laugh, father? That bear could have killed us!”

Trying to
control himself Don Emilio sat, pointing to Santiago. “If you could have seen
your face! Truly, I think that if you look behind you, you will find that some
of that shit is your own!”

Santiago
pouted. “I am glad I have provided you with entertainment. I do not shit my
pants as easily as that!”

“I know you
don’t, son. I am sorry I insulted you. Forgive me?”

But as the man
continued along the trail ahead of him, Santiago saw his father’s shoulders
shaking as he continued laughing to himself.

Darkness came
faster in the mountains because of the forest and high ridges. They thought it
best to make camp before it became impossible to see, and then continue in the
morning. They estimated the distance they had traveled to be six miles and
according to the map’s reckoning, they were about half way to their
destination. Gathering moss and kindling they built a fire and the larger
pieces of wood dried sufficiently to burn all night. The tent was pitched so
that its opening faced the fire, only a few feet away.

“Go for water,
Santiago. The river is in that direction. Listen for it…, you can hear it from
here. Now you have no reason to linger as you once did. Rosa is not here to
detain you. Do you miss her, son?”

Santiago had
begun to walk in the direction of the river and turned to face his father, not
sure if the man was seriously inquiring or joking. This was an openness with
which he was unaccustomed, as his father seldom spoke of sexual things.
Santiago liked the thought of being able to relate in a more adult fashion. But
it took getting used to. Don Emilio waived him on his way.

Santiago
looked back through the trees and saw his father beginning a shelter. Don
Emilio looked up and waived to his son. Santiago felt a warm surge in his
heart, thinking that he would need to show more often how he loved and
appreciated the man. He waived back and headed for the river.

How wonderful
things were! Never had he known his father to be so friendly, even when Emilio
had been alive. Don Emilio had never let down his reserve with Emilio as he was
doing with Santiago. He admired the man and was awed by the love beneath the
cool exterior. It was like coming to know a new friend.

While Santiago
filled the water-skins he heard two shots. Perhaps the bear had returned and
his father had fired the shots to call him back? He dropped the skins and ran
back, trying to be silent as not to frighten the animal further or make it
angry. He could see the campfire through the trees. There was no movement and
he could not see his father anywhere.

Creeping
closer to see inside the tent, he saw Don Emilio in it. He stood and walked
around the site, making sure the animal had gone. Coming back to the tent, he
leaned in.

“Father, I
heard shots. Why did you call. Was the bear back?”

Don Emilio did
not answer. Coming closer, Santiago shook his father’s foot.

“Father, are
you awake?”

He crept
inside and it was then that he saw the blood flowing from a hole in the side of
his father’s head. He heard a scream that tore at his heart and the scream was
his own. His temples throbbed and his heart beat so hard that he thought his
chest would explode. His hand was on his pistol but he remembered he had no
bullets. He shook the body in hopes of a response but it slumped to the ground.
The eyes were open but had no life, looking to an unknown spot at the ceiling
of the tent. He saw that his father’s boot was off, the one in which the map
had been hidden. He reached for his father’s hand and felt no pulse. He heard a
noise behind and when he swung around he saw three men standing outside. One
had a rifle pointed to his head.

“Go ahead
goddammit..., kill the little fucker!”

The man with
the rifle looked down the barrel, and then pointed it to the ground.

“Shut up, Mat.
I’ll decide when to do the killing. Look at the little fucker..., ain’t he
something!”

The fat one,
who had called for the killing, stepped closer.

“Jesus Christ!
We hit pay-dirt with this one! Ooooeee..., he sure is purdy! You thinkin what
I’m thinkin?”

“Depends on
what you’re thinkin, asshole. I'm thinkin that I’d sure like to have that on
some of these cold nights.! You were goin to kill im so he ain’t yours..., he’s
mine. I'm claimin him as my own.”

A thin man who
had been silent, was looking at Santiago and could hardly keep from rushing the
boy and raping him he was so excited by him. He kept pressing his hand against
the bulge in his pants.

“You mean you
ain’t goin’ ta let us have some, Ernest?”

“That’s right,
Lucien…, that there is goin’ to be my private stock and if I catch either of
you two bastards gettin into him, I’ll blow your balls off..., you got that?”

Santiago could
tell they were quarreling over him. He could see how they eyed and pointed to
him as they shouted. He looked from one to the other and hate blazed in his
eyes. He understood a few words and was able to get a drift of the conversation
and knew they planned to take him. He also knew there was nothing he could do
that would save him from whatever fate they chose. Therefore, he felt there was
little to lose if he attacked and tried to take a weapon from one of them.
Santiago lurched from the tent and threw himself on the big man with the rifle.
His right hand went under the barrel and shoved it upward. The weapon slammed
into the man’s face and he fell backward, the rifle tossed into the air. Before
Santiago could grab it, it was kicked away and the two other men were upon him.
He felt a fist in his stomach and the wind was knocked out of him.  Another
fist hit him in the face as he fell. He heard the big man yell as the thin one
aimed his gun at his head, ready to shoot.

“You fire that
gun, Lucien, and you’ll be as dead as he will be!”

Santiago lost
consciousness and the night surrounded him. When he began to regain his senses
he heard the sound of voices and they seemed far off. When he opened his eyes
he could see the men sitting by a fire. Snow was falling lightly and they were
bundled in blankets. The big one was wearing Don Emelio’s sheepskin coat. The
men had the map between them and were discussing it with great detail and
interest. Santiago faked sleep as he listened. He realized his father’s body
had been removed from the tent. It was difficult to understand what they were
saying. The men spoke quickly and in a dialect unfamiliar to him. He sensed
that his life had been spared and that for the time being, he would be used but
not killed. Something was said about breaking camp the following day.

Santiago knew
that the man who had saved his life was called Ernest and that Ernest had had a
purpose for his generosity. He wondered which of the three had gunned down his
father. The fat one looked the meanest and it had been he who had wanted the
boy killed as well.

He was careful
not to move a muscle, for he knew they were watching the tent to see when he
would regain consciousness. He listened. He heard them mention a name that
triggered his memory and made him even more alert. The thin one called Lucien
was talking about returning to Columbia and that Stilman would be expecting a
part of the gold. Stilman..., Stilman..., and then he remembered the name and
the man. The assayer had been an accomplice!

There was much
talking and drinking. They passed bottles between them continually and judging
from their voices and increased argumentative tones, Santiago judged they were
all drunk. Perhaps when they went to sleep he could sneak from camp? He felt
the tightness of the ropes and knew he could not easily loosen them.

Soon the noise
quieted and they discussed who would stay awake to guard the site and keep the
fire lit. There were loud words about where they would sleep. Huddled in the
corner of the tent, Santiago was aware that only one of the men had entered. He
remained silent and hoped the man would go quickly to sleep. Santiago could
smell the strong aroma of tobacco, whiskey, and sweat. He watched through slit
eyes as the man removed his clothing and soon, the man was upon him, tearing at
Santiago’s shirt. Santiago felt the man trying to put his mouth on his and he
squirmed from the foul hole, fighting desperately to avoid the breath that made
him nauseous. He could feel the man’s rough hands on his belly, tearing at his
pants to get inside. Then the man had hold of his testicles and squeezed them
painfully.

His clothing
lay in shreds and he felt the cold night air on his legs and back as the man
fumbled wildly to make some contact with him. Fear made him resolute and he
refused to panic. It was obvious the man wanted to fuck him. He saw his shape
above him and felt his head jerked by two strong hands on each side of his
face. The man brought himself closer to Santiago so that his erect penis was
only inches from the boy’s mouth. He was yelling and although Santiago knew
what he was supposed to do, the vile smell of the man’s crotch made his stomach
turn. Santiago lurched as the spasms ached in his gut and he vomited, sending a
stream of the stuff across the man’s legs and stomach. The man slapped him hard
across the face and shoved him back into the blanket. He was grabbed by the
legs and they were lifted wide apart. He tensed himself for what would follow.
Santiago knew he could submit and have the act not be as painful as it might
otherwise be if he fought back. If he submitted it would likely end sooner. He
let himself be entered and the pain was excruciating. He had never been fucked
so forcefully or brutally.  He felt something tear within and screamed
unwillingly.

“You
fuckin’ little bastard! You think this is somethin’? You ain’t had nothin’ yet!
I’m going to fuck your asshole until you ain’t got no asshole left! Then I’m
goin’ to stick that rifle barrel up your ass and you’re goin’ to find out what
gettin’ fucked is really like! I’M GOIN’ TO BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT THROUGH YOUR
BACKSIDE!”

The man kept
pumping him as he slobbered the words. Finally Santiago felt the man’s orgasm.
He tied Santiago’s hands again, and re-tied the ankles. In his drunken state
the man was not careful about the knots and Santiago felt they were loose
enough for him manage. Within a few minutes the man was snoring. When Santiago
tried to untie the ropes he found his fingers too cold and numb. He resigned
himself and sought another way. He knew he would not survive long unless he
made himself warmer. Between his legs was a slickness that told him he was
bleeding, the pain becoming unbearable as feeling returned. Deciding that even
though he hated the thought of it, he could keep himself warm by staying close
against the man. And so Santiago pressed himself as closely as he could. He was
repulsed by the touch but overcame his repulsion as heat returned to his limbs.

The few
moments of sleep he managed to get were filled with scenes of his father being
shot. He saw the men dragging the body into the woods to be eaten by wild
animals. He woke several times to the sound of his father’s voice calling his
name. His arms had been tied behind his back and pain shot through his
shoulders so that he thought he could stand it no longer.

“Please,
señor..., my arms hurt very much. Please loosen the ropes?”

He tried to
nudge the man to wake him but to no avail. He could see by the light of the
full moon that the man who had entered the tent was the one known as Ernest. He
called his name until the man finally moved and groaned, then repeated his
request. Ernest had slept so that some of the drunkenness had left him and he stretched,
his ugly nakedness once again revolting Santiago. The man raised himself on one
elbow and looked at the boy, also naked and only partially covered, the
gooseflesh giving evidence to his cold. He pleaded for warmth and to be
relieved of the pain in his shoulders. Ernest tied the boy’s hands above his
head and attached the rope to the tent pole. He satisfied himself once more by
taking the boy in his mouth. He had intended to fuck him again but the boy was
too bloody and Ernest actually experienced a twinge of pity. With the boy’s
cock in his mouth he was pleased to see Santiago get an erection and finally
ejaculate. The man brought himself to orgasm by licking the semen of the boy’s
belly. Ernest threw another blanket on the boy to be sure he was covered. With
his shoulders no longer hurting, Santiago found a few more moments of slumber.