Renegade 21 by Lou Cameron

Author:Lou Cameron
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: piccadilly publishing, lou cameron, captain gringo, ramsay thorne, the renegade, captain dick walker, erotic mens adventure ebook, men of fortune adventure early american history
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

Captain Gringo got a little restless sleep and woke at dawn to see that the sunrise had been canceled until further notice. The rain had been replaced by a gray flannel fog. It didn’t look like it planned to go anyplace in the near future. The trade winds had either died completely or decided to skip over the low swamplands west of the coastal cuestas. Visibility was maybe ten feet, if one squinted.

He could see Florita sleeping next to him. He didn’t wake her up. He couldn’t think of any positions they hadn’t already tried, and between the sex and the restlessness of the night just past, he wasn’t looking forward to a day’s march, given the strength he still felt.

He hauled on his clammy duds. It was amazing how cold one could feel in a tropical jungle when one wasn’t streaming sweat from every pore. That was one of the reasons people died a lot down here. Next to yellow jack, pneumonia was the bug you had to worry about most in this grotesque clime.

He strapped on his shoulder rig, put his jacket on over it, and rolled out of the hut quietly to avoid the morning quickie Florita would doubtless demand. He found his way by homing instinct and feel to where Morales should have started the morning grub fire. All he found was a big black puddle of damp ash and char. He hunkered down and started to build a fire. It wasn’t easy. There was plenty of fuel piled nearby. But the palmetto fronds were damp and the windfall faggots the peones had gathered for the cook were punky and even wetter.

But, thanks to blundering into those guerrillas, they now had more ammo to spare than matches. So he wiped a palmetto blade more or less dry on his pants, roughed out a splintery depression with his pocketknife, and pulled the slugs from a couple of rifle rounds with his teeth. He poured the powder on the palmetto blade, covered it with punk rubbed to powder between his palms, covered that with grass stems and twigs, and struck a match to see what would happen.

It worked. It took some praying and blowing, but in the end he got enough of a fire going to pile on more substantial stuff. He rose and groped his way to the tarp-covered supplies. Gaston joined him as he’d just found some coffee and was wondering what the hell to perk it in. Gaston said, “Morales will be here to do that in a moment. I just kicked the species of slugabed awake. I was about to do the same for you when I smelled the fire. I have been up for hours. Minutes, at any rate. I find it disturbing to sleep with only my hand for company.”

Captain Gringo didn’t comment on Gaston’s sex life as they sat on the sand near the fire, letting it bake at least their fronts dry. They lit smokes. Gaston said, “I might have known you wouldn’t tell me how Florita is in the feathers.

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