Gold Envy

Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

A white light seared Ropero’s eyeballs and ate into his brain. The whole world was swirling and whirling, and nothing stood still. From somewhere Ropero heard a voice.

"All right, bastardo, tell us where the map and the Medallion of La Dura are hidden."

Ropero was aware of shooting pains in various parts of his body. He was on the ground, stripped to the waist, and his face and hair were covered with dry sand. In the background, someone was ripping his jacket and shirt to shreds.

Rough hands grabbed him and jerked him to his feet. The man who had slammed him in the head with the rifle threw what was left of his jacket and shirt at the feet of the man wearing the silver spurs.

"There's nothing in the jacket. Tell me where in the hell could it be?"

Another dirty rider with wild, unkempt hair joined the group. "Maybe we should chase the kid. Maybe he's got it. We can sure as hell catch that little Indio before he reaches the border. We have fresh horses and ..."

Ropero heard what they said about catching the kid and struggled with the men holding him, but Silver Spurs paid no attention.

He flecked a speck of dust from his black jacket and smiled a cruel smile as he interrupted the dirty rider. "Don't be a fool. He wouldn't trust a treasure or a map to an Indio. If you remember, when we crucified and burned the Padre on his church door, he was screaming that Ropero had the map and the Medallion when he left the Mission. Since they are not with him, it means he buried them before he rode into the canyon. It may take a while, but he's going to tell us the location. Strip him n***d and bring him over here. I have lots of time to wait for him to talk."

Ropero was jerked forward and his shoulder wound started to bleed profusely. Although he struggled, the men pulled off his boots and stripped his faded jeans from his white body. Placing stakes in the ground, he was tied spread-eagle.

The leader walked over to view his men's work. His body blocked out the brutal rays of the sun.

Ropero opened his eyes to look into the pale, narrow face with slightly slanted hooded eyes. This man was a gringo. His black eyes seemed to bore into Ropero's very soul as the thin lips moved to speak. "Do you want to die slow or fast?"

The question hung in the air as the man with the silver spurs looked at Ropero's body. Blood was still tricking down his shoulder into the mat of hair that covered his chest. The right thigh had a deep tear where a hollow-point bullet had found its mark. The lips of the wound were already turning blue. His body was covered with sweat and rivulets ran from his flat belly into his groin. His genitals were already starting to burn and the right hand where the spur has punctured it was turning a deep red and purple.

"I ask you, bastardo, do you want to die slow or fast?"

Ropero looked deep into the coal black eyes. "I don't have the Medallion or the map, so do what you have to do."

Silver Spurs drew a long, slender knife from under his jacket. "You will be happy to tell me everything before you and I are through."

He knelt and with his knife made long shallow slashes down Ropero's body from shoulders to thighs; they became small rivers of blood. He started to rise, then knelt, and carefully slashed an ‘X’ in Ropero's pubic hair.

"Lorenzo, bring our little friends."

The big Mexican had an ant hill cupped in his hands that he gingerly placed on Ropero's pubis. On the second trip, he forced another ant hill under Ropero's buttocks.

In a few moments, the ants were everywhere in the blood-sweetened crevices of his body. Racing over his genitals, across his eyes, and working their way into his mouth and nostrils.

Silver Spurs stood and walked to Ropero's feet. A cruel smile played across his thin face.

"I'm going to have a nice cold drink. Salude, amigo.”

Silver Spurs drank deep from his canteen. Little trickles of clear water made streaks on his dust-covered face. Capping the canteen, he looked down at his captive. "It is cold and very good … cold and clear and good. You, my friend, can have a drink before you die—as soon as you tell me about La Dura."

Ropero's eyes and mouth were crawling with ants. They were everywhere on his body. He was twisting in pain as much as the bonds would allow and he forced the words through his swollen, ant- filled lips, "Damn you to hell!" He bucked his body against the ropes and screamed. "Damn you to hell!"

Silver Spurs picked up a long stick and, with quick movement, slashed it through Ropero's spread legs catching his genitals, and bringing a moan of pain.

"Ah señor, you will never know the intimate parts of a woman again. Think about that when you talk of hell. It is you, not I, who is on the way to hell. Unless you talk fast, hell may be a long time coming.”

Silver Spurs tired of the game and joined his men in the shade of the trees, where they ate jerky and biscuits washed down by mescal. After eating, some of the men played cards, and some napped while others cleaned their weapons.

As the daylight faded, the mosquitoes joined the ants foraging Ropero's body. At times he screamed for water, but the ants in his throat turned the words into crazy sounds.

Before it was dark, Silver Spurs visited his captive. Looking down he saw the ravages the ants had made. Ropero's genitals and legs were burned bright red by the sun and covered with bites. His lips and face were swollen and ravaged.

"Well, señor, shall we talk of La Dura? My men can drown the ants, and then you can tell me where you left the Medallion and the map. After we check that out, I’ll let you die. It will be quick and your pain will be over."

With superhuman strength, Ropero forced his head up, and despite the ants that foraged through his mouth, he screamed, “f**k you! You will never have La Dura.”,

Silver Spurs responded with a chilling smile.

"We shall see, my friend … come morning, we shall see."