Maria made up her mind. She walked over to the guard shack. It was by one of the several gates that led to the outside world. Ramon saw her and smiled. She gestured for him to come closer.
“You win,” she said. “I want food. You can have me tonight and any other night if you will keep getting me food. And yes, I will do whatever you want, but for you and you alone.”
Ramon grinned hugely. “Come into the shack and we’ll close the deal.”
She smiled, hoping it was warm and seductive. “No. I am not a street whore who will do it standing up in that shack. And I will certainly not do it where people can see. You will find us privacy. I will come tonight when it’s dark and you will take me out of this stockade and into the fresh air. Bring a blanket and we will do it on the ground where no one can see us, and you can have me as often and any way you wish.”
Before he could answer, she undid the strings on her blouse and exposed her breasts. They were still full enough to make his eyes widen. “All right,” he stammered and she almost laughed in his face.
* * *
It was dark when she made it to the guard shack. Ramon was waiting and he took her by the arm and through the gate. True to his word, he had found a secluded spot. Another guard, Carlos, was watching to make sure that no officer came and interrupted their fun. She sucked in the clearer air of the world outside the prison. She would not go back to the camp alive.
Ramon turned her and kissed her on the lips. He was aroused and in a rush. “Slowly,” she said. “Take off your shirt and kneel on the blanket. You can watch me.”
He did as he was told. He had even taken steps to clean up. He didn’t smell quite as badly as he normally did. She glanced around for a package of anything resembling food. There was nothing and she was convinced that he was not going to pay her and would even force her to service the other guard, Carlos.
Ramon saw her looking. “Don’t worry, Carlos will bring the bag of food when we’re done. Now it is your turn.”
She forced a smile and again exposed her breasts. She guided his mouth onto them and made pretend sounds of pleasure. She pushed him on his back and climbed on to his chest. “Close your eyes,” she said and he complied.
She took the small sand-filled sack from behind her waist. She wished she had a knife, but the sand would have to do. She whipped the sack quickly and smashed it against the side of Ramon’s head, just as he opened his eyes to see what was happening. The thud made by the sack’s contact with Ramon’s skull was sickening. His eyes widened for a second and rolled back into his head. She checked for a pulse. There wasn’t one. She had just killed a man and she wanted to throw up, but there wasn’t time.
Maria dressed quickly. In a few minutes Carlos would become curious, wondering how soon his turn would come, and check on them. She tucked the sack back in her waistband.
She smiled as thunder rumbled and it started to rain heavily. The sudden shower masked her dash across the road and into the streets of Havana. She ran down the streets to where Luis had his shop. She was about to pound on the door when she saw him looking at her through the glassless window. “It’s about time,” he said as he let her in.
* * *
Maximo Gomez was sick of war. Gomez had been born in the Dominican Republic in 1836. He had been converted to the cause of Cuban independence shortly after his arrival in 1868. Prior to that he had served as an officer in the Spanish Army and was now a major general in the Cuban rebel forces. His unfulfilled goal was to drive the Spanish out of Cuba.
Unless the military situation changed dramatically, this would not happen anytime soon. There was a truce in effect between the Spanish and the rebel governments that was based on mutual exhaustion. Unless something happened to change the balance of power, nothing decisive would occur.
Gomez greeted his guest at his headquarters outside the city of Camaguay, which was located east of the middle of the island. His guest was Jose Marti, the young firebrand who was considered by many to be the soul of the revolution. Gomez was not so certain. Yes, the well-educated and highly articulate Marti attracted many followers, but they were not always fighters. Marti himself had never been in battle, while Gomez had seen many, perhaps too many. He fully understood the weaknesses of his rebel army. They had few weapons and precious little ammunition. They also lacked discipline. The only weapon they were skilled in was the machete and he’d ordered them to use it as effectively as possible. On several occasions, hordes of Cubans wielding machetes had panicked Spanish regulars, letting the rebels swarm their ranks, hacking and chopping.
“Will the Americans fight for us?” Gomez bluntly asked as he twisted his trade-mark handlebar mustache.
Marti shook his head. “The Americans will fight for themselves. If we are useful, then they will support us. Our friend Cardanzo spoke with their Secretary of State and it is his impression that President Custer’s government would like to drive Spain out of Cuba and annex it themselves. Their Secretary Blaine hinted at Cuba being the foundation of an overseas American empire.”
“Then why should we help them?”
“Custer and Blaine do not necessarily have the support of their congress in this endeavor. There are many in that body who do not want to acquire any territory outside America’s continental boundaries. There was concern when the U.S. bought Alaska from the Russians and that was only fifteen years ago. Nothing has changed. Custer and Blaine have gotten their war and it is likely that they will expel the Spaniards, but it is not certain that they will replace them permanently.”
Gomez nodded. “Then you’re saying we should fight on the side of the United States and gain their undying gratitude.”
“Yes, general. It will definitely strengthen our hand with their congress if we are perceived as the brave independence fighters. Actually, general, we don’t have much of a choice. I do not see us standing aside while two powers fight over Cuba. Nor do I see us fighting for Spain to keep the Americans out. Even if we exchange Spanish sovereignty for American, I do not think it would be for very long. Besides, the Americans would definitely be the more gentle overlords.”
Gomez snarled. “I do not want any foreign overlords in Cuba. But you’re right. We must be pragmatic. Yes, my forces will ally with the Americans if and when they arrive. May I assume that you will be active in Washington instead of here in Cuba?”
Marti smiled and ignored the implied slur on his lack of military experience. “I will do what I do best and that is to be an advocate of a free Cuba.”
Chapter 6
Ryder got his men up and marching on the road to the harbor well before dawn. Breakfast was a few swallows of bad coffee and a stale cold biscuit along with plenty of grumbling from the sleepy troops who openly wondered just what the hell was the hurry. It was Ryder’s goal to beat the rush to the ships and avoid the chaos that embarking so many men at the same time would entail.
Unfortunately, a number of other regiments had the same idea. Thousands of men converged on the limited number of places where small boats could tie up and send men out to the transports. Instead of trying to use one of the few inadequate docks, Ryder had arranged for the men do wade out to where their three ships’ boats had been anchored and guarded, and then be rowed to the transports. They grumbled some more about getting wet, but their complaints were ignored and all were on board by noon.