Tarnished Beauty by Cecilia Samartin Read Free Book Online Page A

her on his haunches in order to address her privately. “I’m sorry, Jaime,” he said, “If you’d known what else they were planning, you’d thank me. These boys don’t understand your kind, and I guess I don’t either, but that’s no excuse for cruelty, I know…”
    Jamilet struggled to release herself, but the more she pulled, the tighter the ropes dug into the flesh of her wrists and ankles. In minutes she was winded from the effort.
    â€œYou’re wasting your time,” Juan said, shaking his head at the pitiful sight. “I’m an expert when it comes to tying knots.”
    One man kicked dirt in Jamilet’s face as he walked by, and mumbled a curse under his breath. He was clearly glad to be rid of the degenerate young man, and eager to get on with the next phase of the journey before it was too late. As he prepared to cross the river, he proceeded to unfasten his belt, and remove his boots and all of his clothing, until he stood fully naked in the sun. Jamilet had never before in her life seen a naked man, and despite her fear and confusion, she became momentarily transfixed by the sight and the curious patches of hair that grew all over his body, making him look as though he’d been dipped in egg and rolled in batter, some places sticking better than others. Most curious of all was the man’s penis, which reminded her of the deformed and feeble arm of an infant.
    â€œThe joto wants you, Jose,” one of the men shouted when he noticed Jamilet’s gaping interest. “Maybe you should give him a taste.”
    â€œLeave him alone. It’s bad enough we tied him up like this,” Juan replied.
    â€œYou want him for yourself…,” the troublemaker jeered back, but he was too busy with his own preparations to take it any further.
    â€œYou took my money,” Jamilet said, craning her head around and up to look Juan in the eye.
    He glanced at the other men, and then quickly retrieved the bills she’d given him from his back pocket, and stuffed them into her boot, making it appear as though he was only tightening the ropes. And as he did so, he whispered, “The rope is lightweight. A few strokes across a sharp rock and you’ll be free. Then you should go back home, and pray to God that He forgives you for your perversions. Besides,” he said, glancing toward the river, and shivering at the prospect of what awaited him, “small as you are, you’ll never make it across.”
    As Juan left to join the others at the bank of the river, Jamilet contemplated telling him that they were mistaken about her, but the sight of so many naked men, and the realization that she would have to do the same, led her to conclude that her situation would worsen rather than improve. She kept quiet and watched sullenly as Juan stripped down like the first man, rolled his clothes and provisions into a tight bundle, and then carefully tied it all on top of his head and under his chin with his belt. It was well-known that a group of Mexican men slinking through the fields with their clothes dripping wet was certain to arouse suspicion and a call to la migra . The ranchers who lived near the border could spot them like eagles, and it was rumored that even their wives made calls to the authorities while keeping watch from their kitchen windows as they did the dishes. The illegals were often caught and detained before the dishes had dried. But if they managed to keep their bundles out of the water as they crossed the river, in a matter of seconds they’d be dry and dressed, and dispersing into the adjacent fields, easily blending in with the other ranch hands in the area.
    Soon the men could be heard screaming, blubbering, cursing the frigid water and slippery rocks like wounded cows. Their bellows endured for some time, and several required much coaxing before they felt brave enough to cross. Eventually their boisterous complaints