The Reinvention Of Rudd Carter. A Western Action Adventure Novel (21 page)

A few days before leaving for the battle site, Rudd had met with Matt and Tex, and together they worked out the details of Günter’s execution. Rudd gave Matt a briefcase with checks for the men for having participated in Desert Revolt, to be drawn on The El Centro National Bank. Matt and Tex were sworn never to reveal the true details of both Günter’s and Rudd’s disappearance.

“Tell everyone Günter was paid a day before the battle and took off for parts unknown when it was all over,” was Rudd’s suggestion on how to handle the question of Günter’s sudden departure.

Saturday, July 21, 1923, Back To Mexicali

Everything went smoothly. The train was loaded and ready to move by 1 p.m. Matt asked the locomotive engineer to try to get them back to the loading dock in two hours. They pulled in at a little after three. Waiting for them was a large group of people, including soldiers from the Mexicali garrison.

Ben, his son Len, Don Hoff, and Bill Crawford were standing on the loading dock as the train squeaked to a stop. Matt jumped off the flat car to land in front of Ben.

“Where’s Rudd?” Ben asked. “I need to talk to him.”

Matt hung his head. “He was killed last night. Shot through the head by a stray bullet. We didn’t find him until this morning. Because of the heat, he was startin’ to get pretty ripe, so we buried him in the desert.”

Ben was stunned. “Who’s in charge?” His voice faltered.

Matt raised his gaze. “I am, sir.”

“I have very bad news,” Ben said, almost in a whisper. “Though not quite as bad as the news you have just given me.” He paused to collect himself. “Pancho Villa was assassinated yesterday morning in Parral on the way here to become the President.”

Shocked, Matt asked, “How does that affect the revolt, sir?”

“There was no revolt.” Ben grimaced. “There is no rebel army. The train was attacked by bandits. In short, you fellas don’t exist, have never existed.”

“I understand, sir.” Matt nodded.

“In about two hours you will all be taken to Don’s ranch across the border. You can spend the night there, and in the morning you’ll be taken into El Centro to cash your checks. I assume everyone has received his check.”

“Yes, sir,” Matt responded.

“Then, you will disperse. But not before I have the opportunity to thank you for a job well done. You must have scared the shit out of those Mexicans. The news has been flying across the telegraph and phone lines all morning, along with Villa’s assassination. We had the right people and the correct plan. Rudd’s feeling about Pancho was accurate, though. Pancho was the wrong choice. Apparently some other people felt the same way. I realize now that we should have chosen anybody but Villa. We could have pulled this revolt off with the right man at the top. With all the problems Obregon’s government is dealing with all over Mexico, we could have had a foothold right here in Baja.”

“What are you going to do now, sir, now that Pancho is gone and you’ve won the first battle to take over Baja?” Matt asked. “Can’t you install someone else as President and continue as planned?”

Ben thought about the question and then cackled, “Heh, heh, as tempting as it is, I don’t think so. Pancho Villa had a passionate following—people all over Mexico who would go to war for him, die for him. We need someone with that kind of strength and charisma for us to succeed. We wanted this whole country, not only Baja. It’s going to take a long time to find just the right person.” He shook his head. “Probably not in my time.”

Matt posed the next question carefully. “Now that there has been a battle where the government troops took a real beating from a rebel army and the Mexican government has been alerted to the fact that someone out here is extremely unhappy, what are you gonna do? Just drop it, after spendin’ all the money you have so far?”

“It wasn’t our money,” Ben cackled. “It was money provided by some very powerful people down here. People you and I will never know. We didn’t spend a dime of our own. We merely did what we were paid to do and we got paid handsomely for it.” He thought for a moment and laughed again. “What are we going to do, you ask? We’re all going to go back to doing what we’ve always done, providing what the people want, which is entertainment, gambling, liquor, and sex. While prohibition lasts, we can’t lose. Everyone else in Mexico involved in Desert Revolt will return to business as usual. No one in Mexico City has any idea who assaulted that train fifty miles out in the desert. After Pancho was assassinated, the people who attacked the train just disappeared. They might have been a whole army or simply a band of disgruntled rebels. No one will ever know.” Ben paused to catch his breath. “I hate losing Rudd. You only meet one man like him in a lifetime. It was a rare privilege to have known him. It’s hard to believe he’s gone. He seemed too smart to go out that way.” Ben pulled out a handkerchief, wiped his eyes, blew his nose, and shrugged. “So be it.”

Hoff spoke up. “Ben, don’t forget to tell Matt about the party.”

“Oh, that’s right. Matt, we’re going to have one hell of a party out at Don’s ranch tonight, with drinks, women and music. It’s a thank you, job well done party.”

* * *

On the ride back into town from the loading dock, Ben sat in silence, depressed.
It’s hard to believe that Rudd is dead. Brilliant, talented, dashing men like him, don’t get themselves killed on the battlefield and buried somewhere in the desert.

Ben turned to Len. “Let’s go by El Matador and look in on Kathryn. She doesn’t know about Rudd yet. She should hear it from us first, from people who care about her.”

At El Matador, Ben asked the clerk to ring Rudd and Kathryn’s room. After checking the guest list for their room number, the clerk told him, “They both checked out on the sixteenth.”

Ben’s eyebrows winged down in confusion. “Are you sure it was them? Check again.”

“I’m quite sure, sir,” the clerk replied. “They have lived here for the last year and were very friendly to me. In fact they left me a generous tip.”

Back in the car on the way to El Coyote, Ben was silent, thinking. Finally he said, “Kathryn hasn’t been playing in the dining for room the last few nights. And last week she asked to take this week off…” His voice trailed off.

He fell into deep thought. A few moments later he emitted a light giggle that crescendoed into a gut-wrenching laugh. “Len, Rudd’s all right,” he gasped. “He’s not dead. It looks to me that he and Kathryn have taken off to start a new life together.” He sat straight up in his seat, laughed aloud, and slapped his knee. “Good for them. I knew he was too goddamned smart to let anyone blow his head off out in the middle of the goddamned Mexican desert.”

October, 1929, Mexicali, Six Years Later

Len Mosier walked into the cantina at El Coyote at a little after one in the afternoon to find his father wearing his gray ten-gallon Stetson hat, seated at his usual table at the rear of the gaming room. As he approached, the old man pulled out a cigar, bit the end off, and struck a match on the underside of the table that didn’t light. He cursed, struck the match again, this time successfully, and puffed his cigar to life.

Len took a seat. Ben reached across and gave him an affectionate pat on the arm. “It’s always good to see you, son. You haven’t been around in over a week. Where’ve you been, out of town?”

“Louise and I drove up to Los Angeles for a little get away. We did some sightseeing, went to a few movies, and attended a premier showing of a new movie at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre.”

“Oh, that’s right. Louise loves the movies and the movie stars, doesn’t she? Well, I hope you stayed at a good hotel, ate some good food, and saw some good movies. It’s important to keep these pretty young things happy, or they won’t keep us happy.”

They both sat quietly lost in their own thoughts for awhile, when Len suddenly spoke up. “Dad, I want to tell you what we saw at the premiere we went to. We were standing in this mob of people at Grauman’s waiting for Bart Wrangler, the star of the movie, to show up, when a Cadillac limousine pulled in front of the theatre. Out of the back seat climbed a man whom everyone called Bart Wrangler, but he was a dead ringer for Rudd Carter with a mustache.”

“Is that so?” Ben laughed. “I didn’t think there could be another man on earth that looked like Rudd.”

“If you think that’s a coincidence, listen to this,” Len continued. “Who do you think he helped out of the backseat? Kathryn.
Our
Kathryn, the violinist, and she was more beautiful than either of us could remember.”

Ben grinned and hit the table with his hand in pleased response.

“And, Dad, it doesn’t stop there. A few seconds later, another limousine pulled up and out of the back seat stepped a handsome Mexican man dressed in a black riding outfit all trimmed in silver, with a beautiful young Mexican woman on his arm. His name was Chuey Alvarez, Bart Wrangler’s sidekick in his movies. Do you know who it really was, Dad?”

Ben banged on the table with his hand once more and howled, “I give up, son. You’ve got me.”

Len chuckled with his father. “It was Ernie Fuentes, the police chief who disappeared four years ago. What have you got to say about that, Dad?”

Ben leaned back in his chair and took a puff on his cigar. He flicked a one-inch ash off onto the floor, cackled his typical “Heh-heh,” and said, “Well, I’d say that right about now, Mr. Rudd Carter, alias Bart Wrangler, has got the world by the tail.”

1955, Hidden Hills,
Outside Los Angeles, California,
Twenty-Six Years Later

The phone rang, waking Rudd from his afternoon nap.

“Hello?”

“Rudd?” a woman’s voice asked.

“Yes, this is Rudd.”

“Rudd, it’s Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth—my Elizabeth?”

The voice on the other end of the line laughed sweetly. “Yes, Rudd, your Elizabeth. How are you?”

“I—I’m doing all right, considering that I lost Kathryn a while back. It’s been rough.”

“I know it has. I got your letter about her passing, and I felt so bad for you. I know you must miss her terribly, just as I miss Robert.”

“Where are you? Are you still living in Vancouver?”

“No. At this very moment, I’m at the Beverly Hills Hotel. I checked in this morning. I wrote you last year that Robert had passed on, and after receiving your very bad news about Kathryn, I thought I should look you up. I would love to see you. Do you feel comfortable in seeing me now?”

“I would love to see you.” Rudd laughed. “Elizabeth, my wonderful Elizabeth.”

And life for Rudd Carter began anew.

The End

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