The Reinvention Of Rudd Carter. A Western Action Adventure Novel Read online

  “For years,” Crawford began, “we have been inviting people from all over Northwestern Mexico to visit our casinos, cantinas, restaurants, and hotels. People who we deem valuable to our cause, that is. And by the way,” he said, flashing a sinister smile, “our establishments are stocked with the most beautiful young Asian and Latin American women money can buy. The courtesy cards to our entertainment establishments in Mexicali, Tijuana and Ensenada, as you are about to discover for yourself, include food, drinks, women, and rooms. Everything is complimentary, except the gambling. To our preferred guests, we extend very generous credit at the gaming tables. The result over the last few years is that the gambling debt owed to us by the Army officer staff and government officials in Northwestern Mexico is staggering. We don’t press for payment on gambling debts. We do, however, ask for favors when we need them… favors that go toward eradicating the debts.”

  “What Bill is saying is that we are owed a whole lot of money by everyone who is anyone within four or five hundred miles south of the border,” Ben continued with a laugh as if he had just won a poker hand. “We want you to hire fifty of the same kind of fighting men you had in Juarez. And yes, you’re right, we want you to recreate the equivalent of El Squadron Del Diablo—without the name, of course—right here in Mexicali. Only you’re not going to attack Mexicali, you’re going to defend it, about fifty miles out in the desert where no one will really know what happened until we release our version, the version we want everyone in Mexico to believe.”

  Ben took a long drag on his cigar and slowly exhaled with an amused expression on his face, as if he were about to deliver the punch line to an obscene joke. “Heh, heh,” he cackled, his nasal attempt at a laugh. “Well, do we have your attention yet? Shall we continue, or have you had enough?”

  Nodding and smiling cautiously, Rudd said, “By all means, I want to hear how this plays out, especially who we will be fighting and where in the desert this battle will be taking place.”

  “Like we said at the beginning of this conversation,” Ben continued, “we have been making plans for over three years and have been receiving very good tactical advice from our friends in the Mexican military. General Ortega, our man in Hermosillo, the very man who will be ordering five hundred soldiers to Mexicali by railroad to intercept your rebel attack on the city, is the brains behind this plan.”

  Hoff started to say something, but Rudd interrupted him by holding up his hand.

  He pulled his lips across his teeth in a grimace. “Give me a moment to mull this over, gentlemen. I think I’m beginning to get a clear picture of what it is you want to happen here.” Eyeing each man around the table, the corners of his mouth formed a smile, his best I know what you’re up to smile. He nodded his head slowly, hoping to create the illusion of wisdom. “You want me to fire the first shots of the next phase of the Mexican Revolution,” he said. “I can only guess who you really have behind you at the top. The nineteen ten Mexican Revolution has been promoted as Francisco Madero’s revolution. Problem is, every time a major Mexican leader is assassinated and a new leader comes forth, it becomes the next phase of the revolution. How many have there been since Porfirio Diaz resigned in nineteen eleven? Three? Four? Five? This will be the next phase of the ongoing Mexican Revolution, however you care to view it.” Fixing his gaze on each man, he said, “Your task is to convince me that it will be worth my while to become involved in what could turn out to be a big bloody mess.”

  Rudd could see that his frankness had stunned the three men. They sat in silence without expression.

  “Very good, Mr. Carter, very good, indeed.” Ben broke the silence with his cackle and a wide grin as he applauded lightly with both hands extended in front of him. “I’ve heard from reliable sources that you are very intelligent as well as experienced, and you’re not to be trifled with. I think you have just proved to us that you are indeed the man we want with us in our little endeavor. And you are absolutely right,” he said with a smile, “our task is to convince you that we can make it more than worth your while to come along with us on what could be the most profitable venture of your life.” Ben removed the hat from his knee and placed it on his head. “I know you’re hot, tired and entirely exhausted, so I think we should adjourn this meeting until dinner at eight this evening in the dining room. I’ll have Len show you to your room in the hotel, and we can continue with our discussion later on.” He rose to his feet, nodded politely and said, “Gentlemen.” Turning, he walked to the bar.

  Rudd noted that Ben, although apparently having lived many years in the Southwest, carried himself with the air of an old Southern gentleman.

  You bear keeping an eye on, old man.

  Chapter Two

  Later That Evening

  As Rudd shaved and bathed in preparation for dinner, he ran the afternoon’s conversation through his mind. Don Hoff and Bill Crawford are intelligent, informed men who are obviously important to the operation we’re discussing, but after all is said and done, it’s really Ben Mosier’s project. He’s the man in charge. All others are advisors, including myself. Ben is the Commander-in-Chief, and all involved will do well to never forget that fact. So far, there has been no mention of compensation. I wonder exactly what they think my services are worth. Pulling on his boots, Rudd went downstairs for another go-around with Ben Mosier and his two cohorts.

  Rudd entered the restaurant from the cantina, and was astonished by the eastern elegance of the room. In place of the traditional red Mexican tile, the floors were covered with plush, thick, tight nap, dark blue carpeting. The dining tables were sheathed in white linen, and the chairs were imitation Louis the XIV with light blue upholstered backs and seats. Young Mexican waiters, dressed in tuxedos, buzzed about the room.

  A lovely young hostess in a chic black evening dress approached him. Ben’s giving his high rollers some class for their money, how nice! “I’m Rudd Carter, a guest of Ben Mosier,” he said to her.

  “Welcome to the Viennese dining room, Mr. Carter,” she said with barely a trace of an accent before leading him to Ben’s table. “The waiter will be right with you, Mr. Carter.” She smiled sweetly and left.

  It was 7:30, and he realized that he was thirty minutes early. He decided to have a drink, get comfortable with the environment, and prepare himself for whatever came next.

  The promised waiter arrived, and Rudd ordered a whiskey and water. The moment the waiter left his table, a tall, thin, auburn-haired woman entered the dining room from the cantina. Dressed in a white long-sleeve blouse and an ankle-length black skirt, she wore black low-heeled shoes and carried a violin case. She proceeded to a small stage in the center of the back of the room. Rudd watched as she seated herself in front of a music stand and began to remove her violin from its case.

  With wide-set hazel eyes, a straight narrow nose, and a flawless ivory complexion, she was the most attractive woman Rudd could recall seeing in years. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She reminded him of someone—someone in the distant past, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it at the moment. Completely mesmerized by the vision of this lovely, graceful, young woman as she moved about the stage putting things in order in preparation for the evening’s entertainment, he continued to watch her.

  He sipped his drink for the next few minutes, experiencing feelings he hadn’t felt for many years. He felt like a schoolboy; of course, she reminded him of Elizabeth, his first great love. Elizabeth, who until a few moments ago was not even a memory, had been suddenly dredged up from his subconscious. Elizabeth… another life, another time best forgotten. Thirty years of buried feelings of ecstasy and pain brought back because of this vision of a lovely young woman on a small stage in a restaurant in a dirty little town in Mexico.

  Soon, the other members of the music ensemble arrived. The pianist, another attractive woman he guessed to be in her late thirties, was dressed in the same manner as the first woman. She stepped onto the stage and sat at the piano. She placed her music o
n the rack of the solid oak upright grand piano, while carrying on a lively conversation with the violinist. They were two American women, not often seen south of the border, working in a restaurant adjoining a Mexican bordello.

  The drummer, a young man probably in his twenties, followed by the trumpet player, a handsome man looking to be in his early forties who seemed to be paying a lot of attention to the pianist. Both the drummer and the trumpet player wore tuxedos with black bow ties.

  Rudd’s hosts entered the room just as the trumpet and the violin players were tuning with the piano before playing the first selection of the evening. Rudd stood and received each one with a handshake, and they seated themselves.

  “I see you’ve already spotted the young lady with the violin,” Ben said. “She’s a real American beauty, isn’t she?”

  “I’ll say,” Rudd said, his eyes riveted to the stage.

  “She’s caused quite a stir since she’s been here. The problem is, she carries herself with such an air that she seems unapproachable, at least to me,” Ben said with a chuckle.

  At that moment the music began, something light and classical. Rudd returned his attention to the stage. I’m not afraid to approach her. I can’t wait for the opportunity.

  The waiter came to take the drink orders and leave the menus.

  After Rudd’s hosts ordered whiskeys and water, they sat silently perusing their menus.

  Ben glanced at Rudd. “You seem to be quite taken by our lovely violinist.” Showing a sly smile, he said, “I can’t say that I blame you. I’d be happy to introduce you to her later on in the evening.”

  Rudd snapped his gaze away from the stage and turned toward Ben with a self-conscious laugh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was being so obvious. I thought I was hiding it pretty well. Please excuse me.”

  Ben and the other two men laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Every man in the place is captivated by her. That’s why I hired this little orchestra. I felt she would be a terrific draw, and I was right. Business is up fifteen percent in only two weeks.”

  “I’m going to take you up on the offer to meet her,” Rudd said, glancing back at the stage. “I’m also very interested in continuing the conversation we were having this afternoon.” Aware that he had the full attention of all three men, he continued. “I thought over the things we discussed, and you gentlemen definitely have sparked my interest.” He grinned. “What else are you offering besides an introduction to a beautiful woman?” Glancing from man to man, he said, “Although, an introduction to the violinist just might be enough to get me to sign on.”

  They all laughed heartily for a few moments and then became silent in anticipation of what the coming conversation would bring.

  “Rudd, here’s what we’re proposing,” Crawford started, leaning forward on his elbows. “On or about July twentieth of next year, we want you and your fifty best men to ambush a troop train carrying several hundred Federale soldiers to Mexicali, fifty miles out in the desert.”

  “What do you mean by several hundred, Bill?” Rudd’s voice lifted. “Three, four, five hundred? I’d like to know just what several hundred is to you, because remember, I’m only going to have fifty men.”

  “Well, probably more like five hundred,” Crawford answered defensively.

  Rudd was silent for a moment and then looked around the table with a narrowed gaze. “You gentlemen do realize that’s a ratio of ten-to-one, right?”

  “But don’t forget,” Ben said, leaning forward in his chair, “You will have fifty of the best equipped and experienced bloodthirsty killers in the world. We will provide any weapons and equipment you deem necessary to make this operation a success.”

  Taking a moment to search each man’s face, he said, “If I give you a list of modern weapons that I think will make this plan work, it could get very expensive, gentlemen.”

  “There is no limit to the military budget of this plan. If we get you what you need, can you make it work?” asked Crawford.

  “If you get me what I need, you’ll have your desert revolt,” Rudd answered. “Whether it works or not is another story.”

  “The whole idea,” Crawford continued, “is not to kill everyone. We want you to inflict enough casualties to make them turn tail, get back on their train, go home and report an overwhelming defeat to their superiors. Then our friends in the Mexican military can exaggerate and blow out of proportion all that happens that day, to the extent that everyone in Mexico will think a real revolution has taken place in Mexicali. The next day we will declare Baja Del Norte an independent state and introduce the new Presidente.” Glancing at Hoff, he said, “Don, please tell our new friend, Rudd, what we are offering him besides an introduction to a beautiful violinist.” The mention of the violinist again brought a laugh.

  “For the one-day battle in the desert, we will pay you one hundred thousand American dollars,” said Hoff. “Deposited in the bank of your choice, thirty days before the battle.”

  Sitting for a moment in silence, Rudd said, “You will pay me one hundred thousand dollars to contract a military force of fifty men to ambush a train carrying five hundred Mexican soldiers fifty miles east of Mexicali out in the middle of the desert?” Slowly his mouth broke into a grin. “I have no counter. I accept, on the condition that you will take care of all operational expenses including weapons, ammunition, billeting, food, and women. That includes twenty-five dollars a day, per man, starting ninety days before the battle.”

  Ben took a large drag on his cigar and exhaled. “Of course, but we’ll have to agree on how many women for how many men and for how long a time,” he said, repressing a laugh. “We want them to have enough strength to fight our battle for us. Heh-heh,” he cackled. “I’m sure everything can be worked out so that we can have both a successful operation and happy soldiers. Heh-heh.” Looking around the table, he said, “Now, I think we should order dinner and enjoy the rest of the evening—and that includes the music, don’t you think, Rudd?”

  They chuckled again, and when the drinks arrived, Crawford tapped a spoon on his glass and announced, “Gentlemen, I would like to propose a code name for our plan: Operation Desert Revolt. All agreed, say ‘aye’.”

  The four men said “aye” simultaneously, and Crawford declared, “Operation Desert Revolt, it is then. Shall we toast to it?”

  They raised their glasses to cement their agreement. For the next hour, the men ate, drank, and exchanged light conversation until the orchestra took an intermission. Ben reached over and tapped Rudd on the elbow. “I think this is what you’ve been waiting for.”

  Rudd looked up and saw the violinist standing in front of him. She looked even lovelier up close.

  “Good evening, gentlemen. I see that we have an out-of-town guest with us tonight.” Turning to Rudd, she smiled politely. “I came over to welcome you to the Viennese Dining Room.”

  Her warm, friendly voice and gleaming eyes won him over instantly.

  There was an awkward moment while the four men unabashedly stared at her. Then they jumped to their feet, three of them in obvious envy of Rudd.

  “I’m delighted to introduce you,” Ben said. “Miss Kathryn Farrar, Mr. Rudd Carter, who is visiting us from the San Francisco area.”

  Clasping her hand, Rudd felt thrilled by her touch. He held on longer than was necessary and looked deeply into her eyes.

  “Rudd, I hope you enjoy your stay with us at El Coyote,” Kathryn said, as she gently pulled her hand from his.

  “I’m sure I will, Kathryn,” he answered.

  Ben smiled. “Kathryn, the orchestra sounds wonderful tonight. Is there anything I can get for you before you start your next set?”

  “Everything is fine,” she said, glancing at Rudd. “Everything is just fine, thank you.” Speaking to Rudd, she said, “I hope we’ll be seeing more of you during your stay.”

  “You can count on it, Kathryn.”

  She smiled politely, excused herself, and started for the stage.

/>   The men stood and stared in awe of her swaying hips as she walked away. Ben shook his head. “Well, gentlemen, after that, I think it’s safe to say that the business discussion is concluded for the evening. Len will be around in the morning to inform you as to the time and place of our next meeting. So far, I’m very pleased with the progress we’ve made. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  The four men shook hands, walked into the cantina together and then separated. Rudd looked back through the doorway toward the stage and decided to go back in, listen to the music, and ponder what he was about to get himself into.

  Chapter Three

  Sunday, August 6

  Early the next morning, a sharp rap on the door accompanied by a voice, awakened Rudd.

  “Mr. Carter, my father would like to meet with you in the dining room at one o’clock today. Are you all right with that?”

  Rudd took a moment to clear his head. “Is that you, Len?”

  “Yes, sir. Good morning, sir.”

  “Good morning, Len. Please tell Mr. Mosier I’ll be there at one. Thank you.”

  Having gotten eight hours of good sleep, he felt rested and ready to hear more about Desert Revolt. He arose, shaved, dressed, and prepared for his meeting. As he shaved, he pondered the evening before and all the enticements that had been presented to him in an attempt to persuade him to sign on with Ben Mosier and company. The offer was generous, the accommodations were comfortable, the food was bearable, and the entertainment was more than lovely. He planned to learn everything he could about this plan of theirs.

  He entered the dining room at noon and was surprised to see Ben sitting at a table with a Mexican man, not the two business partners from the day before. Joining them, Ben introduced him to the Chief of Police of Mexicali, Ernesto Fuentes. He sat down and motioned for the waiter to come over.