by R. L. Davis
Rudd turned to Crawford. “I’m glad you’re here, because I need help in finding someone to ride out to the proposed battle site with me. Someone who knows the lay of the land about fifty miles east of town. I want to spend a couple of days scouting out the place where we want to take on the Federales to ensure that we have a complete rout—something to keep them talking about for years to come.”
“Before you put anymore thought to it,” Ben interjected, “let me suggest my son, Len. He’s a good rider and knows the desert better than anyone.”
“I can’t think of anybody more qualified than Len,” offered Crawford. “My vote is with him.”
Rudd nodded in agreement. “Just ask him to bring along that baseball bat. He’s good with it. You never can tell what—or who— we are going to run into out there. There’ll just be the two of us.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Crawford said. “He’ll bring along something a lot more effective than a bat. There isn’t anybody as good as Len with a thirty-ought-six in the whole area.”
“Good. I’d like to leave in the next couple of days. Don, how long will it take you to find out if the weapons on that list are available?”
“About a week, and now is a good time to start putting this all together.”
“Ben, if we leave in two or three days, can you get along without Len behind the bar for the better part of a week?” Rudd asked.
“If you need him,” he answered, “feel free to take him for as long as you like.”
Later on the same day, Rudd left El Coyote and walked down the street to the police chief’s office. It was a typical Mexicali day in August, 115 degrees in the shade. The streets were empty. He walked into the office to find Ernie Fuentes sitting at his desk, reading an American magazine.
Ernie looked up. “Hey compadre, you were unbelievable last night. I didn’t know one man could possibly inflict that much pain on three others. I had a doctor in here this morning to check out the prisoners, and he couldn’t believe it either.”
“So, you didn’t let the two big guys go like I suggested?” Rudd asked.
“No, I decided to wait until you came in today, in case you changed your mind about pressing charges against all three of them.”
“Those two fellas couldn’t have hurt me if they wanted to, but that little guy with the knife made me angry, which is why I broke his wrist. In Hong Kong, he’d have gotten himself killed and that knife stuck up his ass.”
Fuentes laughed. “Let’s go back and take a look at ‘em before I let anyone go.”
He led the way to the back of the jail where the three men were being held. “Rudd, I want you to meet your friends from last night’s little get-together. Jose, Carlos and Nick. Jose and Carlos are from Mexicali and were working for this little guy here as bodyguards, but, as you can see from the looks of Nick, they didn’t do a very good job.”
Nick, yelled out, “You son-of-a-bitch, you broke my wrist!” He rattled the cell bars with his uninjured hand.
Rudd wrapped his fingers around the hand Nick held the bars with. In a vice-like grip, he clamped down until tears welled in the man’s eyes. “Didn’t your mother tell you it was dangerous to play with knives?” He tightened his grip. “Believe me, it’s going to be even more dangerous if you ever show up in Mexicali again. You sound like you’re from Chicago, and I’m guessing you’re Italian. The way I see it, you’ve been sent here to scout things out. I want you to go back and tell Scarpone that we love you guys down here and to please send some more, just like you.”
Letting go of Nick’s hand, he turned to Fuentes. “I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job, but if it were me, I’d let these two go.” He pointed to the two big men. “I want you two hombres to know that I hold no grudge against you. Last night you were doing your job, doing what you were being paid to do. I respect you for that.”
The two prisoners smiled.
“Let’s keep this one for a couple of days,” he said pointing to Nick, “to let him have some time to think how lucky he is to have survived his first trip to Mexicali. I’m not going to press charges against him.” Turning to Nick, Rudd raised his voice so that everyone could hear him clearly. “If he ever comes back, nothing will be said. We’ll just quietly bury him in the desert.”
Without a word, Fuentes unlocked Jose and Carlo’s cells and let them out. Rudd shook their hands and walked with them to the front of the jail. As they were leaving, he called out, “Hey, compadres, meet me at El Coyote around five this afternoon for a couple of beers. I want to talk some business with you.” Both men nodded and left.
When they were gone, Fuentes said, “You sure were friendly to our two ex-prisoners.”
“Tonight, I’m going to talk to them about working for us and ask them to keep an eye out for any new strangers in town, mostly people from Chicago.”
Fuentes shrugged. “Why would anyone from Chicago be interested in Mexicali?”
“Ben controls the bootlegging in most of California and Arizona,” Rudd answered, “and he’s doing very well. The Chicago guys would like a piece of the action and are going to send people down here from time to time to see just how strong we are. That’s why Ben wants his own country with a strong police force and a militia to back it up. That’s where you and I come in.”
Scratching his head, Ernie thought for a moment. “So if we put together a little spy network to keep us informed about the newcomers that are sniffing around, we can nip things in the bud before they get too big to handle.”
“You’ve got the picture,” Rudd said.
Chapter Five
August 10, Mexican Desert
Rudd and Len Mosier left before sunrise in a Model T truck pulling a trailer with two horses. Their plan was to drive as far as the road would allow, and then unload their horses and ride to their destination, about fifty miles east along the railroad track to Nogales.
Traveling over unpaved roads full of potholes, their progress was painstakingly slow. They reached the end of a mostly washed-out road and pulled over, unloaded the horses, and continued on horseback. Prepared to stay in the field for at least four days, two strong, tough men experienced in living in the harshest of environments, now rode in one of the most punishing deserts in the world. Afternoon temperatures soared to well above 120 degrees as they continued until an hour before sundown and decided to make camp. With the use of his map and compass, Rudd calculated they were almost to their proposed destination.
The two men took care of the horses, prepared their frijoles and hardtack, and got ready to bed down shortly after sundown. Even after dark, the heat was relentless, hovering at over 100 degrees. As they sat, talked and sipped whiskey, they could hear the rattlesnakes in the nearby rock formations. In the distance, coyotes howled, telling them that out there in that hostile environment, living things thrived and would still be there long after man had disappeared.
Aided by the numbing effect of the whiskey, they soon drifted off to sleep. In spite of the coyotes, the two men slept well. Awakening before dawn, they broke camp and reached their destination by seven.
With a topographic map in hand, Rudd drew Len near to point out the area he was searching for.
“It doesn’t rain much out here, but when it does, the water flows from the high ground to the low. Over centuries of erosion, it has created huge natural drainage ditches we call draws or washes.” Rudd ran his finger along the railroad track on the map to indicate where the draws were. “When they built the railroad through this area, they had to build bridges on trestles, across these ravines and draws, so that when it did rain, the tracks wouldn’t wash away. What we’re looking for is a very large draw or ravine that runs out into the desert three or four miles from under a trestle and is at least twenty feet in height. Are you following me so far?”
Len shook his head from side to side. “Rudd, believe me, I’m paying attention, but I don’t get where you’re going with this yet.”
“When we find the right trestle and draw that sui
ts our purposes, we’re going to mark it on the map as the bridge we are going to blow up next year, the day before the battle. With the trestle out, the troop train carrying the Federales will not be able to continue on to Mexicali. And because they will have strict orders to reach the army garrison there, hopefully they will feel compelled to unload the train right where it has been stopped, into the draw that will lead them to the ravine where we will be lying in wait to ambush them. These draws are natural roads out into the desert. The one we pick will also provide a very convenient path of retreat for the Federales back to the train, which we want left intact.”
Len thought for a moment. “What if the locomotive engineer doesn’t see the bridge is out and allows the train to crash into the wash, destroying the train and killing a lot of Federales? Wouldn’t that suit your purpose to convince the Mexican government that the rebels mean business?”
“I’m sure it would, but anybody can blow up a bridge. Two or three people could do that, but that’s not a revolution—that’s just an act of terror. We want the Federales to march into an overwhelmingly humiliating defeat, a complete rout, a rout that the Mexican government will be too embarrassed to report to the general public. The idea is to create the illusion that we are an organized revolutionary army a hundred times stronger than we really are. An army they dare not face without the possibility of losing all of Mexico. In the meantime, we’ll take Baja Del Norte and declare it a new sovereign state.” Rudd paused for a moment and laughed. “Pretty lofty plan, don’t you think?”
“I think it’s a great plan,” Len answered, nodding his head, “but you haven’t explained how you’re going to make sure the train doesn’t crash into the wash.”
“Simple. We’re going to stack timbers on the tracks a couple hundred feet before the blown-out bridge and put up some Bridge Out signs. We need that train intact so the defeated troops can go home and report the overwhelming strength of the new revolutionary army.”
Studying Rudd for a few moments, Len broke into a grin. “You mean to tell me that you, Rudd Carter, thought this whole plan up yourself? You’re a goddamned genius.”
“No, I didn’t. This is not my plan. Your father, along with some very smart men including some top Mexican military officers, get the credit. They hired me and some friends to make it work.”
Len cast his gaze around the desert. “How are we gonna find the tallest trestle and the longest draw? Anyway, what’s the purpose of the longest draw or wash?”
“Well picture this,” Rudd said, gesturing with his hands. “Imagine a train carrying five hundred troops stopping because of a blown-out bridge. It’s one-hundred-fifteen to one-hundred-twenty degrees in the middle of the Mexican desert, and everyone is in a panic. The Federale officers will have orders to take Mexicali back from the rebels, and of course, we both know this is all just a ruse. There is no rebel force in Mexicali—not until we knock this train off, that is. Since they know they can’t continue on the train because the bridge is out, they’re going to order the equipment taken off and attempt a march. The draw I’m looking for is at least two hundred yards across and will run out into the desert for several miles. The easiest way to unload their equipment will be right into the draw. Because the draw has very steep sides that would be impossible to get over with canon and horses, the best choice left would be to follow the draw out a few miles to flat ground where it will be easiest to move their equipment.”
Len nodded as if he understood. “Of course, you hope you’ll find a draw a mile or so out that narrows down to fifty yards or less, so that when you open up on them with automatic weapons you’ll have them trapped.”
“That’s right. The Federales won’t be able to climb out the sides, and they won’t be able to go forward because of machine gun and mortar fire. The only way out will be back to the train without their equipment. We want as many to escape as possible, to live to tell of the incredible strength of the rebel forces. If we take prisoners, we’ll give them the chance to enlist with the rebels or send them home.”
Looking around at the dry hot bareness of the desert, Len said, “All we have to do now is locate the drainage ditch, wash, draw—or whatever you call it—to fit your requirements and get the hell out’ta here.”
Rudd nodded. “I figure we’re right where we ought to be. It’s still early yet, so I think there’s a good chance we’ll find what we’re looking for before noon today. What’s going to take time is surveying the area for our machine gun and mortar installations. I need to make a map, so when we come back next year before the battle, we can set up in one day.”
Riding along the railroad track and using the topographic map as their guide, they came to a trestle that appeared to have the length that would indicate to them a wash or draw wide enough for their purpose. Then riding out along the wash to see how far it extended into the desert, they were able to determine this particular wash was perfect for their needs. About two miles out from the railroad trestle, the wash narrowed into a deep ravine that was 500 yards long and 75 yards wide—just right for boxing in two companies of Federale soldiers.
By the time Rudd had decided they had the right trestle and wash, it was almost five in the afternoon. Hot, thirsty, and hungry, he and Len decided to make camp for the night. Surveying for the gun emplacements would wait for early the next morning.
They ate, put out the campfire, and shared a pint of whiskey. Watching the last light of day fade in the western sky, Len asked, “Where’re you from?”
“I’m originally from England, Sussex County to be exact. I was raised there until I was in my late teens, when my family sent me to Hong Kong to learn the family banking business.”
“How long were you in the banking business?”
“About six years. Long enough to develop an interest in other things I’d rather be doing.” He handed Len the bottle.
Len took a swig and handed it back. “Things you like to do better, such as?”
“Like what we’re doing right now.”
“What do you mean, ‘like what we’re doing right now’?”
“Well, you and I are in the middle of the Mexican desert on a scouting trip so that we can make plans for a military battle that won’t take place for another year. And we’re doing this for some people who want to start their own country for personal profit and who are willing to pay us a large amount of money to help them make their plan succeed. If I were still in Hong Kong working at the bank, I would have missed fifty operations over the years for which I’ve been handsomely paid. I’ve never tired of this life. No matter how hard I tried to fit in at the bank, I never felt that I was supposed to spend the rest of my life working in my family’s business. It just wasn’t for me.”
Len took the bottle from Rudd and swallowed another large swig. “I’d like to hear the story sometime of how you went from being a young bank executive to being a famous soldier of fortune.”
“Someday, when we’re back in town with nothing to do, I’ll tell you the whole story over a couple of beers.”
Awakening as the first light of dawn broke over the eastern horizon, they ate, packed their horses, and rode along the wash two miles out from the trestle to where the ravine began. Rudd took several photographs, and Len helped him measure different locations on the sides and bottom of the ravine. By ten in the morning, the survey of the proposed battle site had been completed. Mounting their horses, they started west toward Mexicali with the thought of reaching the truck by sundown.
Getting back to El Coyote by ten in the evening, Rudd and Len went directly to the bar to order beer and sandwiches. They ate and drank for half an hour, agreed to meet sometime the next day, and then bid one another good night.
On the way to his room, Rudd looked in the restaurant and saw Kathryn smiling. He waved and pointed up, indicating that he would be waiting for her.
Upstairs in his room, he bathed and shaved in anticipation of being with her. He poured a shot of whiskey, drank it, and lay down on th
e bed to rest his eyes and soon fell asleep.
A short while later, the feeling of Kathryn’s warm body and kisses awakened him. As he came out of the fog of slumber, she reached down and touched him, causing him to become aroused. His eyes opened, he smiled, and without a word, she mounted him. He felt her body quiver and thrilled to her whimper as he penetrated deeply. Rudd had known from their first meeting that it would be like this.
Early the next morning, a knock sounded at the door. “Who is it?” Rudd asked, speaking loudly from the bed.
“It’s Len. I’ve got a message from my father. He wants to see you in the bar at two o’clock today.”
“I’ll be there. Thank you, Len.”
Kathryn snuggled closer and kissed him on the cheek. Reaching under the sheet, she whispered, “I want more.”
“You’re going to get more, a lot more, but be patient,” he answered playfully.
“I want more, now,” she insisted, throwing the sheet back and pulling him on top of her.
“Impatient, aren’t you?” he teased.
“With you… always,” she replied, raising her head to seek his lips.
At a few minutes ’til two, Rudd stepped into the bar to find Ben and Don Hoff waiting for him. He took a seat and Ben asked, “How did it go out in the desert?”
“We found what we were looking for.”
“And that was…?”
“We found the place where we’re going to ambush the Federales next year. That is, if I have all the equipment I asked for.”
Rudd glanced at a grinning Don Hoff.
“It just so happens that we called this meeting to inform you that we can get all the equipment and weapons you requested,” Hoff said. “We need to talk a little about where and when we want it delivered and stored.”
Ben discarded his chewed-up cigar and bit off the end of another. Striking a match on the underside of the table, he grinned. “You know, boys, this thing is coming together so fast that I’m beginning to get a little nervous. Rudd, you just got into town last Saturday, and here we are discussing where to store the equipment and guns.” Struggling to get his new cigar going and puffing between words, he blew out a big blast of smoke with a look of relief. “Since we’re moving along so nicely, maybe this is a good time to talk about when you’re going to want to bring your men in. I’ve been thinking that fifty tough-looking mercenaries showing up here at the same time will look pretty conspicuous to the locals.”