The Reinvention Of Rudd Carter. A Western Action Adventure Novel

by R. L. Davis

  “There have been no more murders,” he said, shaking Rudd’s hand enthusiastically. “You were right. Now that all your men are out at the ranch and Günter is with them, it looks like the problem is solved for the time being.”

  “That’s the best news you could have given me.” Rudd pulled Fuentes to him, gave him a big hug and a pat on the back, and then stood back and gazed into his eyes. “You’ve been a great friend this last year. If I don’t see you on the other side of this battle, know that everything will turn out as I promised. Who knows? Maybe in another place, under different circumstances, we’ll meet again.”

  “You make it sound like you think something might happen to you out there.”

  Shaking his head slowly from side to side, Rudd said, “Nothing will happen to me, Ernie. Nothing I don’t want to happen.”

  Tuesday July 17, 1923

  Rudd was at the loading dock at six o’clock on the morning of July 17, just as the first trucks carrying supplies, weapons, and men began to arrive. As promised, Ben had delivered the locomotive, three flat cars, and three boxcars the night before. Loading of the equipment, weapons, munitions, horses, men, food, and supplies went without incident. By noon, they were rolling down the track toward the battle area. The thermometer hovered at around 118 degrees. Canopies erected over the flat cars provided shade to lessen the effect of the heat on the men and equipment during the slow ride out into the desert. They reached their destination by 3:00 p.m. and began the task of putting up tents and covering for shade before unloading the equipment and supplies. The men worked until sundown and spent the rest of the evening eating and drinking.

  By 11.00, everyone was asleep except the sentinels who were posted on two-hour watches during the night. They were all trained, experienced veterans who understood the value of being rested and alert for combat.

  The next day they dug the gun emplacements according to the battle grid that Rudd had drawn up of the area the year before. Every inch of the bottom of the ravine was exposed to the potentially deadly fire of machine guns, B.A.R.’s, and mortars. Add the Thomson sub-machine guns and there was enough fire power to mow a field of wheat.

  On the third day, they camouflaged and covered their positions and sighted in on pre-designated target areas in the ravine.

  Friday, the day of the battle, Rudd ordered the telephone and telegraph service to Mexicali cut at six in the morning. He sent a demolition crew to blow up the bridge over the draw they had chosen the year before. Timbers from the blown out bridge were then stacked onto the tracks to stop the troop train. Bridge out warning signs were placed a mile before the bridge to ensure that the train would stop, and not plow through the timbers and plunge into the wash below.

  The Federales’ train was due sometime between one and two in the afternoon. By noon, Rudd and his men were ready and waiting for the warning gunshot from the scouting party located at the tracks that would signal the arrival of the troop train.

  The rail system in Mexico was not run by the Germans. The awaited troop train was operated by the Mexican Army, so it was fair to estimate that the train would arrive somewhere between two and three, as it did.

  It came to a stop 20 feet in front of the timbers stacked on the tracks. Two officers departed the train and walked up to where the trestle had been blown, talked to each other excitedly, and rushed back onto the train. A few minutes later 30 men came out of the passenger cars, went back to the box cars, slid the doors open, and lowered ramps from the rail cars to the ground. Then 100 or more men exited the passenger cars, removed their shirts, headed to the box cars, and started unloading equipment, weapons, supplies, carts, and horses down into the wash.

  Being fairly well-organized, they were ready to travel by late afternoon. With almost four hours of light left until sundown, the commander of the Federales thought it would be wise to move on through the wash and out into the flat desert where there was no danger of being caught in a flash flood.

  Of the 30 horses they had with them, 15 were workhorses and the rest were cavalry horses. The cavalry led the column with the infantry marching behind, followed by the equipment wagons and three small field artillery pieces. The 500 men were not prepared for a 50 mile march in the middle of the summer in the Mexican desert.

  Twenty minutes after entering the ravine, the lead horses hit the anti-personnel mines, setting off three explosions simultaneously and throwing them into a panic. The horses started back through their own columns in disarray at the same time the mortar shells began to fall into the infantry columns. The Mexican soldiers were terror-stricken. They began to scream and fire wildly at targets they could not see as the machine guns and B.A.R.’s raked through their columns, stampeding them into a wild flight to the rear, back toward the train. As they ran to the rear, which was the only place fire wasn’t coming from, Rudd’s men, 30 feet above on each side of the ravine, fired on them with their Thomson sub-machine guns creating more panic and rapid movement to the rear.

  The younger inexperienced regulars dropped their rifles and ran out of fear and hysteria. Rudd had given orders not to fire on anyone not armed because he knew most would be teenage farm boys who had been conscripted against their will. He wanted these boys, most of all, to be returned home safely with the message of this humiliating defeat and the overwhelming power and resolve of the rebel army in Mexicali.

  High on the walls of the ravine along the route of retreat, men yelled through megaphones in Spanish, “Back to the train to safety, you will be safe on the train! You will be taken back to your homes soon! It is safe on the train. Back to the train!”

  The ill-equipped, unprepared, and mostly inexperienced Federales were thrown into a complete rout within a few minutes. Most of the Federale soldiers not killed or wounded in the ravine made it back to the train. Horses, some with riders and some without, galloped hysterically into the desert on the other side of the tracks followed by men on foot whose only thought was to get as far away from the gunfire as possible.

  Günter emerged from his cover and stood totally exposed, firing a B.A.R. from his hip and screaming obscenities while laughing insanely at the top of his lungs. Ready to implement the next phase of his plan, Rudd moved to Matt’s position. “It’s time. Bring Günter to me. I’ll be right over there.” He pointed to a rock formation less than 50 yards away. When Matt arrived with Günter, Rudd led them to where the horses were tied.

  “Günter, I want to personally thank you for helping make this operation so successful,” he said, shaking his hand. “We couldn’t have done it without you.” He paused, turned to Matt and winked in a way only he understood. “And Matt, I couldn’t have done this without you.” Giving him a thumbs up, he said, “Thank you. You understand what has to be done now.”

  Matt smiled and nodded. Günter looked puzzled until Rudd said, “I want you to take my gray and ride with me east of here for about two miles. We’ll be looking for any Federale stragglers. If we find anybody, we’ll escort them back to the train. If they’re not armed and they resist, we’ll leave them. If they are armed and they resist, well, Günter, I’ll leave their fate up to you.”

  The German flashed a sadistic smile. “Don’t worry Englisher, everything will be taken care of.”

  “I know it will.” Rudd locked eyes with him. “I know it will.” Turning to Matt, he said, “Try to get back not long after dark.”

  They walked to where three saddled horses were waiting. Rudd untied them and handed the reins to the two men and they mounted. Günter rode the gray and Matt his own palomino. Rudd mounted the roan.

  “Matt, I want you to ride to the west for a couple of miles and look for stragglers.” He turned his horse to the east. “You lead. I’ll be right behind you,” he said to the German.

  As they moved out, Matt waved to Rudd.

  Rudd nodded and called out, “You know what to do.”

  Riding off, his mind drifted back to 30 years before. On a small island off the south coast of China, Günter h
ad said, “Someday the same opportunity to dish out retribution to some depraved, degenerate person the Earth would be better off without will fall to you. I hope you remember this event when it does.”

  I remember, Günter, I do remember.

  Rudd and the German rode eastward until about 30 minutes after sundown. They came to a series of hillocks that extended for a half mile in a straight line to the east. Rudd rode up alongside Günter and signaled for him to stop. “You ride ahead to the last hillock and take a look around. I’ll stay here just in case someone’s on the other side of these mounds. Then I’ll catch up with you.”

  Günter nodded and started to the east again. Rudd dismounted and drew his rifle from its holster. There was just enough light for one good shot. He fell to his knees, eased forward onto his elbows, his rifle butt snug to his shoulder. His target was 100 yards down range by now. He sighted carefully through his scope until the crosshairs lined up on the back of his target’s head. Then he took a breath, held it, and slowly squeezed the trigger.

  * * *

  When Matt returned to camp a half hour later, he came in from the west. As he dismounted, Walt asked, “Where’s Rudd?”

  “I don’t know,” Matt said. He hated to lie to his friends, but Rudd had sworn him to secrecy. “He told me to scout to the west while he went east. We left at the same time. I expect that he’ll be back any moment. By the way, I didn’t find any stragglers out to the west. No horses or nothin’. Maybe Rudd had to herd some people back in. He shouldn’t be too much longer.”

  “I think everybody’s on that train that’s goin’ back,” Walt said. “Boy, when they climbed back on that train and realized that nobody was shootin’ at ‘em anymore, they sure got cooperative. We walked down to that train with a white flag and because they thought we had a couple a companies up on the sides of that ravine they offered to come and take their dead back with ‘em.”

  “Maybe we should give Rudd another fifteen minutes before we let the train go,” Joe said.

  “That sounds good to me,” Walt responded. “When the train’s outta here, we can bed down. We got some holes to dig tomorrow before we can clear out. Not as many as we would have had if they hadn’t wanted to take their dead with them. And thank God there’ll be no holes to dig for our own. That whole battle was nothing but a goddamned turkey shoot.”

  They all sat in silence for a moment.

  “Where’s Günter?” Walt asked, looking around.

  “I haven’t seen him in a couple of hours,” Lefty replied. The last time I saw him, he was at the top of the ravine firing a B.A.R. from the hip, cursing, laughing, and havin’ a great ol’ time.”

  “That’s the way I saw him just before I rode out,” Matt said, again bothered by the lie. “Well, everyone else is here,” Joe said, glancing around. “I did a count right after the Mexicans cleared the ravine and everyone was accounted for except Rudd and Günter. I don’t think anyone of us was even scratched. The Federales didn’t know what hit ‘em. They hardly fired any shots back. They were in a stampede from the git-go. When they picked up their wounded and dead, we made them leave their weapons and ammunition.” He chuckled. “A little donation we can make to the garrison back in Mexicali.”

  “So, just exactly, what were their casualties?” asked Matt.

  “From my count they had twenty-three killed and about ninety somethin’ wounded,” Walt answered. “They got all the wounded back on the train and all but four of the dead, who were blown to pieces and pretty much splattered all over the place. They lost four horses from the mines and mortars, and we had to put down five more that were sufferin’ pretty bad. In the mornin’ we’ll have to bury the body parts of the poor devils they couldn’t take and of course, we’ll have to bury the horses.”

  Tex thought for an instant, and then asked Matt, “Since you’re the one in charge right now, what do you want to do about the train? They’ve got a lot of hurt men and a long trip ahead.”

  Matt pulled out his pocket watch and saw that it was twenty minutes to ten. “Let the train go at ten. I’ll take responsibility in Rudd’s absence. If he doesn’t come back tonight, I want to take a scouting party east just before sunup.” He called out, “Lefty and Walt, I want you two to come along with Tex and me in the mornin’.”

  Just before dawn, still too early to see clearly, the four men stumbled upon the body of a man lying face down in a dry pool of blood-soaked sand. Rudd’s gray stood a few yards away. The shooter had used a dum-dum bullet that entered the dead man at the base of the skull and exited at the front of his head, tearing away his face and leaving him virtually unidentifiable. Lefty and Walt were convinced by Matt and Tex that the remains were those of Rudd. It was pointed out that the body wore a blue bandana as Rudd always did, an onyx ring that he had worn since Juarez, and in his belt was an army issue semi-automatic Colt .45. Rudd’s favorite sidearm. Also, it was Rudd’s gray horse standing by the body.

  The four men buried the body in an unmarked grave. Matt and Tex staged a short graveside service for Walt and Lefty’s benefit and the four men returned to camp early in the morning. Matt, now officially in charge, ordered the telegraph and telephone lines reconnected to Mexicali.

  Matt picked work details to bury the dead horses and body parts of the four Mexican soldiers who had been left on the floor of the ravine. Then he set up a make shift office under a canopy where he could distribute the men’s paychecks. His plan was to get the rail cars loaded and ready to move by one and be back at the loading dock outside of Mexicali by four.

  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.

  Chapter Seventeen

  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.”