by R. L. Davis
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.”
Chapter Eighteen
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.”
Epilogue
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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