The Reinvention Of Rudd Carter. A Western Action Adventure Novel by R.L. Davis Read Free Book Online Page A

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