El Paso: A Novel (60 page)

Xenia returned to the hotel elated, and managed to get connected to the Hollywood offices of Black’s Movie News of the World. She told them she wished to speak directly with the people who took the film of Villa but was informed they were away on assignment in the North Sea, filming British ships hunting German submarines. Nobody at Black’s Movie News had any information about exactly where the final Pancho Villa footage had been shot.

She got another shock two days later when the telephone rang in her room and the desk clerk told Xenia a gentleman was downstairs asking to see her. She went into the lobby, and standing there beside a big potted palm was Mick Martin.

Xenia felt her face flush crimson. She started to turn and rush back upstairs but Mick stopped her.

“Just give me a moment, please,” he said.

“What are you doing here?” was all she could manage.

“I came to see if I could help,” he told her.

“You!” she said, horrified.

“Please, Xenia, just give me a moment.”

Xenia was so dumbfounded, her feet suddenly seemed rooted in place. Her heart thumped wildly, and for a moment her mind raced in thoughts almost incoherently. It was like coming upon a huge snake in the woods. But a moment was all Mick needed.

He explained to Xenia that he had read about the kidnappings in the Hearst papers and that he’d found out from the Colonel’s office that she was staying in El Paso. The papers also had told of Arthur’s and the Colonel’s expedition to go after Villa. Then, two days ago when he himself watched the same release of Black’s Movie News of the World, he’d decided to come down and see what he could do.

“It’s my line of business,” Mick told her, “I’ve had to deal with kidnappings. Most of the time the kidnappers don’t want to hurt anybody, they just want money. The secret is to get them to feel secure, as though you’re actually trying to help them. They’re always suspicious of trickery.”

Xenia remained aghast and said nothing. She felt dirty just being in his presence. Her stomach churned, as though with cramps.

“It entered my mind,” Mick continued, “that the Colonel—grand old man that he is—would probably not be the best person to deal with somebody who’s kidnapped his family. He’s pretty hotheaded, as we all know. And Arthur . . .”

She was not looking at him, but heard the words. Above all, she wanted to flee up the stairs, but remained rooted in place.

“And Arthur,” Mick said, “well, it’s his children, and I just don’t know if he would be up to this. Sometimes it’s better to have a disinterested party.”

“I don’t know why you dared to come here,” Xenia blurted finally.

“Please, Xenia, listen to reason. I need this for myself, too. I need to make it up.”

“You can never make it up.” She was beginning to regain some measure of composure.

“I need to try,” Mick said. “For Katherine and Timmy’s sake. All I ask is your blessing to try to negotiate with Villa. If I have that, I won’t trouble you further.”

She had to look away because she was confused by what she felt. Didn’t he even know she was carrying his child? Well, she wasn’t showing yet; it had scarcely been three months. The very thought of him revolted and frightened her. But there were other considerations now. She knew his reputation. Arthur had spoken of it, too. She shook her head.

“If you wish, do what you can. That’s all I will say.”

The problem, of course, was that nobody knew where Villa was. Mick had assumed that, famous as Villa was, he wouldn’t be hard to find, but all the information he received while in El Paso convinced him otherwise. He’d decided to stay another day or so and see if he could pick more information before plunging into Mexico when Crosswinds Charlie turned up to see Xenia, carrying with him a letter from Arthur.

The letter described what had happened on the manhunt: the ascent into the mountains, the encounter with Indian village, the attack of grizzly bear, and the descent into the canyons. It told of the Colonel’s broken leg and of finding Bomba and said that they were now poised to attempt a rescue, with Crosswinds Charlie flying Arthur’s plane.

Xenia didn’t know whether to be happy or sick. On the one hand, she was grateful to know Arthur and his father were alive; on the other, she seriously doubted his ability to execute anything so difficult as an attack on Pancho Villa’s army. Yet there was something in the tone of the letter that gave her reassurance.

It took all morning, but she finally summoned up her courage and phoned Mick Martin’s room and told him of the letter. She felt uncomfortable, even guilty about it, and positively sick to hear his voice answer the telephone. How would Arthur feel, if he knew she had shown Mick his letter? In any case, she met him downstairs, and after Mick read it, he dispelled her hopes.

“Xenia,” he told her, “I don’t know exactly what he’s trying to do here, but I’d say it’s nuts. Why do this? Why not just go to Villa and see if you can pay him off? It’s a lot better than risking everybody’s lives. Frankly, I can’t believe this is Arthur talking.”

“It’s not the Arthur I know,” she said. “He’s sounding like his father.”

“Let me suggest this,” Mick said. “I will go out with this Charlie fellow in the aeroplane. Maybe I can persuade Arthur to let me have a crack at Villa before he does something rash.”

“If you do, I want you to take him a letter from me,” Xenia said. Her mouth was dry and she still couldn’t bring herself to actually look at him. But who else was there to get what she wanted to say to Arthur? She went to her room as soon as possible and washed her hands and face.

BUTCHER FIERRO HAD ALSO ARRIVED IN EL PASO
. Actually he’d arrived in Juárez, just across the river, where he’d begun preparation by telegraph and riders delivering messages to re-form and organize part of Villa’s army to join him for the attack on Agua Prieta, some two hundred miles west of El Paso. Meantime, he decided to cross the border into El Paso with a specific motive in mind. He wanted to purchase a rifle.

Not just any rifle; Fierro wanted to buy one of the new American Springfield rifles the United States Army had equipped itself with. He’d heard good things about this weapon. It was a bolt-action repeater rumored to have an accurate killing range of five hundred yards or better. Fierro liked nothing more than to shoot men at a great distance and determined to get one of these rifles and see for himself. One morning, shortly after he’d arrived in Juárez, Fierro rode across the international bridge that linked the two cities and presented himself at a gun shop where he’d been told the rifle could be bought.

When someone of the stature of General Rudolfo Fierro entered the United States in a city like El Paso, it was bound to stir up interest. If few people knew Fierro by sight, most knew him by reputation, and word quickly spread that the infamous “butcher” was now in their town. Among the recipients of the news was Lieutenant George Patton, who decided to get a look at the ruthless warrior for himself.

A crowd of onlookers had gathered outside the shop where Fierro went to buy the Springfield, and Patton followed the Mexican inside. When he came through the door, Fierro ignored him despite the fact that Patton was dressed in the spit-and-polish uniform of an American officer. Even from ten feet away Fierro’s aroma was enough to knock a wolf off a gutwagon, so Patton kept his distance for the time being.

“What is your pleasure, Señor General?” asked the proprietor of the gun shop.

“My pleasure is fucking, drinking whiskey, and killing gringos,” Fierro replied, evidently for Patton’s edification, “but what I came here for was to buy a rifle.” He was feeling particularly mean that morning.

The general pointed to the Springfield, and the store owner, somewhat unnerved by Fierro’s brazen response, handed it to him across the counter.

“Every time I leave this country I tell myself it’s for the last time,” Fierro said by way of conversation, “yet every time I leave, I return like a dog who returns to its vomit.” He began sighting the rifle to and fro and working the bolt action.

“It’s the finest infantry weapon in the world,” the proprietor told him proudly.

“It’s too short for me,” Fierro said.

“I can put a pad on it for you,” the owner offered.

“You don’t need a pad,” Patton interjected. “It’s supposed to be a little short. The reason is that when you fight in cold weather, as they’re doing in Europe, your clothing will make up the difference.”

“I don’t want it to fight in cold weather. And this is not Europe,” Fierro snapped.

“Suit yourself,” Patton told him, moving closer. “But I want to ask you a question. Your General Villa has kidnapped the children of somebody I know. What do they have to do to get them back?”

“I don’t know anything about that,” Fierro replied. “What General Villa does is his own business.”

“Well, I’ve got a lady here in El Paso who’s the mother of those children, and she just wants to know where General Villa is so she can talk to him,” Patton said. “If there’s ransom involved, maybe it can be arranged.”

“Tell her to arrange it with General Villa,” said Fierro. “He’ll turn up sooner or later.”

“And you don’t know his whereabouts?”

“If I did, I certainly wouldn’t tell
you
,” Fierro replied. He was examining the rifle closely, looking down the barrel and checking the sights. “How much is it?” he asked the owner.

“Just a minute,” Patton said. He had bellied closer to the counter and was looking at Fierro eyeball to eyeball. “Are you expecting this man to sell you this rifle so you can use it to kill American soldiers?”

“No,” Fierro said calmly. “I want it to kill jaguars in the canyons. For killing American soldiers, I use a stick.”

“Are you always this pleasant?” Patton inquired.

“Only when I’m in a good mood,” Fierro answered.

The two remained locked in a fiery gaze until Patton finally broke out in a sardonic grin.

“Okay, General—buy the rifle. I’d be interested to learn how well you can actually shoot it.”

“If you do, it’ll be the last thing you ever find out,” Fierro told him.

CROSSWINDS CHARLIE BLAKE HAD BEEN AT WORK
all night putting Arthur’s airplane together. First he hired half a dozen men to move it piece by piece from the railcar where Arthur had stored it to a hangar at the flying field on the outskirts of town. The hangar had no electric lights, so Charlie borrowed railroad lanterns to illuminate his task. By dawn he was prepared to see if the thing worked. Three spins of the propeller, and the Luft-Verkehrs sputtered, then caught. Charlie revved the throttle and the engine roared. He shut it off. Now there was nothing to do but wait. His landing needed to be timed with dusk.

Charlie had been skeptical about taking Mick Martin along, but Xenia’s voice couldn’t be ignored. The problem was that Mick’s added weight meant Charlie couldn’t take along an extra three cans of gasoline. He already had two spare cans, but had wanted the other three to be on the safe side in case he had trouble finding his landing spot. He also knew Mick would be stuck in Mexico once they landed, for better or for worse. For the return trip, there was no room in the plane for anyone but the children.

He found a shady piece of grass near the flying shack and lay down to grab a nap after being up all night. Charlie had been crushed when the aerial circus had moved on and left him behind. And now to be given a mission of the most delicate gravity—this was something Charlie could only have dreamed about. In his mind, he was the right man, in the right place, at the right time.

At two p.m. Mick Martin showed up in cavalry-twill pants and a mohair jacket, wearing a .38 revolver strapped to his waist. At two-fifteen they were in the air, flying into a white-hot Mexican sun.

SIXTY-TWO

A
rthur had selected five men to go with him on the rescue: Cowboy Bob, Death Valley Slim, two of the Mexican teamsters for their knowledge of the language, and Bomba. At noon they rode forward, and four hours later were in hiding positions in a drainage ditch at the edge of the lettuce field. Meantime, Bob had ridden back into the town for a last-minute reconnaissance. He returned vexed; Villa was no longer there.