“I decided to walk. Where’s Paco?”

“He’ll join us soon. He had some errands to attend. Are you in?”

Steve pulled out a wooden chair, the legs scraping loudly across a bare plank floor, and sat down at the table, his back to the wall instead of the door. It was an old habit, learned years ago when he wore his .45s low on his hips and sat in far too many dangerous saloons playing cards with men who thought nothing of killing a man for five dollars.

For a short time they played cards in silence, Bishop, as usual, taking most of the pots. Steve knew one of the men at the table, a Westerner he’d met years before in Texas, but the others were strangers to him, introduced only by first names: Charley, Johnny and Tige. It was Tige’s place they were using for the meeting.

When Steve lost three aces to Bishop’s full house, he tossed down his cards in disgust and leaned back in his chair, balancing it on the two rear legs. “I’m beginning to think this night is going to be a total waste.”

Cool gray eyes flicked up to study him for a moment. Casually, Bishop said around the cigar clenched between his teeth, “Your dinner seemed pleasant enough.”

When Steve didn’t reply, Bishop continued. “Senator Brandon seems recovered from his injury now. I understand that he has acquired another home outside the city. Such a shame that he was incapacitated for so long while he recovered from that assassination attempt. But then, it was not meant for him at all, it seems, but Don Ignacio. A pity. So many bullets go astray these days.”

“Get to the point,” Steve said shortly, and met the cold gray gaze that came to rest on him. “I assume you have one. You always do.”

“Yes, I do. Your wife is acquainted with Porfirio Díaz, I believe.”

“As you well know, she worked with him as a French interpreter after Juarez took control of Mexico.”

“And she has also become acquainted with Lerdo. During her time spent in Mexico, she managed to make the…ah…acquaintance of quite a few influential men. But then, a woman as lovely as your wife would be a magnet to powerful men. It’s always that way.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed slightly, cold and blue, as he studied Bishop’s bland countenance. Coins clicked, sounding suddenly loud in the smoke-shrouded silence. Bishop dealt out cards with swift efficiency, speaking around the cigar stuck in one corner of his mouth.

“Do you still own land in Chihuahua? A ranch convenient for the Union Pacific to run their rails through?”

“As you no doubt know, I still own interests in both. I’ll take two cards.”