Bishop slid two across the table toward him. “Now that the United States has railroad tracks being laid in Mexico—due in large part to Lerdo’s generous concessions—the current state of affairs in Mexico is uncertain, to say the least. In the north, Luis Terrazas, as governor of the state of Chihuahua, has the support of the locals. The fact that he has gained their support by his rather generous use of federal taxes to establish a strong militia to fight the Apache, and has acquired a personal fortune, has not been missed by certain officials in Mexico City.”

“Nor by Díaz.” Steve leaned over and scraped a match across the floor, lit a cigar and squinted at Bishop through the curl of smoke rising in the air. He shook the match and tossed it into an ashtray. “Terrazas supports Lerdo as president. It will cost him if Díaz succeeds in his coup.”

“Yes, so it seems. See you ten and raise ten.” A crisp banknote slid atop the growing pile in the middle of the table. “It might be beneficial to any interested parties to have a foot in each camp, so to speak.”

“Mexico is already in chaos. I suppose it would be too much for our government to keep out of it.”

Bishop’s wintry gaze studied him dispassionately for a moment. “If I thought you were serious in your sudden distaste for our policies, I would be vastly concerned.”

“Hell, I am serious. Has it ever occurred to any of you that maybe we’re part of the problem, not a cure? It would make more sense to educate the citizens rather than kill those who disagree with the current regime.”

“‘Know in order to foresee, foresee in order to work,’ I suppose? Positivism at its best. A ‘Triumph and Study over Ignorance and Sloth’ motto that works well in theory, but is not always practical. You see, I am familiar with Gabino Barreda as well. A brilliant man with most intriguing hypotheses, but shortsighted in applying them to modern life, I fear.”

“Juarez didn’t think so.”

“Juarez is dead. And so, for the most part, is his effort to educate an entire country in Positivist philosophy. Despite Barreda’s noble efforts, it is far more practical to the rural youth to have enough food than it is to follow elitist dogma, however virtuous in concept it may be. I’m surprised you’d think it practical.”

“Not practical, just idealistic.” Steve grimaced. “I find that the thought of my own children growing up in a world where the first solution to disagreement is all-out war is somewhat daunting.”

“Ah. Yes, of course. You’ve become well-acquainted with your children now, haven’t you? How old are they?”

“That’s not the point.” Steve folded his cards, shoved them toward the middle of the table.