Bishop’s cigar made an arc, gray ash drifting to the table to lie in a fine powder over cards and oilcloth. “Then what is the point?”

Impatiently, Steve reached for the bottle of bourbon, poured a half glass in a dingy tumbler and sipped it. “It should be fairly obvious. I’m ready for peace, not war.”

In the thick silence that descended on the room, Bishop regarded the men with an opaque gaze, his eyes moving from one to the other before coming to rest on Steve’s wary face.

“The situation in Mexico is dangerous. A few years ago, when the French were involved, the outcome was never really in doubt. We knew the French would not stay in a country that was not their own once the tide turned against them. But this is different. Díaz is Mexican, an Indian from Oaxaca just like Juarez. It’s his country—he’ll fight to keep it.

“There is an ancient principle of politics that a revolution devours its children. It happened in France during the Terror, and it happened to Maximilian in Mexico. During the Reform War and the French intervention as well, Díaz distinguished himself as the strong right arm of the Liberal cause. By the time the French were ousted, he was a general and well-known throughout Mexico. It was a matter of great pride to him that he was so influential, a staunch ally of Juarez until their estrangement.”

When Bishop paused, eyes squinting against the curl of cigar smoke, Tige tossed his cards to the table. “What happened to estrange them, if Díaz was so close to Juarez?”

A ring of smoke drifted into the air above the table as Bishop pursed his lips. “It was the kind of misunderstanding that causes wars and revolutions. When Juarez was making a triumphal entry into Mexico City after beating the French, General Díaz rode out to meet his old friend and mentor, wearing a brilliant uniform and riding a splendid white horse. It was a statement of pride, a triumphant moment when he expected, and rightly so, to be greeted with courtesy and gratitude. After all, he had been wounded twice, escaped capture three times, and for three years led forces that inflicted nine defeats on the imperialists. Not only that, he had gained a reputation for honesty by returning to the government an eighty-seven-thousand-peso surplus that had not been spent during the long Juarez campaign against Maximilian.

“But when he rode out to meet Juarez, the new president extended no greeting, no gratitude, but merely nodded curtly and signaled for his coachman to drive on. It was a crushing blow to Díaz’s pride, an undeserved humiliation.”

Tige whistled softly. “Did Juarez suspect him of treachery?”