José dropped his fork. “How? How can that be? I’ve sat in on government meetings, I’ve heard the reports. That’s impossible!” José’s voice trailed off. “Oribe had his son-in-law doing the finances.” José and I shared a look of realization. This wasn’t good. “They trusted him,” he said to no one in particular. “I thought if they trusted him so much then maybe I should too.”

“You ignored your intuition,” I whispered.

“This is bigger than Uruguay.” Miguel cleared his throat. “Argentina and France signed a treaty.”

José leaned forward in his seat. “Why would France align themselves with a monster like Rosas?”

“Trade. Why else?” Miguel said. “A few years back a few French citizens got caught selling Argentinian cartography to Bolivia. The French ambassador demanded their release, which resulted in Rosas closing the French embassy.” Miguel took a big swig from his flask. “The French, being the proud people they are, decided to raise the stakes and blocked the port of Buenos Aires until their people were released from prison. It’s been two years and they are just now allowing ships through.”

“Well, now we know why Argentina wants to meddle in Uruguay,” I said. “They want our coastline.”

“Rosas won’t stop until he controls all of South America,” José said.

“José, we need you, my friend. We need you to organize the Italians. We want to create a legion comprised solely of our Italian brethren. There are so many of us from the old country here, and we want to fight for our adopted home, but we can’t do it without you.”

José studied his friend for a while before speaking up. “The people will need to become their own champions. I am a mathematics teacher now.”

“Please, you can’t tell me that you are happy playing house.” Miguel looked to me as I bounced Menotti on my hip. “I am sorry, I mean no offense.” He looked back to José. “I know you. I know you thirst for adventure. You can’t sit back and let history happen in front of you.”

“I am sorry, Miguel; my days of marauding are behind me. I have a family to take care of.” He poured more hot water into his mate gourd, trying his best not to look Miguel in the eye.

Miguel’s sharp eyes narrowed on my husband. “Well, I see I was wrong. I will not waste any more of your time.” Miguel bowed to me. “Senhora.” He placed his hat on his head and left.

I set Menotti in the parlor to play before I began clearing the plates. José continued to sit at the table. “You don’t have to use your family as an excuse, you know.”

“It’s not an excuse.”