The Creed of Violence

by Boston Teran

  Justice Knox looked into that pale stare. Burr was frail. The way he crossed his legs seemed at times effeminate. But he was not subject to intimidation.

  Burr sat quietly for now. He looked out upon the Resaca and a line of troops going about their drills on the dusty parade grounds. He blew on the tip of his cigarette, which pulsed intensely while he considered, then considered further, before he spoke.

  "I'm going forward on the basis that you're an honest man. Knowing full well honest men, sometimes the most honest, are in positions of default. The evidence, even as you lay it out, favors two possibilities. Because the munitions themselves can never be separated from the facts.

  "One possibility . . . the men at the meeting were part of an attempt to make a case for military intervention. Possibly heightening or exaggerating the evidence to make such a case. We might even conclude that Doctor Stallings was a rogue element working independently for such an end.

  "The other possibility ... in that meeting they were not making a case for intervention, they were creating a case for intervention. And they were not beyond using the most nefarious of methods to achieve such an end. And you know what that can lead to. Coup d'etat .. . assassination."

  Burr rose and walked to the archway. His sunken features were intently grave. "I do not envy your position. The public discussion of such matters would put you at the center of a controversy. That is the perfect battlefield for an attorney, but not the head of the B01, who represents not only his organization, but the government of Texas as well."

  While they faced each other a nurse pushing a wheelchair passed by. The patient, missing an arm and a leg, wasn't much more than thirty. He saluted both men in an offhanded manner. The wheels definitely needed oiling and when that sound was far down the shaded walkway, Burr said, "I've been told many of the permanents here served in Manila and Cuba. Was that war worth it?"

  "We're not discussing that war."

  "But we are in discussion."

  Justice Knox acknowledged that with a nod. He took off his glasses and rubbed at the pinch marks the frames left on his nose. Burr already recognized from previous meetings the gesture meant he was troubled and needed time to think.

  "I should never have sent John."

  "The practical application of strategy," said Burr.

  "It's not a question of his courage or dedication."

  "I know your worldview. The practical application of strategy has its place. But taken to an ultimate end do you know what else it can be?" Burr paused for a half breath to accent his point. "It's Washington not crossing the Delaware ... it's Lincoln not freeing the slaves."

  Wadsworth Burr took a last quiet draw on his cigarette then crushed it under the heel of his finely made shoes. "I will wait to hear where your thoughtful and, I'm certain, difficult deliberations take you before I determine a course of action for my client."

  JOHN LOURDES AND Wadsworth Burr returned to El Paso by train a month later. John Lourdes had received word he would be given a letter of commendation for "his dedication in uncovering the illegal shipment of arms to a foreign country." On that day, at that hour, the commendation and all it said and did not say was, to John Lourdes, mere dust in the wind.

  They drove in Burr's Cadillac from his home to Concordia Cemetery. Burr had taken it upon himself to have Rawbone brought back to Texas and buried beside John Lourdes's mother. The headstone was simple. It had his name and a bookmark of dates. The cemetery was on a flat plain, rough and with a few trees. The sky was crisp blue that day but the cemetery seemed so much more spare than John Lourdes even remembered.

  He stood there thinking, long and hard, on the deeply flawed and tragic history that was his father. A sweep of feelings went through him. Feelings he would have sworn unimaginable this lifetime. Loss above all, loss unfathomably raw, that reached to the very roots of his blood.

  "There was more of him in me," admitted John Lourdes, "than I ever imagined. Or would have ever believed."

  Burr nodded, then after a brief consideration, said, "It appears there was much more of you in him, than he might ever have imagined."

  With that, they started from the gravesite. Upon reaching the car, John Lourdes took a moment and glanced back at the grave, then toward the Rio Grande and the red cut mountains beyond.

  EPILOGUE

  N 1913 THE U.S. ambassador to Mexico, Henry Lane Wilson, was involved in plotting the coup d'etat that overthrew the Madero government and installed Victoriano Huerta and a government more favorable to business. He did this, it was claimed by President Wilson, without the authority or compliance of the U.S. government or any of its surrogates.

  IN 1914 WOODROW WILSON invaded Veracruz. It was over the fact that a handful of American sailors had been taken from a U.S. ship, but, in fact, it was his desire to overthrow Huerta, destabilize his regime and encourage the rebels.

  DURING THIS PERIOD, the price of oil per barrel doubled.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  WISH TO THANK the publisher, Charlie Winton, for the literary opportunity. I also wish to thank Tracy Falco of Universal, for the filmic opportunity.

  On a personal note: To Deirdre Stephanie and the late, great Brutarian . . . to G.G. and L.S. . . . to Charlie Cacique at the Agua Caliente Race Track, for the tip that led to Lazaro and so birthed this book ... and finally, to my steadfast friend and ally, and a master at navigating the madness, Donald V. Allen.

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