This is starting to feel like a book. Alternate history books set in the 1860s are bad to write. And not for the reasons you think! They’re bad because of the buttons. God help you if you get the uniform buttons wrong. God help you, because nobody else will…
If Nacho had similar concerns over his guns, he hid it well. “Tell me, Bailey,” he asked as they rode, “have you ever dealt much with bandits?”
“A few,” Bailey said, evenly. “Just never for long. Houston ain’t a settled-down place but we don’t let folks run too wild, either.”
“That’s what I thought. Up in Houston, you faced lawbreakers, thieves, murderers, people who cannot live in peace. Men with nothing to die for.” Nacho took a swig of water (Bailey reflexively followed suit. “Friend, we will not be dealing with those kinds of bandits. They will die so that their children might be free.
“And these are hard men — and some women, too; they can tell their own tales of outrages — who have lost much since the time of their fathers. They hate your former countrymen, but they do not love Yankees, and they do not have faith in the Republic, either. The band we are going to are not fools, so they will help us, to their profit. But they are not our boon companions. They will barely be allies.”
“Foolish of ‘em,” Bailey said. “I’m sorry, Nacho, but that is the truth. I understand why they wouldn’t feel obliged to tell one kind of gringo from another.” Especially since the USA grabbed everything from Texas to California and snapped up Cuba, too, he thought. Hell, you probably don’t like that much, either. “But Mexico and the Yucatan’s still in there, swinging. Who else do they got to watch their backs?”
“Well, as I said: these fighters, they are not fools. We will get their aid… once they know the price has been paid for it. Their word is good that way.”