Remember The Alamo by William W. Johnstone;J.A. Johnstone Page A

nightmare. I think I'll wake up and ... and Beth will still be
there.....
    Amber huddled against her grandmother's ample bosom
and began to sob. Dieter could have kicked himself. Amber
had held it together all through the funeral at the church and
the graveside service, and now he had gone and reminded
her of just how much they had both lost.
    Dieter's mother gave him a dirty look over Amber's shoulder, then walked away, patting the little girl on the back and
speaking soft words of comfort to her. Dieter's father just
looked vaguely lost, as usual.
    "I'm sorry, amigo," Dave said. "I didn't mean to-"
    Dieter lifted a hand to stop him. "No, it's all right. I'm the one who did it, not you. Anyway, how the hell can anybody
expect a six-year-old girl to lose her mother and not cry?" His
voice, though trembling, rose in intensity. "How can a beautiful, innocent young woman be murdered by savages and not
make any sane person want to cry?" Hot wetness filled
Dieter's eyes. "How could they do this? How?"

    Nobody had an answer for him.
    Dieter walked away from the grave, unable to stand being
there any longer. He stalked up a long, gentle hill toward a row
of trees at the top of the rise. Belko and Rodriguez went with
him, hanging back a little to give him some privacy, yet close
enough to be right there if he wanted to talk or needed anything.
    Dieter stopped in the sunlight at the top of the hill. He used
the back of his right hand to paw at his eyes. Lifting his right
arm like that pulled at the wound in his side, which was still
only partially healed. The doctors had assured him that he
would be all right, but the pain was still there.
    So was the one in his heart. It always would be.
    When he had recovered his composure somewhat, he turned
to Dave Rodriguez and said, "You're one of those Freedom
Riders or whatever they're called, aren't you?"
    "Freedom's Guard," Dave said.
    "Dave and his guys have been at the funerals of a dozen vets
I knew," Belko put in. "We owe them a lot."
    Dave shook his head and said, "No, we're the ones who
owe the debt, to the guys who have given their all. We're just
trying to pay back what little we can" He paused, then went
on. "What do you think of this business about the Alamo,
Dieter?"
    "The Alamo? What business about the Alamo?" Between
being wounded and in the hospital and grieving over his wife,
Dieter had no idea what was going on in the world these days.
    Belko knew, though, and he snorted in disgust. "Craziest damn thing I ever heard. We're gonna give the Alamo back
to Mexico!"

    Dieter stared at him. "Why would we do that?"
    "Ah, it's some stupid idea Mayor Alvarez and the president
cooked up "
    "The president of the United States?"
    "Yeah, Madam President her ownself. They figure that if we
make nice with Mexico and give back what we stole, even if
it's just for a few days, maybe the trouble will stop."
    "The terrorists who call themselves Reconquistadores, you
mean."
    Belko nodded. "Yeah."
    "The animals who murdered my wife and almost a hundred
other people."
    I told you it was a crazy idea."
    "Crazy doesn't begin to cover it. Those men should be
hunted down and shot like the mad dogs they are. They
shouldn't be rewarded for their crimes, even symbolically."
    Dave said, "The Mexican government has promised to find
them and deal with them"
    "Deal with them is right," Belko said. "No offense to your
people, Dave, but we both know the Mexican government is
in bed with the drug cartels and all the other criminals down
there"
    "My people are Texans, Belko," Dave said. "Your first allegiance isn't to Poland, is it?"
    Belko frowned. "Damn it, you know what I meant"
    "Yeah, I'm afraid I do "
    "Listen, what the hell are we doing, arguin' about politics
while Dieter here is going through the worst day of his life?"
    "No, it's all right," Dieter said. "I'm glad to know that our
government thinks so little of its citizens that it will belittle
their deaths