The news I received from my Mexican rancher friend who lives along the Texas border broke my heart. In fact it was one of the most depressing conversations I’ve been part of. He called one of the twins, asking me to phone him. For those of you reading my blog for the first time. This man is a great Mexican, who is also a 8 or 9th generation Texan. His heritage goes back to when Spain settled Texas. Some time back he asked me to help stop the flood of illegals crossing his property. I had him put up signs saying in Spanish his dogs were killers. Then I helped him buy some bloodhounds from a dear friend. The dogs worked well, in fact so well some of his neighbors did the same thing. They all thought I was a genius. I probably agreed with them till I saddled a green horse and almost squeezed the horn in half hanging on. Horses have a way of bringing us back to reality.
Last night the old man was crying. His dogs were dead, shot by a sniper a couple of months back. Two of his prize bulls were killed by a sniper. Let me backup a tad on the story. After the dogs were killed he hired some men to act as security guards. Unknown to him these highly recommended warriors were on a double payroll. They were employed by the drug cartels and he was paying them to stop the rif-raf from passing through his land.
An older Mexican man, who had worked for the rancher thirty years learned the truth about the thugs. He caught them escorting some drug mules through the ranch. A drug mule is someone who carries the drugs across into the US and takes the money south. Two of the new security guards beat the old man within an inch of dying and told him not to tell. When he got home his wife dressed the wounds and asked him what happened. He tried to lie, but if you have ever been married you know you can’t lie to the little woman and make her believe. She may pretend, but deep down she knows if you speak the truth. Against his wishes she told the old rancher.
The old rancher questioned his new security force and after a brief conservation fired them. That night they returned and killed two of his best bulls. He can’t prove it was them, but the bulls were hidden out of the path of the drug runners.
He lamented, “Will, who can we trust?”
I didn’t have an answer. In truth who can you trust when large sums of money are involved? I do know some men he can hire who will be honest and they will stop the drug runners. But if he hired them, he would end up in jail. I know a company that hires retired Navy SEALs. These guys know honor and trust. They also know how to kill. As tempted as it would be for him to bury a few to stop the flow, I can’t help him with murder. This group of SEALs would not see it as murder, but an act of war. But that is not something I can live with. Life is given by God and not mine to take, unless it’s self-defense.
We talked for an hour or longer. I cried after I hung up the phone. He cannot win and stay out of jail. He has to kill a dozen or more to send a message, no drugs are going to pass through his place. If he takes steps to stop the flow, the government would go after him. His only hope is Obama will seal off the borders. The question remains, who can the old rancher trust? Who can any of us trust?