Soldiers of Conquest (41 page)

The two men broke the final seals and began to read.

“My, God, this can't be true!” Trist exclaimed. “I've been ordered to cease negotiations with the Mexicans and return to Washington. The president says he's much disturbed by our lack of progress in obtaining a treaty.”

“My orders are equally astounding,” Scott said. “I'm to prosecute the war with increased energy. Now who would I battle for we have totally beaten the Mexican Army?”

Scott and Trist looked at each other, both stunned at the sudden turn of events.

Then Scott spoke. “Nicholas, all our plans are for nothing.”

Trist, his face showing disbelief, reread his letter. He looked at Scott. “Perhaps it is best that I go to Washington and discuss the situation directly with the president. The mail requires four weeks or so to make the round trip, and I think President Polk is getting too much slanted information from the newspapers and private reports from some of our officers.”

“The British have been working behind the scene to help us in our negotiations with the Mexicans and should be made aware of these developments. Colonel Lee, ride and bring the Britisher Thornton here. Ask him to come at once if it's possible for him to do so. Say nothing to him as to why I ask for his presence.”

“Yes, sir.”

Thornton came into the room flashing his usual broad smile. The smile faded swiftly as he saw the gloomy faces in the room. “What has happened?” he asked.

“Bad news, I'm afraid,” Scott replied. “Nicholas has been ordered back to Washington. And I've been ordered to restart the war.”

“But, general, the war is won. And you, Mr. Trist, must not leave. The negotiations have to be brought to a conclusion. To fail to seize this opportunity could indefinable postpone the settlement.”

“I'm a discharged official and have no authority to do that, and should I, I could be arrested for treason.”

Lee saw Thornton was shaken. The financial interest of the British had been hurt by the war and the occupation. They were actively trying to bring about a treaty and a speedy return to business as usual. Further the cash payment the Americans would make to the Mexican government for land taken would make a substantial reduction in the $26,000,000 owed the British.

“It's just as well that I go to Washington for the Mexicans officials don't seem truly interested in making a treaty with us,” Trist said.

“There are several reasons for their slowness in coming to terms,” Thornton said. “A large group of Mexicans want the Mexican Army substantially weakened and since you Americans have taken control of much of the country, it no longer plunders the people as it used to. And the church isn't so demanding in its request for tithes. The businessmen like the fact that you pay a fair price for the supplies you take for your army. You may not know it, but the city with General Scott as the ruler has never been run more fairly for the people. Most importantly, Mr. Trist, the commissioners and the president consider you an honest broker of peace and will eventually come to an agreement on the terms for a treaty. I assure you that we of the British legation will do all in our power to assist you.”

“Eventually won't do,” Trist said. “It's too late now. And they should know that there is much talk, and many editorials are appearing in our newspapers that we should annex all of Mexico as the right of our conquest. President Polk may soon come to the same conclusion for he isn't a patient man. In fact his order to General Scott to start the war again may be leading to that very end.”

“I've been hearing the same thing and that worries me,” Thornton said. “How will the negotiations proceed with you gone?”

“Pena will have to send the commissioners to Washington and deal with my government there.”

“They'll never do that.”

“Then I'll be forced to occupy the entire country,” Scott said. “And soon I will have the troops to do that. Then the Mexicans will lose everything.”

“I mist go immediately and see President Pena,” Thornton said and deeply concerned. “General, would you provide me an escort to Queretaro?”

“Certainly. Colonel Lee, go with Mister Thornton to Colonel Sumner's camp and see that an escort of twenty troopers accompany him.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mr. Trist, I urge you most strongly, please remain here and carry on with the negotiations.”

“That would be a treasonable act now that President Polk has taken away my authority to do so.”

*

“Eighty men were killed in the brothel district last evening.” General Scott's voice was a growl and his face was flushed with anger. He leaned forward over his desk and aimed his scalding glared at Colonel Hays. “Our investigation has shown to my complete satisfaction that your Rangers did the killing. They were seen entering the street where it occurred, and that was just minutes before the shooting began. It was a slaughter and there's no other way to describe what happened.”

The general slammed his hand down on the desktop. A pile of written reports bounced into the air and fluttered like crippled birds to the floor. He looked down at the scattered papers and scowled.

“One of my men named Adam Allsens was cut to pieces there,” Hays said. “Those Rangers that I questioned swear that they were fired upon when they went to find out who did the cutting. That they merely defended themselves against the thugs and pimps who run that district. That's permitted by your orders. And there's something I'd like to bring to your attention. The men call that place Cutthroat Alley for the reason dozens of Americans have been killed there. I'd say it was time those criminals were taught a lesson.”

Lee, watching the exchange between the two men, was impressed with the Ranger colonel's relaxed composure. He acted as if he was merely discussing the weather with the angry Scott.

“It's not up to your Rangers to teach them a lesson. That duty belongs to our patrols and the Mexican police.”

“Yes sir, that's who should do it,” Hays said. His tone stated clearly that the patrols and police weren't doing their job.

Scott rubbed his jaw and a flinty look came into his eyes. Then that faded and his usual gentlemanly expression came over him. “You may have a point there, colonel. Here's how we'll handle this. You'll put yourself and your regiment of men under the command of General Lane.”

Scott picked up a piece of paper. “I've prepared an order directing the general to be even more aggressive in his efforts to capture the leaders of the guerillas forces, Generals Rea, Paredes, Alvarez, and the renegade priest Caledonia Jarauta. He can use your men to help him do that for now with the Mexican army mostly disbanded and many of the soldiers having joined the guerillas, they're larger in number then in the past.”

“What about Santa-Anna, general,” Hays asked.

“He's on the top of the list. Find him and bring him before me. Look at Tehuacan first for I've had reports he's there. As for the guerillas, give them no quarter. I want them destroyed. Any man caught should be immediately tried by three officers and if there's no doubt as to his guilt of being a guerilla, execute him. Take what you need in the way of provisions and horses from the alcalde of the town nearest the place where you find the guerillas. Charge him three hundred dollars for each one of your men that's killed.”

Lee knew Scott had put together a tough, merciless group of men, and many guerillas would die over the next several weeks. Lane's mounted riflemen and the Rangers together would number about 350 men. Lane was the best of the regular army guerilla fighters. During the past weeks patrolling the National Highway, he had attacked General Rea at Atlisco thirty miles from Puebla and killed some 500 guerillas. A week later he had again caught up with Rea and killed thirty more. Then in a joint operation with the Rangers, they had attacked Izucar de Matamoros and killed eighty of General Alvarez men and freed twenty-three Americans. There had been many attacks on smaller guerilla bands. Though deadly in dealing with guerillas, Lane had changed from what he had allowed at Humantla. He had hung two of his teamsters for killing a Mexican boy, and hung one of his soldiers for murdering a woman.

“Do you have any questions?” Scott said.

“No, sir,” Hays said.

“Then carry out my orders.”

Hays saluted and left.

“The Rangers are as fine a company of fighting men as we have,” Scott said as he watched Hays disappear down the hallway. “But they can't be controlled,” he added with regret.

That unruly, vengeful attitude makes them what they are, thought Lee.

Grant and Charlolita rode horseback across the Mexican valley on a mild December day. The sun was a golden globe floating high in a clear sky. A gentle breeze barely moved the knee-high grass that surrounded them. Beyond Mexico City and over the faraway south rim of the valley, a thick blanket of dark gray clouds poured rain down upon the mountains.

The well-used road had carried them beyond the cultivated land of the valley center and now crossed over grazing land at the base of the northern mountains. Grant knew it led up through a pass and onward to Pachuca, a town some forty miles distant and known for its rich gold and silver mines. The man and woman rode at a gallop, Grant's favorite gait for a horse. With each bound of the horse, he felt its muscles coil and bunched between his legs and then release as mighty springs to launched the steed forward in long, graceful leaps. Grant much enjoyed the rocking motion of the horse's gallop.

He glanced at Char on his left. She rode effortlessly, head held regally erect and her supple body swaying easily to the stride of her steed. He had enjoyed her pleasant company several times since they had met at the celebration of the arrival of British Minister Percy Doyle.

Char looked, and catching Grant's eyes upon her, gave him a gorgeous smile and a wink. Then to Grant's surprise, she raised her face to the heavens and gave it a strong, lilting shout full of pure animal joy at being alive. Grant couldn't resist joining her, and turning his face up as she had done, gave the heavens a second joyous cry. He was pleased that he was alive with this woman at this moment in time.

They looked into each other's eyes without the slightest embarrassment for yelling at the sky. With the knowledge they were amazingly alike, they broke into laughter. Grant had found a companion with the same passion for life as he possessed, and that person was a lovely woman.

Char gave every sign of enjoying herself when with Grant, always quickly accepting his invitations to parties, dinners, and especially horseback riding as today. She had asked him to call her Char, explaining everybody else did for Charlolita was much too long of a name. He was surprised at the intensity with which she embraced life, as if she were having a last fling before some type of confinement. He was amazed at the degree of freedom she possessed to accompany him without a chaperon, though he had noted that this occurred only when they rode horseback away from the city, or went on one of the brightly painted canal boats to explore the city, or when she guided him to some small out of the way restaurants to dine. An older woman was always present in the background when they attended parties or gatherings of people.

The thought came unbidden that it could be an enjoyable life to remain in Mexico. Many other men had come to the same conclusion for there had been more than three thousand desertions since the army left Veracruz. As the weeks passed and the monotony of occupying a conquered city wore on them, some of Grant's officer friends had taken apartments in the city and found local girls to live with them full time.

Grant sensed Mexico wasn't to be his future, not even by being slain and buried here. Every enemy bullet had missed, whipping past with an angry hiss of disappointment at not being allowed to strike him. Not understanding how it was possible, he had believed fate that unknowable yet controlling element of every man's life, had something large in scope for him to do in the future. For now though, he was a soldier in a land conquered by his army and would make the most of it.

Char reined her mount off the road. A short distance later she halted by a spring in the shade of a grove of trees on the mountainside.

“Will this do?” she asked.

“For what?”

“For our picnic.”

Grant checked the height of the sun as if determining the time of day. ”Stop that, you know you're hungry,” Char said.

“Actually I'm starved. I thought you would never feed me.” Grant said with a laugh.

Grant stepped down from his horse. Before he could get to Char to help her dismount, she jumped down to the ground.

“You just take care of yourself,” she said with a mischievous light in her eyes. “I'm quite capable of getting off a horse.”

“I think you could do whatever you set your mind to.”

Char gave him a smile with her perfect lips, and turned to removing packets of food and a white cotton tablecloth from her saddlebags. In half a minute she had the picnic spread, sliced braised lamb, fresh bread, a dark wine, and peach pie. They ate leisurely talking and laughing.

From their position on the mountain, they could look down on the wide, nearly circular valley and Grant took out his field glasses to survey the wide sweep of land. The capital city was plainly visible. Lake Texcoco to the left of the splendid city caught the sunlight just right and sparkled like a great silver coin. Char pointed out the ranchos of relatives and friends. Her father owned one near Toluca. He had a stable of excellent horses and everybody rode, including Char's mother. Her uncle owned a sizeable wholesale business in Mexico City. Grant had discovered that he had purchased supplies for his brigade from the man, and once knowing who the man was, made more frequent purchases from him. Altogether her family was one of importance in Mexican society.