Soldiers of Conquest (39 page)

“Captain Walker's dead.” The man pointed at a body slumped on the ground at the edge of the group of Americans. “He was lanced in the side as we retreated here. He made it just this far.”

A storm of rifle shots erupted on the south side of town. Grant recognized the crash of American muskets. Lane and his Yankee infantry had arrived and entered the fray. They were a quarter mile away and fighting their way through the town.

The shooting swelled for a few minutes and then gradually slackened. One of the companies of Lancers retreated. Others saw the first leave and they, too, rode away. The Mexican infantry melted away among the houses and off along the streets. The shots from the buildings stopped. In a moment the Americans stood alone with their dead and wounded.

General Lane stomped up and down in front of the eight tents of the field hospital set up on the main street of Humantla. He was a big, burly man wearing an worn blue coat and a black hat. A brace of pistols were buckled around his thick waist. He frequently cast a piercing look into the opening of the larger operating tent to gauge the progress of the surgeons with their instruments working swiftly on the wounded. Now and again he looked in the opposite direction at the blue clad body of Walker and others of his men that lay in a row on the pavement.

Except for the squads patrolling the borders of the town, the remaining men of his army was gathered in silent platoons and companies on the street close by. His staff officers stood nearby in a solemn rank as they watched the angry general. Not far off the wagon train was drawn up in the town square.

Two orderlies gently lifted the last wounded soldier, unconscious from the pain of the operation, and laid him on a stretcher. They carried him to one of he hospital tents. The chief surgeon came out of tent and onto the street.

“Is that the last one, colonel” Lane asked.

“Yes, sir,” said the surgeon with a sad voice. “We've done as much as we can for them.” He removed his bloody smock as he watched Lane for it was obvious he was going to speak.

Lane faced his officers. “Our wounded have been tended to. Our dead have all been found. This has been a costly battle. Captain Walker and many of his men have been killed. The Dragoons and Rangers have also suffered losses. Santa-Anna led the attack and has escaped again. But we'll catch him.”

The general hesitated and his hard eyes swept over the gathering. He pointed at the men drawn up in long rows both ways along the street, and then at his officers. His voice crackled with hatred. “This town belongs to our men. They've paid for it with their blood and may take what ever they want from it. The women, the gold, the silver. Anything and everything. I want this place to remember the day they helped Santa-Anna. Go tell the men exactly what I said.”

Lane called out in an even harsher voice. “This town is theirs and yours!”

*

Grant listened to the blood roar of the male hunting pack, deep and savage, coming from all parts of Humantla. It had gone on for better than an hour now as the Americans stormed through the town, yelling wildly as they destroyed and pillaged. He heard a woman scream now and again and his nerves crawled. Pistol shots rang out as soldiers fired their weapons in exuberance of their license to plunder and rape. Or they could be signaling a Mexican dying while defending his possessions and womenfolk.

The dusk of the day had fallen upon the town and Grant lay on a feather tick bed in the shadow filled room of some unknown family's home. Where had the people gone? Had they run from Santa-Anna, or later, during the attack of the Americans? It didn't really matter. Civilians were expendable during combat. But General Lane had been terribly wrong in his deliberate violence against the civilians after the battle had ended. Grant scowled at himself; that was a fine line to draw in war. However he wanted no part in further hurting the people of Humantla.

The door of the room opened and a young woman, more a girl stole into the room. Grant didn't stir, watching her closely and saw that she held no weapons. Watching the door, she sank down to huddled by the wall and cocked her head to listen. Her face was stark and she trembled with fright. The girl's fear saddened Grant.

A man shouted close by and a second answered. Grant heard running feet drawing nearer. The girl hunkered lower and seemed to shrink into herself.

The door was hit a powerful blow by a shoulder and slammed open half torn from its hinges. Two of Walker's mounted riflemen stormed inside.

Grant snatched up the two pistols lying on the bed by his side. He cocked them as he sprang to his feet.

The men slid to a halt in the center of the room. One of them was but a body length from Grant. His face blanched as he looked down the barrels of Grant's pistols.

“Hold it!” Grant commanded. He looked past the nearer man to make sure the second one wasn't drawing a weapon. Then swiftly back to the first man.

“Goddamn! I'm sorry lieutenant,” said the man. “I didn't know you were here.” He spun to the rear and shoved his cohort. “Let's get out of here.”

The two men lunged out the door and were gone

The girl stood rigid, surprised by Grant's presence in the room. She turned to the open door and edged toward it. She halted on the threshold and stared into the dusk, listening to the cries and noises outside and the danger that she knew existed there.

Grant spoke in Spanish to the girl. “You may stay here and be safe.”

She gave no sign she heard his words. A pistol exploded close by and she began to shake.

“You will be safe here,” Grant said again. “Please shut the door.”

Watching Grant over her shoulder, the girl closed the door.

She gave no sign she heard his words. A pistol exploded close by and she began to shake.

“You will be safe here,” Grant said again. “Please shut the door.”

He saw her hips and breasts moved beneath the printed calico dress as she moved to comply with his request. She had light brown skin, black eyes set in a pretty face and all together quite attractive. He understood why the two men had chased her.

As she closed the door, Grant lay back down on the bed and propped his head up with a pillow. She took a seat on a chair and sat tensely, poised to dart away if he should move toward her.

Weariness from the battle and the long ride from Mexico City lay upon Grant. Lulled by the softness of the feather tick mattress, he half watched the girl and half dozed.

She was examining him through slitted eyes. He saw her look at his pistols lying on the bed beside him. It might not be wise to go to sleep with the girl here.

The door swung quietly ajar. Cavallin peered inside. He looked at the girl on the chair, and then at Grant who had sat up quickly with his guns when the door opened.

“Well, Sam, I see you found one, but she seems a little bashful.”

He turned to the girl and held out a bottle of tequila. She came hesitatingly and took it. Cavallin winked at her, motioned at Grant, and spoke in Spanish. “Take this to him and be friendly for he'll be kinder to you than anyone else will.” He left closing the door.

Grant had understood Cavallin's words and didn't like him ordering the girl about. Even as that thought came, he felt a stir of excitement, of anticipation at what she might do.

She came to the edge of the bed and held out the bottle to him. “Tequila,” she said and tried to smile.

She is a woman trying to survive in a time of war, thought Grant as he saw the timid smile she gave him as he took the bottle. He recognized the fragile curve of her lips as a signal from a woman to a man. She was offering the only currency she possessed, herself, in exchange for protection from the brutality of the conquerors. He accepted the offering and the condition attached to it. In this time and this place of savage violence and death, it was the only thing to do. Grant reached out and took her hand and gave it the gentlest of pulls. She came willingly down on the feather tick beside him. She pressed her bosom against him, and then the full length of her body.

Regardless of the circumstances of why she was here with Grant, the feel of her in his arms, his hands exploring the mounds and curves and hollows of her warm and pliant body, sent his desires soaring.

*

Lee hadn't seen Scott in such high spirits since the day he had marched into Mexico City as the commander of the conquering army. Scott with General Lane in tow was moving from one group of men and women to another and talking in a jovial manner with them. Some two hundred people; influential Mexicans, American officers, and foreign residents were gathered at the large, rambling hacienda of Alberto Salazar a wealthy business man of the capital who was throwing the party to celebrate the arrival of Percy W. Doyle the new British Minister replacing Bankhead who had left for England.

On a broad stone paved area adjacent to the hacienda, tables and chairs had been set up and an elaborate feast with food and wine of many kinds had been prepared. Servants stood ready to serve. Once the sun hid its warm face and the evening cooled, there would be dancing. Beyond the paved area were well-tended grounds with flowerbeds, trees, and a winding path leading down to the shore of Lake Texcoco two hundred yards distant.

Scott had reasons of his own for his festive manner. Four commissioners had been approved by the Mexican Congress to carry on negotiations for the treaty. General Lane had whipped Santa-Anna at Humantla, and then quickly lifted the siege of Puebla. Santa-Anna, following his defeat, had been removed as commanding general of the Mexican Army and told to make himself available to stand before a board of enquiry for his conduct of the war against the Americans.

Lee's companion at the celebration was Elizabeth Thornton. He spent much of his free time with the lovely woman and found her a very pleasant companion.

Lee had never seen so many beautiful women in one place at one time. Many of the officers had come with ladies on their arms. For men that had come alone, carriages were arriving one after another to stop in front and deliver another family with a marriageable age young woman. The moment the women placed their feet on the ground, their eyes darted about to examine the scores of American officers in dress uniforms. They smiled, obviously liking what they saw. The attraction between the officers and the women was a palpable force filling the space between them. Lee noticed more than one set of bright eyes showing interest in him. However he had a woman that satisfied him abundantly.

McClellan had arrived escorting Nachita Alaman, General Alaman's niece. She seemed but a schoolgirl, but then McClellan wasn't much older than the girl. Meade and Pickett, and Longstreet who limped slightly from his wound, showed up without lady friends. Beauregard came with Emerine Dupois, daughter of a member of the French Legation. Hooker appeared and catching Lee's eye as he went by, gave a knowing grin telling that he believed that this party should provide the opportunity for a conquest among the beauties.

“A glass of wine would be nice, Mr. Lee,” Elizabeth said and took Lee by the arm. “And then let us go and talk with your General Scott.”

“I'm sure he will find pleasure in talking with such a beautiful lady.”

Elizabeth laughed lightly and squeezed his arm.

As he approached the wine, he saw Grant put down an empty glass and march off toward a group of young women that were talking among themselves.

*

Grant noticed upon arriving at Salazar's party that there were more women than men. That bode well for the evening. He approached the women who had no male escorts and had gathered together in groups of four or five and were talking. He would choose one from among them.

General Lane's division with the Dragoons and Rangers had reached Mexico City the day just past. After the defeat of Santa-Anna's army, Lane had remained in Puebla three days, and for all that time the Rangers and cavalry had been in the saddle from daylight to dark and scouting the surrounding countryside. Three times they had encountered companies of Mexican soldiers that had stood and fought. The Americans had sent them running. Guerillas were treated differently from soldiers. In a town where the Americans fought and defeated guerillas, the town was burned for harboring the guerillas.

Grant missed a step as he observed one of the girls scrutinizing him with a keen interest. To his amazement she came toward him a short distance before abruptly stopping. She glanced quickly at the other girls, then back to Grant. He recognized the girl as the one that had endured his poor dancing at Toluca. His heart did tattoo against his ribs. He lifted his hand to her and hastened forward.

“I'm surprised to see you here,” Grant said in Spanish as he clasped her offered hand. “But I'm glad that you are.”

“So am I. My uncle lives in the city and I'm staying with him now.”

She was telling Grant that she would be here for a time. “My name is Ulysses Grant.” He should have told her his name at Toluca.

“Mine is Charlolita Paz.”

“Charlolita Paz,” Grant said. “That has a nice sound to it. Would you walk with me?”

“Certainly. Where should we go?”

Grant pointed at the grounds with the flowers and the path leading down to Lake Texcoco. “To the lake, if that would be all right.”

“That should be an enjoyable walk.”

Grant held out his arm for her to take. Keep it formal until later.

As Grant and the girl strolled down the slope, the sun rolled down the last length of its ancient sky path and disappeared behind the lava mountains surrounding the valley. The big stars came out in the evening dusk. An orange glow formed on the eastern horizon, heralding the rise of the full moon. The evening was turning out to be a beautiful one.

Grant took hold of the girl's hand and she didn't pull away. A good first step toward friendship.

Grant sat on the rocking chair with his feet braced on the sill of the open window in Chilton's quarters and rocked back and forth and gazed out at the valley of the Aztec's. He was impressed by the striking beauty of the land lying within its sheltering circle of mountains; the three lakes, the city with its canal streets, large buildings painted with bright colors, and the hundreds of farms with their fields and orchards. What it needed was a government that worked for the people instead of for the self-interests of the politicians, the army generals, and the church officials.