But Taylor’s troops had pushed past into the city through the other points of entry, taking the northeastern part of Monterrey the first day, the western part the second. They took possession of the higher ground — Fort Tenería, Fort Diablo, and the Bishop’s Palace — and the Mexican troops had fled, their own guns turned against them. On the third night, orders came to the gun crews at the citadel to hold their fire and hang the white flag from the ramparts. Dismayed that Ampudia was seeking to arrange a twenty - four - hour armistice with Taylor, the batteries in the
black fortress tarried in following the order. The citadel cannons had been the first to open fire, and they were the last to grow silent. Riley’s only consolation was that the Yanks never took the citadel. Later, after General Ampudia had sent one of his officers to solicit a parley, he claimed that in doing so he was putting an end to the distress of Monterrey’s citizens and preventing their slaughter. The cathedral was filled with ammunition and one more b last from the enemy’s cannons would have blown it to pieces, killing countless innocent people. Ampudia claimed it was for their sake that he was compromising Mexico’s honor. The truth was that the general had greatly underestimated the Yanks and had been outwitted. Now here they were, witnessing the humiliation of the enemy’s colors being hoisted up on the staff to fly over Monterrey. A cannon was fired by the Yankees, then another and another. All around him, cannons belched and recoiled in salute of the twenty - eigh t states of the American constellation. Riley watched as the Mexicans marched out of the citadel, and the Yankee troops marched in shouting their hurrahs and playing their patriotic tunes. He could scarcely hear the music, but in his head, “Yankee Doodle” played again and again, mocking him. Afterward, Riley made his way to the hospital to check on his wounded men and speak with Maloney. Questions swirled in his head. What would his countrymen say about the capitulation of Monterrey? Would they regret joining the Mexican ranks? Would they blam e him? As his horse forced its way over the rubble littering the streets and shell fragments, Riley couldn’t help but mourn the injury inflicted upon this beautiful city, the white stone streets stained red, the fallen trees, homes with crumbled walls and doors riddled with bullets, shattered windows and ruined balconies. The grief - stricken civilians were walking about, searching for their loved ones while others were loading what they could of their possessions onto their mules or their own backs. Riley wi shed to close his eyes to the devastation. What had been gained from these calamities — a premature surrender of the city? At least the terms of the surrender had spared him and his men from their worst fear — being captured by the Yanks, which would have meant sure death. General Taylor had agreed that all Mexican forces would be allowed to withdraw from the city with their arm s and a six - gun battery. He agreed to not pursue the Mexican troops for eight weeks. So Riley and his men would be allowed to march out of the city in the ranks of the Mexican Army of the North. At least for now, the deserters were safe. As he neared the cathedral, a crowd of civilians were gathered around it. Riley winced at the sight of the destruction inflicted upon this holy place of God, with its damaged clock tower and marred facade. But then he realized what the crowd was looking at . The Texas Rangers, violating the terms of the truce, were filing in and out of the cathedral on their horses as if it were
nothing more than a stable. They came out carrying crucifixes, sacred vessels, wax figures of the Virgin Mother and Child, and religious paintings. One of them was dressed in the sacred vestments, another was banging on the organ inside, pealing forth the most grotesque sounds. The townspeople pleaded for them to stop. The priests and monks on their knees, with a crucifix in hand, begged them to cease their barbarity and respect the house of the Lord. They simply laughed and continued their plundering. Riley now knew how his people must have felt when Oliver Cromwell invaded Ireland two centuries earlier, desecrating its churches, using them as stables. The seething rage. The impotence. He heard someone shouting. “Ye infernal scoundrels! ’Tis sacrilege what you’re doin’! May the curse of God be upon ye!” Even before he turned to look, he knew who it was. Maloney emerged from the crowd with a musket in hand and rushed at the Rangers. Riley tried to stop him but couldn’t get through the onlookers quickly enough. Before he could reach his friend, Maloney fire d at the Rangers, killing one of them. The Rangers trained their deadly six - shooters on the old man, pouring their bullets into him until they were spent. Riley halted his horse and watched as Maloney’s blood spread over the ground. The Rangers reloaded an d pointed their Colt re volvers at the onlookers. “Who’s next?” they yelled. “Who wants to try to stop us?” The crowd fled, and Riley took advantage of the chaos to try to turn his horse around before the Rangers spotted him. Suddenly, Ximena was there. Seeing Maloney slain on the ground, she screamed. She pushed her way through the crowd, hastening to where he lay, but Riley rushed to interc ept her. The Rangers would kill her. He knew it, and when he blocked her path and she looked up at him, she seemed to know it, too, for she reached for his hand. He pulled her up onto his horse and together they galloped away . When they reached the Río Santa Catarina, they dismounted and she broke down, sobbing. “Whist, lass, whist. We’ll make them pay for this. I swear it.” They sat by the riverbank and leaned against a boulder; the Sierra Madre range towered over them. Riley realized he no longer wished to live in this city, never wanted to return. Ximena stopped crying but wouldn’t utter a word. She stared at the river in d reary stillness and scarcely seemed to breathe. It affrighted him so much that he cupped her chin and turned her face to his. “Look at me, lass,” he said. “I know you loved the ould fella. He loved you as well, and he wouldn’t be happy to see you fallin’ asunder on account of him. He’d want you to be strong, to carry on. You hear me?”
She nodded gently. He pulled her into his arms, and it was as if he were gathering an armful of wild lavender and other fragrant herbs, for her delicate aroma was a healing balm on his spirit. They sat there by the river watching the current swirl and glid e past them. A crane swooped overhead and fluttered over the surface of the water, and Riley felt the gust of its flapping wings stirring the air. They beheld its flight as it ascended, weaving through the clouds tinged in gold from the afternoon sun until it was just a speck in the sky. “We will lose the war now, yes? The land is lost. And my husband and grandmother are gone, and now Jimmy is gone too.” “Nay. We’ve lost a battle, not the war. We will carry on, ke ep fightin’ in their honor.” She turned to face him, and he took out his handkerchief and wiped the lingering tears on her face. Her eyes red with sorrow. Her hair disheveled. And yet, she shone with a fierce beauty that overwhelmed him. She cupped his face, her fingers caressing his cheeks, tracing the outline of his bottom lip. With a groan, his mouth fell on hers, and she responded with the same ardor. He could taste the salt in her tears, the bitterness of her grief, then it all faded into the honeyed sweetness of her desire for him. He tore away from her, suddenly gasping for breath. “Arrah! We mustn’t. ’Tis wrong — ” She took off the red rosary beads she wore around her neck and put her fingers over them, her voice serene and comforting, like a warm embrace. “Creo en Dios, Padre todopoderoso, creador del cielo y de la tierra...” He leaned his forehead against hers and took her hands and the beads into his. “ Et in Iesum Christum, Filium eius unicum, Dominum nostrum, qui conc eptus est de Spiritu Sancto, natus ex Maria Virgine ...” They held each other in mutual sorrow, whispering their prayers over the rosary, until they could feel Maloney’s spirit take flight. A peace settled over them. He held her in his arms a little longer until finally they found the strength to get up and bury their dead. S eptember 1846 Monterrey, Nuevo León The following day, Riley joined the two - hundred - plus gunners lining up in columns at the rear of General Ampudia’s 1 st Brigade as they pr epared to leave the city. Over the course of the next few days, a division would march out of the city to San Luis Poto sí, three hundred miles distant, where they would meet their new commander — General Antonio López de Santa Anna. News had reached them that the former president of the r epublic had returned from exile and taken
command of the army. Ampudia was to assemble what remained of his troops and join Santa Anna. Once again, Ampudia had been demoted, and this time, Riley had no doubt that he deserved it. Riley was desperate to get away from the citadel and from the sight of the Yankee flag flying over it, from the graveyard where they’d buried Maloney rolled up in nothing but a blanket for want of a coffin, from the plains still littered with rotting corps es of humans and animals, from the shattered homes and ruined cathedral. He walked past the columns and took his place on one of the horse - drawn caissons carrying the six cannons they were allowed to take with them. They were leaving behind twenty - five fie ld pieces to the Yanks. Thinking about Ximena in the rear of the columns among the surgeons’ wagons, Riley wished she was here by his side so that he could watch over her. As the artillery waited for their turn to move out, Riley looked at the main plaza and the rooftops where thousands of civilians stood to see them off. They had lost their homes and possessions, their loved ones and their city. What cruel indignities would Taylor’s troops commit upon them, especially when those devils, the Texas Rangers, would be free to roam wild in the city and murder and plunder as they pleased? He could sense the fear of the wretched inhabitants, or perhaps it was his own fear at the thought of the Yankees lined up outside the walls of Monter rey to watch the defeated Mexican troops withdraw from the city.