A Ballad of Love and Glory(82)
The nation has not yet lost its vitality. I swear to you I will answer for the triumph of Mexico if unanimous and sincere desires on your part second my desires. Mexicans! Your fate is the fate of the nation! Not the Americans but you will decide her destiny. Vera Cruz calls for vengeance! Follow me, and wash out the stain of her dishonor!
ANTONIO LóPEZ DE SANTA ANNA
Mexico
March 31, 1847
“I’ve had enough of this damn war, enough of Santa Anna,” Cheno said after Ximena read him the proclamation. His leg was healed enough that he could walk around the convent’s orchards without the use of the crutches, though he still needed a cane. Every day Ximena had accompanied him on his morning exercises so that he could strengthen his leg, and she was happy to see that very soon he would be able to ride a horse without too much discomfort.
“I’m not going to follow him anymore. I’ve done my duty. I almost paid with my life to wash away the stain of Mexico’s dishonor. But that won’t happen as long as that caudillo is in command.” Out of breath, he took a seat on one of the stone benches and massaged his injured leg.
“So you are giving up the fight?”
“Never! I will always offer my country my blood and never stop defending the Mexican name. One day, if I must, I shall start a war against our oppressors and fatten the land with their own gore. For now, though, it’s time for me to return to the Río Bravo and tend to the honor and interests of my family.”
“How?”
“General Canales and his guerrillas have offered to escort me north,” Cheno said. “Come with me. If we run into any Yanqui patrols along the road, Canales will be able to handle them. It’s the safest way to get home.”
Even though General Scott and most of the Yanqui forces were now in Vera Cruz, Taylor was still in Monterrey, holding possession of the city, probably until the war came to an end. The norteamericanos were still roaming Mexico’s northern lands and the skirmishes between them and the Mexican guerrillas continued to leave a trail of corpses and burned-down homes.
“When will you leave?”
“As soon as my leg permits it. I’ve asked Canales to secure us some horses, in case you desire to go home as well. Or have you other plans?”
“Do you mean will I go in search of John?”
“If I didn’t know the Irishman, I would say he was a fool. But I understand that his grief has blinded him, led him to believe he doesn’t deserve you. Being the good Catholic that he is, he will self-flagellate to kingdom come.”
“I can mend his body and do my best to mend his wounded soul, but what can I do for the anguish of his guilt-ridden heart?”
“Santa Anna then,” he said, taking the proclamation out of her hands to look at it, though, like Joaquín, he did not know how to read. His bad temper had gotten him in perpetual trouble at school. “Will you heed the caudillo’s call, as he implores you to do? I can see in your eyes, querida amiga, that you still haven’t given up on him, or your Irishman for that matter.”
She covered her face and sighed. “Perhaps I am the one who is the fool, Cheno.”
* * *
For the following weeks, Ximena thought about Cheno’s proposal to join him on his return home. Part of her wanted to go back to the rancho, though without Joaquín, she wasn’t sure how she could make it prosper again. The survival of the rancho had depended on the wild mustangs Joaquín caught and broke and the good mules he bred by using his best mares and jacks. She knew that Cheno would offer assistance, but he had his own family to take care of, and she didn’t want his charity.
Another part of her wanted to follow John. She understood his grief, his guilt, and she shared in his sorrow. Although she had never met his wife, Ximena felt compassion for her and yes, even guilt for being able to enjoy John’s presence, to receive his love and attention, while Nelly had been suffering thousands of kilometers away. They hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, especially that poor woman. Was being apart the price to pay now?
As for Santa Anna’s proclamation, she felt as Cheno did, that she had done her duty to her country. But she also hoped that their compatriots would answer Santa Anna’s call, especially those who had the means to do so. She hoped they would rouse from their apathy, to unite and chase the invaders off their land once and for all.
If she was now going to let go of everything—the rancho, the war, and John—there was another option for her to consider, one she’d tried not to think about until now. She could remain here with the nuns. They treated her kindly and took great interest in everything she was teaching them about the healing arts and the uses and spiritual powers of each plant. She enjoyed working in the convent’s gardens and had begun helping the nuns add more medicinal plants. Inside the convent’s high walls, Ximena felt safe, and she loved the solitude and tranquility of being away from the world, from its violence and heartache. What if she took the veil? What if she remained inside these walls forever and gave herself up completely to God? The convent could be a place of refuge for her. She could seek asylum here from all that had befallen her, and she could finally rest her weary body and soul. The nuns could be a new family for her, and she could have sisters with whom to share her joys and sorrows, sisters who would nurse her when she was sick, offer her a kind word or a smile. She could grow old here in this cloister, contentedly surrounded by her medicinal plants and flowers, in her small cell in peaceful meditation, and perhaps one day, God willing, she could die peacefully in her black robe in her sleep, surrounded by her sisters, and take her last breath amid the sweetness of their prayers and tears.