Los Otros Caminos (The Other Roads)

This would be much, much harder if not for Pam, who has invested a huge amount of time in making transcripts of everything. Thank you!

As usual, Senselesswords has been tremendously supportive. Her help with titles is fantastic. Thank you!

October 13, 1814

Diego

The kitchen was a mess. Crockery was all over the floor and Nuela, never the most solid of women, was weeping over a small pond of oil. The jug must have fallen from the table; it had splattered quite a bit. Maria sighed and rescued a sack of flour from the spreading pool, but it was probably too late to salvage most of the contents.

Diego sighed and led Nuela over to a chair. She looked up at him with moist eyes. "It's just so terrible, Don Diego. The entire shelf went over. And that oil - the jug was full, and it was the expensive - "

Diego smothered his impatience and forced himself to joke. "Father is hardly going to take it out of your pay. He did notice the earthquake. Accidents happen." He handed her a handkerchief. She sniffed bravely. "Come now, it's just a little mess. Things could have been much worse. Let's get this cleaned up, shall we? There must be some way to soak up the worst of it...Straw?"

Maria started to answer but Felipe burst in just then, his hands fluttering like a flock of birds. He fingerspelled much of the message, something he avoided unless he urgently needed to be specific or he was trying to say something sensitive: "I can't get near him! He is wild!"

"What's wrong," Maria asked worriedly.

"Some of the animals," Diego answered. "I'll take care of it." He put an arm around Felipe's shoulders and drew him swiftly along the passage, through the dining room, and into the library. When Felipe turned toward the fireplace, though, Diego caught his hand. "No, I can manage Toronado. You go on out and check on the sheep - Father's ugly ones. Yes, they're probably fine, but make sure. And check the well. Carefully. I will be all right."

Felipe answered with a worried look but hurried off to obey anyway.

As soon as he released the secret door Diego could hear the solid, regular thumping of Toronado kicking the half-walls of his stall. He winced. No. Felipe couldn't have handled that, as good as the stallion usually was for him.

The lantern was covered and sitting neatly on the top step. Diego retrieved it and opened the shield. The workshop was not in as bad as a shape as the kitchen, but one of the shelves had come down (it shouldn't have, it had been secured to the wall, but never mind, this wasn't the time to wonder about it) scattering broken bottles and books. There were bits of rock on the floor, too: some of the ceiling had come down. There was also a definite smell of turpentine. Not strong (probably only one of the bottles had broken) but he had to get Toronado out of here, because who knew what else had broken.

In the lower level, Diego put the lantern down and paused beside the little stall. Instead of calming or coming toward him, Toronado flattened out his ears and kicked the back barrier so hard that the nails squealed.

Diego gave the whistle signal to lie down.

Toronado whipped his head around and snapped at him. It would have been a serious bite, if he'd been able to reach.

Diego took a single step back. "You want me away, I'll go away," he said gently. "But I think you want to go outside...and we can do that, if you let me help you. Come on, now. Easy, boy." He stepped forward again. One step. The ears didn't relax, but Toronado didn't try to bite this time. "Easy, boy." Diego patted his pockets, but of course he had no apples or carrots. He started to hum.

Toronado snorted and pawed at the ground.

Humming, Diego slowly took another step forward. He ran his hands over the little gate, trying to look as though he had all the time in the world and wasn't worried at all...certainly wasn't thinking of the possibility of an aftershock and another chunk of the ceiling coming down. He hummed a little louder.

Toronado's ears were not quite so tight to his head. Diego opened the gate, and when Toronado didn't complain, stepped through it. "Easy boy. Settle down. Let's just go for a walk outside? Toronado." The ears were up at last, but the eyes were suspicious. Diego laid his palm against the sweaty neck. Toronado shivered. Diego hummed again, softly.

Stroking, humming, taking his time, Diego removed the hackamore and replaced it with the bridle and medium bit Zorro used on forays. By the time he was finished the ears were upright. Rather than calm him down enough to mount bareback, Diego immediately led him down the passage and out into the open air of the ravine floor.

Outside it was cool and cloudy, but this time of day the ravine was shaded anyway. The bushes along the wall were greening up from the fall rains. The creek was running, but it was narrow enough to step over. It looked very peaceful and safe. Toronado gave a horsy sigh and rested his broad jaw against Diego's shoulder.

"Good boy," Diego muttered. "See? Everything's fine." He walked Toronado up and down for a while, then led him to the water for a good drink. It occurred to him that no less than three de le Vega stock pens were within a quarter mile of where he stood. It would be so simple to slip him in with the other horses, and with all the cleanup from the quake, no one would notice for a few days. They certainly couldn't keep Toronado in the cave right now...

But Don Alejandro would notice. Even now, he would notice. He knew every animal by face and gait; he wouldn't have to count or check brands. And if he wouldn't tell anyone that he Zorro's horse in his herd, well, he would still wonder.

So, no, it was out of the question. They would have to tether Toronado out here, which meant checking on him often and praying that this wasn't the week someone wandered down into the little ravine looking for strays.

Diego settled Toronado, retrieved his lamp at the cave entrance, and went back inside. He didn't want to linger, but he did want to at least get a picture of how much damage was done. The chunk of ceiling that came down didn't seem to be much larger than a bed pillow, but part of it had struck the corner of the shelving unit on its way to the floor, and of course it had not been books stored there, but bottles.

What a mess.

Bracing himself against the worktable, Diego squatted down and held his light over the broken glass. He smelled the turpentine, but nothing else, so random and unpredictable reactions probably weren't happening right now on the floor. That was something, at least...

Well, that had survived; a little brown jar of dried mullin. And a tiny, tiny bottle of Felipe's precious rose oil. But the broken bottle of turpentine had been full - by the look of the puddle - and it had soaked the scattered contents of the fallen packets and the other broken jars.

This envelope had been full of carefully labeled samples of soil, mostly soaked and completely contaminated. That package had been salt, likewise contaminated.

A clear glass bottle full of iron filings, now spread across the floor: it made sparks when you packed it into an explosive. Possibly...it could be somehow...washed?

A tiny brown jar of cochineal - oh, that was expensive, and the only other supply he had was in his paint box upstairs, and the thought of donating that to science was wrenching - mixed with - what was that? he'd had about two ounces of low quality cinnabar. Well, it was all spoiled now.

A covered basket that had been full of rosehips. They were ruined now, but anyway, they were easily replaced.

A large brown jar, shattered to pieces except where the gummed label kept it together.

Oh. No.

Diego's hand shook a little as he lifted the bit of broken glass out of the muck that resulted when you mixed turpentine with powdered bark. Cinchona officinalis.

Ruined, all of it, he realized with a stab of anguish.

They had kept the precious medicine in a dark jar; in a cool, dry place; on a stabilized shelf; in the most secure room in the house...and a chunk of ceiling had fallen down on it.

If only they had kept it somewhere else, in Diego's room or even three feet to the left. Or if only they had not stored it all in one place. Or if they had stored in a box, rather than a jar. It wouldn't have been as safe from the air, but a box would not have broken.

If only Don Alejandro had never contracted malaria.

"If only" was a complete waste of time. All of the cinchona bark was ruined. What they had left was a very small bottle of the tincture, which was not nearly as good and would not last very long.

When the twins had been young they had been sheltered from the ugly truths of their father's illness. Diego had been sixteen before he'd seen his father in the throws of delirium. He had had to buy a medical book in Madrid before he learned just how dangerous - just how deadly -

"Diego?" Footsteps coming down the stairs. "Oh, for pity sake, Diego. You don't stay in a cave after an earthquake. And what are you messing around with by yourself? I smell turpentine. You don't now what it might be reacting with - " 'Berto broke off as Diego lifted his head and met his brother's eyes. "What's happened?"

Diego held out the remains of the cinchona jar. 'Berto lifted the lamp for a better look. His breath caught. "Mother of God, have mercy," he whispered, "all of it?"

Diego couldn't bear the fear in his eyes, so he looked away. "Yes."

'Berto swallowed. "Father may have a supply."

"He may. I doubt it. He thinks it is very dangerous."

"More dangerous not to have it... Damn." He took a deep breath. "Well, we are not cleaning this up today, and you are not staying in this cave. Up." He seized Diego by the upper arm and hauled him to his feet. Too fast: the world spun at once, but Gilberto was still bracing his arm, so Diego ignored the dizziness. Harder to ignore was the headache. It felt like a spike through the middle of his forehead, but that was just from the turpentine. He ignored it as well and let 'Berto lead him up the stairs.

This time the dizziness got worse instead of better. In the daylight of the library, 'Berto glanced at Diego's face and promptly angled him into a chair. "Did you miss a dose?" he asked sternly.

"I do not miss doses."

"Things have been a bit chaotic - "

"For less than an hour. My dose at lunch time - "

Gilberto lifted a hand. "As you say, then." And, more gently, "What do you need?"

"To sit a moment, that's all." Diego took a deep breath. "What is Father doing?"

"Emptying the barns into the different pens and paddocks. Just in case."

Diego's head came up. "So none of the animals are where they should be?"

'No, it's quite a juggle - " and then he saw where the thought led: "Toronado?"

"For a few days, perhaps. I don't like the idea of leaving him alone and tethered below the house like this."

Gilberto shook his head slowly. "Ooooh. I don't know, Little Brother."

"We'd have to put him in with mares. You know his temper."

A short laugh. "Shame it isn't breeding season. What a gift for Father that would be."

"He still might notice, 'Berto. Or Juan might."

"They might identify him...but what of it? So Zorro took his horse out of the barn - everyone will be doing it. And hiding him in plain sight, ah, well...Father hasn't made a secret of whose side he is on."

"Tonight, then - " abruptly the world tilted and swayed and Diego gripped the arms of the chair, trying to fight off the full faint that was descending on him. To his surprise, Gilberto grabbed him by the waist and heaved him to his feet, half-dragging him to the archway between rooms. Gilberto lurched and stumbled, no more steady on his feet than Diego himself.

Which was when Diego realized that it was another quake, and not his illness that made the world tilt and heave.

'Berto shoved him against the inner wall and pinned him in place. Diego could hear teeth grinding in his ear.

And then it was over. The world stilled and the silence stretched out -

And Gilberto was shoving Diego toward the front door, not that Diego needed any urging, but Gilberto wouldn't let go just the same. He only stopped when they were in the front courtyard, where he looked up at the sky and shuddered.

Diego looked at the house, still standing, as it had all is life. He looked over at the barn and the unmoving hills. He looked at 'Berto, pale and in a cold sweat. "You never used to be afraid of earthquakes."

"Yes, well. That was before you made me study engineering."

Father came racing around the house at a dead run. When he caught sight of the twins he stumbled to a halt and stared at them. After a moment he continued across the courtyard more slowly. "All right?" he asked, breathless, looking from one to the other.

Gilberto dropped his eyes and nodded. Diego found himself smiling. "It has been a very interesting day."

Father patted him on the shoulder. "Holding up all right?"

"There are some serious problems we need to deal with, Father. But it could have been much worse."

The quiet was broken by Felipe and Pepe running the long way around the barn. Their knees were covered in grass and mud. "It happened again," Pepe wailed.

Don Alejandro bent down to hug Pepe as though he were a much smaller child, and Diego opened his arms to Felipe. "Yes, sometimes it happens like that, and these were quite strong," Diego said calmly. "However, we are completely safe as long as we are in the open air."

Felipe shoved him back angrily. "Were you in the house?" his agile hands demanded.

Diego sighed. "There were things that had to be checked on. In retrospect, I should have moved a bit more quickly. And no, it's not as bad as what you are thinking." Gilberto had, after all, dragged him out of the cave before the tremor.

"We will all be sleeping outside tonight," Father said. "Bed rolls and camp cooking, like a round-up. We'll make a fiesta of it." He raised his voice. "Juan?"

Juan appeared at once. He was covered with dust and bits of straw and he looked...much older than Diego usually thought of him. But he was a few years older than Father, wasn't he? "Yes, Patron?"

"Have the men butcher a steer. We'll cook out in the air."

Juan brightened. "I think there are some strawberries already. Maybe some early melons?"

"Yes, exactly. The next few days may be a bit...trying, but worrying won't help." He and Juan began to make plans for several days of unusually comfortable camping out.

Diego glanced at them, then said pointedly to 'Berto, "You need to go over the outside of the house courtyards and check for damage."

Gilberto frowned, not understanding. "Father already - "

"Not the northeast side, with all the scrub. And the garden wall, along the ravine - quite a mess if that wall goes. It's rather hard to negotiate, but it has to be done sometime."

'Berto considered. "Now? It might be better to wait until evening."

"You have an excuse now," Diego said more quietly. He said, "Tied. Alone. Helpless," with his fingers while saying out loud, "It shouldn't be difficult."

Gilberto rolled his eyes. "You are such a worrier." He raised his voice slightly. "Very well, I'll go check around the side."

"Thank you."

Gilberto went off to see about Toronado.

Alejandro

On the path to the paddock, he saw a tall figure coming the other way; Gilberto. He wasn't dressed for working, but his jacket was off and his sleeves were rolled up. As he got closer Alejandro could tell he looked like he'd been dragged backward through a bush. He supposed he didn't look much better himself, none of them had been prepared for today...

"Everything all right up there, Son?" Alejandro asked as he came closer.

He glanced over his shoulder at the corral. "They seem to be all settled in." He stepped to the side, "Want to have a look? I'll walk back up with you?"

Alejandro took a deep breath. He wanted to look at everything at once, speak to everyone, make sure...

Make sure...

But he had been to each corral near the house. He'd sent a messenger up to the vineyard. He'd checked the house and the breeding barn and the sheds...

He glanced past Gilberto up the hill, where he could just make out the fence. Then he glanced at Gilberto. He was unpredictable and moody, but when he took it upon himself to be reliable and competent, he did a very thorough job of it. He sighed. "No. I'm sure it's fine." He turned and allowed Gilberto to come up beside him before starting back toward the makeshift camp Juan was organizing in the field across from the house. "How is Diego holding up?"

Gilberto sorted. "With more grace than I am. He's fine. Earlier, I found him serenely sorting through - " He broke off abruptly.

"'Berto? Something wrong?"

"We lost a shelf full of supplies. Including almost all of the cinchona we had."

"Are you expecting me to be upset? I never liked that Diego was taking it. It's far too dangerous."

Gilberto scowled at him. "Regulating the heart isn't its primary use, Father."

"It's dangerous for the other, too." He shook his head. "I saw things in Panama."

Gilbert stopped him, a hand on his shoulder, his voice very quiet. "There is a shortage in California. It may be months or even years before a shipment arrives. Malaria," his voice tripped over the word, "is fatal more than half the time if it is not properly treated."

Afraid. Gilberto was afraid. He always had been, but before, it had fallen to Diego and Felicidad to confront the worst of it. Alejandro sighed. "And will it help to worry about it?"

Gilberto looked mulish.

"Shall we panic, then? Shall we wind Diego and Felipe and Juan and Maria into a frenzy? Nuela always makes quite a scene when she gets upset - "

"Father, you know that's not - "

"There is nothing we can do about it. Nothing. Nothing I can even do to avoid - But, 'Berto, it may not even return this year or next. Or I might be kicked in the head by Spotted Demon tomorrow."

Gilberto clinched his teeth and stared hard at the sky.

"You know I'm right."

"Yes, I know."

"So, today, let's worry about the earthquake."

After a moment, Gilberto took a deep breath and met Alejandro's eyes. "So, how is the line camp coming along?"

Don Alejandro made a point of smiling. "Oh, it looks like no line camp I've ever seen. Juan has...been taken by a fit of enthusiasm. In that little stand of trees he's rigged some tents for the women to have some privacy. He's set up benches, for musicians to sit on later, and left a large space empty for dancing. He really does plan to make a party of it. You should see the size of the steer they are getting ready to roast."

"Well...that's probably best, I suppose. The alternative is just to sit around all night waiting for the ground to shake. Bad enough if it were just the ranch hands, but there will be families." He sighed.

"And tenants. And any of our neighbors who want to join us. Jose Macias sent down his family; a couple of little sinkholes opened up, and he's nervous about the children."

Gilberto cursed softly and crossed himself. "I hadn't heard."

"No, they arrived a few minutes ago. Lost part of the barn, if you can imagine it. A hole twelve feet across and about that deep, apparently. He's staying himself to guard the house and the stock, but he doesn't know if the ground is going to open up again, and he has four children now, not one of them actually large enough to be any help."

Gilberto took a deep breath. "And they were doing so well this last year or so."

"They're not doing badly. A barn can be replaced..." They were in sight of the camp now. It was busy. Maria, Nuela, and Tomas were setting up a kitchen a few yards from a huge fire that was being prepared for roasting meat. Felipe and a couple other boys were carrying water. Diego...There. Diego was seated on a log, half a dozen very small children clustered around him. He was doing something with his hands, magic tricks perhaps. Alejandro sighed.

"Father?"

"It's not a small thing, when your neighbors send you their children, knowing you will keep them safe."

Gilberto looked up sharply. "I know it, Father! I do understand. I...I am doing my best to live up to the example you set - "

He broke off as Alejandro slowly shook his head. He was not quite certain how to go on - Gilberto's moods shifted like the tides except not so predictably. This boy - this man, his son - needed something, comfort or reassurance or guidance or something, but Alejandro could never - quite - envision what. Carefully he said, "I didn't want it, when I was your age. That responsibility, that power." Alejandro looked out across the rolling land, green now, from the fall rains. Green all the way to the mountains. "I didn't want it."

Surprised, Gilberto asked, "Why not?"

"It asks every bit as much as it gives. I saw it as...trap or jail, I suppose. I couldn't be free if I was claimed by...all this. And. Also. I was afraid of it." That earned him a shocked look. "I couldn't possibly be wise enough, kind enough to be responsible for all this. How could I? I - Your grandfather didn't understand. He was wise and kind. And very patient, really. But he didn't understand that Alfonso and I didn't see the future he saw." He winced a the memory. "We fought quite a lot."

"What...happened? how did you...?"

Alejandro looked at the camp. Diego appeared to be making flowers appear from thin air. "I grew up. I went to war, and I buried my brother and...I couldn't bear to come home with him gone, so I found a reason to go to Spain instead. I hadn't been since I was a child... I met your mother. She believed I was wise and kind! And oh, for her, I wanted to be..."

"So...because you married." He sounded disappointed.

"I can't claim my solutions will work for you, Son. But don't underestimate the power of love. It was fall like this when I brought your mother home for the first time. So beautiful. So perfect. And I was so proud to offer it to her. I wanted to build it into a paradise for her... Your grandfather was getting frail by then, and not long after...Well, nothing quite clarifies your thinking like knowing there is a child coming."

Gilberto clinched his jaw. "An added burden? Well, two, in fact."

"Not at all! It was wonderful. An opportunity. And so was every other responsibility, in its way. Yes, a chance to fail, and some individual ventures do fail, but none of that is final if you don't give up. I'm...explaining it badly."

"No, you are explaining it very well. But the idea...of stepping into your shoes breaks my heart, and the prospect that I may yet become a wise and able hacendado is overshadowed by that. As for the other, the utter unfairness that Diego cannot marry, and therefore I must - "

Alejandro winced. He had hoped that today, perhaps, Gilberto would be in a mood to really listen. Perhaps the earthquake and aftershocks would shake him enough to breach those walls of arrogance and boredom and disinterest and frustration and he could at last be reached. But no.

Some days he was careful and kind, and others he was disinterested or despondent or openly hostile. As much of a trial his arrogance and self-centeredness had been when he was younger, since returning from Madrid - oh, this was much worse.

And yes, obviously, it was Diego's illness that twisted Gilberto so. It must be. The grief and fear and terrible guilt - Alejandro knew what it was to lose a brother, but he could not imagine watching it happen slowly. And Alejandro himself had never relied on Alfonzo the way Gilberto relied on Diego: why learn prudence and strength and humility when Diego (so much like his mother, because, God knew, Diego hadn't gotten his best traits from his father) had more than enough for two?

Alejandro could see that Gilberto was adrift, but he could not guess what it would take to set him right. Sometimes it seemed he almost, almost understood...and then Gilberto would disappear into his room for hours to sulk or pick a fight with his brother or ride out on Viking and come back hours later having accomplished nothing.

"Father," Gilberto said softly. "I do mean to do right by your little empire and all the people that depend on us. I'll do my best for them, I promise."

"I'm not doubting you - "

"You have reason. And I am sorry."

"You're unhappy. You can't apologize for being unhappy. Any more than I could, when I was young."

"No, I'm not. Honestly." He looked earnest, but it must surely be a lie.

Alejandro sighed.

Gilberto smiled a little too broadly. "Listen, we don't have time for all this worrying. There is still work to do here. Have you sent anyone out to the Perot place? That old man lives in such a horrible old shack, I'm sure it's not standing. Why don't I go check?"

What could he say? "It's a good idea." He glanced at the sky. "It will take you about four hours, there and back. An hour after sundown - If you're late, I'm sending out a party."

"Make it five: if I bring him back, he'll be on that little mule of his."

"All right. Be careful."

He watched Gilberto head over to the small corral and then turned to look at the camp across the road. Diego now appeared to be teaching the children sign. He didn't look worried or unhappy at all. He was patient and cheerful...what a father he would have made, if only -

But was it too much to hope for, that he might still recover enough to marry and live a normal life? A year ago, Alejandro would never have dared to think it, but these days...His horrible seizures came only once a week now. He seldom had any difficulty rising in church. He could walk all the way out to the sheep pen without pausing to rest. He worked long hours on that newspaper of his - on Tuesday nights he still missed supper because the typesetting went so slowly - but rather than depleting his strength, Diego's dedication seemed to increase his energy.

Perhaps.

Perhaps even more recovery was possible. Perhaps, given another year...

Alejandro had these thoughts often, and they were so tempting, but Father Benitez was quite clear: Diego might live for years, and more or less comfortably, but he would never be the healthy, energetic young man who left for Madrid. His heart had been injured by his illness two years ago, and it would never recover. Eventually the burdens of functioning damaged would simply be too much. Diego -

It was best to take the days as they came, Alejandro reminded himself. So many of the days were good. Even limited by his illness, Diego was a help and a comfort to the people around him. He didn't complain. He didn't quarrel. Even today, when he might legitimately ask to be cared for, he was distracting the smallest children, charming them with a lesson.

Perhaps -

Sternly turning his mind away from 'perhaps,' Don Alejandro turned and went to meet a rider coming in from the west. It was a young lancer, his hat askew and his horse already in a lather, though the pueblo was only two miles away. The news from town was good. A few sheds had fallen in, and the new extension to his house Senor Estevez was building had slumped and crumbled, but except for minor injuries and broken crockery, the pueblo had come through the earthquake well.

Alejandro glanced at his own house as he made his report to the lancer. Thick walls and timber shoring. It would take a powerful earthquake to bring it down. Which might happen. All he could do now was wait and keep his people comfortable.

Well, if this was going to be a proper party, he should bring out a barrel of wine. Just one; nervous people tended to drink too much, and drunkenness wouldn't be an improvement. Honeycakes might be nice, though. An expensive treat, since his own hives weren't producing much yet, but an excellent idea anyway. Assuming Maria could make cakes over a campfire. Surely she could. She was very talented.

Supper was served just after sundown. Don Alejandro led the prayers, but didn't think he could make himself eat before Gilberto returned. Instead, he walked from one little campfire to another, finding something to say to everyone. No less than four separate times, a small child asked him in sign if he could see a bird. He answered each of them very broadly, saying that, yes, he could see a bird in the tree. The giggles that earned him he credited to Diego.

As soon as Gilberto appeared on the road, Felipe appeared holding out a plate of food and cup of wine. Alejandro almost refused, but Felipe just looked at him patiently. The child was too clever by half...and too used to looking after Diego. He wasn't put off by stubbornness or authority. Alejandro accepted the food and took a spot on a log that had been hastily cleared for him. When Gilberto returned from putting up his horse, Felipe had a plate and cup for him, too. He squatted easily on the ground and stuffed food in his face with all the enthusiasm of someone raised in a barn. Don Alejandro ignored his manners. "So? Old Enrique?"

Gilberto scowled. "He'll lose everything before it's over. The house is already a pile of rubble. A landslide dumped half a hillside into the creek; I think his field will be flooded by this time tomorrow."

"Any chance we could unblock the stream?"

"I'm sure we could." He said around a mouthful, "Given enough men and enough time, no pile of dirt is too big. But we couldn't do it before that crop drowns."

Alejandro sighed. "Why didn't you bring him in?"

"He wouldn't come. Would you, in his place? He's alone in the world, except for his little plot of land."

"Gilberto."

"Was I supposed to kidnap him? We can check on him in a few days, if he doesn't come in to town."

Enrique was old and irascible. He wasn't particularly well liked. Stubborn and hard to work with. A good worker, though. And if he lost that crop, he'd need something to make it through the next year. What could Alejandro hire him to do, though, that wouldn't inflict his company on the poor vaqueros and laborers? He needed to look at the ruined field before making up his mind. There was still time to replant and get one crop in before the summer heat came. Maybe the situation wasn't as dire as it sounded.

By the time full dark descended, Juan had lit a string of lanterns and several men had brought out their guitars. Don Alejandro danced with Maria and with Senora Macias and Juan's oldest daughter, Luisa. He judged he had satisfied his duty by then, so he slipped back into the darkness. He moved carefully through the darkness, picking his way among the scattered bedrolls.

He found Diego at the south edge of camp. He was seated on his bedroll, leaning back against a saddle and two pillows, listening to the music. Felipe was curled up beside his hip, fast asleep. It had been a long, hard day, hadn't it? The poor boy must be exhausted. Alejandro squatted down on Diego's other side and motioned for him to keep still.

Diego shook his head. "Never mind an earthquake, he'd sleep through the sky falling," he said softly.

"And how are you?"

"I'm fine, Father. Don't worry."

It was too dark to judge for himself, and he wasn't going to press the issue. "It was a stroke of genius, teaching them sign language."

"That's kind of you to say."

"Perhaps you could teach them to talk about different kinds of food tomorrow. Or stock animals."

Diego shifted. "In the evening," he said. "Before supper. I don't think I'll have a chance before then."

"What were you planning to do with the rest of the day," Alejandro asked, dreading the answer.

"I should see the damage at the mission for myself," he answered. "And I should ride into town, get descriptions while the memories are fresh."

"For the newspaper."

"Of course, Father."

"Ah, Diego."

"I'll be perfectly safe. I won't go into any buildings, if that is what you are worried about. Not even the newspaper office. I promise."

Alejandro scowled, since in the darkness Diego couldn't see it anyway. "Take your brother and Felipe with you. No arguments."

"You may need Gilberto here."

"No arguments and no clever persuasion."

Diego paused but conceded, "As you wish, Father."

~TBC