La Carta (The Letter)

By VKS & MJRod

This story continues "The High Chaparral" season 4 series and is our tribute to the show, its actors, writers, producers, directors and creator. VKS & MJRod retain all rights to the plots of our stories, including this one, and to such characters of our invention as the Ruiz family, Teresa Lauder, and other figures not in the original series. Of course the wonderful characters of the THC are copyrighted by Mr. Dortort and impossible to improve. So we simply honor them and hope we have done them justice.

La Carta Chapter One: An Unexpected Development

Dios mío! La carta..the letter...the patrón's letter! Pepe's eyes widened in panic and he slapped himself on the side of the head as he at last remembered what Don Sebastian de Montoya had instructed him never to forget. The letter addressed to Don Domingo, left in the middle drawer of the patrón's great desk. Was it even still there? Ay yi yi. How could he have been so stupid? Bruto! Oh yes, indeed there were reasons…but he, Pepe, had no excuse. He had failed his master of many years. He had failed the patrón. Madre de Dios! I am old.

Indeed, Pepe felt every bit of his sixty years. Sweat poured off his forehead which throbbed as the blood rushed from his heart. Just last year, nothing. But since, Don Sebastian's death…so unexpected. Don Manolo disinherited...finding his uncle. Don Domingo, now the new patrón. The lawyer Nervo and his treachery. The comancheros. So many killed in the fight for Rancho Montoya. Doña Victoria, grieving. Los señores Cannon. And he, Pepe, had forgotten the letter. Had Nervo disposed of it? Was it even still there?

Pepe knew what he must do.

Pepe's breathing sputtered in short, erratic bursts as he scurried to the study of the new patrón of Rancho Montoya. He paused to take a deep breath before forcing his trembling hand into a fist and knocking.

"Patrón!" Pepe called, his voice high pitched and cracking.

"Adelante," came the smooth voice from within.

Pepe thrust open the door to see Don Domingo de Montoya sitting behind the massive carved Spanish oak desk in the chair that had belonged to his elder brother. Rings of smoke from a thin cigar wreathed Don Domingo's head. He looked up from the book he was perusing, expectant. His dark brown eyes betrayed neither humor nor annoyance. He looked, if anything, bored, thought Pepe.

"Patrón?"

"Yes," Don Domingo replied, his voice now carrying an edge. Would these servants never get to the point?

"Don Domingo, I have made a most grievous lapse of judgment," Pepe began. His heart raced, pounding in his chest as if beating against the skin of a drum. Perspiration soaked his shirt and glazed his brow. He clasped hands together to stop them from shaking as he approached the desk, his eyes cast down. He could not meet the Don's gaze.

"Don Domingo?"

"Yes?" Domingo's brow furrowed and he tilted his chin up, his eyes slitted, his gaze slicing through Pepe. Get on with it, the Don thought.

"There is, señor, a letter addressed to you from your brother, Patrón. Or there was."

"Oh?"

"It was placed in the middle drawer by your brother, Don Sebastian. I was to tell the lawyer Nervo of it but…"

"But you forgot?"

"Si, Patrón…I forgot completely. I even forgot to tell you or Don Manolo or Doña Victoria. With all that occurred…"

"Calma, Pepe. Let us see if this missive still exists."

Pepe edged closer, peering over the desk, eyes wide, breathless, only exhaling as Domingo slid open the drawer and withdrew a folded parchment addressed to him and sealed with the crest of the Lion of Sonora.

"You see, Pepe. No harm has been done. There is no need to worry," Domingo reassured him in a soothing tone, almost purring...as a tiger might purr. "You may leave now."

"Si, Patrón. Gracias." Pepe nodded his head, a reflex action. He backed up a few steps and started to turn when Don Domingo again spoke, this time in a kinder voice.

"And Pepe, I do not know what this says, but it is probably a good thing that you did not tell that fool Nervo about this letter, entiendes?"

"Si, Patrón." Relieved, a smile playing about his lips, Pepe walked with precise steps to the door. His knees felt weak but he no longer trembled.

Domingo, brow furrowed, puzzled, stared at the letter for a moment before breaking the seal and unfolding the contents.

He shifted his slender frame in the richly upholstered chair of his brother, leaning back and propping an elbow on an armrest...and he smiled as he read.