Part One
With you hand in hand
seek other pastures and other rivers,
other flowery and shady valleys,
where rest, and always I can see
before mine eyes,
without fear and dread of losing.
Translated from a poem by Garcilaso de la Vega
Chapter One
Rosarita went flying down the hillside, free from her lessons at last. She carried her shoes, having taken them off some time ago. She knew exactly where she was going: to Diego. He was sure to be waiting at the tree that divided her family's rancho from his.
The day was brilliant, one of the summer days California is famous for. The sky was bluer than it seemed possible, the grass was crisp underfoot because of the usual summer drought and Rosarita's spirits were flying along with her feet as she descended, to see Diego indeed waiting for her, but he was not alone. With him stood Benito, his father's head vaquero's son, and Ricardo del Amo, a boy who always visited his uncle in the summer.
Rosarita skidded to a stop, panting. She'd forgotten that Ricardo had arrived for his annual summer visit at his aunt's rancho. She didn't like Ricardo and he didn't like playing with girls.
"Hello, Diego, Benito, Ricardo," she gasped. "What are you doing?"
"We haven't decided yet," Diego told her, smiling.
"I want to go to my aunt's rancho but Diego says it is too far," Ricardo said. He was lying on the ground, lazily studying the sky.
"And Benito wants to practice with lassoes and riding, eh, muchacho?"
Benito looked shyly around. "Si, patron. I can teach you a new trick I learned."
"We can't do that with a girl around, though," Ricardo said in disgust, hopping to his feet and addressing Rosarita.
"Why not?" Rosarita demanded. "I like horses!"
"You're a girl," Ricardo said, painstakingly, as if everyone didn't already know that.
Diego rolled his eyes and shoved Ricardo's shoulder. "We're already been over this," he reminded his friend. "Rosarita will be playing with us."
"But she's a girl!"
"So?" Rosarita demanded. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"You should be home, sewing or something. You can't play the games we do!"
"That's what you think," she retorted. "Just the other day, I beat Diego in a foot race!"
"Oh, really?" Ricardo drawled.
Diego nodded. "Rosarita is faster than I am, Ricardo, and it follows that since I am faster than you, she is, too."
"So we're doing a race?" Benito piped up.
"Yes, we are," Ricardo growled. "And may the best man win!"
Ricardo glared at her while she studied him, and his build.
He was taller than her, taller than she remembered.
But Diego was also tall. Height didn't matter.
"Si, we race right now!" Rosarita decided. "Just let me pull my hair back."
Ricardo groaned. "See?" He demanded. "She is a girl!"
Diego was leading the way to a better piece of land for racing, to one of the de la Vega pastures that didn't have cattle currently occupying it. Once there, he instructed Benito to run out to the tree that was to be the finish line, to make sure that the two participants didn't cheat.
While Benito ran there, Diego pulled Rosarita aside for a moment.
"Are you sure you can do it?" He asked her, anxious.
She wanted to be angry with him for doubting her, but she knew that he was having the same thoughts she was: the last time Diego had raced Ricardo was last year, and this year Ricardo was taller than both of them. Could she win?
"Yes, I am," she told him.
"Good, he needs to be taught a lesson!"
He led her back to the starting point. "All right, on my mark. When I drop Rosarita's handkerchief, you go."
Rosarita tensed up expectantly. The handkerchief fell. She was off.
Ricardo had an early lead, shooting off like a ball shot from a cannon, but Rosarita knew that fast starts could lead to tired finishes. She ran steadily, the wind in her ears, and clutching her skirts to keep them out of her way.
She wished she could have tucked them up like she would have last summer, but she was ten now. It was already stretching the rules of propriety to be racing at all. In fact, she knew no one would approve.
She also knew this would be the last chance she got to beat Ricardo in anything. She'd heard vague rumors that Ricardo wasn't coming next summer for his visit to Los Angeles and she knew that it was likely they'd be old enough to marry before they met again.
What a horrifying thought. Marriage was not something on Rosarita's mind at all except…an image of Diego came to her mind, all sparkling eyes, wavy hair and a laughing smile.
Maybe marriage wouldn't be so bad, if you had the fortune to marry the right person.
But races aren't won by contemplating marriage to your best friend. Rosarita made up her mind to pass Ricardo, and in moments, she did, and collapsed at the finish line, gasping for air. She'd won, but Ricardo didn't even seem like he was tired. She looked at his long legs with scorn, then her gaze went up to his face.
He wasn't smiling, but he'd lost his earlier attitude as he extended a hand for her to take.
Rosarita did so. Her own was trembling.
"You won," Ricardo noted.
"Si," she gasped.
Ricardo appraised her. "Do you have wolf blood, or something? How could you run that quickly?"
She shrugged, not letting herself react to the casual words. "Maybe because I am a girl," she said. She could see Diego, out of the corner of her eye. He was catching up to them.
Ricardo then did something that surprised her, very much. He smiled, then he laughed, tossing his head back.
She was surprised at how much it transformed him. She let a smile come to her own lips as Diego came running up.
"Who won?"
"I did," Rosarita beamed, and her smile widened when Diego congratulated her heartily.
"I knew you could do it," he told her. "So how about it, Ricardo? Is she still meant to be sewing?"
"Si," Ricardo said. "But even my sisters don't sew all the time."
"Is that your way of giving your permission for me to be here?" Rosarita teased. Ricardo just shrugged.
"Race you back," he said. "And then we'll go with Benito's plan."
Rosarita fell to the dusty ground with a gasp. Beside her, Diego and Benito were trying to teach Ricardo rope tricks. He wasn't picking it up quickly.
"Rosarita, are you all right?" Diego asked, turning when he realized that he'd knocked her down, in his enthusiasm.
Rosarita, feeling cross, stood up without help. "I'm fine," she told him. "Aren't you done yet? We've been out here for hours!"
Ricardo ran, whooping, past, twirling the rope, and it fell over him, sending Benito and Diego into fits of laughter. "Come on, Ricardo, you want to rope the fence post, not yourself!"
Ricardo scowled, standing back up and untangling himself. "I noticed you aren't that good either, Diego," he retorted. "And that you've so far avoided doing anything with the rope."
Diego straightened, his back stiffening. "What are you implying?"
"I'm not implying anything," Ricardo scoffed. "But don't pretend you are any better at this than I am!"
"I am better than you are!" Diego snapped, and strode forward to take the rope from Ricardo's hand. "I'll show you. There's the fence post, and here is the rope and that—" Diego twirled his wrist and the rope flew through the air to gracefully fall over the post— "is how you do this."
At the edge, Benito and Rosarita exchanged uneasy glances. "Patron, maybe we should do something else now. Aren't we tired of rope tricks?"
"Si, very!" Rosarita added. "I think we should go up to the hacienda and—"
Ricardo and Diego ignored them. Ricardo's eyes were flashing with anger and Diego's pride had taken over. Rosarita darted towards them, but too late to stop the first punch being taken.
In moments, there was a full-scale brawl going on, with Rosarita and Benito darting on the edges, trying to find an opening to stop the two older boys.
"Diego, Ricardo, you have to stop! Remember how angry Don Alejandro and your Uncle Felipe got last time? Please!" Rosarita begged, and Benito added to the entreaty.
When their words went unheeded, Benito and Rosarita exchanged glances and then dove into it themselves, forcing the boys away from each other. Benito took charge of Ricardo, and Rosarita grasped Diego firmly by the arm and started to drag him away. "Diego, why did you start a fight?"
"Ricardo threw the first punch," Diego told her.
"You threw the second," Rosarita retorted. "It takes two people to make a fight. Besides, couldn't you see that he was baiting you? And you succeeded with the rope! Why were you still angry?"
"This goes back to last summer," Diego said, sulky.
"Diego, you were never one to hold a grudge," Rosarita reminded.
"It wasn't holding a grudge, it was just remembering."
Later, Diego walked her home. It was almost dusk; she'd stayed to dinner for she and the boys had stayed out much longer than they'd intended.
She had hopped onto the fence bordering one of the de la Vega's pastures, and now walked it cautiously, arms straight out. Diego walked beside her, ready to catch her if she fell, and, to be honest, she wouldn't be surprised if she did.
She wobbled again, but managed to catch herself in the split second before she would have crushed Diego. He'd waited on high alert—not reaching to pull her down, or saying something foolish.
That was something she appreciated about Diego. He always let her choose what she'd do. If she'd fallen, he would have caught her but he wouldn't have scolded her for walking the fence.
So many people would not let her have that choice.
She smiled down at Diego and jumped off the fence to skip in front of him.
"Wasn't it a nice day?" She asked eagerly. "Even Ricardo was nice, after I won the race. And besides the fight."
"Ricardo's not that bad," Diego said. "It's just when you are around," he shrugged. "You are around. He doesn't like playing with girls."
"Why not?"
"Probably because he has four sisters," Diego explained. "Maybe if I had four sisters and they were always driving me crazy, maybe I wouldn't care to play with you either."
Rosarita giggled. "But I wouldn't be your sister!"
"True, but I'd think all girls were like that."
Rosarita frowned at the answer and walked a little slower. "What will we do when we grow up?" She asked Diego, carelessly.
Diego shrugged. "I will be a haciendado. What else could I be? And you will marry a don and have children."
"No, I didn't mean you and I. I meant we. What will we be? Will we still be friends?"
"Of course," Diego said, with some surprise. "Why would we stop being friends?"
Rosarita almost laughed at how utterly clueless Diego was as to what her point was, and took that as a sign to drop the subject.
"Diego, we'll always do things like this, won't we?"
"It's a certainty," Diego smiled. "Again, why would we stop?"
Rosarita sighed. Diego sometimes thought too simply of things. If they were friends, that was all there was to it. He didn't think that anything might change. His only concern was that they themselves would change.
But maybe that was why she liked him, too.
The sun was bright in the sky, just beginning its long descent. Rosarita wanted to lag; she wanted to wait until the moon came out. But her parents were likely to be somewhat cross at her for staying so long already. There was no reason to tempt their tempers even more.
Diego was content. It had been a beautiful day, despite, or maybe because, of Ricardo's presence during their games. Though he could be annoying, and quarrelsome, if he was participating in a game, suddenly everything got more exciting, more fun, more competitive. He brought color to everything he did.
Benito was one of the best friends he had. No matter what, he always had fun with Benito.
And Rosarita, she was also fun.
Diego stole a look at her. Her hair was hanging loose around her face, and her cheeks were flushed. She was smiling—Rosarita was always smiling, no matter what.
Other girls, also, when they visited, they could be fun. Elena, Moneta and Margarita were excellent company. But Diego could not picture them beating Ricardo in a foot race. Moneta and Margarita were excellent riders, but they wouldn't participate in the lassoing games that Benito had organized. That would have been too unladylike.
Rosarita didn't care about that, but she could still hold her own when she was being ladylike. She could sew and ride and sit still in church, just like her female friends. But she could also shriek like an Indian and howl like a wolf.
Diego snuck another look at his friend, and wondered why she'd asked so many odd questions.
Of course nothing would change between them. They'd always be friends. What could part them?
A/N: This is part of a three chapter story, which is part of a three stories series. I haven't actually written the two sequels, but I have completed this one.
December 2014: I just edited this chapter, changing a few tiny things to make this fit into a story I'm writing about Ricardo.