A Friend Indeed
1 - Problem
Chapter 1: Problem
A/N: I have for some time wanted to write a story for Sergeant Garcia. So here is his adventure, which takes place eight months after A Hero's Heartache. Zorro does not appear — because it's very difficult for anyone else to be the hero when Zorro is around — but Diego shows up in the end.
I hope I have done Henry Calvin justice.
Camarero means "steward" in Spanish.
Cocinera means "cook" in Spanish.
Margarita De la Vega heaved herself out of her chair and started across the sala. The sounds of an argument were coming from the kitchen. Rosa and Arturo were going at each other like a couple of angry cats and their voices were getting louder by the minute. Growing increasingly heavy with child, Margarita made her way slowly, occasionally placing her hand on the wall or a piece of furniture to help keep her balance. This child, their sixth, was somehow different. She felt more fatigued than she had with the others. Her appetite was unsteady at times. Her feet and legs ached more than usual. By her reckoning she had another month of this to endure, and it was not a happy prospect.
Still, she thought, she could not really complain. Five successful births, five healthy children living on a rancho that easily provided for all of them — many women were not as fortunate. Diego had been more than understanding about the process of childbearing, and every announcement of an addition to the family had sent Don Alejandro into a state of sheer delight. Bless them both, she sighed. This was all very well and good, but right now she needed to see what all the shouting was about.
"Señor camarero, it is only five days before Noche Buena and my preparations are far from complete. I have much more baking to do, and I cannot bake without flour!" This was Rosa.
"Señora cocinera, I know very well that it is only five days before Noche Buena and I also know that right now I have everyone that I can spare out gathering greenery to decorate the hacienda so I have no one to send to the pueblo for more flour!" This was Arturo.
"I am not a miracle worker! Do you expect me to make buñuelos and dulce de leche out of air? I need my flour!"
"I am sure the patrona will understand if —."
"The patrona," interrupted Margarita, finally reaching the kitchen doorway, "would like less shouting and more calm explaining." This silenced them both.
"Señora, I can go no farther without more flour! There remains only half a sack and I have much more to do so I cannot afford a long delay. Order him," she shot Arturo a death stare, "to send to the pueblo immediately," she pleaded.
"Señora," replied Arturo, returning Rosa's glare, "she obviously does not understand that I would gladly do so if I only had someone to send. I, too, have much to prepare and except for the vaqueros who are tending the cattle everyone else is occupied."
Well, at least both of them made sense, which was a step in the right direction.
The possibilities were limited. Her first thought would have been to ask Diego. She knew that in a pinch her husband was willing to run errands that most dons would consider absolutely beneath them. It was one of the many things she loved about him. But he and Bernardo and Don Alejandro had gone to San Pedro on business and were spending the night there. And as Arturo had said, all of the servants were busy with other preparations.
"Very well," sighed the Doña De la Vega, "since I have nothing better to do than sit around like a lump, I will go into the pueblo." She turned to Arturo: "Have the buggy brought around to the patio gate."
Rosa's eyes grew wide in alarm. "Señora, your condition! You cannot ride out! You cannot be seen in your condition!
"I'm tired of being cooped up here, idle all day. I want some fresh air! I promise to drive the buggy very slowly.
"But Don Diego will not like this," protested Arturo.
"Don Diego isn't here," she replied crisply.
"You cannot lift sacks of flour!" added the steward.
"I have no intention of lifting anything. I'm sure someone at Senor Avila's store will load them for me. I might not even have to get down from the buggy. So tell me, Rosa, how much flour do you need?" Rosa just looked at her, still alarmed. "Rosa?" she repeated, a slight edge to her voice.
"Three sacks," declared the cook reluctantly, now eyeing Arturo as an ally instead of an adversary.
"Arturo, will the buggy hold that much?"
"Si, Señora, it will, but —"
"Very well, three sacks it is." Margarita nodded briskly to indicate that the subject was closed. "Now would one of you ask Buena to bring me a shawl?"
Half an hour later Arturo helped her into the buggy, a look of near panic on his face. "Señora, I beg of you — "
"I'll be fine," she declared as she picked up the reins and turned the buggy away from the hacienda.
The day was rather overcast, with a very warm breeze blowing in from the west. She kept the mule to a nice leisurely walk, and headed down the road to Los Angeles.