October 28, 1814 (Friday)
Gilberto
Early in the morning, Don Alejandro left for the vineyards up in the hills. He would be gone for a couple of days, leaving Gilberto, nominally, in charge at home. Gilberto had spent the pervious two afternoons inspecting fields, though, and Diego had spent much of the day before on the ledgers and receipts. He decided they could spare a morning to go check on the new neighbors.
They packed a basket with presents (fruit, bread, a small ham, smoked fish, some cheese, a packet of tortillas, and a small jar of honey) and left early for the Neilson farm. They didn't bother with the road, but rode cross-country through acres and acres of de le Vega pasture land. It had rained the night before, so the grass was still wet and the breeze was nice and cool. Diego and Felipe were in a very cheerful mood. Diego, in particular, was enjoying himself: he was riding Andromeda not the elderly Esperanza.
Gilberto would try not to think about how often Diego snuck out to ride Toronado. No, it wasn't safe, but Gilberto didn't have the heart to put a stop to it. Assuming he could.
They reached the Neilson farm by late morning. The plowing had only just been completed, and they were starting to plant. Or, rather, Senor and Senora Nielson were planting, and Anton was piling rocks from the turned ground into the wagon.
Busy as they were, they were happy to have visitors. Diego - politely, carefully - presented Senora Nielson with seeds for a kitchen garden, varieties that did well in the local climate: squash, melon, peppers, carrots, beets, and onions. She was delighted and led him to the open area between the decayed house and barn where they had turned the ground intending to plant only cabbage. Her Spanish was slow and laborious, but she grilled Diego with tremendous care and patience about how to care for each one.
Gilberto took her place hoeing a thin layer of earth over the seeds Daniil dropped neatly into place. They were growing wheat, barely, and a little corn. "Corn?" Gilberto asked in surprise. "Have you grown this before?"
"Only a little. It makes very good porridge."
Gilberto wrinkled his nose but didn't laugh. "Well, it does. But there are better things you can do with it." It occurred to him that he had only the dimmest idea how either masa or atole were made, actually. "You'll have to come visit. Perhaps Maria can show your wife..."
It was dull, slow work, but neighborly. Gilberto pretended to know very little Russian (fluency was rare, and the alcalde knew Zorro had it) and allowed Daniil to 'teach' him more. The conversation more than compensated for the labor.
Just as the sun was getting uncomfortably hot they stopped for lunch. The Nielson's didn't have much in the way of furniture, and the table left by the previous owners was missing a leg, so they ate picnic-style on a woven mat spread out in the shade of the tiny house.
Because it was Friday, they set aside the ham, but in addition to the hamper the de le Vegas had brought, the Nielsons added a surprisingly tasty cabbage soup, something that might be grated radish, and goat's milk.
Diego
During lunch Diego finally had a chance to talk to Daniil Nielson about the water management problems. Daniil had made a point of watching over the last week to see where the rain collected and where it ran off. He had three spots picked out to dig down and create shallow ponds to slow the runoff. With all the fall rains the soil was heavy but soft, and the backfill would be used to dam the water further. The rocks Anton and Felipe had been collecting from the fields would be turned to this purpose, too. Serious work could begin once the crops were in the ground, and that would only take a few more days.
"What you have to understand, though," Diego said, "is that during a dry year, rain won't be enough. If we can find groundwater, a well would be the best option. Otherwise...I'm just not sure it's possible to irrigate from the nearest creeks. Even with a well, there are no guarantees. The droughts are unpredictable."
"Or at least," Gilberto added, "We can't yet predict them."
"We'll value any advice you can give us," Daniil said. "In these parts, how...that is, who...where do you dig a well? Does anyone...know?"
Gilberto shrugged. "Granny Garcia is good at picking well spots. Or - What is his name, with the hair that sticks up?"
"Juan Sanchez. He found three wells when Don Antonio expanded," Diego said. "The water may be deep. The pumping system - " Diego remembered Wayne's apple peeler. "I recently met a man who is good with gears..." That would be it, wouldn't it? Gilberto had mentioned a wind pump, but you'd need a very good gearing system..."
"Don Gilberto, Don Diego," Daniil said carefully, "I don't know how we'll ever repay you for the help you've already given us."
"Oh, it's entirely selfish," Gilberto said easily. "The alcalde set you up to fail. It will be a great personal satisfaction to prove him wrong."
Diego elbowed him gently. "Everybody relies on their neighbors. In some ways, we are at the very end of the world. Certainly, the empire isn't in a position to save us. We must take care of each other."
The Nielsons had other questions. They asked about their near neighbors at the mission; the Indians who hadn't been Christianized; and Zorro. They asked about adobe construction and cattle round-ups and cactuses. They didn't dwell on any topic for long, though, and when lunch was finished, Senora Nielson immediately began to collect the dishes and Daniil stood apologetically. There was a great deal of work to do.
As Diego rose, the world went grey, and the ground tilted under him. Of course. He had been up and down all morning, preparing soil and sowing, and now, now, he was fighting a faint.
He felt Felipe's compact body seize him from the front and try to slow his fall. The hand on his upper arm was Gilberto, catching him from behind. He let them lower him to the mat.
A little dizziness he could bluff his way through; even if his brain thought the world was spinning, his feet still knew how to walk. But when his vision narrowed and faded, there was no way to shrug that off. If he tried he would only pass out completely...and wake up with a headache and even more humiliated than otherwise.
Not that it wasn't already embarrassing, lying here staring up at the sky while Gilberto lifted his feet up to rest in his lap and Felipe slid his fingers around Diego's wrist.
In the few moments it took for Gilberto to explain Diego's weak heart to their hosts, the sky stopped spinning and Diego's head cleared. Gilberto set Diego's feet down and shifted close enough to whisper, "With us, Little Brother?"
"I'm fine," Diego answered. But he didn't try to lift his head yet.
"Did you remember your medicine?"
The question was patronizing but fair. Diego bit back his irritation. "I took it."
"Perhaps an extra dose?"
Felipe let go of Diego's hand and hit Gilberto sharply across the shoulder. What he said after that, though, Diego didn't see.
Gilberto leaned down again and said softly, "He says your pulse is slow enough, and it's a bad idea to sedate your heart further right now."
Diego thought about that. "Probably right. It's just a faint. Give me a moment..."
So it was another half hour before they mounted up and left. Diego had lain in the shade with Felipe while Gilberto went back to work, everyone kindly pretend that they didn't notice the...inconvenience of Diego's frailty.
The journey home was much slower than the journey out, and Felipe and Gilberto carefully boxed Diego in on either side. The fussing and coddling would have been unbearable, but they weren't only patient and kind. They were both trying very hard to show no worry.
Someday he would leave them, and he was not going to leave them remembering that he had found his life miserable or resented their attempts to care for him. He was, by God, going to bear this gracefully, for their sakes if not for his own pride. For them he kept his head up and his demeanor pleasant.
Z
Maria met them at the door with the news that Diego had a guest waiting in the library. It was Professor Wayne. Gilberto strode forward to declare that Diego was ill and not receiving visitors, but Diego turned him aside with a look that clearly said Gilberto was being an idiot. Wayne had been engaged to capture Zorro. Of course Diego would see him.
He greeted his guest warmly and seated him in the best chair. He sent Gilberto off to fetch some refreshments and Felipe off to fetch some note paper. "I hope you are enjoying our hospitality here in Los Angeles," Diego said, intent on filling as many minutes as he could with small talk. Henry Wayne would never get the idea from him that Diego had any special interest in the alcalde's plan to capture Zorro.
So they talked about the excellent food at the tavern and the weather and the very exotic foreign neighbors the de le Vegas had been visiting. Just as Wayne began to shift nervously, Diego asked how his work in town was going.
"Actually, since you mention it," Professor Wayne began, "I did want to talk to you about that."
"Oh?" Diego asked mildly.
"I've been reading the Alcalde's files on Zorro's appearances."
Diego nodded. "Yes, I imagine that is the place to start."
Wayne hesitated a moment, then leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I have to say, it all seems rather...irregular."
The picture of helpfulness, Diego asked, "In what way?"
"The alcalde is adamant that Zorro is a brigand and a thief, but for all his activity, he hasn't actually stolen very much. Doesn't that seem odd to you?"
"Ah, yes. That is something to think about."
"And yet, all those rumors about him being a folk hero - but he doesn't have a following. I mean, he doesn't have a gang. And he doesn't make demands against the government. And he isn't calling for anarchy."
"That is true. Zorro is very mysterious."
"I mean, what he does do seems absurdly random: a horse race for the pueblo's losses? A fight with a thieving, kidnapping, traveling magician? A vendetta against a fortune teller? He is charged with some thirty-two counts of 'interfering with civil penalties.' I don't even know what that is."
"Is it only thirty-two?" Gilberto asked, coming in with a tray of lemonades. "It seems like more."
Diego could not risk giving a quelling look, so he merely willed Gilberto to shut up. "The penalty for missing a tax deadline is a public whipping."
Wayne gasped. "You're kidding!" Diego just looked at him. Wayne squirmed for a moment, and then his confusion burst forth again. "But apparently, he keeps capturing bandits and delivering them to the fort! I mean, what kind of behavior is that?"
Diego stifled a smile. "I'm sure I couldn't tell you." He took the lemonade Gilberto held out and drank deeply.
"I suppose the bandits could be explained as having a low tolerance for competition. But what is the point of the rest of it? Do you suppose he might be mad?"
Diego swallowed hard to keep choking on his lemonade. "That is an explanation I had not considered," he managed.
"He's completely unpredictable!" Wayne complained. "How do you begin to capture a man like that?"
Thankfully, Gilberto remained quiet and Diego moved in smoothly. "Oh, now, don't give up. He might be an enigma, but he's hardly unpredictable. There are certain places he tends to appear, are there not? Certain things he does, over and over? It hardly matters for your purposes why he does them."
"I suppose..."
"He often comes to town, but he easily evades pursuit. I've always thought that if one had a high enough vantage point, it would be possible to see where he went."
"High enough - But how would you build a high enough - You can't be thinking of the Montgolfier devices!"
Wayne had an excellent mind. He saw so much so quickly and thought with as much agility as Diego could hope for. But he was foreign and naïve. He had no idea what they were up against here in California, and he had no stake in it. So Diego only smiled and said, "Why not? The principals are well understood."
"The time! The expense! The dangers of a fifty-foot drop!"
"You'd likely need a hundred feet at least."
Wayne blanched. He hemmed and hawed for a moment. "As much as I would like to do it, it simply isn't practical. Perhaps, being only a hobbyist, you can't understand..."
"But that still leaves your problem."
Wayne heaved a sigh. "Capturing Zorro...Your alcalde is not a good man to disappoint."
"So you'll have to take Zorro in town. In some place he appears often - a space you can control."
"The alcalde believes Zorro occasionally searches his office," Wayne offered.
"My goodness. How insolent," Gilberto murmured.
Diego only said, "That is a bounded location you could control, I suppose..."
Wayne grimaced, glanced at the lemonade he hadn't touched. "Well... I suppose I should start measuring that office..."
"That's probably best." Diego rose to see him to the door, but almost at once the room spun and pitched wildly. He caught himself against a small table and waited while Gilberto said their goodbyes to Professor Wayne.
Felipe took Diego by the upper arm and guided him back to his seat. Frowning, he loosened Diego's collar and wrapped his warm fingers around Diego's wrist. Gilberto, returning from the entryway almost doubled-over with silent laughter, froze at the sight of them. "Oh, Mother Mary, not again," he whispered, hurrying over. "Diego?"
Felipe let Go of Diego's arm and said something complicated, but he was facing away and Diego couldn't follow it. Gilberto frowned. "Are you sure?"
Diego couldn't follow the answer either.
Gilberto lifted Diego's feet onto a stool, then stripped off his right shoe and sock.
"I'm fine," Diego protested. "It's just a little lightheadedness. It's nothing. There is no sign I'm getting worse."
"That's what Felipe says," Gilberto said. He opened Diego's shirt and pressed his ear Diego's chest. He came away frowning and seizing Diego's hand to squeeze his fingers one at a time. "He says it is time to cut back on your dose again. Hmmm. He may be right."
For a moment Diego was too surprised to speak. "Again? Impossible."
Gilberto rocked back on his heels and took a deep breath. "There is no sign you're getting worse, though. And if you're lightheaded...your heart should be faster. Unless the reason you are having trouble is that it is too slow..."
Oh. Again. Diego felt himself smile.
"Perhaps we should send for Father Benitez..."
Angrily, Felipe signed, "The next does is in two hours. This dose has to be smaller. I'm right. You have to listen to me."
Gilberto raised his hand. "I don't distrust you," he said softly. "I know you know... But I have to be careful. We have to be careful."
Felipe didn't back off. "One drop less, every dose. Starting now."
Gilberto glanced at Diego, saw no disagreement, nodded. "All right." He smiled slightly. "So. Doing better then?"
"Apparently," Diego agreed.
"I don't imagine it feels like it at the moment," he continued gently.
Reluctantly, Diego said, "I admit, right now...I dread the idea of doing anything."
"Bed then?"
"Let me stay here for a while. I should be able to join you all for supper."
"Not likely," Gilberto muttered. "But stay here if you're comfortable. In the mean time...would you like me to stay?"
"As lovely as it sounds to have you stare at me for the rest of the afternoon...no. Why don't you go out to take a look at the bees? It's been a while. I'll be fine here. There is nothing to do but wait."
Gilberto smiled unconvincingly. "All right then."
~TBC
