El Casamentero de Los Angeles by JuliaBC

Chapter Seven


Magdalena's entrance to the sala went largely unnoticed. On the patio, music played and dancers whirled. She had seen many clever costumes, and more than several couples that would probably announce their engagements in the morning.

She didn't see Diego, and she had been looking hard for him.

"Magdalena?"

She turned, to see Margarita heading towards her, dressed as flamenco dancer.

"It is you," Margarita cried, upon reaching her. "I've been looking for you! What a wonderful costume! Which goddess are you? I'm sorry, but I don't know much about mitología."

"Persephone," Magdalena said. "She was taken to the underworld by Hades, and upon eating a pomegranate," Magdalena held hers up, "She was forced to stay."

Margarita's eyebrows raised. "I hope she isn't meant to represent you."

"No," Magdalena protested. "The idea just caught my fancy. Have you seen Diego? We came separately, to surprise each other."

Margarita shook her head. "That is why I was looking for you," she began, and spotted someone across the room. "Oh, I must go and say hello to Don Alfredo."

Magdalena watched her go, before silently slipping away, through a corridor that, thankfully, ended with a door that led outside.

Outside to a beautiful little garden. Magdalena was about to step further, but spied someone and hesitated.

"It's all right, Dona Magdalena, it's just me," the other person said, and when he rose, she recognized him.

"Sergeant? Why are you all alone out here?"

Garcia heaved a sigh. "Life has not been kind to me. One moment, I was comfortable in the knowledge that no one wanted me. Now I have two women fighting over me, and I have realized that I care for neither."

"Which two?" Magdalena asked, stepping forward.

"Clara Gonzales, and Senorita Nina Amantero," he replied gloomily, sitting down when she did. "I do not even know Senorita Nina, and Clara's behavior over the past few days made me realize I do not know her either. And I have further realized something else..." He turned tortured eyes to meet her. "I love an entirely different woman!"

"Senorita Bastenado?" Magdalena ventured. "I know her invitation to the Corporal disappointed you."

"No, not the Senorita Bastenado," Garcia sighed. "Though I do still think of her with fondness."

"Who, then?" Magdalena asked, wondering if she was betraying her aunt by not even considering her as a possibility.

"It does not matter," Garcia answered. "I think I should be going anyway. Everyone believes I am in quarantine, so I should be back in the cuartel before I am missed."

He slipped away, and Magdalena watched him go with a frown on her face.

She, too, stood up, and looked up at the night sky.

It was then that she heard the screams.


Diego was nobody's fool, and did not take his decision to go as Zorro lightly. He had modified his real outfit with some lavish trimmings, and was using a different mask.

It was obvious to all who noticed that this was not the real Zorro. The sword at his side was obviously wooden; the sword hidden on his back was more than sharp enough.

He strolled among the party guests casually, laughing with them over the ridiculousness of it all.

Diego as Zorro? What a silly idea!

"Diego, does that costume really compliment you?" Moneta asked him, her eyes sparkling.

"Well, it's all in fun," he replied, fidgeting with the cape to show how uncomfortable this Diego was.

"I know, but isn't it a little far reaching?"

Diego deferred his answer by tripping on the cape. The sound he heard as he walked away was the girls' giggles.

Well, this was just acting after all, and he may as well give a good show.

Besides, none of this bothered him half as much since he'd married Magdalena.

Beautiful Magdalena. Adventurous Magdalena.

Angry Magdalena.

He skirted a cluster of guests, and it was then that he saw him.

His face was covered, he was dressed as some sort of knight. As Diego watched, he saw that the guest held his arm tenderly, as though it had been injured.

As Diego watched, the guest neatly plucked a gold earring from Margarita's ear, and the bracelet from Moneta's slim wrist.

Caught.

Diego slipped into the sala, and ducked into the first empty room he saw. There, he reversed his cap and removed the hat Diego had been wearing as Zorro.

He took his mask off, and tied the proper one on. Then unfastened the wooden sword and put the steel in its place.

His costume reversed, Diego was no longer attending the fiesta. In his place, there was a fierce outlaw, one who was about to take his just vengeance on the man who'd been terrorizing the pueblo.

Zorro charged out onto the patio, and immediately, there was chorus of gasps. To the guests, it could not be more obvious that this was not the timid Don Diego. This was the real Zorro!

"Do you think he's angry at Diego for dressing as him?" He heard Moneta whisper, but his path didn't alter a bit.

Across the room, he saw his prey, and saw how the man shrank against the wall.

A waiter passed in front of Zorro, and the other man took his chance. The tray went flying, there was a chorus of screams as senoritas were doused with the cold liquid.

Zorro dashed through the gate after his target, and knew that this time, the man would not get away.


Magdalena made it back onto the patio a moment too late. Around her, guests were murmuring and she caught the words 'Zorro' and 'who was the other'?

She approached Margarita, but her friend was much too busy with an elderly guest who'd fainted, and she turned.

Moneta caught her gaze. "Magdalena, is that you?" Moneta asked, stepping forward.

"Si," Magdalena answered. "You look marvelous."

"Muchos gracias," Moneta answered. "I wasn't sure about the choice of princess. And you must be Persephone." She pointed to the pomegranate.

Magdalena nodded, pleased that Moneta recognized it. "What was just happening here?"

"Zorro," Moneta said, dimples appearing as a smile crowned her face. Her eyes glinted, and Magdalena felt an odd twinge to see the other woman's devotion to Zorro.

"Well, what did he do?"

"I'm not sure," Moneta admitted. "There was a man here that Zorro pursued. He must have been a bandito of sorts, but it happened rather suddenly."

Magdalena surveyed Moneta's outfit again. "You really do look marvelous, Moneta. I like your decision to not wear jewelry."

"What do you mean?" Moneta asked, amused. "I'm wearing my mother's bracelet...No, it appears I am not."

Her lips pursed. "Maybe that's why Zorro appeared," she said. "I hope that it why. I would like to see my bracelet returned."


The fiesta ended before Zorro made it back to Cortazar hacienda.

Magdalena went home with Don Alejandro, both feeling a bit worried over the outlaw's fate by now.

"Where is Diego?" Margarita asked them, as they said their goodbyes.

"He had to leave," Alejandro said, after exchanging a glance with his nuera. "A headache."

Margarita blinked. "Oh, si. Buenas noches, both of you."

Magdalena touched her arm. "It was a lovely evening. I only hope you are not too disappointed Diego left so early, and that Zorro rather ruined it."

Margarita's laugh burst out, a beautiful noise. "Zorro doesn't ruin fiestas," she giggled. "He improves them. Almost as much as Don Estevan could have."

Her dimples showing, Margarita said goodbye once more, and Alejandro led Magdalena to their carriage.

"Margarita is a very unique woman," Magdalena said. "I don't think I've ever known anyone like her. She holds no bitterness against your cuñado even though he left her so suddenly."

"She only sees the joy in life," Alejandro said. "She is much like Diego's mother in that respect."

Magdalena placed a hand on his arm and gently squeezed. No words were needed.


"I told you, I am not who you look for," the man gasped, and Zorro continued advancing.

"Si, you are," he snapped. "And you took more than a fair share of the female guests' jewelry tonight. I would like to return it to them."

The man almost growled in frustration. "Give me a sword," he snapped. "Then I shall show you!"

"I have no extra weapon," Zorro said. "But if I did have one, I would not hesitate to give it to you, fool though you are. No man has ever bested me."

"I know," the man said, and took the helmet from his head.

"Martinez!" Zorro swore, and Martinez sneered.

"It took you too long to remember me, Senor Zorro. Now en garde!"

A sword appeared out of nowhere, it seemed, and Zorro fumbled for his own.

It was quick and vicious. Martinez's costume impeded his movement, and he was unarmed within moments, with a sword at his throat.

"You will take me to your hideout," Zorro hissed. "And you will give back everything you took."

"You will have to kill me first," Martinez snapped.

Making a decision, Zorro ripped the man's costume from his shoulder, the plate of armor coming easily once he figured how.

"What are you doing?" Martinez asked, then stiffened as the blade of justice pierced his skin.


The good Sergeant did indeed sneak from the fiesta early, going through the back of the Cortazar hacienda, and heading to the stables from there. Once mounted on his horse, he rode towards the cuartel slowly, quietly.

He felt let down. He felt sad.

He had expected Senor Zorro to appear again, to make his path clear so that he knew what decision he must make.

The outlaw had done such a thing so many times in the past. It made Garcia feel almost angry to realize that this was a decision that Zorro couldn't make for him. And that was all there was to it.

He had to decide for himself what woman was right for him, and what woman would truly love him in return.

And if he wanted to marry anyway. As Don Diego had said, why should he be in a hurry to marry?

Cutting across meadows, he neared the road as the path grew steeper, and it was then that he saw the stopped carriage.

"What is this?" He said, urging his horse faster, until they came abreast of it.

"¡Ah! Is anyone here?" He called. "I am a soldier of the King. You need fear nothing from me."

"Commandante?" He heard a voice ask, and gasped when the occupant alighted.

She wore a mask, he wasn't sure who it was, but the splendor of her dress and costume awed him. She had obviously been going to the San Valentin masquerade Don Marcos had been holding.

He dismounted quickly, and hurried to her side. "What has happened, senorita?"

"Senorita?" The woman asked, and he was surprised to hear bitterness in her tone. "Don't you recognize me, Sergeant? I am Dona Inez."

Garcia wasn't sure what made him do it, but he reached up and gently removed her mask before she could. His hands brushed her hair, and the soft skin of her cheek as he did so, and she shivered.

"This was supposed to be a magical night," Inez murmured, gazing up at him with crystal clear eyes. "I was supposed to have a secret rendezvous with my amante, and it was supposed to be a scandal and we would be forced to marry."

She shook her head. "There is no magic on San Valentin's feast after all."

"Let me disagree," Garcia protested, words coming surprisingly easy. "Scandals are not worth the bother, and wouldn't you rather he chose to marry you?"

It was then that he leaned down, placed his hands on her shoulders, and kissed her.

Her arms slid around his neck, and Garcia suddenly had the feeling that he was finally the hero in this story.

It wasn't just Zorro who got the girl after all.

And as it turned out, it had been Inez all along.


Magdalena was pacing the floor when Zorro returned, both still in costume.

"Where have you been?" She asked, flying to him, and he stepped back automatically, as if fearing her.

She remembered the last words she'd said to him, and colored. "I didn't mean what I said, Diego, I was just afraid."

"Of what?" He asked, and untied his mask.

"That my gift for you would not arrive in time," she whispered. "This is why I went to see Sergeant Garcia. I needed to ask him to not check my mail."

Diego's brows hiked up. "Whyever not?"

She pressed something into his gloved hand, and he switched it to the other so he could remove his glove before looking at it.

He moved into the moonlight to see better, and she moved with him, hearing the small gasp he made upon discovering what it was.

"How did you do this?" He asked, a note of awe in his voice as he turned to her.

"I commissioned a copy," she whispered. "I wrote a friend, who knew you in Spain as the best fencer living. I told him your trophy had been stolen, and could he commission a copy? This arrived yesterday."

"I gave away this life when I returned home," Diego whispered. "I never thought to see something like this again."

"That is why I wanted you to have it," she said. "I really am sorry for what I said."

"I am sorry also," he whispered, and pulled her to him.

"Why did you leave the fiesta?" She asked, and he chuckled before pulling away again.

"That is a story for another time," he said. "But suffice to say that it had a very happy ending. Moneta's bracelet will be returned to her."

"A thief?" Magdalena asked, as his lips landed on her neck.

"A bit more than that," he whispered, and she shivered. "But as I said, that's not important right now."


Epilogue: A week later.


The day Corporal Reyes returned to Los Angeles, after spending three weeks at Dolores Bastenado's rancho, it was dry and dusty.

The Corporal rode his horse through town, silently marvelling at the stillness. True, it was near the siesta hour. But it was more the weather that was quieting people.

At the cuartel gate, he announced his name and was let in. Ibarra welcomed him heartily.

"Muchacho! Did you have a nice visit?"

"Si," Corporal Reyes answered. "It was very good. Senorita Bastenado was most kind to me."

Ibarra watched eagerly as Reyes dismounted, his eyes on the large basket Reyes bore in front of him.

"What is in the basket?" Ibarra asked, trying to peek.

"I think I should show it to the Sergeant first," Reyes answered and Ibarra visibly wilted.

"But if it's food, I'll never see it again!"

Reyes shrugged. "If it's food and we don't tell him about it..."

He trailed off as Ibarra walked in front of him to rap on the door of the Commandante's office.

"Enter!"

Ibarra opened the door and poked his head in. Sergeant Garcia sat at his desk, writing something.

"Sergeant, Corporal Reyes has returned from his visit to Senorita Bastenado's rancho."

"Show him in, Private!" Garcia said, standing. "Corporal! It is so good to see you again! Did you have a nice trip?"

Looking uneasy, Reyes stepped forward. "Nothing to boast about, Sergeant."

"I doubt that! I think Senorita Bastenado would have showered you with pleasant times! What's in the basket?"

"Just some things she sent back with me," Reyes said, surrendering to the inevitable and handing the basket over to his superior.

Garcia unpacked it with relish. "Salchichón! I have never seen such a beautiful sausage! Brandy! What a wonderful looking cake! Are those dates? Candied oranges?"

He looked up at Reyes, and the Corporal could see the raw desire in the Sergeant's eyes. He awaited with dread the moment when Garcia would commandeer it, making something up about how gifts weren't allowed, or he had to inspect the food before returning it to him.

"Do you, uh, plan to share this, Corporal?"

"I'm—I'm not sure. I hadn't thought about it," Reyes said.

Something seemed to change in the Sergeant. As Reyes watched, Garcia seemed to think of something, and slowly sat down again.

He picked up his quill, turning back to his letter. "I am sure that the men in the garrison would appreciate a share," he said, a bit distractedly. "You may keep it all to yourself, if that's what you prefer, but if you do decide on that course of action, you had better have a good hiding place in mind."

Reyes stared at him. "You—you do not wish any, Sergeant?"

"Me?" Garcia said. "Why should I? I think I am well enough off to not have to take treats from a mere corporal. But thank you for offering."

Reyes still stood in the middle of the office floor, staring at Garcia. "But...but.."

"Did you not hear me? I do not want any. Please, if you have nothing more to say," Garcia fluttered his hand towards the door.

Reyes took the hint, grabbed the basket back and fairly fled the office, obviously not believing his luck.

Garcia put quill to paper, and began to write.

"Inez, today Corporal Reyes returned from Dolores Bastenado's rancho..."