Chapter 29
Diego drifted in and out of consciousness for the next week. When he was awake, it took no more than a few sentences for them to tell how lucid he really was. Most of the time, he wasn't. He still thought they were prisoners, and he was still trying to get his father to take Victoria and escape, and leave him behind. The delirium and his unbelievable strength were wearing everyone out, as they tried to prevent him from getting up and injuring himself further. His fever came and went. Even though the bullet wound was finally beginning to heal, it was still red; infection had definitely set in, and the cough he still had kept pneumonia an ever-looming possibility.
Victoria, Don Alejandro, and Felipe were taking turns sitting with him, trying to get as much tea and water in him as they could. They gave him laudanum as needed both to calm the cough, and for the pain caused by that nagging, thick and painful action. They bathed him off frequently, and kept him loosely covered to keep him cool.
The three slipped into a routine of taking turns with him. Don Alejandro would sit his turn with him, sleep a little, and then work on the ranch account books or confer with the vaqueros. He made sure he always let them know where he would be, if he had to leave the house, in case he was needed.
Felipe would escape to tend to the cave and Toronado. He helped Don Alejandro and tried to get him to rest more, but though the old man might agree to lie down for a while, Felipe would later find him doing something usually related to the ranch. It was obvious that the elder don was trying to stay busy, to escape from his thoughts and worries.
Victoria continued to sit with Diego most of the time, reading or talking to him, encouraging him to take more broth or water. She refused to leave his side. She promised to call the others if there were any changes.
Eight days after coming home, the doctor and padre came by on one of their daily visits to check on Diego's progress and to pray with the family. This time the excited padre informed them, "I had taken some food to the nearby Indian village. I spoke with the shaman about my friend, Diego, who was sick with fever, a bullet wound, delirium and developing a lung ailment. The shaman said he knew Diego, as he had done many nice things for the tribe in the past. He gave me some new herbs he thought might help, and told me how to use them." Padre Benitez produced a pouch as he explained how the herbs were to be administered.
They set about mixing the new herbs, willing to try anything to help Diego get better. They changed the poultice, and started giving him the new tea mixture.
Z Z Z Z Z Z Z
Felipe brought Victoria a glass of juice when he brought Diego's new tea. She really didn't want it, but he encouraged her to drink the beverage, as she really had not taken in much of anything since Diego had come home. She saw him watching her closely as she drank the beverage, but couldn't know how guilty he truly felt as she finished off the glass of liquid. He had mixed some of Diego's sleeping draught into the juice.
He knew she would be angry if she found out, but also knew that she had not slept much since they had been home, and she was starting to lose weight. She had been trying to sleep on a cot beside Diego's bed whenever possible, but she was too worried. She had even tried lying beside him on top of the covers, but he was too restless with his fever and difficult breathing. The strain was really starting to get to her. Besides the fatigue, her temper had grown short and she cried easily. If she didn't get some real rest soon, she would be sick, also; and Felipe knew without a doubt that if he allowed that to happen, and Diego ever found out about it, Diego would be very angry.
With heavy eyes, Victoria looked at him as she handed the empty glass back. The dark circles underneath her eyes reflected the depth of her fatigue.
"Thank you, that was good," she quietly stated, already in a slight daze. She sat in the chair next to the bed, hardly taking her eyes off Diego.
When she started to nod off, Felipe touched her shoulder. After glancing quickly around to be sure no one else was within hearing range, he spoke. "Wh-why don' you lie down an' r-rest for awhile? I can s-sit wi' him."
After much coaxing, and with the medicine finally catching up with her, she consented. "OK, I will rest, but for only a few minutes, and I will go only as far as the cot."
She noticed Felipe was watching her closely as she finally closed her eyes to sleep. Vaguely, she wondered what he was thinking, but her fatigue made her unable to concentrate. She certainly would not be happy with him if she knew what he had done. Felipe knew for himself that she probably would not get a really restful sleep, but it would be sleep nonetheless, and she would not argue that she could not use the sleep.
Felipe turned and sat in the chair to watch Diego as he fought with the demons of his illness. He prayed the new herbs would help. The thought also crossed his mind that he would have to write these down for future reference.
As he reached for a damp washcloth to wipe Diego's face, his thoughts also took him back through time, reminiscing on the ways Zorro's secret had changed his own life. He himself had grown up, from a child to a man, in more ways than just in years. The secret had forced him to become wise, beyond books. He had never had much of a childhood because of it, even though there were plenty of children around Los Angeles to play with. The secret required adult thoughts and actions.
Then again, to be perfectly honest, Felipe's childhood had ended long before Zorro was ever conceived: on a long ago battlefield, as a traumatized six-year-old watched his parents die, leaving him alone in an overturned cart, hiding from the attacking soldiers, in a field full of dead bodies.
But thinking back, he wouldn't have changed a thing about his life with the de la Vegas. Zorro would not have been able to have been everywhere or heard all of the things that Felipe had alerted him to. Diego had needed someone to care for the numerous injuries Zorro had incurred. He had needed help caring for Toronado, and help with the subterfuges they'd used to keep anyone (especially his father) from connecting Zorro to Don Diego de la Vega. It had been a very long seven years, but they had survived. No, he wouldn't change a thing. Zorro had done lots of good for the pueblo, and saved many lives, and Felipe had been able to help him.
But this … this wasn't supposed to happen. This had happened to Diego, not Zorro. Felipe had been prepared (well, as prepared as you can be) for Zorro to be injured badly, or to die, but not Diego.
Somehow, this time, because it was Diego, and Don Alejandro and Victoria were also involved, it made it more nightmarish. And the doctor and the padre also knew the truth! It was going to take some adjustment to accept that so many now knew their secret. Maybe, as Victoria had said, it would be better. If Zorro had been injured this badly, it would have been very hard to cover up, much less go through by himself. For this, he was thankful he was not alone.
Z Z Z Z Z Z Z
Diego's fever continued to rage off and on for another day and a half. He remained unconscious, while his family remained constant at their vigil. The deep cough continued to wrack at his tired and weakened body.
Still exhausted, even after her unexpectedly long "nap" the day before, Victoria sat next to Diego's bed, staring out the window. Diego was asleep; his raspy breathing was soft and regular, the only sound in the room. It did not seem fair that outside the hacienda, life just carried on, seemingly unaware that the man she loved was fighting for very breath on the other side of these very walls. She was so tired and lost in her thoughts, that she almost missed the drama slowly unfolding beside her. Diego's ragged breathing became slower, more irregular, spaced out, and then there was nothing. The sudden silence shocked her out of her reverie.
"NO! No! Dios, no! …you promised! You can't die and leave me here alone!"
TBC
