"Are you alright, Don Alejandro?" Victoria asked the old man who was like a father to her, even more so since she had given birth to Diego's child.
He was sat in the library, staring through the wall in front of him, deep in thoughts, and startled when he heard her voice.
"No, Victoria. Unfortunately, I am not." He uttered. "Come, my dear. Please, take a seat. There is something I've been wanting to discuss with you."
The young woman sat in front of him, as requested. Before saying anything else, Don Alejandro rose from his chair and poured two glasses of red wine, handing her one before retaking his seat.
"That bad?" She asked, knowing he had stopped drinking wine ever since he had that heart attack, three years earlier.
"The drought is bankrupting me, Victoria. I have already used all my available resources to renovate the hacienda after the fire and to get over the last year's drought, in the hopes that things will get better this year. The cattle are dying, the crops failed and the vineyards are in ruin. A few months ago I had been forced to sell my northern pastures, just to make ends meet. Now, with the price for the cattle decreasing, my men had to take the animals to Santa Barbara to be sold, but they should have returned days ago with the money. If they managed to sell all the cattle, I might be able to cover the existing expenses and some of the debts I contracted, but, if anything went wrong…I'll have to borrow more money and, if that doesn't pan out, sell most of the remaining land, which will leave me with little more than this hacienda. Truth is, the way things are going…I am just afraid there may soon be little to nothing left of the De la Vega Ranch." He explained to her, fully aware of the impact of his words over the future of the blue-eyed toddler which was, at that very moment, playing with an improvised wooden sword in the courtyard, under Anita's supervision, mercilessly attacking a bush that stubbornly deflected every thrust.
"What can I do to help, Don Alejandro?" Victoria asked. "I still have the tavern, and 3,000 pesos in savings. It is all yours."
"No, Victoria. That tavern is your inheritance. I could never even consider taking it from you. After all, we can't both be broke. Then what would become of…"
"Don Alejandro!" Juan, one of the don's trusted vaqueros called out.
"What is it, Juan?" Don Alejandro asked, raising up from his chair and taking a few steps towards the door.
"Rodolfo, Martin, Jorge, Julian and Benito have just returned. They are injured, patron! They were attacked on their way back."
"Dios! Where are they?"
"Outside. They just got back!"
As his man said that, Don Alejandro hurried to the courtyard to see his men. They were lying in the shade as two servants were doing their best to help with their wounds. One was shot in the left shoulder, one in the left arm and the others were each decorated with several bade-inflicted wounds.
"Who did this?" Don Alejandro asked.
"Bandidos! There were eight of them. Some 30 miles north." Jorje answered, pressing his hand around the wounded arm.
"Juan, get the wagon and take them to the hospital." Don Alejandro asked. "I'll go talk to the Alcalde." He added, heading for Dulcinea.
"Patron!" Martin called and Don Alejandro made a few steps back towards him. "I'm sorry, patron. We tried to fight them but…Your money…They were in my horse's saddlebags. When they shot me I fell off…They got away with the horse and the money."
"I am sure you did all you could, Martin. Juan, please, just take them to the hospital. Everything else can wait."
Mounting Dulcinea, he went to Los Angeles, leaving Victoria alone to ponder on her own actions.
When he arrived in the pueblo, Mendoza and ten of his men were preparing to set off in search of the bandits which had also attacked Pelo's vaqueros, the morning of the same day, making out with the money they were carrying with them. Unfortunately, in that case, one of his men had also been killed and Pelo, who was accompanying them, not trusting his vaqueros with his money, had received a gun wound to his knee, causing him to lose one of his legs.
Making sure the Sergeant also knew about his men being injured and his money being stolen, Don Alejandro returned to the hacienda and to the library, to pour himself another glass of wine and sink back into his chair.
"Do you think they will find them?" Victoria asked.
"I don't know, Victoria. I hope so, my dear. I…I was thinking I should go with them…but then I thought of Diego and how my impulsive behavior sometimes causes more harm than good."
"You did well not to go. We need you alive and well!" Victoria told him. "Don Alejandro…I've been thinking…If they don't get the money back, I'll sell the tavern. That way you won't need to sell any more land. And things will get better as soon as the rains start. You'll see!" Victoria stated, kneeling next to him.
"No, my dear. I could never accept that."
"Well…you'll have to, because it's my decision!" She stated, rising to her feet and heading towards the courtyard.
"Victoria!" He called, following her outside. "Victoria!" He called again, gently seizing her arm to stop her. "Victoria, I'd rather sell this hacienda and the rest of my land than let you sell your tavern, my dear. Please don't do anything rash!"
"But I cannot let you lose the hacienda! Don't you see, Don Alejandro? This hacienda, this land… is my connection to Diego. I need for my child to grow up here because so did he."
ZZZ
Diego was pacing the large office, unpleased with the developments.
"Please calm down, my friend!" The President asked him. "It is not the end of the world."
"But I am calm, Your Excellency! It is not me in charge of Mexico. Not me who will have to fight the rebellions coming because those short-sighted men in the Congress refuse to acknowledge the need for this law." The caballero stated, barely able to contain his rage.
"It was a close vote, Don Diego. You did a magnificent job. The legal project is perfect and I know how much you and your son worked to make it so. And that speech you gave in Congress did, for certain changed the mind of many who eventually voted for the law to pass. After seeing the amount of opposition there was at first, I, for one, thought it would fail to gain even 20%, but it received double that. That, at least, means that the project remains on the table and will continue to be negotiated until a final version is agreed upon. As I have told you, there are quite a few points where they seem incapable of reaching an agreement, for now, …the native tribes are the main problem."
"The natives were here first! A law on land reform must include their rights to the territories they occupy. It is as simple as that, and, if something is not done soon, we both know what's coming. I, for one, would rather avoid bloodshed."
"So would I, Diego…So would I. God knows I've seen enough of it during the War of Independence."
"What is there to do, in that case?" Diego asked, doing his best effort to regain his composure.
"There's only one solution I can think of."
"Lowering the decision level?"
"Yes…Exactly…The Governors can adopt some of the articles – the less controversial aspects, at least - until the final version is passed and, since much of the Spanish laws were merely adapted, not changed, they can still make land grants. Thus, as things stand, the Governors do, in theory, have the power to expropriate part of the Missions' lands and re-allocate them."
"I thought about that, but I don't see how it might work in practice. The Governors have too much autonomy and barely any supervision. Most abuse their attributions and use their power to make land grants in such a way as to only benefit them and those close to them. Even if they would agree to be useful and get over their petty interests, the obvious problem remaining is that each Governor will act differently and the result will be a very heterogeneous approach to land distribution among the Mexican states. For that reason, I still believe this law should be passed first."
"True...But, since that will, probably, take years under the current circumstances, and, as we both know, we don't have that amount of time, some sort of land reform, even if heterogeneous, as you mention, is better than no reform. It is the best temporary solution I can think of. And we need to make it possible sooner rather than later, or this state will disintegrate due to civil unrest before it will have had the chance to succeed. Personally, I believe it is just a matter of having the right man at the right place, and I do have the power to appoint Governors…which brings me to the real reason I have called you here this evening."
Diego stopped pacing and turned to face the President. They had become close, friends, to a certain degree, during the year spent working together on the law on land reform. The young General had been more than impressed with Diego's work, certainly enthralled with the man himself. But he always feared that getting the law through Congress would be problematic and might take several years to gather the needed support. He hopped it might be his legacy, though, and Diego's project would have made a fine legacy, indeed. However, as things stood, with the state in continual turmoil, the rapid governmental changes, the mixture of egos and, as the caballero had put it "short-sightedness" of the Congress, he had been forced to admit that, at the very best, it might be the legacy of his successor. So, ever since the first reading of the law in Congress, realizing the stupidity of the arguments brought against it, he had started to review his strategy.
"I called you here because I have a proposition for you and I would like for you to accept it. I need for you to accept, because I can think of no one better..." The President continued.
Diego remained silent, waiting to hear what the man had to say.
"As you are aware, the Governor of California is about to finish his mandate. I would like for you to replace him, Don Diego. It's a six years term, as you know, but you will have the power to make a real difference, even more so than I can."
"Me?" Diego asked with a chuckle. "Your Excellency, you do realize that I have spent more or less a decade as an outlaw with a price on my head! Hunted all over California!"
"Do you think the Spanish Crown considered me a hero, by any chance? We might have fought differently, with different results, but we are not so different in the end. You fought the Spanish tyranny and so did I. You are a good man, my friend, maybe the best I know. Think of all the good you can do as Governor! I understand you have no regard for politicians and might be reticent to accept my offer. I don't need your answer today. I can give you three days to decide, but I will be very disappointed if your answer is 'no', because that might just make you as short-sighted as those men in Congress which we both loath."
Diego nodded, without saying another word on the matter and saluted the President, turning to head home.
"Oh…Something else, Diego!" The President uttered. "The latest information on Los Angeles, as per our agreement." He said, handing him an envelope.
Diego gratefully took the documents and exited the office, rushing to open it and read it in the hallway.
Once he got home, installed before the fireplace, he took his time to consider his options. On the one hand, his life was in Mexico City. He was respected and beloved as a professor and fencing instructor. He had good friends, several means of income, which had contributed to him gathering, in only four years, a fortune even larger than his father's, and servants who needed their jobs. On the other hand, there was California. A land where he had been chased, shot at, stabbed, poisoned, and in constant danger. A land he loved with all his heart and which needed him.
If he was to refuse the President's offer, he would do the easy thing: stay where life was simple, safe, and responsibilities few. But, rejecting the offer also meant that another would accept it and there was no guarantee as to what kind of man the next Governor would prove to be. There was no guarantee as to his own capacity to do the job, either
, yet he, at least, knew his heart.
Didn't his own father once told him, just like the president, that he could do a lot of good from an official position? Wouldn't accepting the appointment provide him with the chance to improve the lives of many people? Fight injustice and criminality with more efficiency than he had ever done as Zorro?
Diego never chose the easy way, no matter how pleasant it was. If he could help others, he always felt it was his duty and privilege to do so.
"Father?" Felipe interrupted his train of thoughts with a faint knock on the door.
"You may enter, Felipe!" He told him and the younger man stepped into the room.
"What happened today? Has the law passed?"
"No, Felipe. And the chances it will in the near future are slim, at best."
Felipe bowed his head. "Is there nothing we can do, then?"
"Not about the law. They will debate it, bring changes to it. By the time they will finish, it will probably look nothing like we wrote it."
Felipe sighed and turned to leave.
"Wait!" Diego asked him. "Since you are already here, there is something we need to talk about. Please, take a seat, Felipe!"
The son did as the father asked.
"The President made me an offer. He asked me to be the Governor of California. I have three days to give him an answer, but I would also like your opinion before I decide. It will, ultimately affect both of us."
"I believe you should accept!" Felipe simply stated.
"Just like that? Felipe, what about you? What will you do?"
"I will come with you, of course."
"You are courting a young lady here, son, and don't dare deny it! What will be of that romance if we leave? Are you ready to marry her?"
"I am afraid your information is outdated, father. I was courting a senorita, but I stopped when I realize we have nothing in common. Life has been too kind to her, perhaps, and I am long past the age of shallow conversations. I like her, but it always seemed wrong somehow. I, thus, have no attachment here, so you needn't be concerned about that. And I know you. It is an opportunity to help, to make a difference, and you need to take it."
"I thought you wanted to stay in Mexico City after graduation. Build a practice here."
"There is a need for lawyers also in California. There are only three at the moment in the entire territory. I like it here, father. It's an easy life we are leading. But I miss home."
"I will not be able to avoid Los Angeles if I go back as Governor."
"Good. You deserve for those people to finally treat you with the respect they owe you!"
"I will not be able to avoid my father. Or Victoria…"
"Then don't. Settle things with Grandfather. I know you can forgive him and he might feel differently by now. You know how stubborn he is! He probably wants nothing more than to fix things with you but he's just too proud to do anything about it. As for Victoria…I don't know…Maybe you won't even get to see her…Father?"
"Yes, Felipe."
"About Victoria…I kept something from you. Wait a minute, I'll go get it."
Diego looked after his son as he exited the room and returned a few minutes later, with an envelope on which it was merely written "From Victoria". He took the envelope, questioning Felipe with his eyes.
"Grandfather sent it a while ago, before he sent you that horrible letter…"
"How do you know about the letter?" Diego asked and Felipe lowered his eyes. "You've read it! Is that why you refused to write to him? Why you sent him back all his letters?"
"I was upset with what he said to you!"
"No wonder he disinherited you, too! Felipe, that is not what I wanted. Your relation with my father should not be affected by my relation with him!... Now…Tell me what is with this letter and why have you kept it from me?"
"I thought it would only cause you pain, so I didn't give it to you when it arrived. I know I probably should have, but you were so depressed back then...I thought it might only cause you more harm...I am sorry…"
"You kept it from me?"
Felipe nodded, expecting a fully-deserved lecture about secrets between them, or the need for their absence, to be more precise, but no lecture came. Diego just stared at the envelope for a while, as one would at Pandora's Box, and put it into one of his books, leaving it unopened.
"We are going to California, then…" He stated, after a few minutes of silence, turning to face his son.
Felipe smiled at him and nodded. "We're going home." He replied.
The next morning, Diego set out to write a letter to his lawyer in Monterey, the same one he had used during his days as Zorro, and send it together with a small package, then set out to the Azuelas' house.
"You look concerned, Diego. Is there something wrong?" Isabel asked him, as they sat down in the parlor, sensing there was something he needed to tell them.
"Not wrong, exactly." He answered. "I have actually come to tell you I'll be returning to California. I should be leaving in a few months."
"What? Why, Diego?" She asked. "Is there something wrong with your father?"
"No…Not as far as I know." He answered. "I certainly hope not…"
"Then why?" Miguel and Isabel asked at the same time, sharing an amused look afterward.
"The President has offered me to become the next Governor and I've decided to accept." Diego stated.
"You'll be…Governor of California?" Miguel questioned as Isabel was no longer able to utter another sound.
"I am…Although, I should probably first inform the President that I accept…"
"Do you need a new Commander of the Guards, by any chance?" Miguel asked and Isabel looked at him in confusion.
"You'd come with me? But, Miguel, it would basically be a demotion; and your life is here, in the Capital."
"My life is with my beautiful wife and my child, my friend. A wife that here I barely have time to see. In Monterrey, the Commander's quarters are in the same building as the Governor's and the garrison is one door away. Not to mention that we have always made a good team! I certainly wouldn't mind working for you, Diego."
"With. You would be working with me…" Diego stated. "But how about the Isabels? I thought the plan was to raise your children together…"
"Bel is leaving, too." Isabel stated. "She just told me yesterday that Enrique was reassigned to the Presidio in San Diego. I would be closer to her in Monterey…We could visit more often!"
"Isabel and Enrique are moving to California? But how about her parents?" Diego asked.
"I doubt her father would ever want to live someplace other than Mexico City. But I'm sure they will want to visit as much as possible." Isabel told him.
"So…you would come with me?" Diego asked, after taking a few moments to rejoice in the unexpected turn of events.
"I do believe we would need to convince the President first" Miguel uttered, glancing at his wife who offered him her hand "but, yes…we would come. We have no family here, Diego, other than you, Felipe, Bel, and Enrique. There is nothing to keep us in Mexico City if our family is away."
Diego nodded, glad to realize he would not have to part with his friends, after all.
ZZZ
Isabel and Enrique were the first to leave, a month later, heading for San Diego.
Two months after them, having rented the house in Mexico City, making sure that most of the personnel - with the exception of Ernesto and Ruben, who decided to go with him to California - would continue in the service of a good master, Diego had one last swordfight with Pedro Diamanti, before his departure, said goodbye to his students and his colleagues at the University, and left for Monterey. Felipe and the Azuelas followed, all having agreed to make the long journey north by official stagecoaches, accompanied by twenty lancers. Behind the stagecoach also came Felipe's Pinto, Miguel's Valiant, Tornado, and five of his offsprings which Diego had chosen to keep, seeing how the black stallion was already nearing the age when he should finally enjoy a well-deserved retirement, after over fifteen years of faithful service.
ZZZ
"Why don't you ask Diego for help?" Don Emilio asked Don Alejandro as they were both having lunch in the tavern.
"How could I? I cut all communication with him and Felipe cut all communication with me. I wouldn't even know Diego named his son after me, had you not told me. No, Emilio…I'm afraid this time there is no salvaging our relation."
"He would still help, Alejandro! He cares about you, despite your short temper. God knows he is certainly used to it, having spent most of his life living with you! And you know what kind of son you raised! He would do the right thing!"
"Taking responsibility for his child would be the right thing! Returning to his father, to his home, would be the right thing!" Don Alejandro protested.
"But I thought you wanted for him and Felipe to remain in Mexico City."
"I don't! How could I want my son and my grandson so far away from me?" Don Alejandro replied aggravated, then suddenly lowered his tone. "But I also want the best for them and, clearly, they are much better there."
"What will you do then? As you said, you are bankrupt! Not that the rest of us are doing much better…If it doesn't rain soon, none of us will be able to make ends meet till next year. Alejandro, you are not contemplating selling the hacienda, are you?"
"Truth is, I'm not sure I'll have any other choice, my friend. My debts amount to almost 15,000 pesos. Even if Victoria does as she threatens and sells the tavern, even accepting her money, it will still not be enough to save the hacienda."
"I wish I could help, Alejandro! If I wasn't indebted myself, I swear I would…"
"Senorita!" Two strangers approached Pilar, who was behind the bar at the moment. They were tall and strong, but visibly tired and dusty after the long journey to get there. "We are looking for the De la Vega Hacienda and we were told to ask here for directions."
"And what business do you have there?" Don Alejandro asked after overhearing them, looking with suspicion upon the two strangers, each carrying two stuffed saddlebags.
"We are looking for a Don Alejandro de la Vega." The taller of the two stated.
"In that case, you don't need to go to the hacienda; you have found him! I am Alejandro de la Vega! Which of my creditors sent you, senores?" The old don asked, frustrated.
"We were not sent by any creditor, senor. We were merely instructed to bring you this package." The same man said, handing over to Don Alejandro a strange-looking wooden box, with numbers carved into it.
"What is it, Alejandro?" Don Emilio asked seeing the puzzled look on his friend's face.
"I…I haven't seen one of these since my time as a soldier." Don Alejandro answered. "I didn't even know they still existed. We used to carry secret messages in boxes such as this so that, if we were caught, the enemy would not be able to get the message. But it needs a code and a key to open. Weren't you also given some numbers?"
"I was asked to tell you that your father's first name is the number." One of the messengers stated.
"And I was told that the key is six." The other stated.
Intrigued, Don Alejandro went to the bar and asked for Pilar to provide him with a paper and a pencil, then drew a small table, numbering the columns from one to six and then placing each letter of the alphabet, in order, underneath each of the numbers. 562156414 he wrote on the same paper.*
"What is that?" Don Emilio asked.
"The numbers correspond to the letters in my father's name. So, the code must be 56214, since the numbers repeating should be ignored after the first time they appear." Don Alejandro stated, then pressed the numbers on the box in the stated order, causing its bottom part to open and some papers to fall out of it and on the tavern's floor. With help from his friend, the old don collected the papers and opened them, one by one, his face expressing curiosity at first, then plain confusion.
"Who gave you this?" He asked the couriers.
"The lawyer in Monterey. Senor Mariano Sada. I understand he was acting on behalf of one of his clients but that is all we were told." The shorter messenger stated.
"What is it, Alejandro?" Don Emilio asked, noticing the shock adorning his friend's face.
"It's…the deeds to my northern pastures…the ones I sold months ago, and, if I am reading these correctly, these papers attest that my debts have been settled. But, I don't understand. Who would do this?"
"I can only think of one, Alejandro…" His friend uttered with a knowing smile.
"Why would he? And why do it like this?"
"Because he is a good son and because this way you cannot reject his gift?"
Don Alejandro glanced a few times between his friend and the papers, then took a deep breath, letting out a sigh.
"He is a good son, isn't he?" He stated, rather than asked, feeling a tear brazing his wrinkled cheek. "Even after all I said to him…after all I did…he is still a good son…I just wish he would also be a good father!"
ZZZ
The new Governor's convoy passed through most Mexican pueblos on the way without stopping, traveling all day long, and only resting in the Missions on the way. Once it reached California, it made a two-day stop in San Diego, so that Isabel Azuela, who was four-months pregnant with her second child, might have a chance to rest, the six good friends might spend some time together before parting again and the new Governor and his son might take a closer look at the main problems in the area.
Diego thought about also stopping in Los Angeles, but decided against it, since he wanted his first meeting with his father, after over three years apart, to be in private, rather than in the middle of a busy plaza. Victoria he didn't want to see at all, afraid of what she might stir up inside of him.
The only ones who caught a sight of the convoy were ten of the Los Angeles lancers, who met with it on the Camino Real, at the southern limits of Los Angeles and escorted it to its northern limits, marveling at the beautiful, untied, trained horses that followed it in pairs.
About two months after leaving Mexico City, at the end of November 1827, just as the rains started again, the new Governor of California and his new Commander of the Guards took their offices in Monterey.
AN: *If you are trying to decipher the code and something seems wrong, it is because I used the old Spanish alphabet (30 letters version) instead of the English one (it made more sense…)