Note: This simple, little story has absolutely no pretensions. I just wrote it because I felt like it, because I missed writing these two.
Maybe
The last patrons to exit the tavern had taken their separate ways a while back, not even a single one who would have had a bit too much wine and chosen to nap on some arbitrary corner of Los Angeles, was in sight. The night watchmen must have been elsewhere too when Josefina left the main square behind and headed towards the town's outskirts.
The basket she carried against her hip smelled of squash and carrots, the week's leftovers that don Theo, the innkeeper, allowed her and the others to take home sometimes. She would make a soup out of them, or a cake; for that, she would have to get up earlier the following day. Uncle Pedro loved sweet things, though, on second thought, the soup would agree better with his recent state of health.
A large wooden cart sat in front of the last house; Josefina passed right by it, same as she had done a lot of other nights identical to this one, and took the path that unfolded through the boulders, the undergrowth and the half dried up trees. All the while, her mind didn't cease to wander, from the day's uniform occurrences at the tavern, to other shapeless places that she had never known. That is when there was a thump or a rumor, very distinct and clear.
Still, nothing around, yet, she began to walk faster, with the impression that the sound of her own steps against the dusty ground was concealing something else.
"Gimme ten pesos."
She wouldn't have known what spooked her the most: the unexpected request, the voice that had uttered it or the sudden sight of the speaker. From the side of the road and as if he was a part of the landscape, the specter of a man was staring at her.
"I'm sorry," she could say: "I don't have ten pesos."
"Don't be scared" he emerged from the shadows and rushed to walk by her side: "Gimme ten pesos."
"I don't have them."
"Five?"
"No, sorry."
Up ahead, straight to the front, where her eyes searched for shelter, there was only blackness and more blackness. Don't be scared, he had said, or at least don't show it. Only once before had she encountered somebody along these lands: a couple of lancers that were returning into town. And for sure this wouldn't be the night to repeat that coincidence, now would it?
"You have something to eat?"
Of course: the old innkeeper would be her salvation:
"Sí! Sí, I have this, you may take it. There are some vegetables."
He looked inside the basket and that's when in turn she could have a better look at him: it was as if one of those portraits in posters that offered a reward for some outlaw, had come to life.
She moved away. He wouldn't leave her side.
"Would you cook it for me? Or do you have ten pesos?"
There we go with the ten pesos again.
"I don't have a single peso, please leave me alone."
"Why the rudeness?" he complained and grabbed her by the arm: "I'm just asking you a favor!"
"Let me go!"
The basket ended up on the ground, its contents scattered all over.
"I… just… want… ten… pesos!"
In the middle of the struggle and the unfruitful attempts at getting away, she saw it, or heard it, or both: the galloping that approached, this man who wouldn't desist, a steed that came along trotting and its horseman pulled the reins and commanded:
"Let her go!"
Her captor hesitated, his grip still tight around her wrists. And when the other man dismounted and stepped forward, she was able to tell who he was: a caballero, a regular at the taverna. He was the one that always left good tips and was so gallant, respectful and intelligent: el señor De la Vega. Don Diego.
"I told you to release her."
"Ha! And what're you… gonna…"
It seemed as if the bandit didn't really want to find out. And it was then, with don Diego's presence, that he looked older and weaker, less like a criminal and more like a person who doesn't know what he is doing or why. He let go of her at last and started to walk away, not before picking up a carrot or two and throwing a gob of spit on the ground.
Josefina hid her still trembling hands behind the folds of her shawl.
"Are you alright?"
Had they ever spoken to each other outside of the taverna, aside of a civil greeting, an order for a meal or for wine? Certainly not.
"Sí, señor. I'm alright, gracias. I'm sorry to have bothered you."
"It is no bother at all. I had never seen that character around here, had you?" She shook her head. The foreigner had already gotten lost back into the night. "You are going home, aren't you?"
"Sí."
"May I take you there?"
"Oh, no, por favor, I don't want to continue troubling you."
She went to take the basket, but he was faster and picked it up for her. Nevermind the busted squash.
"Josefina…" She looked up at him. Funny, she had most times looked down at him, literally, that is, when she waited at his table: "It is Josefina, isn't it?"
"Sí."
"Josefina, again: it is no trouble at all, believe me. I would not want to leave you alone here, at night and after that. Please, allow me to."
In her defense, she did wonder if there was a valid reason or an excuse to say no. They were nonexistent. Even if she'd have wanted to, how could she? So… she wanted to go with him, she just did. Nothing more to ponder:
"Fine. And gracias."
"It is my pleasure."
With his arms around her and his gloved hands at the horse's reins, they took off.
"Are you alright there?"
"I'm good."
"It is that way, right?"
"Yes, that way, then straight ahead and to the right at the end."
"Señor Pedro's house."
"He's my uncle."
"I know."
Don Diego smelled good. It wasn't perfume or at least it didn't seem to be. His voice, close to her ear, carried by the wind as they advanced down the road, felt so warm and familiar, not just because they had met before, but also because it was… it was…
It was too short of a ride, unfortunately. The little white house was already in sight, a single dim light venturing from the other side of the faded curtains.
"I cannot thank you enough, don Diego" she said, as her feet touched the ground once more.
"I just worry about you taking that road at night again."
"Oh, no, it's usually pretty safe, I'm sure there will be no problem."
"Alright then. Maybe we will meet again anyway."
"Maybe."
His smile was just like his voice. And his eyes…
Good Lord, it was then that she realized he was waiting for her to get inside the house.
"Well, good night don Diego."
"Good night, Josefina."
It was after she closed the door and locked it that she heard the horse trotting away.
As always, uncle Pedro had dozed off on his armchair and snorred the night away, so she left the empty basket on the table and blew off the candle. Half asleep or half awake, he would eventually roll over to his bed before dawn.
Her small bedroom had been attached to the house a couple years before, when she moved from Monterrey. She sat on her bed and closed her eyes, and then, a wave that was an amalgam of delight and fear ran through her being: delight for what she was feeling, and fear because, what was she doing, a poor waitress, a servant, daring to entertain these thoughts for such a man? And during the hours that led to daybreak, she imagined a dozen lives lived with him, a hundred conversations, a thousand ways he would hold her hand and kiss her lips. She saw herself by his side at a picnic under a leafy tree, a horse ride together across bright green lands, a trip by stagecoach, a wedding before the whole town or just with a handful of their closest relatives or friends.
She thought of all of this, aware that it was a delusion, a febrile dream that had possessed her that night and who knew if she would ever want to get rid of it.
Maybe we will meet again anyway, he said.
Maybe, don Diego.
Maybe.
End.
(...)
Note: Once again, I pictured Diego through Josefina's eyes; I have actually wondered if I would be able to just write him, and see things from his point of view. That sounds like a colossal task for me, to be honest; I would be so afraid of not portraying him right. Guess it's easier to just make Josefina fall in love with him over and over again XD Also, as usual, I preferred to write Diego instead of Zorro. If you have read my stories before, you know!
Btw, I took a couple of quotes from WDZ episode 14, season 2, "The runaways", when the caporal is grabbing the girl and Diego asks him to let go of her.
Thanks for reading!