Chapter 17

Business went smoothly. Markum spoke with Carlos and Angelina. The funds transferred between accounts. Price's research had turned up available and affordable land a block from the depot. Miguel sent a second telegram with his observations. She had expected to have just the down payment….

Contributions however poured in. Ortiz, Ricardo and Mercedes donated for the endeavor. Tucson's town elders chopped the purchase price further.

When completed, Angelina owned the land. She owed on some materials and start up costs. She wanted the original tavern's twin there. The building would look the same. The service would excel. The costs would be low.

In those ways, she'd insure business in her new home….

[Plaza Church—11:30 AM]

Manolito watched the landscaped grass rolling past the moving carriages. Memoria nagged at him about Uncertainty's and Desperation's pressure on the group during the last visit. Contrast struck him at the disrupted peace leading to the standoff then. Status Quo had returned. Payoffs seemed within reach.

Stability….

Family….

Hope….

His eyes drifted down toward Mercedes' stomach. I still cannot believe I will be the father!

"Does something trouble you, Manolo?" Mercedes placed her hand on his.

"My mind wanders, Mercedita. That grass…it looks so peaceful now. To look at it now, it could never be guessed at what happened before." He leaned back against the cushions.

"Our baby and I know you will protect us. I have faith in you. Have faith in yourself. You are strong." Mercedes squeezed his hand in hers. "We know. I know. You know."

Admiration lit up in his eyes. "How did you get so wise?"

"Perhaps when a certain little boy kept pulling me out of a tree?" Teasing coaxed a giggle from her.

He sighed. "Yet another part of my past I shall never forget."

"You'd best not." She noticed the carriage coming to a stop. "We are here." She waited for the driver to let them out. "Gracias." She looked back. "Do you know why we are here?"

"That's my question as well." John squinted into the sunlit surroundings. "Sure hard to believe this was a village square at one point." He helped Victoria down onto the cobbled walkway.

"It was until a few years ago, John." Ricardo accompanied Maria and Angelina to their side. "That was a dirt area and the old buildings."

"I wish Papa had come with us. He does not care for our heritage. I wish he understood. Felipe, Elena and he will not." Lament creased Angelina's features.

"It's a shame. That is their failing not yours." Maria rubbed her shoulder. "You know. Consul Ortiz said it quite an eloquent way. We will leave it to him. We can look at the painting and see."

"Painting?" Surprise dropped Angelina's jaw. "You have La Batalla? We had heard it was in Mexico. No one knew where."

"Manolito and Mercedes received it as a gift. It is at Rancho Rivertree." Ricardo nodded. "A reminder of the past for all sides."

"I still want to know what this proposition is, Don Ricardo." John held firm against his own impatience. Still, it affected his outlook.

"We will talk about it soon, John. I promise." Ricardo motioned them forward. "There is one more stop. You have seen Rancho Henche, the tavern, the old plaza and Rancho Vega." He pointed to the church.

"The church?" Victoria surveyed the structure in front of them. As with any church, Reverence and Respect governed her feelings. Still, the building seemed ordinary. "They went to Mass here?"

"Sí. They did. Padre Benitez told a story to Padre Marco. He was here on our last visit." Ricardo led them into the church. Halfway up the aisle, he kneeled and crossed himself before the Virgin Mary's icon. "They sat here." He patted the pew to his right. His eyes glanced on the oak seats. "Abuela brought me just two days before her death." He exhaled a heavy breath. "Vamanos."

"Go where? Don Ricardo, we cannot go onto the dais." Manolito exchanged looks with Mercedes.

"Ricardo?" Question raised her eyebrow.

An elderly priest stepped out of the confessional booth. He shut the door behind himself. He saw the group. "Buenos Dias, Doña Angelina. How are you?"

"I am well, Padre Marco. Gracias." Angelina offered a nod of the head. 'We have guests. My cousin, Don Ricardo de la Vega, his wife, Doña Maria, his daughter, Doña Mercedes and her husband, Don Manolito. We also have John and Victoria Cannon."

"Welcome to our church!" Marco held his arms out wide to the group. "I hope your visit has gone well." He considered Ricardo. "You look familiar. Have we met?"

"Sí, Padre. Doña Victoria brought me to Mass right before her death." Ricardo bowed to the priest.

"Ah! Now I remember! And you have returned." Marco nodded. "And is this your first visit to Los Angeles?"

"For my husband and me, sí Padre." Victoria curtseyed to him.

"I came once before with Papa fifteen years ago," Mercedes chimed in.

"I rode through and stayed a night a long time ago." Manolito looked around the church. "The plaza does not look the same."

"I imagine it does not." Marco nodded. "It happened a few years ago. I helped to move the people. They are in their new homes. Doña Alejandra helped me."

Angelina nodded. "I remember. We are here to see her and the others, Padre Marco. Con su permiso."

"Por supuesto." Marco opened a gate in the wooden railing between the pews and altar. "You know the way, my Child.'

"Say, Padre. I had a historical question." John cleared his throat. He rubbed the back of his neck.

"¿Sí, Señor? What might I help you with?" Marco turned to John and Victoria.

"The Battle of 1819. Did anything happen in here?" John surveyed the church. Then his eyes turned back to the priest.

"The rebuilding took place after that. There was a shooting." Marco rubbed his chin. "Padre Benitez told me that un vaquero negro shot a soldado. ¡Ay! We cannot spill blood in God's House!" He shuffled over to a spot by a ladder. "He said it happened here."

Manolito nodded. He walked up to Marco's side. A small carpet bearing native symbols sat on the floor under a ladder. "May I?" Getting a nod from Marco, he lifted it to find a dirt patch underneath. Blood's droplets still stained the area. "The soldado was not killed, Padre. And el vaquero was here with Zorro."

Marco sighed. "Perhaps. Bark should not have shot him." He motioned to the others. "Come! Come and see!"

"John, here is your proof." Manolito pointed to the dirt patch.

Victoria inspected the soil. "John, it is here! ¡Dios Mio! It is still here!" She crossed herself and glanced toward the ceiling.

John pushed his hat back on his forehead. It really happened!

Mercedes glanced to Manolito. "And the other Manolito? Was he here, Manolo?"

"No. He was in the crowd outside," Manolito assured her. He covered the spot again. "No one died that day. We should be glad."

"Yes." Marco crossed himself. "Is the vaquero in your family, Señor Cannon?"

"Buck was my uncle, Padre Marco. He'd told the story back home. I have to admit that I was curious. Thank you." John put his hand out.

"You are very welcome." Marco shook John's hand. Curiosity seized onto him over Manolito's assessment. How would he know? He took a set of metal keys from his pocket. "Vamanos." Composure maintained his poker face.

"His Tio told us many things, Padre Marco." Victoria glanced at the others and then at Marco. "Is it not a good thing to see the place?"

"Absolutamente, Señora Cannon. We are proud of our history. It is an honor to welcome de la Vegas and other families here. Por favor." Marco strolled by the altar. He stopped in front of the door. His hand brushed over its aged surface. "Other than Doña Angelina, there is no interest. Es desafortunata."

He inserted a metal key into the lock.

The lock turned with a loud groan.

Angelina bowed her head. "The people forget. They do not understand, Padre Marco! Papa, my brother and my sister…they do not care!"

"They look to future not our past, Doña Angelina." Marco opened the door. Then he stepped aside. "The stairs are steep."

Ricardo took Maria's hand. "It is time to put faces to the stories." He motioned to the others. "Sigueme." Then he led her into the stairway.

"We have come this far. It is but a little further and a few stairs." Manolito smirked. Nonchalance added a shrug for further air. He led the others in Ricardo's steps. Caution edged his steps down the narrow steps. His left hand slid down the smooth banister. Dust flew off in Palm's wake. He reached the last step and walked into a wider chamber.

Granite slabs covered the walls and floor. A dozen burial slots, six to each side of the room, lined the floor. Brass held onto names and dates on the west-facing plots. Angelina's rag swiped Dirt's shroud from them.

Reverence imparted a seriousness to Manolito. He squatted before the two in the center. His hand brushed over their brass. "At least you listened, Diego. Está bien. Balance is a good thing. Is it not, Amigo? I am sure you brought him that balance. Victoria. You lured him away from those books at least once in a while." He smirked. "Your sacrifice and service inspire others. I am sorry some forget. Qué lástima. You would be proud of Angelina and Miguel." He sighed. Once again, he remembered the parting at the Rancho Vega. Once again, I am sorry that I doubted you, Diego.

"That was very nice, Manolito." Victoria couldn't help but be moved by her brother's words. Once again, she noted these people's impact on him.

"Muchissimas gracias, Don Manolito." Angelina inspected her great-grandparents' slabs. "Don Alejandro taught them about service. Nobility is not a birthright. It is a duty." She sighed. "The others tire of my words."

"That's on them, Angelina. I may not be of the same world you all are. Still, I look out for my friends and neighbors. That's part of being in this world. I wouldn't worry about that one bit." A smile creased John's face.

"The tavern will continue. You will serve a new town. You bring stability to our community. Those are muy importante as well," Victoria chimed in.

"Zorro will join us as well." Ricardo bowed his head.

"What? Certainly the people of Los Angeles would want his costume and gear in the museum here? I cannot believe they would overlook that!" Maria gasped. Disbelief and specks of Outrage danced in her eyes.

"I can believe it." Angelina shook her head. "The people have no time for their hero any longer. Three generations have come and gone."

"Some forget. Some do not. We remember." Ricardo sucked in a deep breath. "I have packed the costume, whip, hat and spurs into my bag. The other things will come with Doña Victoria's desk."

"You will see their paintings at our rancho. Blue has Guillermo's drawings." Mercedes looked to both her father and husband. Then she returned her gaze to her cousin. "And my brother will not allow anyone to forget them. No. They are remembered." She patted her stomach. "This one will know that."

"We will make sure of that, Mercedita." Manolito vowed.

Angelina kneeled. "I am sorry that this is good bye. I will leave tomorrow with them. I may not come for a long time. I think of all of you. I love you all." She put her fingers to her lips. Reverence's kiss floated on the breeze about the slabs.

"They know that." Confirmation registered in Victoria's tone. "We think of this as hasta luego rather than as adios. Somos familia."

Optimism's smile broke through Depression's overcast. Angelina felt Mood bouncing back. "It is time to move ahead. They would want that." She stood up. Her hands dusted the dirt from her skirt. "It is a new town."

"We still work hard and help others. That is all we can do," John reiterated. "I think you'll find the people of Tucson think the same way."

Angelina nodded. She bowed to the graves once more. Then she turned and led the others out of the crypt.

Opportunity would allow Service its new vista….