Chapter 8

Don Alejandro de la Vega hesitated outside of the door he'd just closed. His shoulders sagged, his hand still resting on the door latch. His heart cried out that he should never have left Diego's side. Not now. Then he remembered the quick glimpse he'd had of Diego's face when Victoria leaned over and kissed him. Biting his lower lip in determination and resignation, he moved away from the door. He swayed a bit and would have fallen if Mendoza had not grabbed him by the arm and headed him toward a chair…ironically, the same chair he had earlier been tied to while Ramiro's "interrogation" was in process.

"Don Alejandro, you're exhausted." The sergeant looked around for the nearest lancer. "Sancho, bring Senor de la Vega something to drink…wine or brandy if you can find it."

"Si, Sergeant!"

When the private returned with a military issue canteen, Sergeant Mendoza took a sniff of the contents and raised his eyebrows, then turned sheepishly and offered the canteen to Don Alejandro. He took the canteen in hands that were obviously shaking, sniffed for himself and raised his own eyebrows to the sergeant, but then took a healthy swig of the potent beverage, and leaned his head back against the wall behind him.

"Thank you, Sergeant. I needed that." His voice sounded gruff, raspy…even to his own ears. "It's been a very long night." He breathed deeply, then let out a long, disheartened sigh. "I don't see the day becoming any better."

"No, Senor, it...I…." Sgt. Jaime Mendoza took a deep breath before he spoke again, and his voice was rough in its grief, reminding Alejandro that this man was his son's friend. "Senorita Escalante was almost hysterical when she found us. I…I had hoped that things weren't as bad as she said they were, but…now that I've seen Diego, I…." His voice faded.

Dear old Mendoza. He and Diego have to be the most unlikely pair of friends in Alta California. But friends they are, and no man could be more loyal to his friends than the sergeant. He's such a kind-hearted person to be a soldier. He's ready to cry, too. And he won't think twice about letting his men see him do it, either. I should learn from him.

Alejandro sat with his head in his hands, not looking at Mendoza as he whispered. "Have you ever had to sit and listen to someone you love struggling just to get enough air into his lungs to stay alive, when you know that every breath he takes is like having someone stab a knife into his chest…over and over…for hours?"

Don Alejandro finally surrendered to the horror of the past day and night. His shoulders shook as he broke into racking sobs. Mendoza didn't even try to reply to the old don. He just stood beside him, with his hand on Alejandro's shoulder. His own tears streaked his cheeks as he tried not to picture his gentle, scholarly friend undergoing the type of suffering Senorita Escalante had described to him as they were riding back to the cabin.

It took several minutes for Don Alejandro to compose himself, but he managed to do so. Diego still needed him to be strong, both for himself and for Victoria. He took a deep, shuddering breath, rubbed a still shaky hand across his face, and stood to go back into the lean-to.

Before he reached the door, though, it opened. The glazed look of disbelief in Victoria's eyes, and the tears running down her cheeks as she attempted to speak, told Alejandro all he didn't want to hear. His breath caught in his throat, and one fist rose to his mouth in an instinctive gesture of denial. Then he stiffened himself to his full height, reached out, and drew Victoria into a tight embrace as she crumpled against him. Their tears mingled as they just stood there, with Victoria's head buried in Don Alejandro's chest, both trying to comprehend the fact that Don Diego de la Vega was gone. Forever.

TBC