Author's note: This is for Your Worshipfullness, since you asked so nicely, and Nayvera, because you rock. Just a short little chapter, really. I think I have been reading a little too much 19th century British literature, and I fear it has influenced my fanfic writing a little too much towards the melodramatic, just to warn you. But I was blocked on this story for so long, I thought I better go where my writing wanted to take me, even if it is a smidge over the top.
Also? I think we've all noticed by now that my Spanish is less than good (thanks so much to everyone who's tried to help me out, I'm just a bit useless in that area, I fear.) I've used the word "niño" as something Alejandro might call Diego when he was younger, which I am fairly certain is not correct, but extensive Google searching didn't provide me anything better, so I went with it. If anyone has any better suggestions, I'd love to hear them.
Well, I'm sure y'all are all beyond tired of the meta-ness at the beginning of all of these chapters, so why don't we get to the story.
Chapter Twenty.
The ride home was worse even than the last had been, when he'd been half-unconscious, his life's blood spilling over Toronado's saddle. If he hadn't so determined to get out of the alcalde's increasingly suspicious gaze, he might have waited for the cart. By the time they'd traveled even half-way home, he was leaning entirely on Felipe, breathing heavily.
His father hissed and reigned up beside them. "You are a fool for doing this to yourself, Diego, and I, even worse a one for letting you. We could have waited for the damn cart, or figured out something.
"Why did you have to choose now all of a sudden to be so stubborn?"
Diego had to smile a little at that.
His father sighed. "You know, fathers often say we wish our sons to be like us, but I don't think anyone actually means it." He paused, looking at Diego in clear worry. "You usually show more sense than this."
"I'll manage," Diego said, forcing more strength into his voice than he actually felt. He stopped, gripping Felipe a little more tightly as the horse seemed to sway beneath him. "I think, though, we should be getting along."
Alejandro swore lightly under his breath, but then picked up the pace again.
Diego only realized that they'd finally reached the hacienda when the nauseating rhythm of the horse beneath him came to a stop and two pairs of hands reached up to lift him from the saddle. The blanket finally fell from his nerveless grasp and he nearly fainted again when his feet touched the ground.
"Santa Maria, Madre de Dios," whispered Juan fervently.
"Diego," Alejandro said, face going bloodless beneath the tan, "you should have told us it was this bad. Why in God's name did you not say something?" He shook his head. "I should never have let you get on that horse."
Diego tried to stand on his own, but his legs were not responding. The blood was pounding with agonizing fierceness in his head, and everything began to swirl again.
"Juan," his father said, "I know you are tired, but I must ask you and the men to go into town and fetch Dr. Hernandez immediately."
Juan disappeared from his side to be replaced by Felipe.
Diego barely noticed the worried faces of the servants as Felipe and his father helped him to stumble into his room.
"Felipe," his father said, sitting Diego on the bed, "will you fetch whatever of Diego's medicines that you know how to use and some of those bandages Diego prepares for the doctor?"
Diego tried to take a few deep breaths. Felipe could not manage this alone and there was too much his father might notice.
"Felipe and I will manage. I just need to rest for a moment." He just needed to lie down for just a little while. Then he'd get up and deal with this somehow. He just wanted a moment's sleep. He knew he couldn't afford much. The pile of things that had needed his attention before must have tripled in his absence.
"Diego," his father said lowly.
"No, really, Felipe knows quite a bit by now."
His father gripped his shaking arm when he reached to pull himself off the bed again and then pulled him against him again, this time infinitely gently.
"But I have to," Diego said, no longer entirely sure what he had to do, only knowing it must be something. "You have to let me up."
"Shhh," his father said, gripping a little more tightly until his moment of panic passed. "It's all right now. You are found, safe, the Blessed Savior has returned you to us."
His father's voice was thick, and his hands were shaking a little where they ran over Diego's back. He held Diego firmly for a moment before releasing him. When he pushed Diego to lie on the bed, Diego could see a few tears running down his face. His father never cried, never.
"What is it?" he asked, pushing himself onto one elbow.
Alejandro shook his head. "That you could even ask me that."
He lowered his head and then bent to pull off Diego's dust caked boots.
"But, Father, the bed," Diego said.
For some reason, some of the worry fled Alejandro's face and he even smiled a little.
"I will buy you a new one, if it will make you happy. I will buy a hundred."
He moved the pull open the remains of Diego's shirt, pushing aside Diego's hand when he half tried again to delay him.
"Oh, niño," Alejandro said, running his fingers lightly over the wound in his side. "You should have told us."
Felipe returned and sat beside Diego on the bed, taking his hand. Diego gripped it slightly.
Alejandro took the bowl of water that Felipe had brought and wiped Diego's face again, cooling the burning skin.
Alejandro laid a hand on his forehead and frowned. "Where is Juan with the doctor?" he said, half to himself.
"There should be some willow bark there, and boneset, I think," Diego said, trying to focus, trying to remember what they had left after treating the bullet wound. He would have to ride out to the reservation as soon as possible.
"Shh," Alejandro said, laying a hand over Diego's eyes, "you must let us worry about things now. You have to rest."
Diego left his eyes closed and sank into the bed a little. He gasped a little when his father had to press on his side with the cloth to clean it, but everything was fading away.
"Diego?" his father said, shaking him a little. "Diego, I know it is hard, but you must stay awake until the doctor arrives."
He blinked and opened his eyes again, but they fell shut almost immediately.
"Diego? Diego!" he heard his father nearly shouting, but it just seemed so far away, and then it was gone.
