Feb 9, 1816
Friday
Gilberto
They had a name: Tomas Porvas. Gilberto went tearing out of the house – the side door toward the stable, not the library toward the cave— without stopping even to grab his hat. Father was still in town, and he could pass along the wonderful news to the alcalde that the real attacker had been identified.
And wouldn't that go over well! He hoped they wouldn't be too smug about it. A man like Ignacio would not respond well to so much public embarrassment, and there was no way to avoid a great deal of that when a man was so publically wrong.
Diego thought he knew about where this Porvas lived. It would be tempting to stop by, just to see if he was there and to watch in case he took it into his head to try to escape. Just until the lancers arrived to arrest him. Or to track him, if he had decided to flee on the assumption that his victim would survive and had recognized him.
But Diego had learned his lesson about exerting himself.
Instead he spent the next half hour playing at both host and doctor, making sure that Doña Maria was comfortable and overseeing Nuela's efforts to get her to drink. When she slid back into sleep, Diego retreated back to his room, dutifully checked his pulse and took his medicine, and changed his shoes so he could go into town.
He would be there when the alcalde returned to town with his prisoner. He could endure that much fun, at least. He had Felix hitch up Gilberto's little rig – poor Father, he had really hoped Gilberto would use it for courting, but it was mainly Diego who used it – sent Pepe to fetch Felipe –who would surely enjoy seeing this too-and cut some roses from the garden to bring to Victoria.