El Casamentero de Los Angeles by JuliaBC
A/N: This is one of, I hope, many that I plan to write for each Valentine's Day. Last year I wrote Realizations and Regrets, then published it early because I realized that I'd be in the middle of Far Longer by then and didn't want the two to clash.
Anyway. So this is a sequel, of sorts, to Realizations and Regrets, and not Far Longer. I hope this to become something annual for me, a story written for Diego and Magdalena every February.
"But Don Diego, it is not possible," Sergeant Garcia sighed, moody over his mug of wine. "Besides, you cannot possibly know what I feel when you have a lovely wife, just waiting for you to come home."
"I don't think Dona Magdalena is just waiting," Diego chuckled. "She's never just waiting. She'd be more likely to clean the whole house in anticipation than just sit around."
"That is true, too," Garcia said. "Once, while I was there and waiting to speak to you, I saw her plan a whole fiesta, arrange for Padre Felipe to come and bless your hacienda, and plan the menu for dinner that night. Your wife is a very active woman."
"She likes it that way," Diego said, a quiet smile on his face. "Just for curiosity's sake, how long were you waiting?"
"About an hour," Garcia said, gloomy again, but his friend burst out laughing.
"All that in an hour?"
"Maybe not quite so much," Garcia said. "I need your help, Don Diego."
"I know you do, and I bet I know why, too," Diego said. "You are feeling envious of Corporal Reyes."
"Well..." Garcia said.
"I did not think Corporal Reye would dare go, even is Senorita Bastinado did make her invitation again," Diego said. "I do wonder what prompted her to do so."
"I should not have let him go. Corporals should not marry before sergeants," Garcia said, and tried to drain his wine but the mug was already empty. Diego took pity on him, and raised his hand to summon the waitress.
"Another bottle of your finest, por favor, Clara," he said, addressing the raven haired woman.
"Who does it go to?" She asked. "Because Senor Gonzales does not like to waste his wine on already drunk—"
"Clara!" Garcia gasped, horrified. "I am not drunk, and how dare you speak to Don Diego that way?"
Clara's mouth suddenly shook, and before their eyes she slammed her tray down. "Get your own wine," she said, in a voice that Garcia would have said shook, had Clara not been, well, Clara. With those parting words, she fled into the kitchen, and both men watched her, wide-eyed.
In moments, Teo was at their table, apologizing profusely and promising the finest bottle, free.
"Don't joke, Teo," Diego said. "Of course I will pay for it. I am not insulted by Clara's display of...emotion."
"Gracias, Don Diego," Teo said. "You are a good man."
"But wait a moment, Teo," Diego said. "Do you know what troubles Clara?"
"It is but silly women's troubles," Teo said, and for a moment both Diego and Garcia looked uncomfortable, until Teo continued. "I believe it is that San Valentin's feast is coming, and she has no lover."
If Garcia had had any wine, he would have spat it out. As it was, he almost fell off his chair. "Really? I did not know what Senorita Clara had a heart!"
Diego's firmly placed elbow to Garcia's side made him correct his hasty statement. "That is, um... I do not think I meant that."
From the kitchen came a burst of sobbing, and a red eyed Clara suddenly flew through the doors. "Si, Sergeant, as far as you are concerned I have no heart! ¡Vete al diablo!"
She flew from the tavern, and Garcia watched her go, dumbfounded. "I didn't think she could hear me," he said, in a very soft voice.
"Maybe you should apologize," Diego said. "Why, for all you know, the man she wants for a lover is you!"
The wine having come, Garcia having poured himself some, this time he did spit out his mouthful. "Don Diego! Do you mean it? All this time, coldhearted Clara has been in love with me? I cannot believe it," he sighed. "I once thought it to be so, but then she was so nasty to me I gave up that fantasy."
As the sergeant expounded on how wonderful it was that Clara loved him, Diego realized just exactly what kind of hot water he'd just gotten himself into.
"Sergeant, just maybe," Diego said, trying to quiet the man. "Just maybe you are the one."
"Of course I am the one!" Garcia said. "Do you think mi amor would be unfaithful to me?"
Diego quietly slipped away, realizing that, if he didn't act soon, two people's hearts would be broken when San Valentin's feast reached them...
Magdalena was indeed not just waiting for him. When he walked through the gate, the first sight he saw was his wife standing on a stool and trying to tug down a flowerpot from where it hung.
Puzzled, he walked forward quietly, and circled his arms around her waist.
"Ah!" She shrieked, meaning to defend herself but realized who it was just before she swung at him. "Oh, Diego!"
"What are you doing?" He asked. "Trying to destroy something?"
"Don't be silly," she said, trying to get away from him but her perch on his arm was too precarious. "But the blooms in this pot are dead. I need to replant."
"There's a better way to do it," he said. "The way most people would do it, by drawing it up while standing on the balcony."
Magdalena's face was smeared with dirt from her troubles, and her hair was hanging around her face in ringlets from where they'd escaped her chignon.
"Oh, I didn't think of that," she said reflectively, looking up at the balcony to confirm Diego's words.
"You rarely do," he said, letting her slide to the ground.
She gazed up at him now, instead of down, and smiled. "How was your trip into town?"
"It went well," he said. "I got the money for my father, and I helped Garcia."
"With what?" She asked, and, no longer able to restrain himself, Diego leaned down and kissed her.
His father, of course, chose that moment to walk in. "Oh, you are back, Diego. I thought I heard your voice."
Diego straightened, and Magdalena slipped away from him, heading upstairs, and Diego saw her hurry to their room, to wash her face, he expected.
"Did you manage to collect from Senor Barcos?"
"Si, I did. He also sends his apologies for taking so long," Diego said, handing his father the purse of money.
"Normally, I would not begrudge him the time spent," Alejandro began, weighing the bag in his hand, "but that was such a large number of cattle I felt quite uneasy about his refusal to pay."
"Well, it should all be there," Diego said, reassuring his father.
Alejandro nodded. "What other news from Los Angeles?"
Diego couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. "It's an odd situation," he admitted, still chuckling as he moved to sit down. "I was talking with Garcia, and ended the conversation with the resolve to, uh, well, it's so silly."
"To what?" Alejandro asked, sitting down opposite him at the patio table.
"Matchmake," Diego said, eyes twinkling. "I think Clara has a soft spot for our sergeant."
"Clara?" Alejandro asked. "But she—"
Diego shrugged, another smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.
"Matchmaking, eh?" Alejandro said, leaning back in his chair.
"But I cannot let Garcia know I plan to help him. He thinks he has the situation under control."
Alejandro's face lit up. "You don't mean..."
As Bernardo came down the stairs, Diego grinned and traced a careful 'Z' in the air.
Zorro crept along the road, keeping Tornado tightly reined in. He halted beneath the window of the Commandante's office and shifted to stand on his saddle. In moments, he had slipped through the window and was waking Garcia with a light tap of his sword on the man's shoulder.
"No, I don't want breakfast right now," Garcia grumbled, reaching a hand to swat away the blade. Upon feeling what it was, he bolted upright. "Zorro!" He exclaimed, then frowned. "I might have known. You always like to interrupt me in the middle of my best dreams."
"Which was this particular one about?" The outlaw inquired.
"It was about Cl—no one, Senor Zorro," Garcia fumbled.
Zorro grinned. "It occurred to me, Sergeant, that San Valentin's feast day is coming upon us, and it also occurred to me that you, my Sergeant, do not have a sweetheart."
"It is not for lack of trying," Garcia sighed. "I have been using my best manners in the tavern and no one notices! Until today. I think Senorita Clara might be sweet on me!" He said. "And I know just what to do."
"Do you?" Zorro said. "I was thinking you might need a little help finding a sweetheart, but if I was wrong..."
Garcia nodded. "Don Diego wished to help, but I told him the same thing I am going to tell you. I have it all in hand. Tomorrow, I will ask Clara to marry me."
Zorro's eyes widened. "Do you really think that is the best idea? After all, I do not think Clara would willingly come to live in this cramped office."
Garcia opened his mouth to speak, looked around his room and wilted. "You really think so?"
"Si," Zorro said. "And wouldn't it be a better idea to start things off more slowly? After all, you are such a young man! You do not need to be thinking about just marriage yet. You might flirt a bit first, get to know all the senoritas better."
Garcia's eyes widened. "No, no, I just want Clara. Or Dolores. Or that lady..." He trailed off. "Never mind about that. Alright, I will take things a bit slower. What do you suggest, Senor Zorro? You have romanced many a heart in your day."
"Not on purpose," Zorro protested. "And I really did not intend my mask to entice. It was meant to drive away interest!"
"That did not work so well," Garcia said glumly. "Wait! Do you think if I started wearing a mask, Clara would marry me?"
"Why don't you try giving her some flowers instead?" Zorro said, Garcia nodded and the outlaw was gone.
In the tavern, Teo locked the door and headed behind the counter. He opened the box there, and took out the pesos held inside. With them safe in his apron pocket, he blew out the candle on the bar and headed for the kitchen.
When he saw who awaited him there, he froze. "Not this week," he whispered, but after a wordless exchange with the intruder, reached into his pocket and held out the coins, hand trembling.
P.S. The title translates to a simple: The Matchmaker of Los Angeles.