El Casamentero de Los Angeles by JuliaBC
Chapter Two
The next day, as Magdalena sat over a letter and resisted the urge to chew her quill, she heard a carriage pull up outside and stood up in expectation, eager to get away from her unwelcome task.
She didn't know what to say in her letter to Diego's uncle Estevan. Si, she wanted to invite him but she felt awkward for doing so after how matters had been settled last time he'd visited.
Diego had told her all sorts of tales of his visit, and how he'd tried to marry Margarita.
But Magdalena had never met Estevan de la Cruz, and was much hoping to. He had a traveling soul, one that matched her own, and she'd welcome the opportunity to talk of Spain and other far off places with him.
Now, she hurried to the sala door, and through it to the patio. She reached the gate just as it opened, and her aunt Inez walked in, looking behind her.
"Aunt Inez," she cried, embracing her. "Whatever are you doing here? Aren't you busy?"
"I need your advice," Inez said, struggling away from her niece's embrace. Miffed, Magdalena watched as her aunt hurried past her to the sala, and noted the cape she wore. It was a rather warm day, and such coverings were not needed.
She hurried after her, and just as she reached the door, Inez ran forward and grabbed her hand. "Stop dallying," she scolded. "And sit down. I need your opinion on something."
"Si, of course," Magdalena said, and quickly situated herself in an armchair.
Inez cleared her throat, standing in the middle of the top step. "As you know, I've had une affaire de cœur with our good Commandante for quite some time now. But it's so hard to get him to act." She plonked her hands on her hips, a slight frown on her face. "And he insisted on mooning over that Dolores Bastinado. I do not understand it. She's so mannish."
"Aunt—" Magdalena began, but Inez cut her off.
"I have a fine hand," Inez continued. "I write beautifully. That is why it pained so much to imitate her scrawl."
"You didn't!" Magdalena exclaimed.
"I did," Inez said proudly. "Si, it was I, Inez Montes, that sent that letter. I took my fate into my own hands. I will not let the Sergeant moon over Dolores any longer!"
"That's good, isn't it?" Magdalena said cautiously, expecting Inez to interrupt her again.
"Yes, it is," Inez said, and reached down to untie the ribbons on her cape. "Look at this."
Magdalena fought back an urge to gasp as the cape fell to the floor. Her aunt wore a beautiful dress, but it was rather...
"Isn't that neckline a little low?" Magdalena said. "The sergeant is a rather shy man."
"The Commandante deserves a stylish wife," Inez said, turning so that Magdalena could see the back of the dress. "I wrote a friend in Spain to send me copies of the very latest fashions, and this is what they managed. Isn't it perfect?"
"Si, perfect," Magdalena said. "But which friend? Senora Carina?"
"Don't be silly, she has the sense of a wet dog," Inez said, her hands fluttering over her dress like little birds. "No, I wrote Estevan de la Cruz. I did miss his visit last year, but ten years before that, his last visit here..."
Again, the sly smile appeared. "We had quite a flirtation."
After her aunt had left, Magdalena walked back to the desk feeling rather bewildered.
She picked up her feather pen again, scratched out a few lines and then crumpled the letter all together.
Leaning her head on her hands, she looked around the room as if to confirm her surroundings. Shaking her head, she stood up.
She believed it was time to go into Los Angeles.
Sergeant Garcia walked along the street, something held behind his back. "Buenos dias, Hernando. Buenos dias, Don Alfredo."
The two smiled at him as he walked by, then exchanged puzzled glances. Don Alfredo was looking into buying a sword, and Hernando carefully withdrew one of his finest blades as a horse thundered in and a lady dismounted.
Looking to see who it was, Don Alfredo nodded to Hernando, placed the sword down and jogged over to help the dismounting senora.
"Oh, gracias," Magdalena said. "Don Alfredo! What brings you to Los Angeles? I thought you were quite busy."
"Magdalena," he greeted. "I am busy. Banditos have been giving me much trouble. But my sword was damaged, and I came to see if Eugenio could repair it."
Her puzzled gaze mentally reviewed his path. "But you came from Hernando's stall."
"Eugenio could not," Alfredo chuckled, and Magdalena laughed with him.
"You will replace it altogether?"
"Si, it's the best solution," Alfredo said.
She nodded. "I have my own business," she said. "Please forgive me."
"Of course," he said. "I hope you have a profitable visit to the stalls."
Magdalena smiled. "I do, also."
She wandered away from him, going towards the lace maker's stall and examining some, taking off her gloves to feel the material. Frowning, she picked up one.
"Rosa?" She asked, and the elderly stall owner came over. "This lace seems unfamiliar. Where was it from?"
Rosa held out her hand and Magdalena handed it to her. The lady turned it over in her hands, and smiled. "Dona Magdalena, this is from France. They say France has the best lace, you know. Would you like it?"
Magdalena hesitated, then the slight frown disappeared from her forehead. "Si, I would."
Her temporary mission completed, Magdalena now made her to the cuartel. It was rather inappropriate for a lady to go in alone, but Magdalena knew that no one would dare suggest that Dona Magdalena de la Vega visiting her husband's friend, Sergeant Garcia, was indecent or not allowed.
How she loved Los Angeles and the freedom it offered her.
How she loved the name of de la Vega. It opened doors for her that she previously hadn't known existed.
And how she loved her husband. Just thinking of him made her smile, and wonder where he was at that exact moment...
Rosa hummed as she hurried to her tiny house, having left her granddaughter to mind the stall for a moment. "Rita!" She called, planning on making a gift of the pesos to her struggling daughter, whose husband had been killed just a few months ago.
But when she entered the house, no Rita awaited her. Instead there was a man, one whom she recognized, and one who set her knees trembling. She placed the pesos on the floor and turned around, running back to the market.
"I mean it, Sergeant, not like that!" Diego said, throwing his hands up helplessly. They sat at the outside tavern today, after having been assured by Teo that Clara would be inside all day.
"But someone smart said flowers," Garcia answered.
"Si, flowers," Diego said. "But these, mi amigo, are weeds."
He flung the pitiful bunch down on the table. "I don't know who told you to do this, but I don't think this is what they meant."
"Si, it probably isn't," Garcia sighed. "I am such a baboso."
"No, that is one thing you are not," Diego said. "But speaking of, I think I just saw my wife enter the cuartel. She's probably looking for you."
"Dona Magdalena?" Garcia said, putting down his cup. "Coming to see me? I'd better hurry over there."
"So had I," Diego said dryly. "I have no doubt that she is up to something."
The two men walked across the pueblo, and were told by the guard on duty that Dona Magdalena had chosen to wait in Garcia's office.
Diego's lips twitched, and he took care to step extra loudly as they walked up to the office of the Commandante.
He needn't have. Magdalena sat in the visitor's chair, calmly waiting with a swinging foot.
"Dona Magdalena," Garcia greeted, his large body momentarily obscuring Diego from his wife's vision.
"Sergeant," she said, and Garcia bent to kiss her hand.
"Magdalena," Diego greeted, and the look she gave him was so comical it was hard not to laugh.
"What are you doing here?" Magdalena asked. "I thought you were riding to the north pasture."
"I did that early, since I had business in Los Angeles," Diego said, eyes sparkling.
Garcia hurried around to his side of the desk, taking a few moments to situate himself in the chair before clearing his throat.
"What business do you have with the acting Commandante of the pueblo de Los Angeles?"
Magdalena bit her lip. "You know, I hadn't planned to have this conversation with my husband around."
Garcia's eyes widened as Diego looked at his wife's visit in a new light.
"Dona Magdalena, please do not speak that way!"
"I did not mean it like that," she said, lowering her burning face. "I simply meant that this visit was supposed to detail a surprise for my husband."
"Ohhhh," Garcia said, suddenly understanding everything but Magdalena was no longer sure what everything was.
He stood up and walked around his desk. "Pardon, Don Diego, but let me escort you to the door."
Diego, barely restraining laughter, let the Sergeant kick him out and wandered back into the plaza.
The day was peaceful, but his life was nowhere near suddenly.
As he walked, the coach from Monterey thundered into the plaza, and Diego watched in amazement as a familiar figure alighted.
"Senorita Nina!" He called, and the tiny woman turned her head.
"Si, but who are you?" She asked, puzzled.
"I am Don Diego, the man your brother told you to embrace if Senor Zorro did not appear," Diego said.
"But what about the man I did embrace?" Nina asked, even more puzzled.
"That was Don Ricardo, the man who orchestrated the whole thing."
"But how do you know me if you were not there?"
"I did meet you later," Diego said. "Afterwards, when Don Ricardo finally convinced you that he was not me."
"Oh, now I remember! You and Don Ricardo." She said. "But that is not my business here."
"I will be glad to help you in any way that I can," he said.
"Muchos gracias. Now, what I would like to know is: where can I find Sergeant Garcia? I'm supposed to marry him."