Introducing "Sarah Tomas" and "Miguel Sanchez"

Ignacio de Soto dressed in a comfortable suit, after his warm bath. Well groomed and feeling more himself, he returned to Gushing Stream's side, hesitating with a servant outside her door. He hoped his letter to Diego would bring the man quickly. His legendary cactus tea would be needed.

She lay so silently covered in the blankets, that he reached for her hand, and held it. He rested on the chair by the bed, and eased his hand a little further up to her wrist. The tiny throbbing sensation was a comfort and a source of dread. She was holding on, just.

He squeezed her hand gently, aware of bones and fragile skin. She stirred a little, and the movement made his heart race.

"Where…where," she murmured.

"You are safe. It is all that matters," he said softly. If she recognised him now without his disguise so be it. It would not be comfortable for either of them, but the truth was probably better in the open. She didn't have the strength to run, and he could easily hold her still, if she wanted to try.

"Are you warm enough?"

"Who…? Oh, the senor from church," she said softly. "This is your home?"

"My friend's hacienda. It is warm and safe, and soon I want you to eat some soup," he said. She was staring at the ceiling, as if trying to place his voice. He had modified his voice slightly, it was the husky version from the church, and he was speaking Spanish, not the English that was sweeping through the territory like a wildfire. Los Angeles citizens were beginning to prefer to speak English to communicate better with the surrounding territories. He had always spoken in English to her before. It was sometimes good to have two languages.

She was shaking her head. "I'm not hungry…"

"Nevertheless," he said firmly. "You will eat some."

She was quiet, and he thought she had gradually had drifted off to sleep again.

"You want to help me?"

"Yes."

He watched her face as she frowned. "Is that so strange?"

"Yes," she breathed. He frowned then, and tried to think of some response.

"Only a few people have ever wanted to help me," she murmured. Her hand moved under the blankets, and he realised she was feeling her stomach, probably hoping her child was alright inside her tortured body. She cared for the baby inside her more than her own life. That would be the key to help her, he suddenly realised. "There was a man…"

"Yes?" He was startled a little. He had been deep in thought. "A man?"

She wasn't frowning now; she had a slight smile on her face. "He saved me. I saved him. We could have saved each other…you know, properly."

"No, what do you mean?" He was confused. She didn't seem to be making much sense.

"He was a good man. We did something…something we shouldn't have done. I am being punished for that now, but it was worth it. His touch was like magic, so soft, so warm…"

Ignacio was intrigued. She seemed to be talking about him. She was slightly delirious, because he couldn't imagine any woman talking about such things, with a strange man especially.

"Who was he?" He asked.

"The Alcalde of Los Angeles. He is an important man, a great man."

"Alcaldes are," he murmured. "Alcalde de Soto?"

"You know him?"

"I have heard of him, senora. His reputation precedes him. He is not a good man," Ignacio said softly. "He is cold, heartless and cruel. If he did this to you, you were badly used. What did he do? Abandon you once he knew you were pregnant?"

She took a shaky breath, and he felt as though he had slapped her in the face. He regretted the harsh tone to his voice. He hadn't meant to speak so roughly to her.

"He is not like that. I am the cruel one," she whispered. "I seduced him…I caused this child…He has no idea. He will never know. He needs to help those people in Los Angeles – those he has hurt in the past, they need his goodness now. He is trying so hard to make a difference. I would only distract him, and cause him disgrace."

Ignacio rose from the chair, and crossed over to the window.

"I am a heartless woman," she whispered. "He says he loves me. He asked me to marry him. He doesn't care who I am – but I care. I am cold, unfeeling. I need to be. That is the only way I survive. I cannot accept his help and destroy his world."

Ignacio stared down at the tree lined street below. He had no words but he wanted to refute every horrible thing she said about herself. None of it was true. His arguments would be useless, and she was barely conscious as it was. When she realised who he was, he would speak his mind then.

"It takes two people to create a new life," he whispered. He wondered if she could hear him from the bed.

"I would like to look after you, senora." His words came unbidden to him. "I am not this paragon that you speak of, this perfect man. But I want to help you."

"How?" She whispered, turning her head to look at him. He was glad he wasn't in his uniform, because even as ill as she was, she would have reacted to it. She seemed a little curious.

"Soup," he said, coming back towards the bed. "Soup, as much as you can eat." He smiled. "We'll have soup, and then worry about what comes next."

"You don't even know my name, senor," she whispered.

"Well, what is your name?" He said softly. "My name is Miguel Sanchez," he added, hoping that the name Diego had picked out suited him. "I am an officer in the Spanish military, as is my friend." Honesty felt better than the bookish buffoon Diego would have had him be. He didn't have to admit to his real title and occupation. "Semi-retired," he added as an afterthought.

"Senor Sanchez," she said, savouring the name and gazing at him as if seeing more to him than he wished her to see. She was ill, and her judgment was sketchy, thank goodness. She was so smart normally.

"My name is…" He saw her eyes flicker with indecision. "My name is Sarah. Sarah Tomas," she said, and the lie made him wonder if she was pretending to believe his own lie.

"It is an honour to meet you, Senora Tomas," he murmured, as he lifted a small hand to his lips. He allowed himself a tiny kiss, and held it a little longer than he should have. She withdrew it with a small uncomfortable smile.

She was not aware of his identity yet, but when she recovered a little more, she would soon see through him. He needed Diego with his dyes and eye patches after all. He wanted to spend enough time near her to make sure she recovered, and that the child lived. He would give anything in the world for her to be with him as his wife. They could raise the child together, as nature intended.