Old Men

Ignacio was lost in thought. He sat under the tree they had planted together. It shaded the area perfectly, and he could remember her resting under the tender young branches, watching their little boy with affectionate and attentive eyes. Now it was large and a powerful entity of its own.

Marco had climbed it to the very top, and he'd had his heart in his mouth. His son had fallen a few times, but he had an indomitable spirit and he persisted. That was a long time ago. Another life time…

Sarah and Patricio had grown under the tree as well. Their lives had taken more of a conventional turn than that of his eldest. Blonde hair and blue eyes had guaranteed Sarah's beautiful features such respect, and he had been privately impressed to see his daughter blossom more into her mother's physical body structure than his side of the family. A blonde haired, blue eyed version of his dear wife had stood before him on her wedding day as she had married a wealthy don who loved her with the same intensity that he had loved Gushing Stream.

He sighed, and glancing at the details on the headstone, reaching out to touch the lettering.

"Oh, Gushing Stream, how I have survived for so long without you?" His whispered words came with a sob, but he didn't care. No one was around to hear his senile grief.

"Marco, my brother, said…I had a dream, Gushing Stream. He said I would lose you, and I would lose children…I doubted his words, but see how they have come true," he whispered.

He paused, and plucked a weed from the grave area, and sighed. California was in turmoil and many of the old families had packed up and returned to Spain. He had stayed. He loved his land, he would never leave. He would do what was required to stay, if it meant renouncing every oath he had ever made. He would call himself a Mexican if necessary. He would call himself an American if necessary. He was connected to the land, just as his eldest son was.

"Sarah died yesterday," he whispered. His golden girl was dead. He still did not quite understand. He doubted he would ever understand. "You both were too good to last too long in this dirty world," he added. Her grief stricken husband didn't even have the strange blessing of an offspring to soften the blow. Sarah had died before the child had been born, and the child had died with her.

He stared into space, and wanted to feel his wife's arms around him. He could almost imagine them sometimes, holding him, shielding him from the overwhelming despair that he almost drowned in at times. It had been years since she was with him, too many years.

"Ignacio," the deep voice startled him, but he didn't look up. He knew who stood there.

"I was wondering how you were," Ignacio murmured.

"How I was?"

"Victoria's anniversary," Ignacio continued. There was a sharp intake of breath, and he glanced around.

Diego de la Vega was leaning against the trunk of the tree, and Ignacio knew he had wounded the man with the brief comment. He shrugged and turned his eyes back to the headstone.

"You heard?"

"The tavern is buzzing with the news," Diego said softly. "I'm sorry."

"Sarah was a good girl, Diego. Soft and sweet and wise. Like her mother," Ignacio said without looking at him. He waited a moment. "I'm sorry to mention Victoria."

Diego was silent.

"It's five years today."

Ignacio nodded at the comment. He heard the sigh and nodded again.

"You must think I'm a fool," Diego murmured with a bitterness that would have surprised his wife and his father. Both were dead now.

"No, Diego. Not a fool."

Diego moved, Ignacio realised. He knew the man by now. How many years had passed for them? Countless years, and they still survived, and they still remained. Diego couldn't stand still these days, but he wasn't as strong as he had been. Reduced from a masked hero, to a drained elderly man who paced with pent up agonies.

"Felipe plans to marry and return to the hacienda soon."

"That will please you."

"It's been years," Diego murmured. "The war has been a drain on him."

"Now he can relax and tend to the horses and the cattle, just as you did."

Ignacio paused from his restless plucking at strands of grass, and turned. Diego had slid down the trunk of the tree to sit on the ground.

"Things come full circle in time, don't they?"

"I caught myself telling Carlos to marry and give me grandchildren the other day. Imagine it," Diego said.

"Ramon would have already. Remember how he was always darting around with ladies," Ignacio said with a chuckle. "He would have had to commit to someone."

Diego was quiet, and Ignacio realised he had said the wrong thing yet again. "It's been many years, Diego. Your son was full of laughter; he would not want you to remember him forever with tears."

"Ramon was a fool," Diego said with a snarl. Ignacio took it for what it was – a defence against a sob. He nodded.

"Marco is at home. He is taking over the estate for me."

"No, Ignacio. You are still young enough to run it."

"I have no interest anymore. I just want to… I don't know."

"No interest," Diego murmured. "What do we do? The world has passed us by in a whirlwind and we are irrelevant."

"You have your newspaper."

"Carlos runs it very well. Elena helps him. I am in the way if I visit the offices now."

"They would never feel that way," Ignacio said quickly. "You are a treasure to this town. You always have been."

"A town? It's gone from a pueblo in the dirt, to a Mexican town, and now, to the gold rush city," Diego murmured. "My father would be horrified at the crime rate at the moment, and I am powerless to help."

"Carlos?"

"What about him?"

"A new Zorro rides, if you've noticed?"

"No, he wouldn't…"

Ignacio glanced at him with concern. "Are you blind? He takes after you too much Diego. He wears the mask now, I know it. Talk to your son, advise him. You have the wisdom of a hero who has survived to talk about it, so talk about it."

"One man against all that? It's hopeless…"

"That's what others said when you tried it," Ignacio said softly. "Help your son. I also heard you yelling at him the other day. Telling him that he needed to stand for something in his life and stop burying his head in books. Sound familiar?"

Diego nodded. "I am a terrible father…"

"You are a father, Diego. We are all blind to all children in some ways. Be a support, and foster a culture in this town that discourages injustice – like you used to do."

"You talk as if you are not going to help me with that, Ignacio?"

"When did I ever take much interest in that town? What they did to Gushing Stream was unforgivable."

"After twenty years, most of the people involved are gone. Join me. Be a supporter, Ignacio."

Ignacio sighed, and gazed over his land. Crops swayed in the breeze, and he could hear cattle lowing in the distance. He loved this place. He tentatively cared for the people in his employ and they all lived in the town. Surely Gushing Stream would tell him to get his act together, and move to support his pueblo once more.

He could do it for a few more years, couldn't he?

"Partners, Diego?"

Diego nodded. "Partners, Alcalde."

They reached over and grasped each other's hands, and shook on the promise. The only oath that mattered.