Diego sat with the Azarola family and ate a hearty dinner at the tavern.

"Next time you will dine at our hacienda, Diego. It is very fine," Francisco boasted gently. "Perhaps even finer than yours."

"No hacienda is finer than the de la Vega hacienda. We have the best taste in the territories," Diego joked lightly.

"You are still a little genuine with that statement, Diego. And the pueblo swears you are a meek, mild mannered man with no pride at all."

"People see what they wish to see, Francisco. It doesn't bother me. I have my own interests and passions that do not rely on bloodshed. The world is moving on from violence, into the calmer realm of common sense and wisdom."

"If you truly believe that, you are a fool," Francisco said. Diego glanced at him with interest.

"What do you mean?"

"Pistols and cannons are replacing the rapier and the sabre. People are not calming down, Diego. They are inventing more powerful ways to massacre each other. I believe that the wars we have seen lately are just the start of battles beyond our imagination."

"Sounds like you are reading too much," Diego said softly.

"Don't you read extensively?"

Diego sighed a little and shrugged. "I read poetry and art based literature, not tomes of battle plans and military tactics."

"You used to read more widely than that, Diego."

"Blood shed is a terrible thing to obsess over, I've found."

Francisco gave him a hard look and sighed. "You can't deny that Los Angeles is in the grip of a tyrant."

Diego glanced over his shoulder. "I would not say that too loudly, Francisco. The alcalde is rather sensitive to certain truths."

"You are afraid of the man?"

"I find it frustrating to be locked up all night long, when my own bed is so much softer," Diego said with a slight grin. "As the editor of the newspaper, I can get on the alcalde's wrong side from time to time."

"I thought you hadn't lost all your spirit, de la Vega," Francisco said with relief.

Diego leaned back against the wall and smiled, folding his arms lightly.

"How are you feeling, Senorita?" Diego said, aware that Raquel was yawning deeply. Miguel had put his head on his mother's lap and was already asleep. "Are you sleepy?"

"Of course not," she said with a sigh. "It's just so boring…I am eight, you know."

Diego flashed a smile at Francisco who sighed a little with annoyance.

"Well, we will just have to take you riding sooner or later. Would that help?" Diego said gently.

"You have a pony I could ride?"

"I have several," Diego said.

"I wouldn't want to bother you with the children, Diego. You must be a very busy man," Isabella said softly. "She is spirited and a little wilful, but she is a good girl really."

"No trouble or bother in the slightest, Isabella. We could make it a picnic – everyone would be welcome to come," Diego said.

"Stefano is arriving tomorrow after lunch," Francisco said thoughtfully. "My youngest brother is staying with us for a few years to learn the ins and outs of ranchero life. We could organise a picnic after he settles in."

"Sounds like a plan, Francisco."

Diego glanced at the little girl, who yawned again, and swayed a little. She was very tired, but was fighting it. He swung an arm around her, and she snuggled instinctively against his side.

"Do you need some help getting the children up to bed, Francisco?" Diego gestured to Raquel. She had fallen asleep within moments. "I can take this one."

Francisco sighed. "Raquel apparently takes after me. Miguel is the quiet, sane one," he said softly. "She should have been a boy. She has more spirit than boys double her age. I don't know what to do with her."

Diego laughed softly. "Leave her alone. We need strong ladies in Los Angeles." He hoisted the little girl into his arms and followed the little family up the stairs to their rooms.