Diego rode out again with the coach, determined to see it to the next staging post. Victoria napped in the coach, he knew because he kept glancing in the window to check on her. It was hot, he realised. Unseasonably hot, he thought, as he drank some more water. He brushed sweat off his forehead, and glanced at Tom seated up on the driver's seat.

"Tom, are we going to rest the horses soon? It's quite hot," Diego said, riding close to the coach.

Tom glanced down at him and shrugged. "Doesn't feel that hot, Henri. You feel alright?"

"Nothing wrong with me," Diego said determinedly.

"Stopping for the lady's lunch in a few hours, Henri. Rest up then, alright?"

"Nothing wrong with me," Diego repeated.

Tom glanced at his new friend again with an appraising eye, and then turned back to the road ahead.

Diego frowned to himself. There was nothing wrong with him. He was a little tired. His bed on the hay was hardly comfortable for a man used to silk sheets and soft mattresses. The cold bucket wash was hardly the same as a nice hot bath in a tub, rubbed dry with thick cotton towels. Thin porridge was hardly satisfying for a man used to a full breakfast. He was a little too spoiled, that was all.

He rode on, keeping pace with the coach with no problem. His mind wandered a little, but it was boring on the road without any challenges. No bandits, no Indians, no problems at all. Just how powerful was his father these days?

He shook his head slowly. That was hardly rational or realistic. The heat was getting to him, he assumed. He drank a little more water, and pulled himself up a little straighter in the saddle. He needed to get a hold of himself.

Victoria popped her head out of the coach window. "Monsieur Noires?"

"Yes, Mademoiselle?"

"Do you know any songs? You could teach me some French as we travel. It's a little boring, just sitting in a coach all day long," she said brightly.

Diego thought for a moment, and could hardly think of a song suitable. "There is a lullaby I remember," he murmured. "Au Clair de la Lune…it means, by the light of the moon…"

"Well, can you remember the words?"

Diego smiled a little. "Yes. I remember the words, Mademoiselle…"

Victoria flushed a little. "Forgive me, I was rude."

"Not at all, Mademoiselle. You are bored, and I am an old man," he said gently.

"Can you translate?"

"It's a long song, Mademoiselle…"

"Maybe later?"

"Maybe later," he said softly.

He sang the song slowly and she was reminded of Diego's rich voice. He came to a stop after four verses.

"That's it?"

"I should hope so, Mademoiselle…It's long enough."

She laughed a little. "What's it about?"

Diego thought for a moment. There was a double entendre he had not thought about before singing.

"It's about a boy looking for a light, and going to a neighbour's to borrow one," Diego said quickly.

"That's weird to have a song about it?"

"Well, it's easy to play, musically. A very simple melody as you heard. Must have been…" He stopped. It would have been one of his first music lessons, but vaqueros and their sons did not have music lessons, French or not.

"What was that?"

"Must have been something I overheard. My family was employed in Los Angeles when I was little. At the de la Vega estate…" He said carefully. He was aware that his father had employed many different nationalities over the years. "The son had music lessons…"

"Yes. Diego had everything money could buy…" Victoria said thoughtfully. "I'll have to get him to play it for me one day."

"He would have been very small when he first learnt it."

"Diego has a mind so clever, he won't have forgotten it."

Diego thought it was strange the way she was starting to idealise his caballero persona more and more. The edge to her voice reminded him of the way she would talk about Zorro.

"He must be a brilliant man," he said, a little too curious for his own good.

"He is a brilliant man. He can play the piano like a concert pianist. He writes poetry so clever that no one understands it. His paintings are so vivid and realistic. He rides like the wind, and he loves me…" Victoria broke off. "He doesn't love me…"

"Why do you say that?"

"He didn't come after me. I thought he would come after me…"

"Perhaps he will talk to you at the wedding…" Diego said, and stopped. He wasn't sure if the wedding was common knowledge. Would a vaquero realise the point of her travels?

"Perhaps he will…"

"Thank you Monsieur…"

"I'm glad I could be of assistance, Mademoiselle," he said, bowing his head slightly.

Zzz

After they stopped at the inn for lunch, Diego went to the stables. He was hot, but he felt fine. He splashed his face with water, and let it dry naturally. Tom glanced at him a little, and told him to lie down for a while.

Diego shook his head.

"Do you play checkers, lad?"

"No…I'm willing to learn though." Diego said with interest. They sat down on the hay, and Tom brought out a checked board, and some counters.

"Would have thought a big boy like you'd know checkers?"

"Chess is what I was brought up on."

"Ah, yes. Caballero through and through," Tom said with a nod. "Which colour?"

"Black?" Diego said with a slight smile.

"You can only move diagonally, and you take pieces by leap frogging," Tom said. "Go first."

Tom watched as Diego moved a counter. "You take pieces like so…"

"Hey," Diego said with a sigh. "Ease up a little."

"Ease up? You're no baby, lad. Play like a man."

Diego concentrated and the game grew more intense. He caught on to the strategies and the rules very easily, although he lost the first game. He won the next, so he wasn't too shabby.

"Henri, I want you to change into whatever caballero clothes you have," Tom said as they breathed out as the game came to a close.

"What?"

"Listen, lad. Now it's a little hot, and you're shivering…"

"No…"

"Ride up like you were delayed, lad. You're ill, and perhaps that is for the best. She's hardly going to scream at you in this state."

"I'm not ill."

"Still, I'd rest if I were you, senor."

He shook his head, and tried to consider Tom's words. Was he relapsing? It had been a very intense ride, and he was a little dizzy at times. The coach had looked very inviting, even despite the cramped conditions. He was cold now, and he rubbed his arms a little, seeking to warm himself.

He glanced at himself in the stained mirror. He did look pale and tired. Sweat still sat on his forehead, and made him frown. He didn't feel weak and ill. Was it because of stubbornness and pride?

He sighed and nodded. Tom had been kind and thoughtful, and he seemed wise. He went to the suitcase, and took out his brown suit.

After dressing, and examining himself, he felt more the caballero. He smiled at Tom, and went for his money pouch.

"I didn't do it for the money, and I'm not taking a peso more, young man. There's a short cut round behind the inn, and then circle back. I stable that horse for you, in a manner more suited to it."

Zzz

Diego trotted into the yard of the inn, and swung down from the horse. He was greeted immediately by both Tom and the innkeeper.

"Don Diego, it's a pleasure as always," the innkeeper said cheerfully, as Tom led the horse away to the stables.

"I will need a bath, please, Hunter. Nice and hot, and some lunch…"

"Of course, Senor." The innkeeper followed him into the inn, and directed servants and helpers. Diego walked slowly up the stairs, and realised he was very tired. Maybe it was a good idea to rest up for a few hours and join Victoria in the coach after siesta.