Part Five: "It's another beautiful day..."
Magdalena woke early the next day, feeling surprisingly well rested. It had been a struggle to fall asleep last night, but once she had, it had been a deep, dreamless, refreshing sleep. She cast her worries about the feather far from her mind as she dressed in a strawberry colored day dress and hurried down for breakfast.
The morning was spent talking with her father, learning more details about his illness. "You were bedridden a whole year?" She asked him in angry disbelief.
"Si. I have been very badly off in recent times. Once in Los Angeles, I felt better for a time, but had a relapse eighteen months ago. I remained bedridden for thirteen months. In the past five, I have slowly but steadily recovered. I feel well, daughter. There is no fear for me currently."
"But if you have presumably been on your deathbed for a year—father, why didn't you send for me before now?" She asked him desperately.
"Your life was better in Mexico City. I wanted you to be raised with the culture and education and position a place like Los Angeles cannot give you."
Certainly Mexico City educated me, she thought bitterly, pacing, in things even you don't know of.
Memories rushed into her mind: Alenez yelling at her, the girls turning away, letting a man dance with her scandalously, letting him lead her out on a balcony, pulling away from his searching lips and receiving a hard slap. Pilar's face as she'd seen the bruise Magdalena had sported for a week, and Valentina refusing to let her cover it up. And again, Alenez, his hands clamped over hers as he dragged her to the window to watch as a messenger of the Eagle was hung.
"This it was will happen if you were discovered as an Eagle messenger."
After that first encounter he'd never shown softness again. The way the Eagle kept his henchman divided into three things: defaming the agent so no one else would associate with them, the habitual death threats, and the threat of exposure. And for Magdalena there was also another: if she didn't stay, Alenez would find her. Find her and more.
She shuddered at the memory of his breath hot on her neck, his hand clamped around her wrist like a vise as he dragged her behind him. If that messenger hadn't blundered in then…
In that moment, fear overcame her. If things were to be believed, Galindo was like Alenez, or worse. She couldn't risk altering the feather. She went up to her room and took the feather from the desk drawer she had placed it in. She rooted around for her fan, and sewed the feather to it in such a way that there was no fear of it slipping out, but it could still be pulled from the fan with a sharp jerk. Galindo would be at tonight's fiesta, of that she was sure.
That afternoon, to her surprise, Diego came riding over, and asked her to go on a ride with him. "It's another beautiful day," he said, his gaze entreating her. "Besides, I believe I am correct to say Inez will not accompany us if we go on horseback." He was wearing a deep brown suit, with a black shirt underneath, and black riding gloves. He looked magnificent.
A surprised laugh bubbled from Magdalena. Since her decision, she had forced herself to cast out all negativity and was determined to enjoy herself until the moment she had to give Galindo the feather.
"Just let me change to a riding outfit," she told him and dashed up to her room. She had a lovely, deep purple riding outfit, never worn before. She dressed quickly, with Renata's help, and looked in the mirror before she went back down. It certainly emphasizes my waist, she thought, putting her hands at her waist and turning a bit to the side. She shook her head at her foolishness, let Renata put her hair up—just tying it up high with a ribbon—and placed a hat on her head.
She fairly flew down the stairs back to Diego. He seemed surprised to see her back so soon. "Many women I know would take much more time to change." He said admiringly, studying how she looked in her riding outfit. On an impulse, she twirled and he laughed out loud. His eyes gleamed as he took her arm and they walked to the horses. He'd had one saddled for her; the groom was only now leading her out. She was a lovely, lively Palomino, dubbed Bailarin.
Diego sent the groom away with the wave of his hand and turned to her, extending the same hand to help her up. She placed her hand in his, and he cupped her elbow to give her the needed boost up to her horse.
Once she was situated, Diego mounted his own horse, a pretty Arabian. "Her name is Torcedor." Diego announced, patting her neck. "Come along," He then said. They rode with a slow pace at first, admiring the view and not speaking much. And then Diego pointed his gloved hand to a spot in the distance.
"Care for a race?" He asked, mischief in his voice.
She was away before he finished speaking, and they rode neck and neck the whole way, until—"We're where we went yesterday!" Magdalena exclaimed, pulling on the reins and slipping from her horse.
"Si," Diego said simply, and he also dismounted. They ambled next to each other, leading their horses around the lake.
"Tell me more about you, Magdalena." Diego requested. Magdalena turned to him, letting her gaze meet his. "What do you wish to know?"
"Oh, I don't know. The usual things people mention. Their closest friends, the books they read, what they are best at doing."
Magdalena dipped her head. "I do not really have any close friends. I do not read very much either. My father's cousin Valentina was who I stayed with while in Mexico City. She did not allow me to read any books. She said it ruined ladies minds. Well, I didn't believe her words, but she kept the library locked, and my desire to read was not strong enough to induce me to steal the key."
Diego nodded. "Then what are you best at doing?"
"I rode greatly when I was younger, before my father came back here. I had a little Palomino I called Hermoso. He was a darling horse. But then I went to stay with Valentina and she had no stables, so father sold Hermoso before he went. I was heartbroken. In the past years, when suitors have started to come calling, I have ridden with them. We'd leave the grooms far behind us as we raced, in the wind, going faster, and faster until the horses tired and then—"
"And then?" Diego asked.
And then they would want more, things that I would not give, but they expected just the same. "Besides those rides, and they were few, because of Valentina, I have not ridden in eight years. I was eleven when my father sold Hermoso."
"You are younger than I thought," he commented. "But what have you done since?"
She shrugged. "I have sewn, one of the only things that Valentina approved of. I got quite skillful at mending my own clothes, for Valentina insisted upon me not bothering her maid with my sewing. She had quite a small household, just a cook and manservant and her own maid. I only recently gained my own maid, Renata. She came to us very highly recommended and Valentina couldn't resist. Besides sewing I painted, another thing of which Valentina approved, and I was actually rather good. But then Valentina decided that paints were too expensive and banned the activity. She was a very thrifty woman. It did not matter to her that my father took care of me financially, if something wasn't needed, it wouldn't be bought. I suppose I admire that about her, for I have seen some very frivolous senoritas who spend all their money and time on acquiring new wardrobes. I am glad that she drummed into me the foolishness of such enterprises. It did wear off on me, and if I do not need a gown, I do not buy it."
Diego laughed. "You are correct, many women would not agree with that philosophy."
"But what about you? Who were your friends growing up? What books do you read? What are you best at?"
He slowed even more, then completely stopped. "What am I best at? I wonder." He continued walking.
"Growing up, there was Rosarita Cortez, Moneta Esperon and Ricardo del Amo. Rosarita's family moved to Monterey when we were both ten. Moneta did not spend as much time with me after that. She felt awkward being alone with me, I suppose. Ricardo del Amo I only knew one summer. He had come down from San Francisco to visit his uncle. Ricardo was a menace. He played horrible pranks, meant to be lighthearted and, indeed, most were silly things, just throwing snakes at senoritas, and surprising people by covering his face with mud and jumping out at them, but there was one prank that was actually harmful. He managed to convince me that I should drug Sergeant Garcia's wine. He was a Private, then, and not quite as, uh, stout. Anyway, I put the powder into the cup and watched him drink it. He was out in a second. And he wouldn't wake up, no matter how I shook him." Diego shook his head, remembering. "Well, he did eventually wake, but I was scared to death. He was almost court-martialed for it. The commandante was furious, and ready to sentence him to the firing squad even, until I spoke up. Dios, I was happy when Ricardo returned to San Francisco. He was a horrible boy."
Magdalena was laughing. "The poor sergeant! What commandante was that? Not the Monastario I heard mentioned?"
"No, no. He was only recently the commandante. This was a Capitan Cabreo. He was not a bad commandante, but he could be very harsh, especially on the soldiers in his command. He was very strict about the rules."
"Ah. But we still have questions left." She turned to him, eyes twinkling. "What books do you read?"
"Books of Philosophy, Theology, History and most of all, poetry. I try to write my own."
"Is it any good?"
"No, not usually." Diego bit his lip. "I play the guitar. I am fairly good at it, I think. And, oh, I have thought of lyrics for your song."
She turned to him in delight. "Have you really?"
"Si. I wrote them last night. But I cannot sing them to you for I have no guitar." Diego had a smile on his face as he looked down at her.
"You do not need a guitar to sing." She protested.
But he only shook his head. "I do need the guitar."
She shrugged. "Very well."
They both grew silent. Magdalena was wondering why he'd brought her here again after how strange their moods had been yesterday when they'd departed from it.
No matter, she thought, and turned to him. "Why did you bring me here again?"
"Oh. Well, you seemed to like it so much." He switched the lead to his other hand. "And it is one of my favorite places in Los Angeles." He paused and stepped closer.
"And besides those two excellent reasons, I believe we have some unfinished business."His voice was soft as he moved closer to her. She didn't dare move a muscle as he got nearer and nearer to her. She shifted to lean against Bailarin; he placed his hands on opposite sides of her again, boxing her in.
"Shall we try again?" He whispered, just a breath away. She nodded, unable to speak. He leaned down, closer, and closer…
A group of rowdy vaqueros suddenly burst into the clearing, startling the horses. Magdalena stumbled backwards as Bailarin moved nervously behind her. Diego grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him, quickly releasing her to grab the reins of Bailarin and Torcedor. He waited for the group to leave before turning back to her. She felt the keen sting of disappointment when he extended his hands to help her up. The moment was broken. They mounted and rode back home, silence again reigning over them.
A/N: I took special pleasure in writing this chapter. I adore the idea that Magdalena and Diego shared more than the episode actually showed. Magdalena's riding outfit looks like Anna Maria's red riding outfit, my second favorite outfit in the show, (the first being Raquel's red dress) except Magdalena's is, of course, purple, a blue-violet purple. And Torcedor means twister. I wasn't feeling very original that day.