Chapter 7 – At the bottom of the table
Victoria didn't show up at the newspaper office to continue the conversation. That night, Diego wanted to pay her a visit as Zorro and tell her the truth, but in the end, he decided against it. As he was taking part in that race the next day, he thought it could be a good chance to show her Diego could also be brave and daring, and not only a spineless chicken as everybody believed. He desperately wanted to get her interested in Diego before he told her his secret, to be loved not for the mask, the legend and the thrills, but for himself. If only Esteban could get out of the way…
ZZZ
During the last ten years, el pueblo de Los Angeles had been famous in California for the horse races taking place in the summer during the festivities celebrating the Assumption of Mary into Heaven, popularly known as the Virgen de Agosto. Around the 15th of August, the small pueblo welcomed the arrival of numerous visitors who travelled long distances to enjoy the Catholic celebrations at church and the more mundane, down to earth markets; fairs; sideshow attractions, including the circus this year; music and dancing at the verbenas at night; and of course, the horse races and other competitions like shooting or climbing the cucaña, the traditional greased pole only the most agile and strong men could climb to claim the price held at the top.
On race day, the riders had to register the horses early in the morning and pay the fees to take part either on the short sprint race of a quarter mile, or the long race of eight miles.
Alcalde Luis Ramón was at the registration desk with Sergeant Mendoza writing down the names.
"The fee is 30 pesos, señor," Mendoza said to a foreign looking man who wanted to register on the long race.
"Why is this so expensive?" the man said with a strong, Italian accent.
"Because the prize is 1000 pesos, something I am sure you already know. Citizens of this pueblo cannot afford to give it away to foreigners like you for free. If you think your money would be better spent on gambling, there's a bookmaker," Ramón said, bored, pointing to one of the men getting ready beside two large blackboards, where another man was writing the names of the riders and horses already registered for the races, also copying them on wooden, thin and long slats. "30 pesos. Take it or leave it."
"I'll take it. Of course, I am going to win the race, and also bet on myself," he said confidently, handing over the thirty pesos. "Luigi Simonetti, riding on Vittoria."
Ramón laughed at the mare's name.
"Really? Victoria?"
"No, no. Vittoria, with "t". V-i-t-t-o-r-i-a."
"Vi-tto-ri-a," Mendoza said slowly as he wrote the name on the list. "What a beautiful name for a mare!"
"Oh, yes, she's going to love it. Next!" Ramón called, still laughing.
Diego approached the desk.
"Diego de la Vega on Apollo, for the long race."
"De la Vega, why are you taking part in this? You don't need the money, and you are going to break your neck if you are not careful," Luis Ramón said with his most sardonic smile.
"To be honest, I don't even know why I am here," Diego said, shrugging his shoulders, handing over the thirty pesos.
"I'll tell you why you are here: because you are a pushover, De la Vega, that's why, and because you are daddy's boy," the alcalde said, sniggering. "Well, good luck. You'll need it. Next!"
ZZZ
When all the participants were registered for the race, with the horses saddled and ready, tied along a rail for everybody to see and admire, the betting started. There was a flurry of activity around the boards that showed the riders' and horses' names and the odds to win. Gamblers shouted and made their wagers with the bookmakers, who stood high on stools at the plaza, and money changed hands quickly while the bookmakers registered every transaction. Soon it became clear who the favourites were, and who were considered a waste of money. Diego's slat occupied the bottom of the table with the odds of 100 to 1, while Manuel Contreras, a professional jockey who had won many races, was the top of the list with a 2 to 1.
"Look, they don't have much faith on you, do they?" Esteban said, looking at the board from a distance. His name was in the middle of the table, with odds of 20 to 1. "I don't understand, because Apollo is a great horse."
"It is my name dragging the odds down, not Apollo's. It wouldn't matter if I was ridding the mythical Pegasus, because I still would be at the bottom of that table."
"I don't see why. You are a good rider."
"Just don't think about it. It's all right. I am used to it."
"But…"
"Forget it. Look, that's Felipe over there. Oh, no. I think he is betting on me!"
Felipe was pulling at the bookmaker trousers to gain his attention, showing him his money, and then he pointed at Diego's name on the board.
"Diego de la Vega on Apollo? Are you sure?"
Felipe nodded confidently. The bookmaker took the ten pesos the youngster was offering, shaking his head. He scribbled on a piece of paper and gave Felipe a stub.
"I don't like taking your money like this, son, but it's your choice. Ten pesos for Diego de la Vega!" he shouted. Some people in the crowd laughed about it. "Change the odds to 99 to 1, will you?" he said to the man on charge of the board, and then he continued taking bets from other gamblers.
"Why are you betting for me?" Diego asked when Felipe got out of the betting crowd.
"Because I know you can win," Felipe signed with a mischievous smile.
"I hope you didn't gamble much because I can't really win, and you know that as well as I do," Diego signed back. "You should have bet for Esteban. I think he has better chances than me."
"How's that?" Esteban asked.
"Just a feeling. Come on, let's join our seniors at the stand to watch the sprint race."
ZZZ
The long race would take place at a signposted track of 2 miles around the pueblo, marshalled at certain check points which included obstacles of about 1 meter in height. The horses had to run four laps through the main street and the plaza, giving plenty of chances for the onlookers to enjoy the race. Some lancers in the garrison would act as marshals at the check points, ensuring the riders would not stray out of the circuit and rules would be followed.
Part of that track, the long, straight stretch of a quarter mile running through the middle of the pueblo and across the plaza was used for the sprint race first.
At 10 o'clock the betting was closed, and the first series of the sprint race started. For a price of 500 pesos, thirty horses were registered but only ten could run together in each series. Manuel Contreras, the professional jockey, won the first series ridding on a small, short but very strong horse, which had muscular hind quarters and powerful legs.
"Look at that horse!" Don Alejandro said, watching the race with great interest with his family from the stand erected at the end of the pueblo, where the races finished. "He won for at least five lengths! And he's not a thoroughbred!"
"It is a Quarter horse," Diego said. "They are the fastest on the short distances."
"Right, called quarter horses because they ran the quarter mile race the best. I heard about them, but I had never seen one before."
"Yes, very fast on the quarter mile, but they won't stand a chance on the long race," Esteban said.
After that outstanding performance on the first series, it wasn't a surprise the winner of the final race with the three finalists was the quarter horse.
Esteban and Diego stood up to get ready for the long race, scheduled to start in twenty minutes, handling their jackets to their fathers.
"Be careful out there, boys," Don Alejandro said. "Take good care of my babies."
"Of course. Don't worry, Uncle," Esteban said. "You'll be proud: one of us will win today."
"I hope so. Good luck."
"Good luck, Son. Don't be too reckless, please. Use your head. And good luck to you too, Diego," Emilio said, patting his nephew's back.
"Thank you," Diego said. "Don't worry. I'll take care of this scatterbrain."
"Hey!" Esteban complained, laughing, punching his cousin's upper arm. "How dare you call me that? Come on, I'll show you where my brain is."
On the way to the horses they bumped into Victoria, who had just got out of the tavern to watch the long race.
"Diego, good luck on the race. I'll be cheering on you from the stand."
"Thank you, Victoria."
"And good luck to you too, Esteban," she added politely.
"Thank you. Will you cheer on me too, Señorita?" he asked with his irresistible, broad smile.
"Yes, of course. For both of you, but a little bit more on Diego because my favourite horse is Apollo."
With that answer, Diego had to admire Victoria's inner politician.
"Fair enough! We'll see you at the end. Have fun watching!" Esteban said, heading to the rail to get on Zeus.
ZZZ
"Some of the horses you have to watch for are the De la Vega's. Those stallions could give me trouble," Manuel Contreras said in a low voice.
"For what I heard, I don't think Diego de la Vega will be a contender, no matter what horse he's ridding," said another man. "I'm more worried about that Italian with the Arabian mare."
"Yes, that one as well."
"I already tampered with his girth. He'll lose the saddle in the middle of the race," the third man said.
"Well, watch my back and keep everybody out of the way before the fourth lap so I can win. Otherwise, I'll have nothing to split with you."
ZZZ
Felipe could not believe his ears. He had left the stand to get some delicious dulces de yema in one of the market stalls, but on the way back to his seat he had seen three suspicious men talking in a secluded alley at the edge of the pueblo. Recognizing the winner of the sprint race he had stopped there, inconspicuous against the wall, to find out what they were up to. Soon he realized they were in cahoots to win the long race too by getting rid of the competition with foul play.
With not much time to spare, the three men headed to their horses still on the rail as the race was about to start. Felipe run to the start line as well, searching for Diego.
ZZZ
Forty horses and their riders waited nervously at the start line, too close to each other due to the lack of space in that stretch of the road, stumping on the ground and getting in the way of each other while the riders wanted to keep their space on the first row. Diego, unlike the others, didn't bother to get into that petty fight, keeping the distance to stay at the back of the pack, because the race was long and gaining a few seconds at the start would make no difference at the end, and for the way the horses were rubbing each other's rumps it could end up in disaster if they started to kick out, hitting the riders.
One of the largest thoroughbreds started to do just that, kicking and bolting, and the others gave him some space, trying to get away from those furious hooves.
"Control your horse or go to the back!" said Corporal Sepúlveda, who was acting as marshal at the start line.
The Alcalde got on the stool with his pistol ready to mark the start on the race. Just then, after wriggling along rows of spectators, using his elbows to advance slowly among them, squeezing in between while they complained about his cheekiness, Felipe managed to reach the side, gesticulating frantically to Diego.
"Felipe, what's wrong?" Diego asked while trying to keep Apollo steady, because the stallion had got so nervous he was spinning around over his hind quarters, nearly out of control, making it difficult for Diego to concentrate on Felipe's signing.
"The jockey? And two more men? Who?"
Felipe tried to show him, pointing at them, but the alcalde lifted the pistol then and shouted:
"Ready. Steady. Go!"
While still trying to see who Felipe was pointing at, standing on the stirrups, Diego nearly fell off the saddle when Apollo jolted up to a side, frightened by the gunshot, and they missed the start. By the time he got Apollo pointing in the right direction, they could only see the cloud of dust left behind by the other horses.
"What the hell is he doing?!" Don Alejandro cried from the stand, ashamed, while twisting Diego's jacket in his hands. "Come on Diego, they have started already! Wake up!"
"Go, Diego, go!" Victoria cried when Diego finally spurred Apollo and they passed by the stand, galloping in front of them into the dust cloud.
ZZZZZ
A.N – For the purists: I have no idea if the celebration of the Virgen de Agosto took place in Los Angeles around 1820, or if it would have involved organized horse races. I thought I could use what a village fair would look in Spain at that time as an example.
And, btw, I used to ride an Arabian mare called Victoria, LOL. She was crazy, rearing up straight on her hind quarters at any sign of "perceived danger," making me think she was going to topple over me. So much fun to ride! (not). In the end, I managed to get her understand that a few leaves lifting off the ground due to a gust of wind would not try to eat her.
I hope you continue to enjoy the story. Some thrills and annoyance for Diego on the way. Thanks for your kind reviews.