It was shortly before noon when the coach from Monterey arrived in Los Angeles and stopped in front of the inn. Lifting the door's curtain, Rosarita Cortez saw Sergeant Garcia hastily cross the plaza to come and greet the newcomers – well, come and greet her, as she was the only passenger. She opened the door and stepped down from the coach, protecting her eyes from the midday sun. It was market day in Los Angeles and the plaza was buzzing with people. Merchants, travelers and peones, selling their goods to the sweet people of Los Angeles. Among them, her eyes were immediately drawn to the tall and elegant figure of Diego de la Vega, who was perusing the stands. Rosarita's heart lept despite herself at the sight of her childhood sweetheart. He appeared to be looking at a guitar, which made Rosarita shake her head. She remembered a time when Diego would have done anything to get out of guitar lessons.
"Señorita Cortez!" the good Sergeant exclaimed, taking off his hat. "What a lovely surprise."
She turned her attention back to the soldier. "It's good to see you too, Sergeant."
"What brings you to our little pueblo?"
"I'm visiting my aunt and uncle. Rosa and Arturo Villa."
"Where will you be staying?"
"At their hacienda, as soon as they come pick me up."
"And how long will you stay?"
Rosarita laughed. "Dios mío! but it's a real interrogation, Sergeant!"
Garcia fidgeted with his hat, embarrassed. "Well, Comandante's rules. We have to interrogate every visitor. And search their luggage," he added in a low voice.
Rosarita sighed. All those constraints were frustrating, and unnecessary, really. She grew up here in Los Angeles, she was hardly a foreigner. What were they even hoping to find in her wardrobe? But she knew Garcia was just following orders and she wouldn't have wanted him to get into trouble.
"Of course," she said politely. "Please, proceed, Sergeant. As for the length of my stay, I am not sure exactly yet. Two weeks, maybe a month."
Sergeant Garcia gestured to two lancers to take her luggage down the coach and start searching. Rosarita felt a little uneasy to have strangers going through her belongings, but it wasn't her first visit and she knew it was mandatory for every newcomer to Los Angeles. So, she let them proceed without any comment, simply keeping an eye on them. They were quite thorough in their search, but not particularly careful. It was a good thing she wasn't bringing anything too fragile.
As the soldiers methodically went through each of her pieces of luggage, her gaze drifted back toward the market. Diego had apparently decided to buy the guitar and had dropped it into the already quite full arms of his manservant – Bernardo, if Rosarita remembered correctly. Diego walked along the stands. He saluted the blacksmith, and his gloved hand brushed the blade of a sword on display. For a second, Rosarita thought he would pick it up but he moved along and started instead conversing with a Native who owned a fruit stand and who was encouraging him to taste an orange. As he continued to move along the stands, adding a couple more items to the pile in Bernardo's arms, Diego exchanged a few words with each seller, whether they were local peones or rich merchants bringing goods all the way from Spain. From where she stood, Rosarita couldn't hear the conversations, but it was clear that everyone at the market appreciated the young caballero. She shouldn't be surprised. Diego had always been kind and considerate with everyone, no matter their social background.
As Diego and Bernardo reached the far end of the line of stalls, a young woman with long dark hair held by a headband jumped out from behind her stand. Rosarita thought she recognized her from Monterey's market but couldn't remember her name. Before Diego had time to react, the woman had thrown her arms around his neck and was attempting to put a kiss on his cheek. Rosarita raised a disapproving eyebrow at this clear breach of etiquette, but Diego only shook his head with a smile and good-humorously made the young woman release him.
Unconsciously, Rosarita had stepped closer and found herself within ear range of the scene.
"Theresa! What brings you to Los Angeles?" Diego was asking.
"I'm expanding my customer base, Don Diego," she said, with a gesture encompassing the whole plaza. "Or maybe I was just missing you," she added with a wink. "Tamales?"
Diego laughed as he readjusted his jacket. "Sure, why not. But promise me to stop jumping at me like that."
He took a couple coins from his purse and turned to Bernardo and signed something to him that Rosarita couldn't decipher. The servant nodded and quickly walked to their carriage parked near the inn. He dropped their errands on the seat, and hands free, trotted back to his master, who handed him a hot tamale.
"Everything's clear, Sergeant," one of the lancers informed their superior officer.
Garcia turned toward Rosarita. "You are free to go, Señorita," he said with a short bow.
She hurried back to her pile of luggage in front of the inn. The soldiers had repacked her belongings rather approximately but there wasn't much she could do about it. Once at her uncle's home, she would probably have to unfold and spread all her dresses to restore their shapes.
"Sergeant, if you would be so kind, would you mind helping me put my luggage out of the way as I wait for my aunt? I do not see her yet."
"Of course!" The good sergeant piled up the suitcase and the two bags and carried them to the boardwalk in front of the grocery story, so that she could wait away from the sun, and out of the way.
Diego was finishing his tamale when he caught sight of Rosarita across the plaza, which immediately brought a smile to his face. She waved and he saluted her back. With a short bow, Diego took leave of Theresa, and in two long strides, crossed the plaza to meet her, Bernardo on his heels.
"Rosarita, it is so great to see you again!"
He greeted the Sergeant with a tip to the hat and Rosarita with a kiss of the hand, which made her giggle.
"It seems not so long ago, we were mocking adults for greeting each other formally like this."
Diego laughed. "And here we are, adults. What brings you here?"
"I am visiting my uncle and aunt, once again. Uncle Arturo is sick and I've come to help my aunt run the hacienda while he rests back to health. But I certainly hope you and I will also have occasions to see each other."
"I am sorry to hear don Arturo is ill," Diego said, "and I wish him a prompt recovery. In the meantime, I would be delighted to keep you company whenever your business will allow."
A trumpet sounded in the cuartel and Sergeant Garcia tensed up.
"I have to go back. It was good meeting you again, Señorita. I will see you around, I hope." He put his hat back on his head and adjusted the strap to his chin. "Don Diego."
"A good day to you too, Sergeant."
Rosarita took a deep, satisfied breath, as her gaze browsed through the plaza. There was always something special about coming back home. There was something comforting about the familiarity of the pueblo and its people. She turned back to Diego, who was thoughtfully watching Garcia cross the plaza.
"I was sorry to hear I missed you when you came to Monterey last year. Why did you have to choose precisely the time I was in Spain?"
"My sincere apologies, Rosarita. I had business there, and the date was imposed upon me by the circumstances."
She tilted her head and her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Not just business, from what I heard…"
A cloud darkened his warm brown eyes for a second, and Rosarita regretted making such an indiscreet allusion of his courtship to Anna-Maria Verdugo. Anna-Maria had let her believe that Diego was perfectly happy as her friend, but there might have been deeper feelings involved on Diego's part. He didn't seem to particularly resent her remark, though, and the next second, his usual easy smile had returned. He was about to say something when they both became aware that the whole plaza had gone surprisingly quiet, and they turned around at once to see what was happening.
The cuartel's doors had opened, and out was coming the Comandante. Rosarita didn't know him, but judging from the crowd's reaction, he wasn't exactly liked. Head held high, a clear smug and condescending expression across his face, the Comandante didn't seem to care, as he calmly walked around the plaza, a squadron of soldiers on his heels. Everyone was standing still, head down and avoiding eye contact with the officer. A couple of vendors timidly showed him their merchandise but he chased them off like they were annoying mosquitoes, instead picking an apple from the Native's basket without even looking at him – not paying. He then made his way to the tamale stall.
Rosarita glanced at Diego, who had remained silent and still, his eyes fixed on the Comandante.
"Isn't that friend of yours from Monterey?" she asked him.
Diego nodded without taking his eyes off of the scene. "Sí, her name is Theresa. She's passionate and fearless, while Capitán Esteban is short-tempered and -" he stopped himself though Rosarita could guess it wasn't going to be a positive description. "This can't end well," he muttered.
The Comandante ordered tamales from Theresa and it seemed innocent enough at first. He simply wanted to taste her cooking, no doubt attracted, like everyone, by the delicious smell. But then, predictably, things quickly escalated. The young lady wasn't the kind of woman to cower in front of rude men, no matter their rank.
"You're going to pay for this, aren't you?" she asked, as Esteban was about to walk away with his tamale.
He slowly turned back toward her and looked her down.
"You're not from here," he stated coldly.
Theresa made a pout and shrugged. "So?"
Diego signaled Rosarita to stay where she was and quickly crossed the plaza.
"Have you acquitted yourself from the import taxes, then?" the Capitán asked.
"Tamales are hardly imports, Señor."
"Theresa is not a foreigner, Capitán," Diego intervened. "Import taxes do not apply to Californians."
"Mind your own business, de la Vega," Esteban interjected, clearly not appreciating being interrupted.
"I will pay the taxes, Capitán," Theresa said, a bit defiantly, "if you pay for your tamales."
A cold anger was growing on Esteban's face. "Twenty-five pesos," he commanded. "Before the end of the day, or I'll have you arrested."
A murmur of disapprobation crossed the market crowd. Esteban turned around, no doubt ready to inflict his brand-new tax on everyone who would dare to protest. Before anyone could say anything, Diego was flashing his most amicable smile and putting a hand on Esteban's shoulder.
"Come on, Comandante, everyone needs to make a living."
Esteban's cold glare immediately locked on the young don. He raised a disdainful eyebrow as he looked down on his new prey.
"Except you, de la Vega, apparently. From what I hear, you're more prone to spend your father's riches than make any of your own."
Rosarita winced on Diego's behalf. That kind of remark had to sting. Yet, it seemed to pass right over his head.
"On the contrary!" he exclaimed passionately without missing a beat, "I have the ambition of becoming a renown poet. Do you want to hear my latest creation? It is precisely on the beauties of our dear California. I can ask my servant to go fetch my guitar, I'll play you a tune to go with it."
Diego gestured to Bernardo and the servant dashed away.
Exasperated by this sudden flow of inanities, Esteban strode away. But in his haste, he collided with the deaf-mute who was hurrying back, guitar in hands and who seemingly didn't see the officer on his way. They both tumbled to the ground. Rosarita could swear Diego was refraining a grin as Bernardo seemed to struggle endlessly to untangle himself from Esteban, fuming, on the ground.
Diego hurried to their side. "I'm so sorry, Capitán," he said, helping the officer to his feet. "You must forgive Bernardo. He can be so clumsy."
"What a servant," Esteban grumbled, dusting off the dirt from his impeccable uniform.
Bernardo offered the Capitán his best penitent face, as he helped him clean the dust out of his jacket. Esteban pushed him away abruptly. Judging it was time to deescalate the situation, Diego pulled back Bernardo and positioned himself between the two men.
"Please accept my apologizes for my servant, Capitán," he said with a short bow, every inch the perfect gentleman.
Esteban ignored him and turned heels. Gesturing for his lancers to follow him, he disappeared through the streets behind the church, leaving behind a relieved crowd. In unison with everyone, Diego let go the breath he had been holding. Theresa spat on the ground in anger.
"I'm glad you waited for the Capitán to disappear to do that," Diego smirked.
She shrugged. Her anger dissipated, leaving in its place a serious concern. "What am I going to do, don Diego? I don't have twenty-five pesos…"
He opened his purse, but she shook her head.
"I can't accept."
"Would you rather go to jail? Take the money, Theresa. Let's say it's advance payment for your delicious tamales."
Theresa laughed. "That's a lifetime of tamales!"
Diego passed his arm around his servant's shoulders. "Well, Bernardo will be delighted."
Bernardo grinned from ear to ear as Theresa handed him a smoking hot tamale. They bid their farewell to the young lady – again – and walked back to Rosarita.
"A renown poet?" she repeated, a little mockingly.
Diego grinned and held his guitar. "Do you care to hear a song of my composition?"
She shook her head. She couldn't believe – nor understand – that change in her friend. Though despite this odd new passion for songs and poetry, he obviously still had plenty of the qualities she loved him for. She hoped that one day he'll trust her enough to tell her how he went from being a daredevil teenager to a harmless dandy.
She glanced at her pile of luggage still sitting on the boardwalk. "Diego, I don't mean to impose, but it seems Tía Rosa has forgotten about me – I do hope nothing serious has happened. Would you mind giving me a lift to the hacienda?"
Diego smiled happily. "It would be my honor, Rosarita."
He gestured to Bernardo to help him bring her luggage to their carriage, then offered her his arm and helped her climb in. Despite the dire circumstances of her return to Los Angeles, Rosarita was glad to be back. After all, despite her many years away, Los Angeles was her home as well.
To be continued...