Near Los Angeles
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The man looked Isabel straight in the eye. "Only you? Are you the only one who dares?"
The girl thought about it. Actually, the stranger could only have seen her, the two boys had been pressed against the back wall of the shed the whole time.
But she didn't have the chance to answer in time. The other two children had already left the shelter of the building and were crowding around her.
The man gave them a friendly smile. "Don't be afraid of me, children. I'll only disturb you for a moment, then you can continue to play. What kind of disguise are you wearing?"
Yes, the man was definitely not Spanish. Isabel looked uncertainly at the short blond hair and the blond Donegal beard.
The children looked at the stranger with suspicion and fear. It hadn't always been like this - but experience had taught them to be wary of soldiers.
The rider sighed audibly and tried again:
"I really mean you no harm. I'm on my way to Los Angeles and I just wanted to know if it's still far and if I could get some water for me and my horse."
Isabel looked at him indecisively. Hospitality was important, she knew that from her parents. Apart from his uniform, the man made a friendly impression.
And if the stranger belonged to DeSoto, it was wiser to be polite and comply with his request. She had to be clever and brave.
"Our home is not far. I'm sure you can get water for you and the horse there," she replied hesitantly.
"He looks very different from the soldiers in the pueblo," one of the boys whispered to the girl - but loud enough for the stranger to hear. Perhaps it was because he was still wearing the sack over his head. He had obviously forgotten to take it off in his excitement.
The man grinned and replied with his accent: "You're right, boy. I'm not in the Army anymore. I have nothing to do with the military in Los Angeles. I'm just passing through and want to spend the night before moving on."
"Then why are you wearing the uniform?" the boy asked curiously. He had obviously lost some of his fear at the newcomer's friendliness.
"You can't just ask him that," Isabel hissed in between.
"It's all right. I see you're thinking along with me, young man. But aren't you going to take off your hood? That goes for both of you, boys. Then we can have a better conversation. What are you playing at? Are you bandits?"
"No, of course not," the child countered, pulling the sack off his head a little awkwardly. "We're knights, protecting Isabel from the evil dragon!"
"Of course, how could I not know that? Excuse me, gentlemen knights," the rider replied in a serious voice, which earned him an irritated look from Isabel.
"I am the noble knight. You are not. You wanted to be the Black Knight," objected the other boy, who had followed suit and also removed his hood.
"The Black Knight?" the soldier repeated curiously.
"Yes. That's me," the boy explained proudly. "The bad people are afraid of me because I wear dark armor. At night I hunt the robbers, and by day I save Isabel from the dragon."
"Miguel, the man doesn't care about any of that!" the girl protested.
"That's all right, young Senorita. I'm not bored. Intimidating your opponents before the fight is very clever."
"And they can't see my face through the helmet," the boy continued. "They're all scared."
The man didn't answer but seemed to be thinking about something.
"Senor, I can show you the way to my parents," the girl offered, obviously irritated by the man's silence.
"Oh, of course. Sorry, I'm probably a little tired from the long ride. I'm George Smith, by the way."
"That's not a Spanish name. No wonder you talk so funny," concluded the boy, who had been called Miguel by the girl.
"That's right," the rider admitted. "I'm not Spanish, but I lived in Madrid for a long time, so I understand and speak the language quite well. I never got rid of my accent, though. I come from England."
"So, you fought for England?" the boy continued before Isabel punched him in the side.
"I was part of a special unit," the man replied after some hesitation. "I myself was in charge of medical matters and served as an interpreter."
"So, you didn't kill any people?" the boy asked with a mixture of curiosity and disappointment.
Isabel shook her head reluctantly, but Smith didn't seem to mind the question. He replied kindly, "No, fortunately I've never had to – no one shouldn't enjoy it either," he added cautiously.
"Didn't we want to go home?" came the other boy's impatient objection.
"Can I ride your horse?" asked Miguel excitedly. "Your horse is much nicer than ours."
The soldier laughed. "Slowly, slowly. I have nothing against it. I'm just afraid you'll have to mount yourself; I can't help you. I have a bad leg and shouldn't put it out unnecessarily."
"A bad leg?" asked the girl, puzzled. The man sat relaxed on his horse and didn't give the impression of having any problems.
"An old war injury. Don't worry, I learned to live with it. I'm fine when I'm riding, it's just getting off or on the horse that's a bit difficult."
"The horse is too big, I can't get up there by myself," the boy grumbled disappointedly.
"I'm sorry. But you can take the reins if you like," the Englishman offered, stretching the reins before flicking them forward for the children to reach. "You wanted to take me to your hacienda, anyway, didn't you?"
The two boys nodded and took the reins together. Isabel sighed and picked up the two hoods that had landed carelessly in the grass.
The foursome set off at a leisurely pace.
"May I ask you something, senor?" the girl asked as soon as they had started.
"Of course. What's on your mind?"
"How did you know about the boys? You couldn't have seen them; they were hiding behind the barn the whole time."
"You're a good observer, keep it up. And you're right, I only saw you. But I knew there were three of you."
"But how?"
"Your footprints. When I got close enough, they were hard to miss in the damp earth."
Isabel shook her head in disbelief. "We didn't even think of that. That was stupid of us."
"You needn't blame yourself," the Englishman reassured her. "I've always been in the habit of paying attention to my surroundings."
"Quite simple, really," Miguel thought. "But I never would have thought of it. I want to be able to do things like that when I grow up."
"You can, young man. You just have to pay attention in school and study hard."
"We don't learn much in school," the girl complained. "It used to be different, but our old teacher fell out with the Alcalde. And now there's only old Senor Gómez, who wants nothing to do with us children and only teaches us by force."
George's face stiffened. "It's the alcalde's job to make sure you have a good school. Especially when he argues with a teacher and the teacher leaves Los Angeles because of it."
"DeSoto doesn't care about that. He's just thinking about how to get more pesos," Miguel revealed.
"That's not good. Kids, I'm sorry."
Isabel shrugged. "There's nothing you can do. It's the way it is," she murmured somberly.
They walked on in silence. The stranger watched the children, seemingly lost in thought. Finally, a grim smile played around his lips, as if he had finally come to a decision.
Before the children could notice, however, the expression faded from his face, replaced by a more innocent one.