MIRACLES DO HAPPEN
by Kathryn. D. Green
Felipe rode his Shetland pony, Ocho, toward the Valverdi hacienda. It was an early morning in July, 1820, and the air still felt cool.
For a moment, the 13-year-old servant boy halted the pony to admire the scenery. He sat tall and straight in the saddle as Don Alejandro de la Vega had taught him. A clump of trees stood to his left; to his right, a ravine dropped off 20 feet from Ocho's front hooves. As always, complete silence surrounded him; if there were any birds singing, he could not hear them. A gentle breeze caressed Felipe's face. Overhead, small, white, feathery clouds hung suspended in the blue sky.
Felipe smiled. It's so nice, today! The breeze feels so good. A frown creased his face as he remembered his patrón's warning, given when Felipe had mounted his pony. "Remember, Felipe," Don Alejandro had warned, "you are not to go through town. Circle around it as you go north."
Felipe sighed. I just wish Don Alejandro would let me go to town, again! I'm so tired of staying away from there. It's been months and months since I went to the pueblo! Would the alcalde really hurt a boy like me? He shook his head. I'm so glad he's out of town. Meanwhile, I'll enjoy this ride.
Felipe trotted his pony toward the ravine, then sat astride Ocho for a moment, gazing down at the winding river below. In his joy at being allowed to go out on his own, he moved the Shetland pony closer to the edge than he normally would have. He halted Ocho five feet from the edge.
Felipe had worked for the de la Vegas for the past 6 years. The de la Vega family was the richest, most prominent family in southern California. Felipe, formerly of central Mexico, had lost his parents in the revolution, when he was seven; Don Alejandro's son, Don Diego, had found the orphaned deaf-mute boy lost on the Mexican desert, three days later, and brought him to California.
After a long, futile effort to find Felipe a home, Don Diego had brought him to Los Angeles, and Don Alejandro had hired him as houseboy. He would be their indentured servant until he turned 25 years old, 12 years hence.
Felipe had long since lost all memory of his early life, and could remember very little of the events that had killed his parents. He couldn't even remember his last name anymore, or the names of his parents, or the name of the village he had grown up near. When Felipe was eight, Don Alejandro's son, Don Diego, had gone to Spain to attend Madrid University. During the years that had followed, Don Alejandro had educated Felipe thoroughly. Now 13, Felipe was well-versed in the classics, the Bible, arithmetic, foreign languages, and other subjects, and had started to learn algebra, three months before. He could write good letters, essays, stories, and poems, and he kept a diary.
Months before, Los Angeles had received a new alcalde. Since Don Luis Ramon's arrival, he had oppressed and terrorized Los Angeles. Felipe hated that, because it put a perpetual frown on his elderly patrón's face that didn't used to be there. And because it had made Don Alejandro curtail Felipe's freedom.
As Felipe sat astride Ocho's back and gazed down the ravine, he remembered when Don Alejandro used to be sunny and cheerful...when he had worn a twinkle in his eyes and a laugh on his lips...when he used to smile freely at Felipe and talk to him...when Felipe had been allowed to go to town to run errands, or just to visit the padre. How Felipe missed those days!
Felipe pursed his lips. Ever since the new alcalde came, Don Alejandro has always frowned. He's never happy, anymore. And he has refused to let me go to town, even to go to church. He says it isn't safe to let me. The servant boy shook his head. I wish Don Alejandro would let me go to town, again. I'm tired of staying away from there! I'm tired of always having a grown-up with me when I run errands, too; I'm not a baby! This is the first time in months and months Don Alejandro has let me go out on my own.
With a sigh, he lifted Ocho's reins to make him walk backward. Suddenly, the ground underneath the pony's front hooves gave way. Before Felipe could move the pony back from the edge, the terrified boy and his pony were tumbling down the steep ravine wall. Felipe threw his arms outward as he was thrown from the saddle.
Excruciating pain exploded in Felipe's head as he hit the ground. Then, he knew nothing.
ZZZZZ
Don Alejandro rose from his bed and stretched. The siesta hour had just ended, and it was time to get up.
He combed his silver hair and tied a black silk cravat around his collar. He slipped his arms into the black charro jacket with the silver embroidery. He decided to find Felipe and tell him to send a message to Miguel, his head vaquero. He should be back by now, he thought.
He strolled down the hall and out the back door. As befitted a gentleman, he stood up straight, and walked with his head held high and his shoulders held back. A cool breeze brushed the elderly caballero's cheeks. It felt good.
He found Miguel in the stable, grooming one of the Andalusians. There would be no need to send Felipe to find Miguel, now.
Suddenly, Don Alejandro froze and looked around, frowning. There was no sign of Ocho.
Miguel looked at him and nodded. "Neither the boy nor the pony ever came back, patrón."
Don Alejandro pursed his lips. Something was wrong. "It's not like Felipe to do this." He froze, as a horrible thought struck him. "You don't suppose he went to town without my permission?"
Miguel shook his head. "Señorita Escalante would have come here and told you if he had."
Don Alejandro nodded. Miguel was right.
The aged don glanced at his gold timepiece, gleaming in the bright sunshine. "Felipe should have been back hours ago. I'm worried." He inserted his timepiece back into his inside jacket pocket, then scanned the area, half-hoping that Felipe would appear. "Saddle your horse, Miguel, and get my carriage ready. We're going to look for Felipe! There may have been an accident."
"Si, patrón." Miguel laid down his brush and rushed out of the stable. Don Alejandro sensed that Miguel was worried, too. Normally gruff, Miguel tended to show Felipe a softer side than he showed to most people. Don Alejandro knew this was because the head vaquero was fond of the boy. Miguel had taught Felipe to ride on Ocho and to train his other pinto, Parche. He was very proud of the boy's horsemanship skills.
Minutes later, Don Alejandro's driver drove north, as Don Alejandro sat on the cushioned velvet seat of his elegant green carriage. Miguel galloped his own horse on ahead. Silently, Don Alejandro prayed that Felipe was all right. He clenched and unclenched his hands. I may have made a terrible mistake in letting the boy go by himself!
Soon, Miguel found Ocho's hoofprints. An hour passed as the head vaquero followed them. At last, the three men approached the ravine. Don Alejandro stiffened. Red Rock Ravine's walls were known to be dangerously crumbly. If Felipe had gotten close to the edge--!
And I failed to warn him! The aged don suppressed a groan.
Miguel galloped toward the ravine's edge. As Don Alejandro watched, Miguel halted his horse several feet from the jagged edge. Dismounting, he minced toward it. "patrón!" he shouted. "I found him!"
Don Alejandro leaped out of the carriage and rushed toward Miguel. He looked over the edge and froze in horror.
Felipe lay sprawled on the ravine's bottom, next to the side of the river. Not far from him, the limp pony lay on its side.
Miguel rushed back to his horse and grabbed his coil of rope. He beckoned to the driver. "Bring the carriage!"
The driver nodded and drove the carriage toward the edge. He halted the horses 10 feet from it. Miguel fastened one end of the rope to the carriage and the other to himself.
As Don Alejandro watched, Miguel climbed down the ravine wall's steep slope. When he reached the bottom and knelt beside Felipe, the vaquero foreman pressed his fingers on the boy's neck, then laid his hand on Felipe's chest. He strode toward the pony and examined it quickly.
A minute later, Miguel rose to his feet. "Ocho's dead," he shouted. "Felipe's alive, but unconscious. His left leg's broken. He's goin' to need a splint, patrón."
Don Alejandro nodded. He raced toward the clump of trees to look for some long sticks. He soon found several and carried two of them toward the ravine. He tossed them down to Miguel. "Here! Use these!" Why did I let him go alone?! his heart cried out. And why didn't I warn him about this ravine?!
Miguel thanked him, then removed his woolen sash and his brown, homespun cotton shirt. Don Alejandro removed his handkerchief from his inside jacket pocket to wipe the sweat off his forehead, then squatted on the edge to watch.
Down below, Miguel splinted the boy's leg, tying the sticks in place. He picked Felipe up. "Pull us up!" he shouted.
Don Alejandro and the driver pulled the rope. Clutching the limp, unconscious boy against his chest, Miguel cautiously stepped up the steep slope as the other men pulled. A few minutes later, Miguel reached the top. The other two men pulled him and Felipe over the edge.
Don Alejandro took the boy in his own arms and carried him toward the carriage. With Miguel's help, he gently carried Felipe aboard the carriage. "Miguel, ride to Dr. Hernandez's office and have him meet us at the hacienda," he ordered. Miguel nodded, mounted his horse, and rode off.
An hour later, Don Alejandro himself reached the hacienda. As he lugged Felipe through the front door, the butler met him in the spacious entrance. "Dr. Hernandez and Señorita Escalante are waiting in the drawing room, patrón."
Don Alejandro nodded. Victoria Escalante, a close friend of his, owned the tavern in the pueblo. Dr. Hernandez and Victoria joined him as he entered the drawing room, cradling a limp, dangling Felipe against his chest. "Don Alejandro! How is he?" Victoria cried.
"He's hurt badly." Don Alejandro gazed down at the still-unconscious boy as he spoke.
"Where will you put the boy?" the doctor asked.
"In one of the guest rooms." Don Alejandro turned to the butler. "Tell the other servants to meet us there."
"Si, patrón." The butler raced to the kitchen.
Dr. Hernandez and Victoria followed Don Alejandro as the elderly caballero led the way down the hall. The gentlemen's quality leather boots and Victoria's sandals clicked on the gleaming marble floor. Victoria's bright-red skirt swished as she followed.
Don Alejandro entered one of the guest bedrooms, where he found a maid pulling down the navy-blue satin bedspread and the snow-white silk top sheet. Don Alejandro gently laid the servant boy on the silk undersheet. Victoria removed Felipe's woven-leather sandals and laid them on the carpeted floor.
"We're going to have to cut the boy's clothes off, Alejandro." Dr. Hernandez removed a pair of shears from his black leather bag. "To pull them off him would be too risky."
Don Alejandro nodded. "Do whatever you have to do, doctor." He reached into his inside jacket pocket for his linen handkerchief, and wiped his face.
When Dr. Hernandez had removed the splint and cut off Felipe's white shirt and white trousers, both made of homespun cotton, he proceeded to examine the comatose boy. The other servants stood huddled in a corner. Don Alejandro perched on the silk-brocade couch in the back of the room with Victoria, and watched the doctor treat Felipe's injuries. The brocade-encased mattress sagged underneath the don's weight as he leaned forward.
Inside, Don Alejandro's stomach churned. If anything happened to Felipe--he broke off the remainder of the unpleasant thought; it was too terrible to finish. He removed his rosary from his inside jacket pocket and prayed silently with it for the next 15 minutes. Victoria squeezed his hand comfortingly when he finished praying. Neither said a word.
Dr. Hernandez set the boy's broken leg and made him a new splint. The silver-haired physician propped the boy's leg on some pillows. He bandaged Felipe's head, then wrapped the boy's chest tightly in a huge bandage. He covered Felipe with the top sheet and the navy-blue satin bedspread, careful to lay the boy's broken leg on top of the covers and his other leg underneath.
At last, Dr. Hernandez straightened up and sighed. He slowly approached Don Alejandro, looking sober. "The boy's suffered a bad blow to the head; I don't know how severe the injury is. He's got a bad concussion." Don Alejandro winced. "His left leg's broken in four places, and he's got three broken ribs. And he seems to have sustained some internal injuries; there are signs of internal bleeding. Whether he will come out of his coma, I don't know." The doctor straightened his coal-black frock coat and adjusted his snow-white silk cravat.
Don Alejandro sagged his shoulders. Pain welled up in him as he gazed at his comatose servant boy. "Is there anything we can do?"
Dr. Hernandez shook his head. "I've done everything I can for him, and so have you. The rest is up to God and nature. If and when the boy regains consciousness, keep him quiet and give him the medicine I will send you when I get back to my office. It will ease his pain and help him sleep. If he survives, he will have to rest in bed for the next four weeks, to give his leg and his ribs a chance to mend, and then he will have to use crutches for another month or two."
"Yes, doctor." Don Alejandro nodded. "Gracias."
"I'll stay here and help Don Alejandro," Victoria told the doctor.
As the other servants filed out of the room, Don Alejandro approached Felipe's bedside. He bent over the boy and caressed his soft cheek. The elderly caballero pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat down. Felipe's limp arms rested on the soft bedcovers.
Inside, the aged don was worried sick. He and Don Diego loved Felipe dearly. Don Alejandro couldn't bear the thought of losing the boy. Nor did he relish having to tell his son that Felipe had died of accident-caused injuries. That would just kill my son, he thought. And me! He sighed and rested his head in his hands. All we can do is wait and pray.
A moment later, Don Alejandro raised his head and glanced at the window. The sun was dipping toward the horizon. Victoria gazed at him, her brown eyes brimming with compassion.
"Don Alejandro?" Victoria rested her hand on his arm. "Why don't you get some rest? I'll sit with Felipe."
The aged don smiled gratefully at her. "Gracias, but no. I'll sit with him. I'd rather."
Victoria nodded. "I'll keep you company." She drew a comb out of her skirt pocket, ran it twice through her thick brown hair, and slipped it back into the pocket. She drew up a chair and sat down. As befitting a lady, Victoria sat gracefully, with her legs tucked underneath her skirts. Her thick, dark-brown hair hung to her shoulders in soft curls.
As the two sat next to the bed, Don Alejandro sighed. "You know, Victoria, I wish my son were here, right now, to help us nurse Felipe." He paused. "He will be here, in another few months. I wrote him some time ago, asking him to come home."
Victoria froze. She gaped at Don Alejandro. "Has he responded?"
Don Alejandro nodded. "I received a letter from him, two days ago. He's on his way, now. I need him here, to help me fight the alcalde. I can't wait for him to graduate, first. By now, my son is probably as well-educated as any man in California and Spain, even without the diploma. And after nearly four years of study with Sir Edmund Kendall, surely, he's--" Don Alejandro broke off. He paused, gazing at Felipe. "More than that, at this moment, I need him here to help me fight for our boy's life."
Victoria squeezed Don Alejandro's arm. "If I know you," she said, gently, "you won't let death take Felipe without a struggle."
Don Alejandro nodded agreement. "I certainly won't! I promised my son I would have Felipe well-schooled when he returned, and I fully intend to keep my promise." He gazed at the comatose boy as he spoke. "I should have gone with him, not sent him to Don Sebastian's all by himself. I should have warned him about Red Rock Ravine." His voice shook. Pain lay in his gut like a heavy stone.
Victoria smiled kindly. "He's 13, Don Alejandro, not three. But I understand your concern for his safety." She touched the aged don's arm as she spoke. "He'll never go near that ravine again, you may be sure of that. We both know him to be a normally careful boy." Don Alejandro nodded agreement.
Victoria squeezed his shoulder. "Felipe couldn't ask for a better patrón. You've always been so good to him. He knows you love him."
Don Alejandro nodded. "I certainly do. Felipe is such a good boy, and he is so dear to me." He sighed. "I couldn't ask for a better servant boy." He smiled at Victoria. "My son will be quite proud of the fine young woman you've grown into, Victoria." Victoria smiled her appreciation of his praise.
Someone knocked on the door. "Come in," Don Alejandro said.
The polished mahogany door swung open; the butler entered, carrying a glass jar filled with a dark-brown liquid. "The doctor sent this to you, patrón."
Don Alejandro nodded. "Set it on the nightstand, por favor." The butler did as he was told, then left.
"The pain medicine," Don Alejandro said. Victoria nodded. The elderly caballero sighed. "It's high time I moved Felipe into the house. He's slept in the Gomez hut long enough. First thing in the morning, I'll have the other servants move his belongings into this room." Victoria smiled her approval.
Outside, the sun sank below the horizon, and the stars appeared. In the house, the servants went from room to room with brands, to light the candles and lanterns. Two of them took gleaming, ornate silver trays of food to Don Alejandro and Victoria. Don Alejandro had to be coaxed to eat.
"You won't be able to help Felipe if you don't keep up your strength," Victoria said softly. "For his sake, you need to stay strong."
Don Alejandro nodded his acquiescence. Victoria was right. He slowly ate the tamales on his gleaming china plate and sipped the milk in his crystal glass.
Hours passed; Felipe did not stir. He lay on his back, limp and unconscious, under the soft bedcovers. His face looked unnaturally pale, as if all the blood had fled elsewhere. Periodically, Don Alejandro or Victoria rose to check his pulse.
Please, God, spare my boy! Don Alejandro silently prayed, as midnight came and went. For my son's sake and for mine, please spare him to us and heal him completely. He made the sign of the cross and glanced at the ceiling. Victoria followed suit.
Don Alejandro sighed heavily. Victoria's right. As tempted as I am to do so, I can't impose safety restrictions on the boy that would be more appropriate for a small child. When Felipe's on the mend, I'll find out just what happened, so he'll learn what not to do in the future. I don't want this to happen again. The elderly caballero squeezed the boy's shoulder. I'll make sure Felipe knows what dangers to watch out for. He winced. If he survives, that is!
ZZZZZ
The first thing Felipe became aware of was a ringing in his ears. He could not collect his thoughts; his brain felt muddled. He could not move his head. Gradually, he became aware of a soft pillow underneath his head, a mattress sagging beneath his back, and a smooth sheet underneath his arms. His body ached all over.
Where's Don Alejandro? Felipe wondered. Throbbing pain shot through his head, his left leg, his chest, and his stomach. Where am I? What's happening? I hurt! I hurt all over.
He tried to open his eyes; they would not move. He tried to move his hands; his fingers would not budge. His whole body seemed to have a will of its own. It resisted virtually all commands Felipe gave it. After repeated efforts, Felipe gave up. His ears still rang.
Sometimes, I can hear this ringing. It's the only thing I ever can hear! he thought, wryly. I can't hear anything else. Not the birds, not the church bell, not people's voices--nothing.
For a long time, Felipe lay limp and motionless, as his ears rang continually and as idle thoughts drifted in and out of his mind. His head ached incessantly, and he yearned to rub it. His leg and his ribs throbbed intermittently; Felipe wondered if they were broken. His abdomen felt terribly sore.
Gradually, the ringing in his ears dissipated. As the ringing faded away, Felipe slowly became aware of other sounds--the sound of a man speaking, a woman speaking, thuds nearby.
I'm dreaming, Felipe thought. Only in my dreams can I hear. I'm not awake, yet.
The semi-conscious boy lay quietly and listened to the two "dream" voices. Gradually, he began to recognize isolated words..."Felipe...concussion...Victoria...still unconscious...made...terrible mistakes."
The fog in Felipe's brain gradually cleared. He slowly became aware that he was awake, not dreaming. Could it be? he wondered. Can I hear? Can I actually hear?!
"It's been a whole day, now, since Felipe was hurt," a young woman said. "And he's still unconscious."
"That was a terrible accident." An old man's voice spoke clearly. Felipe recognized every word. "It's a miracle he wasn't killed."
Two miracles! Felipe thought. I've had two miracles. I'm still alive, and I can hear! Joy surged in his heart. I can hear; I can hear! Gracias de Dios! Thank You, God; thank You! Thank You!! Miracles do happen; they do!
He paused to sort out his thoughts. What about my speech? Can I also talk? If I were to open my mouth, would words come out? Oh, I'll be so glad when I regain full consciousness, so I can find out!
Felipe tried again to stir, but his body seemed to be made of stone. Try as he did, he couldn't so much as wiggle a finger or open his eyes. At last, he gave up, frustrated. How can I tell Don Alejandro I can hear, if I can't even open my eyes?! Santa Maria!
He decided to rest for the time being and try again later. At that moment, two fingers and a thumb grasped Felipe's right wrist and pressed down on it for a moment. In the same instant, the familiar sweet scent of men's cologne wafted toward the boy's nostrils. When the fingers let go of his wrist, a hand gently squeezed Felipe's shoulder and rubbed the top of his head. Don Alejandro, Felipe thought dully.
A minute later, the boy drifted off again. While asleep, he dreamed about Don Diego.
As the hours passed, Felipe drifted in and out of sleep. When he was awake, he listened to Don Alejandro and Victoria's voices, while marveling constantly that he could. At first, Felipe could only pick out occasional words. Gradually, though, he could understand most of their statements.
All the while, the semi-conscious boy daydreamed, reminisced, and listened to Don Alejandro and Victoria speak. Periodically, the hand that had checked his pulse earlier checked it again.
Once, Felipe remembered the day Don Alejandro had sat him down on the silk-brocade sofa in the library, almost a year before. Because Felipe had been sick with the flu when the new alcalde arrived, he had missed meeting Don Luis Ramon with his patrón. Felipe had just recovered when Don Alejandro had made the stunning announcement barring Felipe from town. It had been a sad day. So sad...!
A sad, grim expression had replaced the elderly caballero's usual twinkle. Felipe took a deep breath, dreading what his patrón had to say.
Don Alejandro laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Felipe, I'm afraid that, until further notice, I can't let you go to town." He squeezed Felipe's shoulder.
A stunned, stricken Felipe gaped at him and signed a question. Don Alejandro smiled kindly and shook his head. "No, amigo, it's not because of anything wrong you've done. It's for your own safety." He took a deep breath. "The new alcalde is wicked, Felipe; in the few weeks he's been here, he's jailed, flogged, and executed a number of people unjustly. He's raised the taxes higher than any poor farmer can afford to pay, and when the farmers have failed to pay them, he's arrested and jailed them."
He gazed at the boy. "I don't know what he would do to servant boys, Felipe, and I have no desire to find out. Until I'm satisfied that you can go to the pueblo safely, I want you to stay away from there."
Don Alejandro paused for a moment, sighing. Felipe felt sad, himself. Anything that made his patrón unhappy made him unhappy, too, and right now, Don Alejandro was clearly unhappy. The boy sat slumped and stared down at his trouser-clad legs for a long moment. The sofa mattress sagged underneath his weight.
Don Alejandro looked back at the boy. Smiling tenderly, he squeezed Felipe's shoulder again. "You may still go to the neighboring farms and haciendas, Felipe, but only when one of us is with you--preferably myself. I hope this ugly situation won't last long; the other caballeros and I are going to do everything in our power to change it. But until it is changed, I must take extra measures to keep you and my other servants safe. The priest has agreed to come here to hold mass and confession for my household, until further notice."
He watched as Felipe signed a question. "Oh, catechism class? The mission school? Your confirmation?" Felipe nodded. "The priest is going to hold those classes here until you're confirmed. And you're going to be confirmed in the family chapel."
Felipe had reluctantly nodded his acquiescence. He had no choice...
Sadness welled up in Felipe's heart as he remembered that awful day. From that day until now, Felipe had never once gone near the pueblo. True to his word, the priest had held the children's mission school at the de la Vega hacienda for a three-month period.
Less than a month before, Felipe and his schoomates had graduated from the school; a week later, they had been confirmed. Their confirmation had been a joyous occasion. Don Alejandro, Victoria, and the whole de la Vega household had attended the event, and had held a fiesta for the new confirmands afterward. Felipe was now officially a member of the Roman Catholic Church. (His lessons with Don Alejandro still went on, though, and they would continue with Don Diego until Felipe was a grown man.)
Until now, Felipe had only gone to see the neighbors when Don Alejandro or one of the vaqueros had accompanied him. Don Alejandro had only sent Felipe to the Valverdi hacienda by himself, this time, because the alcalde was out of town for a month, and Sergeant Mendoza was himself too kindhearted to arrest an innocent young boy.
He wouldn't have let me go by myself if the alcalde were still here, he thought, ruefully. And now, he's probably wishing that he hadn't! I'll probably be a million years old before he'll let me go anywhere alone again. Guilt welled up as he remembered the accident. And it'll serve me right, too! It was stupid of me to make Ocho go so close to the edge. If anything's happened to him, it's my fault! The semi-conscious boy drifted off to sleep again, exhausted by the effort of reminiscing.
Please, God, Felipe prayed, repeatedly, whenever he woke up. Please, let me be able to move. Please let me be able to talk!
ZZZZZ
Felipe awakened from a dream of riding Ocho in Don Alejandro's cattle pasture. As he lay there, he suddenly wondered if, this time, he would be able to move and speak.
With great effort, Felipe slowly opened his eyes. He instantly realized that he was in one of the guestrooms, and that it was night. He stared at his leg, splinted and propped on a pile of pillows. I broke my leg, he thought, ruefully. It took a minute of effort to turn his head, he felt so weak.
Don Alejandro, the boy saw, was standing at the window, looking out. He was leaning his head against the windowpane. He's worried, Felipe thought, sadly. He's worried about me; I can tell! I've got to tell him I'm conscious, and I can hear.
He opened his mouth and tried to speak. To his disappointment, nothing came out. He was still mute. Evidently, only his hearing had been restored.
He sighed. I can hear, but I still can't speak. Oh, well, maybe, someday.
He tried to raise his hand, but intense pain shot through his chest and abdomen. Wincing, he gave up and lay quietly. I'll just have to wait for Don Alejandro to turn around. I'm too weak to move, and it hurts too much.
As he lay quietly, he began to plan how he would tell his patrón that his hearing had been restored. As he thought about it, a feeling of queasiness arose in his stomach. Do I really want to tell Don Alejandro? A strange thought slammed in his head.
Felipe swallowed. He deserves to know! he chided himself. It wouldn't be fair to keep this a secret from him.
Even as he remonstrated with himself, fear welled up in him and made him feel nauseous. I can't tell him! a craven shouted inside of him. I'm afraid to tell him, or anyone else!
Felipe winced. Why? he wondered. Why should I be afraid to tell Don Alejandro that I can hear? What am I afraid he would do? The boy paused. Should I tell him? Should I tell anyone? I'm afraid to! But why?
For the next several minutes, Felipe lay in bed debating with himself. Once, with a sigh, Don Alejandro leaned back, removed his timepiece from his vest pocket, and glanced at it. Shaking his head, he leaned against the window.
A moment later, the polished mahogany door swung open and Victoria came in. She froze as she glanced at Felipe. "Don Alejandro!" she cried.
Don Alejandro whirled from the window to stare at Victoria, who nodded toward the boy. As the aged don turned to face Felipe, the injured boy gazed at him. When Don Alejandro froze, the boy smiled wanly.
A relieved, joyful smile spread across Don Alejandro's face. "Felipe!" he whispered hoarsely. "My boy!"
The elderly caballero strode toward the bed and laid his head against Felipe's cheek. Victoria approached the other side. When Don Alejandro raised his head, tears streaked his face.
"You're alive!" His voice sounded choked. "You're going to be all right! Gracias de Dios!" Victoria kissed the boy's cheek. Don Alejandro laid his head on the pillow again for a long moment, taking deep breaths.
He raised his head again and kissed the boy's bandaged forehead. "You and Ocho fell into Red Rock Ravine, yesterday morning," he explained. "You were hurt almost two days ago. It's the evening of the second day."
"You broke your leg in four places, and you broke three of your ribs," Victoria said, gently, as she perched on the side of the bed. "You suffered some internal injuries and a nasty concussion." She touched the bandage wrapped around Felipe's forehead. With a tender smile, she caressed his soft cheeks.
Felipe froze. What about Ocho? He looked fearfully at Don Alejandro and tried to sign a question, but the effort taxed his strength. When Don Alejandro gently pressed his hand down on the mattress, Felipe mouthed, "Ocho?"
Deep sadness spread across Don Alejandro's face as he took the boy's hand. "Ocho didn't make it, Felipe," he said, gently. "Miguel says he was killed instantly when he fell."
Felipe was crushed. Ocho dead?! It couldn't be! He shook his head, conveying his denial.
Don Alejandro squeezed his hand. "It's true, my boy." He took a deep breath. "Miguel brought him back to the hacienda after we brought you home. The vaqueros buried him, last evening."
Tears streaked Felipe's face. For the next several minutes, Don Alejandro held his hand and stroked his forehead as the grief-stricken boy silently wept. Victoria looked on, deep sadness welling in her eyes.
When Felipe finally quit sobbing, the aged don reached into his jacket and pulled out a linen handkerchief. He gently wiped the tears off Felipe's face. "Blow," he ordered, holding the soft handkerchief to the boy's nose.
Felipe did as he was told, and Don Alejandro wiped the boy's nose. As he stuffed the handkerchief back into his inside jacket pocket, the elderly caballero smiled tenderly and sympathetically. "I know it hurts, my boy." He sat on the edge of Felipe's bed. "You loved Ocho; he was your friend, wasn't he?" Felipe nodded, snuffling.
It's all my fault, he thought. I killed him!
Don Alejandro brushed Felipe's brown hair out of his eyes. "Felipe, what I'm about to say is going to be small comfort, I know. But even if Ocho had lived, you couldn't have ridden him much longer. You were getting too big for him, and once a boy is too big for a Shetland pony, it's time for him to get a bigger pony or a horse. You're at that point now, amigo."
Felipe furrowed his eyebrows and looked at his patrón questioningly. What horse would they give him to replace Ocho?
Don Alejandro chuckled. "Well, remember Parche?" He touched Felipe's arm. "You've raised him from a colt; you've broken him and trained him; you entered him in the race at the de la Reales' fiesta just before the new alcalde arrived. He's just been waiting for you to get old enough to ride him full-time."
Felipe nodded reluctantly; he well remembered Parche. And Don Alejandro was right, he was getting too big for Ocho. When Felipe was eight and a half, Don Alejandro had given Parche, an Indian pony, to Felipe immediately after its birth. Under Miguel's supervision, Felipe had cared for the colt, broken it, and trained it. Like Ocho, Parche was a pinto pony, though larger; unlike Ocho, Parche was black with white markings.
Victoria kissed the boy's soft cheek. "Felipe, I'll go to the kitchen and tell Maria to cook you some broth, all right?" Felipe nodded. Smiling kindly, Victoria caressed his face, then left.
Don Alejandro smiled at the boy. He traced the boy's bandaged forehead with his fingers. "Felipe, I've got some news that may cheer you up."
Felipe stared at him.
The elderly caballero chuckled. "Diego is on his way home."
Felipe gaped up at him. Despite his grief for Ocho, joy welled up in his heart. As the boy smiled broadly, Don Alejandro chuckled again.
"Yes, Felipe. I've sent for him to help me fight the alcalde." Don Alejandro caressed the boy's cheeks. "I can't fight Luis Ramon all by myself and take proper care of you, too. Even if I didn't have you to think of, my boy, I still couldn't fight his tyranny without help. I need my son's assistance. He'll be home in just a few months."
Felipe smiled joyfully. It'll be wonderful to see Don Diego, he thought. I haven't seen him since I was a little boy!
Don Alejandro smiled. "You should be up and about before he gets here, but you won't be well enough to resume your duties just yet. Dr. Hernandez tells me you'll still be recuperating when Diego arrives. Oh, and before I forget, you won't be sleeping with the Gomezes anymore. This will be your room, from now on. I had your things moved in here early this morning."
Felipe smiled his relief. Pablo and Juana Gomez had never liked sharing their hut with him, and he had never liked sleeping with them. It was such a relief to know that the old sleeping arrangement was finally over.
For a few minutes, he gazed around the room. Three heavy oil paintings hung on the yellowish-beige walls. One was a portrait of King Ferdinand VII. Another was a picture of a beach. The third was a picture of a litter of Chihuahua puppies.
Heavy silk drapes, cream-colored, hung on the window. A light-blue silk-brocade couch stood against the wall across the room from the bed; two matching armchairs bordered it, one on each end. A polished mahogany nightstand stood on each side of the bed, next to his pillows. A polished mahogany desk stood against the right wall. Chairs stood here and there. A dresser stood against the left wall; Felipe's books, his brown-and-white stuffed dog, and a gold clock encased with jewels rested on top. His red and white ivory checkerboard rested on the round coffee table in front of the couch.
What a pretty room! he thought. It's much nicer than the Gomez hut, and this bed feels so much softer than the straw mat I had to sleep on. I love it.
"You'd better get some rest, my boy." Don Alejandro stood up. "One of us will be with you at all times." He kissed Felipe's forehead and caressed his face again. He gently squeezed the boy's shoulder, then placed his arms under the bedcovers. "You get some sleep, now, all right? But first, I'll give you a dose of the medicine Dr. Hernandez sent you."
Felipe smiled as Don Alejandro pulled the covers up to his neck. In that instant, he decided to put off telling his patrón about his hearing, for the time being; he was too weak and hurt to converse, anyway. Don Alejandro gave him a spoonful of the pain medicine. A few minutes later, the boy drifted off.
During the weeks that followed, Felipe lay quietly in bed. At first, because the boy was in pain, Don Alejandro kept him sedated on Dr. Hernandez's orders. As a result, Felipe slept most of the time, waking up only to eat or take his medicine. When awake, he reveled in each sound he heard--Don Alejandro and Victoria talking, his own breathing, birds chirping outside, the wind blowing, and the clicks, clinks, creaks, and thuds of objects being used in various ways.
As time passed and Felipe gradually regained his strength, he began to feel bored and restless. Dr. Hernandez slowly cut back on the medicine Felipe took, which added to the servant boy's restlessness. Don Alejandro and Victoria took turns staying with him around the clock. When Felipe was awake, they did their best to amuse him. Don Alejandro read to him, told him stories, played checkers and chess with him, and chatted with him. Victoria sang to him, chatted with him, and told him stories.
They brought him his favorite books, and he read silently. He played with his wooden balero, his hand puppets, and his toy soldiers.
Again and again, Felipe tried to muster the courage to tell Don Alejandro that he could hear. Each time, his courage failed him. I ought to tell him, he would think. But I can't! I'm scared to! But why?
One day, three weeks after his accident, Felipe awoke from a long nap. The room was empty; Don Alejandro had evidently stepped out. For a moment, the sleepy boy yawned and stretched his arms above his head, then glanced at the clock. It was two p.m.
For the next five minutes, Felipe lay gazing out the window. Wisps of fluffy white clouds floated past the windowpane. For the umpteenth time, Felipe debated with himself about telling Don Alejandro about his hearing, and wrestled with his guilt over Ocho's death.
Suddenly, he finally understood why he was afraid. Felipe feared that if Don Alejandro learned the boy had regained his hearing, the elderly caballero would not be as kind to Felipe as he had always been. Felipe feared that his patrón would start being harsh and demanding. And Felipe didn't want either of his masters to treat him harshly. After what you did to Ocho, you deserve it! a stern voice told him, inside. Felipe winced.
With a sigh, he reached for the glass of water that stood on one of the nightstands. I'll never know if I don't tell him, and I'm afraid to take the chance. He drained the glass and set it back down. I'll wait till Don Diego gets here, and decide, then.
For a long time, Felipe lay still, gazing at the room. After awhile, he fidgeted. There's nothing to do, he thought fretfully. I'm getting so tired of staying in bed! It's been three weeks, now, since I was hurt. I want to sit up in a chair and walk around; I want to go out and do things. I'll be so glad when Dr. Hernandez lets me get up! He twisted and turned, wishing he could rise from his new bed. He frowned at his leg, still propped on a pile of pillows.
The mahogany door swung open, and Don Alejandro strode in. He smiled at the boy, then furrowed his eyebrows. "Getting restless, amigo?" he gently asked, as he adjusted his grayish-blue frock coat and his white silk cravat. Felipe nodded.
Don Alejandro approached the servant boy and perched on the side of the bed. He glanced down at his dark-blue satin vest. "Being confined to bed for weeks at a time is no fun, I know." He brushed Felipe's hair out of his brown eyes. "You'll just have to make the best of it, my boy, until the doctor says you can get up. In the meantime, just hang in there. It won't be much longer; I promise you that."
Felipe nodded his acquiescence. Don Alejandro rose to his feet and strolled across the room. He picked up his ivory chessboard, normally kept in the library but brought into Felipe's room for the duration of his recovery. "We'll play a game, how's that?" His eyes twinkled. "You beat me last time, amigo, and I want revenge." Felipe grinned, in spite of himself.
Don Alejandro let Felipe make the first move. An hour later, he beat Don Alejandro, checkmating his patrón's king.
"All right, Felipe." Don Alejandro picked up the chessboard and set it on the nightstand to Felipe's right. "I shall want a re-match later, but for now, I want you to take a nap, all right?" He gently placed Felipe's arms under the soft bedcovers and pulled the covers up to Felipe's neck. Smiling tenderly, he kissed the boy's forehead. Felipe smiled back and closed his eyes.
A week later, Dr. Hernandez announced that Felipe was well enough to sit up in a chair, but it would be another two weeks before he was ready to use crutches. Don Alejandro carried the servant boy across the room to the satin-brocade couch; he propped Felipe's leg on a cushioned footrest. Felipe asked for his balero; Victoria brought it to him.
"You really like that balero, don't you?" Victoria sat down next to him as she spoke. Don Alejandro leaned against the dull-yellow wall, folding his arms across his chest.
Felipe nodded, smiling broadly. Don Diego had carved it for him before he had left for Madrid. The balero consisted of a wooden cup attached to a handle. The cup was painted dark-blue, with three red lines that zigzagged. A leather string tied to the handle held a small wooden ball that hung from the balero. Felipe had played with it considerably through the years.
He swung the ball upward; it missed the cup by an inch. Not to be discouraged, he tried twice more. On the fourth try, the ball clinked in the cup.
Don Alejandro chuckled and clapped his hands. "Bravo, amigo!" He glanced down at his shiny gold timepiece. "In 10 minutes, Felipe, you go back to bed." Felipe wrinkled his nose.
During the next two weeks, Felipe sat on the couch for increasingly long periods. During that time, in addition to playing with his balero and other toys, he read his favorite books, drew pictures, and played checkers, chess, and other games with Don Alejandro. He wrote entries in his diary, and chatted with his patrón and Victoria.
Felipe thought a lot about Don Diego's imminent arrival. He couldn't wait for Don Diego to get there! What does his voice sound like? he wondered, repeatedly. I can hardly wait to hear it!
At last, Dr. Hernandez brought Felipe a pair of crutches. Felipe practiced walking with them while Victoria and the two gentlemen watched. "In another few weeks, Felipe, I'll bring you a cane to use," the doctor told him. "Your leg is mending nicely, and it should give you no problems when it's well--except that the muscles will be weak from lack of use. You'll have to exercise it daily for a time, to strengthen it."
"How long till his leg is well enough for that?" Don Alejandro clasped his hands behind his back as he spoke.
Dr. Hernandez paused to think. "I'd say within the next month or so, if the boy takes it slowly while it mends."
"He will." Don Alejandro smiled and squeezed Felipe's shoulder. "Victoria and I will see to that."
Felipe smiled back, wryly. Inside, he wondered how he was going to get through the next month. So far, Don Alejandro and Victoria had done their best to amuse him and keep him occupied, but time still hung heavily on his hands. And so far, he had managed to keep his mind off the difficult decision that still faced him. Keeping his guilt over Ocho's death at bay wasn't as easy. From time to time, it overwhelmed him.
Dr. Hernandez left, and Don Alejandro turned to Felipe. "Well, amigo, you'd better sit down for awhile, so you won't tire yourself out." He helped the boy sit on the couch in the back of his bedroom. "What do you say to a game of chess?" Felipe smiled and nodded.
As the weeks passed, Don Alejandro and Victoria made every effort to keep Felipe from becoming bored and restless. The elderly caballero resumed the boy's art lessons on a daily basis; under the patrón's tutelage, Felipe drew still-life pictures and sculpted statues. In addition, at the urging of Don Alejandro and Victoria, Felipe carved some wooden figures to give to Don Diego as a coming-home present. He carved a mission church, a hut, a running horse, a dog crouching in the grass, a stately hacienda, and a dancing señorita. Carving, he discovered, made the time go much faster. When he had painted the carvings, he showed them to his patrón.
"Felipe, you've done a fine job." Don Alejandro hugged the boy to his side and smiled at him proudly. "If I know my son, he'll treasure these carvings." Felipe smiled his appreciation of the elderly caballero's praise.
Two weeks after Dr. Hernandez had brought Felipe the promised crutches, he brought the servant boy a cane and removed the splint. By then, Felipe was wearing his day clothes once more. The servant boy hobbled slowly around the house as he leaned on the cane. The more his leg mended, the more restless he felt. He was getting so tired of sitting around all the time! He tried to contain his increasing restlessness by continuing his art lessons, and by carving several more figurines--a caballero, a married doña, a peasant couple, and Victoria's tavern.
Five weeks after he had first received his crutches, Felipe could walk without the cane. Dr. Hernandez prescribed some exercises to strengthen the boy's leg. Twice a day, Felipe had to perform them, increasing their number as his leg slowly re-gained muscle strength. Don Alejandro took him outside for short daily walks in the front garden. Since Felipe was well enough for Don Alejandro to care for by himself, Victoria returned to the tavern.
One day in early October, Felipe woke up. When he had dressed, he sat down on his couch to read three chapters in the Bible, as he always did. When he had finished reading, he knelt at his altar to pray with his rosary. As he rose to his feet with difficulty (his weak leg threatened to buckle under him, so he had to grab the edge of the table), the breakfast bell rang.
Felipe strolled to the kitchen, where he sat down at the rough wooden table. Smiling at him, Maria set down before him his breakfast food. A minute later, Don Alejandro entered the room. He wore a light-brown charro jacket over a snow-white ruffled shirt and a dark-brown silk cravat.
"I have an announcement to make, everyone!" The aged don's eyes twinkled with excitement as the servants paused to listen. He clasped his hands behind his back and grinned. "I've just received word that Diego's ship has docked in San Pedro, and he is on his way here, now!"
Cheers erupted in the room. Joyfully, Felipe leaped to his feet and threw his arms around Don Alejandro. Gracias de Dios! he thought, as Don Alejandro clasped the boy to his chest. Don Diego is coming home, today!
Laughing, the elderly caballero let go of Felipe and held up his hand. "All right, all right! We will celebrate his arrival, you have my word, but right now, there's work to do. After breakfast, I want you all to get his rooms ready for his arrival." The servants nodded acquiescence.
Don Alejandro turned to the cook. "And Maria, I want you to cook an especially good dinner to celebrate his homecoming. I'll meet with you shortly, to plan the menu." The cook nodded.
Felipe touched Don Alejandro's arm and pointed at his chest, a questioning look on the boy's face. Don Alejandro gazed at him for a long moment, then shook his head.
"You're not well enough, just yet, Felipe." He squeezed the boy's shoulder. "You will be very soon, though; meanwhile, you're still under doctor's orders to take it easy. The coming-home presents you made for Diego will be a nice surprise when he gets here; I'm going to have the other servants arrange them in his rooms." Felipe smiled.
Don Alejandro chucked his chin. "I'll tell you what. You may join me in the front garden to greet him when he arrives, how's that?"
Felipe grinned. It would be such a treat to be one of the first two people to greet Don Diego when he stepped off the coach.
After breakfast, at Don Alejandro's insistence, Felipe sat down in the library to read. He chose Legend of the Cid, Macbeth, and Don Quixote de la Mancha, and carried them across the room to the silk-brocade couch. The soft mattress sagged underneath as he lowered himself onto the couch, clasping the books against his chest.
He couldn't focus on the pages of any of the three books, though. Once more, the question of whether to tell Don Alejandro about his restored hearing came to mind, and he fought another mental battle. And with it rose the awful guilt over Ocho's death.
Felipe sighed and grimaced. I ought to tell them; it isn't right to fool the de la Vegas! He shook his head. But I'm still afraid to! Please, God-- He broke off the silent prayer as Don Alejandro strode through the dining room, barking orders. Felipe rubbed the back of his neck, then scratched his nose. Ocho, I'm so sorry. My carelessness killed you. After what I did to you, I don't deserve a horse.
With another sigh, Felipe gazed down at Legend of the Cid, flipping through several crisp, gilt-edged pages. When Don Diego gets here, I'll decide about telling him and his father I can hear.
For the next two hours, Felipe sat on the library couch, reading. The epic poem of Don Rodrigo Diaz de Bivar, also known as El Cid Campeador, a loyal Spanish warrior unjustly exiled by his king, engrossed him. Silently, Felipe cheered for the Cid as he fought and won battles, and eventually regained the king's favor and his own citizenship. The boy had read the book four times already, but he had never grown tired of it.
"Manuel, would you stand outside and tell me when you see the coach approaching?" Don Alejandro's voice jolted him.
"Si, patrón." The servant raced outside.
Don Alejandro trudged into the library, glancing at his shiny gold timepiece. With a sigh, he sat down next to Felipe. "Well, my boy, I've done all I can to get ready for Diego's arrival. All that remains to us, now, is to wait."
Felipe nodded. A silent sob rose unexpectedly from the boy's throat.
Don Alejandro furrowed his eyebrows. "Felipe, something's wrong. Don't you want to tell me what it is? Get it off your chest?"
Felipe took a deep breath, as he struggled not to cry. He then shared with his patrón, via gestures, the details of how the accident had occurred, and his awful guilt over Ocho's death. Don Alejandro watched attentively until the boy had finished.
Sighing, the elderly caballero took Felipe's left hand and squeezed it gently. "Felipe, you're not the first horseman to fall into that ravine. Other equestrians have done the same thing, when they got too close. The ground near the edge is crumbly and unstable. It cannot take a horse's weight."
He squeezed the boy's hand again. "But you had no way of knowing that, and for that, amigo, I hold myself responsible. I should have warned you about that ravine, when I sent you to Don Sebastian's; I should have told you to stay away from the edge. Therefore, I share the blame for Ocho's death."
He put his arm around Felipe's shoulder; the boy snuggled next to him. Felipe felt better. Don Alejandro kissed his forehead.
"We can't do anything to make it up to Ocho, you and I, but we can learn from what happened so that our other horses will not suffer the same fate. And so you, yourself, won't be hurt so badly again."
Making a face, Felipe nodded agreement. Via gestures, he asked if he would ever be allowed to go out alone again. Don Alejandro smiled ruefully, then sighed.
"Felipe, I'll confess I was sorely tempted to forbid that. To henceforth keep you at home at all times, unless someone was with you, whether the alcalde was here or not."
The aged don paused. "But after much thought, I realized that wouldn't be good for you. I can't turn you back into a 7-year-old to keep you safe. Boys do grow up, and they must be allowed increasing freedom to keep pace with their growth. The restriction on going to town still stands, but when the alcalde is no longer a threat, I will lift that restriction."
Don Alejandro wagged his finger. "Just remember, Felipe: when you're out riding, stay away from ravines and cliffs. Most of them are safe, but some are not." Felipe nodded his acquiescence.
Don Alejandro smiled as he craned his head to look at the leather-bound books in Felipe's lap. "What are you reading, my boy? Legend of the Cid?" Felipe grinned and held up the book. "Macbeth?" Felipe nodded. "And Don Quixote." Felipe glanced down at the third book and nodded again.
Don Alejandro hugged Felipe to his side. "They're good books, aren't they, amigo?" Felipe smiled in agreement. "I loved them as a boy, too, and I still do. When Diego comes home, I'm going to tell him all about the excellent job you've done in your studies. He's going to be very proud of you. You're only 13 years old, but you're already as well-educated as any young caballero your age would be."
Felipe smiled his appreciation of the caballero's praise. He loved his lessons; he enjoyed learning and was quick to learn. And he loved to read and to keep a journal; he especially loved to read adventure stories. Not only could Felipe read books written in Castilian Spanish, he could read books written in Latin, French, and English, too. Now, Don Alejandro was teaching him to read and write in Greek and Italian, and to lip-read the spoken languages. From the beginning, Felipe's patrón had expected as much of him in his lessons and manners as he would have expected of a young caballero.
Felipe had already read the Spanish translations of Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, as well as Virgil's Aeneid in the original Latin. He had studied every book in the Bible thoroughly, under Don Alejandro's tutelage--first in Spanish, then in Latin. He had read Don Quixote three times and Macbeth twice. He had read quite a number of William Shakespeare's plays and sonnets, more than once. He had memorized Hamlet's soliloquy, Marc Antony's funeral oration, Jacque's speech about the seven ages of man in As You Like It, and several Shakespearean sonnets.
Ever since Felipe had finished reading the 6th Reader when he was nine and a half, Don Alejandro had taught him social studies by coordinating his lessons. As he had taught Felipe the history of each time period, he'd had Felipe study that period's art, music, and scientific discoveries, read its literature, and read biographies of its historical figures. So far, Felipe had progressed through the studies of ancient times and the Middle Ages. Now, he was studying the Renaissance.
The boy had to read a book every two weeks, and then write a book report. He had to memorize a Bible verse once a day and a poem once a week; as a result, he had memorized thousands of Bible verses and hundreds of poems. He had to write a composition every day, during his lessons, and to learn spelling and vocabulary from a college textbook. As a result, Felipe had developed an adult lip-reading and reading vocabulary. Often, the boy wrote his compositions in Latin, French, or English.
Don Alejandro had taught him to analyze literature and to find connections between what he read and what he saw around him. He displayed his newly-formed critical thinking skills--and his developing vocabulary--when writing essays and compositions.
Don Diego's old tutor, Jonathan Spencer, had taught Felipe astronomy, the earth and its history, and biology, in preparation for Don Diego's science tutoring. When Don Diego arrived, he would take over Felipe's lessons. Among other things, he would teach Felipe the physical sciences such as chemistry and physics. He would also teach the young boy algebra and geometry.
Don Alejandro squeezed Felipe's shoulder. "Felipe, you know that Diego will be your tutor, henceforth, don't you?" Felipe nodded. "Well, from this day on, he will be your main patrón, as well. You will work mostly for Diego, and take your orders from him." He paused. "By the way, Señor Spencer won't be tutoring you in science anymore. From this day onward, my son will educate you in the sciences as well as in your other subjects."
Felipe grinned broadly at the prospect, and wriggled. He had always loved Don Diego; the two had been close before the caballero's departure.
Manuel raced inside. "Patrón, the coach is here!"
Don Alejandro leaped to his feet and helped Felipe stand up. "Come on, Felipe, let's go!"
Felipe followed his patrón out the front door. The coach halted in front of the white picket gate. As Don Alejandro and Felipe approached the gate, Don Diego stepped out of the coach, dressed in a light-blue tailcoat, a snow-white, ruffled linen shirt, and a black silk cravat. A black cape hung from his back. "Gracias, señor," he told the driver.
He's here! Felipe thought, joyfully. He's here; he's home! And I'm hearing his voice for the first time! The servant boy swallowed a lump in his throat.
Don Alejandro strode toward his son and held out his arms. "Diego! Welcome home!" Don Alejandro embraced his son tightly as Felipe stood behind Don Alejandro, to his left, and watched. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw several servants climb the coach to get Don Diego's things. Overhead, the sun hung suspended in a blue, cloudless sky.
"I came as soon as I could." Don Diego hugged his father.
Don Alejandro let go of his son and stepped back, smiling proudly and fondly. "Well, they put some meat on you, I see."
Don Diego smiled. "And filled my head with ideas, as well."
"Good, good! I can't wait to hear all about it."
Don Diego suddenly noticed Felipe. "Who's this?"
Who's this?! Felipe wondered, as Don Alejandro stepped backwards next to him. Has he been away so long, he doesn't know me?! A sly twinkle appeared in the elderly caballero's eyes.
"Oh, um, new man I hired." A mischievous smile snaked across Don Alejandro's face as he folded his arms across his chest.
Don Diego's own blue eyes now twinkled. "Uh, whatever happened to that little boy--that fellow who was always underfoot--what was his name?"
"Felipe?"
"That's it! Whatever happened to him?" Now, it was Don Diego's turn to smile mischievously.
You're teasing me, both of you! Felipe thought, as he leaned forward and prodded his chest with both hands. You know who I am, Don Diego! He smothered a laugh.
Don Diego gaped at the servant boy in mock shock. "You're Felipe?!" The boy nodded. To his right, Don Alejandro chuckled.
Don Diego glanced at his father. "Aw, that's impossible. He was just this tall, when I left." He held his hand in front of his stomach as he spoke.
With a grin, Felipe held his hand down, then raised it above his head. Don Alejandro chuckled again, harder.
"Then, give me a hug, before you're too big to hold!" Don Diego held out his arms as he spoke.
Felipe fell into them, throwing his own arms around Don Diego. The handsome caballero clasped the boy to his chest for a long moment.
"Any change?" Felipe heard Don Diego ask.
"The boy still can't hear a thing, Diego." Don Alejandro's voice sounded sad. Felipe sensed Don Diego's disappointment just before the two let go of each other.
Felipe straightened up, and Don Diego smiled at him kindly. Before any of them could say another word, the boy heard hoofbeats pounding the desert. Seeing the puzzled look on Don Diego's face, Felipe turned around.
The coach had left, and the other servants had taken Don Diego's luggage inside. Now, a patrol of soldiers led by the alcalde rode past the hacienda. One of the soldiers waved to the de la Vegas in greeting.
"What's all this?" Don Diego asked. "What is all this about?" Bewilderment etched his face.
"That's why I sent for you." Don Alejandro's voice sounded hard.
Felipe suddenly felt very weary. He wanted to sit down and rest, but he didn't want to leave Don Diego yet. Looking at him, Don Alejandro sighed. "But we'll discuss all that, later. Diego, there's something I'd better tell you. Felipe, here, had a bad accident a few months ago." Don Diego stiffened. "His pony, Ocho, fell into a ravine and Felipe fell with him. The pony was killed in the fall." Don Alejandro patted Felipe's shoulder.
Don Diego knit his eyebrows in shock. "How badly was Felipe hurt?" He gazed at the servant boy as he spoke hoarsely.
Don Alejandro put his arm around Felipe's shoulder. "He was hurt quite badly, but not permanently, thank Heaven! He suffered a bad concussion, some internal injuries, a broken leg, and three broken ribs. He was comatose for nearly two days." Don Diego winced at the news.
Don Alejandro hugged Felipe to his side. "He's well on the road to recovery, now. The broken leg has mended, and he's doing exercises to strengthen it. But he's not quite fully recovered yet, so he still has to take it easy. Very soon, though, when Dr. Hernandez says he may, Felipe will resume his lighter duties on a part-time basis." The servant boy smiled at the news.
Don Diego smiled, in his turn. "I'll see to it, Father, that he follows the doctor's orders." He embraced Felipe again. "In the meantime, I'm just glad he's going to be all right." Don Alejandro nodded agreement.
A knot formed in Felipe's stomach. The moment had come to decide. Should he or shouldn't he? Should he tell the de la Vegas, now, or should he keep silent and let them go on believing he was still deaf? He took a deep breath and steeled himself to break the news. Silently, he prayed that God would give him the courage to tell his patróns.
"Felipe." Don Alejandro turned to face the boy. "My son, Diego, will tell you what to do, from now on. But this time, I will. You look tired, so I want you to go to your room, now, and take a nap while Diego and I make a trip to town. You're looking quite weary, and you need to rest."
Felipe nodded his acquiescence, relieved to have an excuse not to say anything yet. Don Diego rested a hand on his shoulder. "I'll see you later, amigo. You sleep in the house, now?" Felipe nodded.
The boy went inside. Too tired to hurry, he wearily trudged toward his bedroom. When he entered it, he sat down on his bed, removed his woolen sash and his woven-leather sandals, and lay down. Within five minutes, he fell asleep.
When Felipe woke up, he found Don Diego sitting next to his bed. The caballero smiled at him as Felipe turned his head. "My father and I just returned from town fifteen minutes ago." Don Diego rose to his feet and perched on the side of the bed. "We saw Señorita Escalante at the tavern. She sends you her regards, Felipe."
Felipe nodded. Don Diego watched him as he signed. "Yes, I know. My father told me she helped him take care of you after your accident." Felipe nodded again.
Don Diego bent forward to brush Felipe's hair out of his eyes. "My friend, Father has been telling me what an excellent job you're doing in your studies. He's shown me samples of your compositions and math problems, and he's shown me the books you're studying from. I saw Señor Spencer, too, while I was in town, and he told me about your science lessons." He smiled. "I'm so proud of you, amigo. Well done!" Felipe smiled his appreciation.
"Oh, and Felipe, those figurines you carved for me were such a nice surprise! Thank you so much for making them for me." Felipe smiled and nodded. He was glad Don Diego liked his presents. "I've brought you some gifts, too--they're packed in one of my trunks. I had the servants bring it in here before my father and I went to town. We'll open it in a minute."
Felipe grinned in delight and anticipation. He wondered what presents Don Diego had brought him.
The handsome caballero smiled. "You know, Felipe, what you and your schoolmates did for Pablo Santiago was a fine thing! Father told me all about it on our way to town. I don't know, yet, how I'm going to oppose our alcalde, but I fully mean to do what I can, to see to it that he can't arrest and imprison innocent people as he did Pablo's father."
Felipe nodded, remembering. Pablo Santiago, the eldest son of an impoverished tenant farmer, had been one of his classmates in the mission school. His father's arrest, when his graduation was approaching, had endangered the boy's dream of returning to the school as a boarder and furthering his education. Felipe and the other children had worked together to raise money to help him. They had made enough money to pay his father's taxes and thus get him released. The day before, Don Alejandro had told Felipe that Pablo had recently moved to the mission, where he was attending classes with the other boarders and the orphans who lived at the church. He was also learning a trade.
Don Diego leaned back. "From now on, Felipe, I will tutor you. When I see just where you are in your studies, I'll plan your lessons--after you've finished your convalescence, that is. First, you must get well and strong."
Felipe nodded agreement. It would be so nice to have Don Diego for his teacher!
Don Diego's eyes twinkled. "One day, soon, Felipe, I will start teaching you to handle a sword. First, I must order you some practice foils and epees." Felipe grinned broadly and wriggled with excitement. He had long yearned to learn to fence. Don Diego chuckled.
"And Felipe--" The handsome caballero paused. "You have my word that my father and I will let you go to town again, when it is safe to do so. First, we must deal with the alcalde, you know."
Felipe pursed his lips as he nodded. Oh, well. It won't last forever, he told himself. He didn't dare even try to guess how long that would take.
Don Diego rose to his feet. "And now, I'll fetch your presents." As Don Diego strode toward the couch across the room, Felipe fought still another mental battle. For a long moment, he debated with himself as to whether or not to tell Don Diego about his restored hearing.
If I tell Don Diego, he won't be mean to me--I don't think--but he will believe it his duty to tell Don Alejandro, Felipe thought, as his patrón lifted a trunk off the polished mahogany coffee table that stood in front of the couch. I should tell him, but I can't. I just can't! The boy pursed his lips as the now-familiar fear welled up inside him.
Don Diego lugged the trunk across the room and set it on the bed. As he unlocked the lid, Felipe pushed himself upward into a sitting position and crossed his legs, Indian-style. As the boy shifted his position, the mattress sagged and creaked underneath his weight.
First, Felipe removed the layers of newspapers that lay on top. Underneath the newspapers lay a toy soldier that wore the white uniform of a Spanish royal army lancer. On one side of the toy soldier lay a hand puppet. It wore the purple royal robes of a prince; on its head rested a fake gold crown. On the other side of the toy soldier lay a spyglass.
Felipe exclaimed silently as he lifted up each of the three toys and gazed at it for a long moment. With a grin, he gazed through the spyglass at Don Diego; the caballero's face appeared to be right in front of the glass, even though he was standing at the foot of the bed. Don Diego grinned back and waggled his fingers in front of his face.
A minute later, Felipe turned to the remaining gifts in the trunk. First, he picked out a narrow, polished, light-brown wooden box. He laid it on his lap and lifted the lid.
To Felipe's delight, it contained a chess set. An ivory chessboard, yellow and white like Don Alejandro's, lay in one compartment; at one end of the board, ivory chess pieces lay in another compartment. Don Diego chuckled at the boy's delight.
"My father has told me in his letters what a skilled chess player you've become," he said. "I thought you could use your own chess game." Felipe smiled his thanks.
He set the chess game on the bed and gazed into the trunk again. He lifted out a small rectangular wooden box and set it on his lap. "Be careful," Don Diego warned him. "The contents are fragile."
Felipe slowly lifted the lid. Inside lay a gleaming, solid-gold inkpot and a crystal jar filled with coal-black India ink, side-by-side in a carved mahogany box.
"I'll take that, Felipe." Don Diego picked up the box containing the inkpot and jar. He reached into the trunk to pick up several pencils and a sheaf of writing paper. The handsome caballero carried the writing materials to the desk and set them down.
Reaching into his inside coat pocket, Diego removed several goose quill pens, already sharpened, and laid them on the desk next to the inkpot and pencils. He then opened the crystal jar and poured every drop of the ink into the gleaming inkpot.
As Don Diego returned to the bed, Felipe bent forward to look in the trunk. He lifted out a journal with a bright-blue leather cover. For a moment, he paged through the crisp, white, gilt-edged pages. He then picked up six books, one after the other. Amadis of Gaul, Don Quixote de la Mancha, Robin Hood, Legend of the Cid, Robinson Crusoe, and The Swiss Family Robinson lay in two neat stacks; one bigger book lay beneath the two stacks. Felipe exclaimed silently, as he looked at each of the six smaller books and ran his fingertips over their soft leather covers.
The big book that lay at the bottom of the trunk was a complete collection of Shakespeare's plays and sonnets. It had a soft, bright-red leather cover, and it felt heavy. Felipe gazed at it for a long moment, then paged through it.
"Now, you've got your own library," Don Diego said. "In addition to the books my father has given you, and the books I've previously sent you, you have six new ones, all excellent."
Felipe nodded. Don Alejandro had taught him to love Shakespeare; it would be such a treat to have his own set of plays and poems to read. He smiled his thanks at Don Diego.
At last, he sighed. I'll wait to tell him. I'd rather. First, I want to make sure I can trust Don Diego to know that I can hear. For now, there's no hurry.
The young boy swung his legs off the bed. As he rose to his feet, an inner voice told him he could not hope to keep his secret forever. Sooner or later, Don Diego, at least, was bound to find out.
He shrugged. Oh, well. I'll wait and see. Meanwhile, Don Diego and I have a lot to catch up on. He stretched his arms above his head, then helped Don Diego arrange his new gifts throughout the sunny room with Felipe's other possessions.
Author's Note: In the series, Don Diego did indeed find out. In the flashback plot of Zorro: The Legend Begins, which aired as a Family Channel movie early in the first season, Diego discovers accidentally that Felipe can hear when the servant boy shows him a fox in the secret cave. After that, Felipe continues to let the rest of the world believe that he's still deaf, so he can spy for Zorro. K.G.
©1999 by Kathryn D. Green
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