REUNION
Felipe and his patróns, the de la Vegas, rode through the plaza gates and trotted toward the tavern. They dismounted and tied their horses' reins to the hitching post. The mid-morning sun hung suspended in a blue, cloudless sky.
Sighing contently, Don Alejandro stretched his arms above his head. "It's such a pleasant day, Diego." He gazed at the wisps of clouds floating in the sky. "Such a pleasant, cool breeze." Don Diego and Felipe smiled in agreement.
Don Alejandro removed his riding gloves, then glanced at his gold watch as it gleamed in the sunlight. He wore a navy-blue charro jacket over a matching velvet vest and a snow-white, ruffled linen shirt. Don Diego wore a light-blue jacket over a matching vest of the same material, and a ruffled linen shirt. Both gentlemen wore coal-black silk cravats. Don Diego was riding his horse, Esperanza, for the first time since he had broken his leg six weeks before. He could walk without crutches and canes now, but he still had to be careful, since his leg had not yet completely mended.
Felipe scanned the plaza for a moment. Since it was market day, peasants, caballeros, and vendor stands crowded it. A carriage stood next to the cuartel; a burro-drawn haycart filled with bundles stood near the plaza fountain. The dark-brown burro stood quietly.
Felipe had worked for the de la Vegas for the past 10 years as their servant boy. The de la Vega family was the richest, most famous family in southern California. They owned thousands of acres of the richest farmland in the territory. Felipe, a mute boy who had once been deaf, had worked for them since he was seven years old.
Don Diego had found him in central Mexico, after his parents had been killed in one of the revolution's last battles. After repeated efforts to find Felipe a home, he had persuaded his father to hire the little orphan boy as an indentured servant. Since then, Felipe had served them as houseboy.
For months now, ever since he had temporarily considered joining the army, Felipe had been trying to remember his early life. At the same time, he had been--and still was--afraid to remember.
"Felipe." Don Diego turned to the 17-year-old servant boy. "Why don't you buy three plates from that vendor over there, to replace the ones that Maria broke, yesterday?" He handed Felipe three pesos. "Tell him my father will send a servant to pick them up later. We'll wait for you in the tavern."
Felipe nodded and trotted toward the vendor who sold clay plates, bowls, and cups. He bought three reddish-brown plates, then returned to the tavern.
As he approached the threshold, he froze. Leaning against the bar and talking to Sergeant Mendoza and the tavern owner, Victoria Escalante, were a man and a teenage boy who looked strangely familiar. The man had a stocky build and dark-brown hair. The boy had a wiry frame and coal-black hair, like Don Diego's. Where have I seen them before? Felipe wondered.
Suddenly, a memory exploded in his head. Godfather Lopez! Felipe thought, stunned. My godfather, Paco Lopez! And his nephew, Rafael! I can't believe it! Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, in spite of the breeze that caressed his face.
He backed away from the doorway and leaned against the adobe wall. He removed his soft cotton handkerchief from the top of his unbleached, homespun cotton trousers and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He stared down at his trembling hands as more memories came to him.
Uh, let's see. He used to tell me stories. And sing songs--wonderful songs. On a-- He paused to think. Si, on a mandolin! He played a mandolin.
Felipe's godfather had been the kindest man Felipe had ever known, except for the de la Vegas, themselves. Paco used to sing to Felipe and tell him stories. He was a truly talented storyteller.
As the servant boy stood stock-still, clutching his left arm with his right hand, more memories floated into his head. Memories of Rafael--a very young Rafael--jumping off a haystack to scare him. And succeeding, Felipe thought, wryly. Rafael and Felipe lying on their stomachs, watching a snake slither past them. Rafael and Felipe climbing trees.
Rafael and Felipe throwing rocks into a stream, attempting to make the rocks skip on the surface of the water. Rafael and Felipe flinging pebbles at nearby trees with their slingshots. Rafael and Felipe playing hide-and-seek, tag, bullfighters, and other games.
Rafael was quite a character, Felipe thought. He was rambunctious, and he had a big mouth. Sometimes, he really annoyed me. He smiled wryly. But he was my friend, and I played with him.
He took a deep breath. If I don't go in soon, the de la Vegas will wonder what's happened to me. Guess I'd better join them.
Swallowing hard, Felipe approached the entrance. Taking a deep breath, he stepped through the threshold. Now, he saw that the de la Vegas themselves were speaking with the Lopezes. As always, his patróns stood tall and straight, with squared shoulders.
The teenage boy wore a light-brown homespun cotton shirt. He leaned from side to side, as if he couldn't stand still. As the group stood quietly and spoke, Felipe stood in the back of the room and watched. For a moment, he wondered how he was going to introduce himself. It had been so long since he had since seen the Lopezes, they might not recognize him.
Five minutes later, Rafael, scanning the room, froze as his eyes rested on Felipe. His face turned pale, and his mouth dropped open. Clearly, he recognized Felipe, too.
Paco Lopez looked at his nephew and furrowed his eyebrows. "Somethin' wrong, nephew?"
Rafael nodded, then pointed at Felipe. "Felipe?" His voice sounded husky. "Felipe Cortez?!"
Now, it was Felipe's turn to freeze. For years, he had been unable to remember his own last name. Now, as Rafael spoke, the shock of recognition jolted throughout his system. His last name was, indeed, Cortez.
"Felipe, you remember me, don't you?" Rafael approached him. "It's me--Rafael Lopez!"
Paco Lopez gaped at Felipe, as the shock of recognition froze his face. "My--my godson!" He looked at Don Diego and Don Alejandro, who froze in shock. "It's my godson!" Victoria and Sergeant Mendoza gaped at Felipe, then at Paco.
Felipe rushed toward them and threw himself into the man's arms. Paco hugged him tightly, and then Rafael followed suit.
At last, Felipe came up for air and turned to his patróns. Both de la Vegas gaped at him, shock etched on their faces. "Felipe, is this man your--your godfather?" Don Diego asked. Felipe nodded. "From Mexico?" Felipe nodded again.
Paco stared at the de la Vegas, then at Felipe. "You know these--these caballeros?" Felipe nodded and explained, via gestures, that he worked for them. Fresh shock spread over Paco and Rafael's faces.
"Felipe!" Rafael's voice shook. "What happened to you? You used to be able to talk!"
Again, the jolt of memory shook Felipe. It was true, he realized. He hadn't always been mute--or deaf, for that matter. Before his parents had died, he had been able to speak and hear. He gazed down at his white cotton shirt.
Don Diego put his arm around Felipe's shoulders. "Señor, Felipe hasn't been able to speak or hear since he was seven years old."
Nodding agreement, Don Alejandro clasped his hands behind his back. "He lost his parents in a battle that summer. My son Diego found him lost on the desert and brought him to California. First, he tried to find Felipe a home. When that failed, I hired him."
Don Diego nodded. "He will be our indentured servant until he's 25, and then he'll be free to do whatever he wants to do."
"He's very dear to us," Victoria said softly. "He's a fine young man, and everyone loves him." Sergeant Mendoza nodded agreement. Felipe smiled bashfully.
He suddenly signed a question. The de la Vegas watched him, then Don Diego told Paco, "Felipe wants to know if you can tell him who his parents were, and where he lived."
Paco looked sad. "Poor boy. You don't remember nothin', do you?" Felipe shook his head. "Your father was a peon like me, Felipe--his name was Juan Cortez. And your mother's name was Consuela. You were born on June 1, 1808, and you didn't have no brothers or sisters. Our farm was near yours, on the other side of a hill. We lived two miles from San Miguel de Bajio--it was a pueblo, like Los Angeles." He shook his head. "It's been 10 years since we saw you last. I never expected to see you again. We went back to San Miguel after the revolution, but you and your parents never did."
He turned to the de la Vegas. "The alcalde of San Miguel de Bajio split us peons into groups and sent us away from San Miguel. The government soldiers were comin', he said. He sent me and Rafael and my wife, Alicia, with one group and Felipe's family with another. When it was safe to go back, we did."
He paused for a moment; when he spoke again, his voice shook. "Then we heard that Felipe's group had been killed by the soldiers. We thought Felipe was dead with his parents."
Don Alejandro nodded. "Señor, if it hadn't been for Diego, here, Felipe would have died. He was lost on the desert for three days and nights, with no food and little water. My son found him and saved his life--he was on his way back from Guadalajara at the time."
"Then my tutor--the man my father had hired to educate me--and I brought him to California," Don Diego added. "We made inquiries all over the territory, but no one would take him in. The churches and orphanages were overflowing with orphaned children at the time, and none of the poor farmers wanted the responsibility." He paused. "In the end, we brought Felipe to Los Angeles. The church made him a ward, but because it had too many children to take in another, my father hired him as our houseboy."
Paco nodded. "Gracias, Don Diego. You, too, Don Alejandro." He gazed at his nephew. "Rafael cried and cried when we found out the Cortezes were gone. He missed Felipe! They were such good friends."
"We played together a lot," Rafael added. "You do remember that, don't you, Felipe?" Rubbing the back of his neck, Felipe admitted, via signs, that he was starting to. He asked Paco, via gestures, what he and Rafael were doing in Los Angeles.
Paco pursed his lips. "Runnin' for my life." Felipe gaped at him. "The patrón wanted to make me work in his mine, and that would've killed me. He was goin' to take Rafael away from me and make him work in his fields. We had to get away. We're lookin' for a safe place to live."
The peon turned to Don Alejandro. "Don Esteban de la Curillo never was good to us, señor. To any of us. To him, we were just work, if you know what I mean."
Don Alejandro nodded. "I do know what you mean. There are caballeros here who have the same attitude toward their employees and tenants."
Don Diego glanced at his father. "My father isn't the least like that, Señor Lopez. He's a kind, good man." Felipe nodded agreement.
Don Alejandro smiled at his son. "Señor, my son is even-tempered and kindhearted. A true gentleman." Felipe nodded his assent; Don Diego smiled his appreciation of his father's praise. Don Alejandro gazed at Paco. "Señor Lopez, tell me. Does your patrón own silver mines?" The peon nodded. "And he was going to make you work in them?" Paco nodded again.
Suddenly, Felipe signed a question. Paco sighed. "My wife--your godmother Alicia--is dead, muchacho. She died three years ago. It's just me and Rafael, now." He gazed at his nephew as he spoke. "And I'm not lettin' them take him away from me!"
"We'll stand by you if any trouble develops," Don Alejandro assured him. "No one's going to take Rafael away from you when we're around. You have my word on that."
Victoria smiled. "There's another man here who will save you if anyone tries. His name is Zorro. He always defends the poor and the weak."
Felipe glanced surreptitiously at Don Diego as Victoria spoke. No one knew it but him, but Don Diego was Zorro. Felipe had helped him fight for justice since he was 13; to prevent suspicion, the boy pretended he was still deaf.
Don Diego winked and nodded slightly. Felipe relaxed. Don Diego had ridden as Zorro only once since breaking his leg. A week before, he had saved Victoria and the Macias family from a gang of horse thieves, and Felipe knew his patrón would ride again--to save the Lopezes--if he had to.
"I'll tell you what." Don Alejandro glanced at Felipe. "I see from the expression on Felipe's face that he would not want to lose you a second time. Why don't I rent you a plot of land, you and Rafael? Two acres?" He paused. "And you won't be a peon, either. I don't believe in that. You'll pay a small rent and a share of your crops." Felipe nodded his assent again and looked at Paco beseechingly.
Paco laughed. "Felipe, you don't have to beg me--I don't want to lose you, either!" Felipe and Rafael grinned at each other, relieved. "I'll take your word that these caballeros are good."
Paco looked at Don Alejandro. "Si, I would like to rent some land from you." He looked at Rafael. "I want my nephew to have his own land when I'm gone, and it'll be good for him to be near Felipe, too."
Felipe felt the hairs prickle on the back of his neck. What did his godfather mean, "when I'm gone"? He means when he dies of old age, he told himself silently.
Don Diego nodded agreement. "It'll be good for Felipe, too."
The de la Vegas escorted the Lopezes out to their cart. The two groups went to the plot of land Don Alejandro had decided to rent to Paco.
Felipe's godfather smiled, as he looked the place over. A winding, gurgling stream ran through the property, and orange trees stood on both sides. The soil was rich and fertile.
"I thank you, señor." Paco gazed at Don Alejandro. "It will do nicely."
Don Alejandro smiled at his son and Felipe. "Then we'll go to our hacienda and make the formal arrangements."
Back at the hacienda, as Don Alejandro, Don Diego, and Paco discussed the terms of the rent, Felipe took Rafael on a tour of the house. "Santa Maria!" Rafael gulped as he entered Felipe's bedroom. He stood for a long moment, fidgeting as he so often did and staring at the elegant, sunny room. "Is this your quarters? Is this where you sleep?" Felipe nodded. "The de la Vegas sure are generous with you!" Felipe nodded again. They were, indeed.
Rafael pressed his palm down on the soft, smooth, navy-blue satin bedspread that draped Felipe's bed. "I've never been inside a hacienda before; most caballeros would just kick us from the door. These de la Vegas are so--so nice!" Felipe nodded emphatic agreement.
Rafael circled the room. A light-blue silk-brocade couch stood across the room from the bed; two matching armchairs bordered it, one at each end. A polished mahogany coffee table stood in front of the couch. Heavy, cream-colored drapes hung on the window, one drape at each end. Sunlight poured into the room.
An Oriental carpet spanned the floor. Four oil paintings hung on the dull-yellow walls. A polished mahogany dresser stood against the wall, and a polished mahogany desk stood next to the dresser. A mahogany bookcase stood between the dresser and the desk.
Rafael gaped at his friend's possessions. Felipe's drawing materials, leather-bound journal, slate, shiny gold inkpot, goose-quill pens, pencils, and writing paper all rested on his desk. His rosary, crucifix, Bible, catechism, and prayer book lay on a small altar that stood in the corner. His old brown-and-white stuffed dog and other stuffed animals, his toy soldiers, card deck, and spyglass lay on the dresser. Felipe's yellow-and-white ivory chessboard lay on a white table, and his red-and-white ivory checkerboard rested on the coffee table.
Rafael stared at the collection of blue, red, and brown leather-bound books lining the shelves of his friend's bookcase. "Can you read an' write, Felipe?" Felipe nodded. "And can you figure?" Felipe nodded. Rafael gaped at him for a long moment.
"Who taught you?" Rafael watched Felipe sign his answer. "The de la Vegas taught you?" Felipe nodded, and signed a remark. "They're still teachin' you?!" Felipe nodded, amused. "Well, if you can read and write and do numbers, what more teachin' do you need?"
Felipe furrowed his eyebrows. He didn't know how to answer that question with signs. He suggested that Rafael ask his question of Don Diego. Rafael nodded. "I'm glad I'm not a servant boy!" He grimaced. "I would hate to have to learn dull books!"
Felipe winced. Rafael still can't read or write, he thought. I can tell from the look on his face and the way he talks. He's looking at me as if he can't believe what he's hearing. He grimaced. If it weren't for the de la Vegas, I wouldn't be able to read, either!
A servant entered the room. "Your uncle wants you, young señor."
Rafael nodded. As he and Felipe trotted down the hall, their woven leather sandals clicked on the gleaming, snow-white marble floor. They entered the drawing room. "Uncle, guess what! Felipe can read!" Rafael announced. "He's got books! He's got the nicest room and so many things! Nice things!"
Paco gaped at Felipe as he rose to his feet. "Is that true, señores?" Don Diego and Don Alejandro nodded. "Santa Maria!" Paco shook his head in evident disbelief. "It's so hard to believe."
The farmer picked up his wide-brimmed straw sombrero. "Well, I want to hear more about it, but right now, we have to go. We've got to move to our new land, Rafael."
"Starting tomorrow, señor, we'll send some of our vaqueros to help you build a new hut," Don Alejandro promised. "Diego and Felipe and I will help you, too."
And they did. For the next week, the de la Vegas, Felipe, and several vaqueros spent all day, every day, at the Lopezes' new tenant farm, helping Paco and Rafael build an adobe hut. Since Don Diego was still under doctor's orders to take it easy, he and Felipe sat on pine benches to mix plaster and help make adobe bricks. Paco would sing as he worked, and soon, so would the others. The de la Vegas brought a picnic lunch with them every day, and at noon, all would stop for a lunch break and a siesta. Sometimes, Victoria brought their lunch, and stayed for the rest of the day.
At night, all would assemble for a bountiful picnic supper. When everyone had eaten, Paco would tell the boys a story. He had an endless repertoire of folk stories, the de la Vegas discovered, and he had the ability to draw even the de la Vegas, Victoria, and the vaqueros into his stories, so that all listened breathlessly.
When Paco had finished telling a story, he would reach for his mandolin and play a lively fiesta song, a mournful ballad, or a solemn church hymn. Everyone would sing, except Felipe. Unable to join in the singing, Felipe would listen with endless delight. As he did, more memories came to him. Memories of Paco entertaining him and Rafael in the same way, when they had been little boys. Only back then, he recalled, Felipe had sung with the others.
Godfather Lopez always was kind and good, Felipe thought, one evening, as he listened to the music and singing. I remember him as being innately wise. And he was a wonderful storyteller and musician. I'm so glad he hasn't changed! He swatted at a mosquito buzzing around his face. A cool breeze ruffled his hair; overhead, glittering stars dotted the sky, and a full moon hung in the west.
Felipe frowned. I can remember things about my godfather, but I still can't remember my own parents. Or the village of San Miguel de Bajio. Oh, well, maybe someday, I will. He squirmed. When Don Diego told my why I can't speak, he said I'd speak again if I let go of the past. And for one moment, I started to remember something that made me cry. It must have been the battle that killed my mother and father. Since then, I haven't been able to remember any more than I did before. He sighed.
As Felipe gazed at his godfather, he thought about the days his godfather Lopez had rented the farm next to his own father's...how hardworking Paco had been...how good he had been to his wife and nephew...how he used to sing while he worked...how he would tell his nephew and godson wonderful stories...and how he would play his mandolin at night and sing.
When the singing was over, Paco would lead the de la Vegas, the vaqueros, Felipe, and Rafael in praying with their rosaries. A devout man, he believed in a man never neglecting his prayers. At the end of the prayer time, the de la Vegas, Felipe, and the vaqueros would say good-bye to Paco and Rafael and go home.
"Your godfather is a good man, Felipe," Don Diego said on the seventh evening, as they rode back to the hacienda. The hut had been finished that day. "In the short time I've come to know him, I've learned to respect and admire him."
"So have I, son." Don Alejandro reached into his jacket pocket for his handkerchief to wipe his face. "Not only do I admire him for his goodness and wisdom, his joy in living, I admire his storytelling and his musical abilities." He glanced at Felipe. "If he was the same way when you knew him as a small child, amigo, you were indeed privileged."
Felipe nodded agreement. He certainly had been.
"Did you and Rafael play together as children?" Don Diego asked.
Felipe nodded. Smiling slightly, he signed a remark as the de la Vegas watched. "What are you saying?" Don Diego looked amused, then winced as an evident spasm of pain shot through his leg. "That Rafael was rambunctious, like Bernardo de la Paz's son?" Felipe nodded. Don Diego reached down to grasp his leg until the spasm eased.
"You must have visited him quite often, as a child," Don Alejandro said. Felipe nodded again, scratching his chest.
For a time, they rode in silence. Felipe listened to the crickets humming and thought about what Don Alejandro had just said. Suddenly, he smiled as one such visit came to mind...
"Tell me about Juan Diego, Godfather Lopez," Felipe begged. He and Rafael and his parents were helping Paco and Alicia plant the corn patch. It was April, and Felipe's 6th birthday was two months away.
Godfather Lopez leaned on his digging stick and gazed at the little boy. His eyes twinkled.
"Well, Felipe, I'll tell you the story, but we must keep workin.'" He gripped the digging stick and motioned to the two 5-year-old boys to keep planting the ears of corn. "Juan Diego was an Indian, like the Spanish say. He was a good farmer, and he took care of his uncle Bernardino like a good son." As he paused, Felipe squatted to shove an ear of corn into the hole his father had just dug. Paco nodded. "That a boy. Well, one day, when he was climbin' a hill, a woman appeared to him; she told him she was the Mother of the Indians. And she told Juan Diego to build her a church on that hill."
As Felipe and Rafael worked, they listened attentively to the story Paco told them about Juan Diego's visit to the bishop, the bishop's disbelief of his message, and the proof Juan Diego eventually gave the bishop of the authenticity of his vision...the roses that had tumbled from his cloak--otherwise known as a tilma--and the portrait of the Virgin of Guadalupe that had miraculously appeared on the tilma itself...
"Felipe?" Don Diego rested his arm on Felipe's shoulder. "We're home, amigo."
Felipe nodded and dismounted. He took the reins of the de la Vegas' horses and led all three to the stable behind the house.
The next day, with Felipe's and the de la Vegas' help, Paco and Rafael emptied the cart of their possessions and moved them into the hut. They settled the burro in its stall on one side of the hut. Part of the hut was to be used as the barn, as so many huts were used in California (it had a lower roof than the rest of the hut, and it was partitioned off from the rest of the hut by a thick adobe wall). The vaqueros brought Paco several gifts from Don Alejandro--twelve baby chicks, a hen, a rooster, two hogs, and two goats. By late afternoon, everything had been arranged.
"Well, boys, that was a good day's work." Paco leaned against the wall and sighed. "You did a good job, both of you." Felipe smiled. Rafael squirmed as he grinned at Felipe.
Don Diego and Don Alejandro chuckled. "It certainly was," Don Alejandro agreed.
Felipe gazed around the room. The half of the hut the Lopezes would live in consisted of one room, and it had no windows. Two bunk beds had been built into the wall that divided the hut; a fireplace stood across the room from the front door. A rough wooden table stood in the middle, surrounded by benches. The floor consisted of stone tiles. Don Diego, Don Alejandro, and Paco sat down at the table to rest. The boys remained standing.
Felipe signed his observations to Paco and Rafael, who nodded. "Si, Felipe." Paco scratched his arm. "You know, boys, this hut is much nicer than the ones you and I lived in. You may not remember, Felipe, but our huts in San Miguel were made of wattle and daub."
Felipe nodded, as a fleeting memory entered his head. Paco paused. "A lot of them were, down there, though there were some adobe huts, too, especially in town. The roofs were made of straw thatch, and the floors were just bare ground. We sat and slept and ate on the ground--on reed mats. And the womenfolk cooked our meals on firepits in the corner--we didn't have no fireplaces."
Felipe nodded again. Glancing at his patróns, he drew his rosary out of the top of his trousers and held it out for Paco to see. Paco took it and gazed at it for a long moment, open-mouthed.
"This was your mother's!" He shook his head. "I'd recognize that rosary anywhere! She prayed with it every day."
Felipe nodded. As his godfather handed it back to him, Felipe told him, via signs, that his mother had bequeathed it to him on the day she had died with his father, with orders to use it faithfully and to bequeath it himself, someday, to his own children.
Paco leaned forward. "Do you pray with it?" Felipe nodded. "Every day?" Felipe nodded again. "Good. Keep doin' it, Felipe. As long as you've got that rosary, you've got a piece of your mother. She put her own spirit in that rosary, you know." Felipe and the de la Vegas nodded agreement.
Paco turned to Rafael. "Nephew, I want you to watch me carefully and learn everythin' about runnin' a farm. It won't be too long before you'll be runnin' it by yourself."
Rafael glanced at his uncle, bewildered. "But why? You're not movin' away."
Paco gazed at him, a sober, sad look creeping into his eyes. "Yes, I am, my boy. But not by choice."
Felipe froze, as the meaning of his godfather's remark slammed into his head. No! the boy thought. It's not true--it's not! You can't be dying, Godfather Lopez! He grabbed the man's sleeve and shook his head rapidly.
"Uncle, no!!" Rafael threw himself against Paco. "You can't go--not now! I won't let you! I'm only 17, Uncle Paco--I still need you!" His voice shook.
And me! Felipe thought.
Paco rested a hand on each boy's shoulder and glanced sadly at the de la Vegas. "Boys, listen to me. When God decides to call you home, it's no use arguin' with Him. I'm goin' to die--probably in the next few months."
Felipe stood stock-still, as the unwelcome news sank in. He didn't want to believe it. To find his kind, wonderful godfather after 10 years, only to lose him again? It couldn't be! For a long moment, he struggled not to cry.
Paco squeezed his shoulders. "Boys, boys! Why are you cryin'? I'm not dead, yet." His voice sounded tender. "We'll spend lots of time together, same as we did when you were little. I'll tell you every story I ever told you then, and sing you every song we used to sing together. Come on, Rafael, let's go milk the she-goat and have somethin' to drink before Felipe, here, and his patróns have to go home."
Don Diego rose to his feet and put his arm around Felipe's shoulder. "My father and I will see to Rafael's welfare, when you're gone," he promised. "The land you rented will be his." Don Alejandro nodded his assent.
Paco smiled at both de la Vegas gratefully. "Gracias, patróns." He looked at Rafael. "Hold onto this farm, Rafael, and you'll always have a part of me. My spirit's goin' to be in this land when I'm gone." He hugged the grieving boy to his side.
"And Felipe--" He paused to look at his godson. "I'm goin' to make an agreement with you. Your mother left you her rosary; I'll leave you my stories. I'll tell you some of them every time you come here to visit, until you've heard them all. I want you to remember them, and tell them to your own children, someday."
Felipe smiled his agreement. Don Diego approached him. "I, too, would like to make an agreement," he told Paco. "If I know Felipe, he will treasure your stories. I saw it on his face, night after night, as he listened to you tell some of them while we were building your hut." Felipe smiled.
Don Diego glanced at Rafael. "I think Felipe would like to be able to share his stories with Rafael. As you both know, he has his own books, señor, gifts from my father and me. His books contain some good stories; they're well worth sharing with others. Unfortunately, Felipe cannot read them aloud."
Paco nodded, furrowing his eyebrows. "What are you suggestin', señor?"
Don Diego turned to Rafael. "Amigo, how would you like to learn to read and write?"
Rafael gaped at him. He gulped. "Me learn to read?!"
"Certainly." Don Diego approached him and squeezed his shoulder. "If you and Felipe are going to be friends once more, you need to be able to enter into each other's worlds. Reading is part of Felipe's world, Rafael, a major part. It would do him good to be able to share it with you."
Shaking his head violently, Rafael gazed beseechingly at his uncle, who smiled. "You know, Rafael, I think he's right," Paco said softly. "It would do him good, and you, too. It'd be good for one Lopez to be able to read the Bible and catechism, and sign his name."
Rafael sighed out his surrender. "Si, uncle."
Paco turned to Don Diego. "I'll send him to your hacienda tomorrow." Felipe grinned in anticipation.
Staring at Felipe, the boy's godfather shook his head, wide-eyed in his amazement. "I can't get over it," he said softly. "My Felipe--and now, my Rafael--learnin' to read! They never would have gotten to, in San Miguel; we didn't have a mission school. Even if there'd been one, Felipe sure wouldn't have been allowed to go."
Felipe signed a question. Don Diego watched him. "Felipe wants to know why."
Paco nodded. "Your papá wouldn't have allowed it, muchacho. He didn't see no use for book learnin'--never did. As far as Juan was concerned, it was a waste of time. I know, 'cause we talked about it sometimes." He paused. "I might have let Rafael, but I don't know. We needed our boys at home, to help with the farm work. I still do, but I'm willing to let him get some learnin' now. As you said, Don Diego, it'll do him good."
Felipe and Don Diego exchanged glances. Felipe had long suspected that such had been the case with his father. If his parents had lived, he would have lived and died illiterate. Silently, Felipe sent a prayer of thanks to God for giving him the opportunity to acquire an education. At least, he thought, Rafael will get to learn to read, now, too. It'll be fun to share my books with him!
Paco sighed. "I'll be honest, señores; I've often thought it would have been better if Juan Cortez hadn't married." A hard expression appeared in his eyes. "He wasn't a good husband."
He paused as Felipe signed a question. "No, Felipe; your mamá didn't get no say about marryin' him. It was arranged; their parents arranged it. Consuela came from another village; her father was the only one still livin'. He did it so your mamá would have someone to take care of her when he died."
He sighed. "Unfortunately, he made a bad choice in Juan. She came to San Miguel to live with your papá in marriage, less than a year after it was all arranged." He looked at Rafael, then back at Felipe. "Consuela's papá died just a year after she got married--six years before you were born."
Felipe bit his lower lip. What he had just learned about his late father did not please him at all.
An hour later, as Felipe left with the de la Vegas, he brooded about his godfather's approaching death. "What are you thinking of, Felipe?" Don Diego asked gently.
Swiping at the tears rolling down his cheeks, Felipe told them, with gestures, that he didn't want his godfather to die.
Don Diego nodded sympathetically. "It's hard, isn't it, to be reunited with him after 10 years, only to be faced with the prospect of losing him?" Felipe nodded. A cool breeze rose suddenly, ruffling the boy's brown hair.
Suddenly, Felipe frowned. Glancing at Don Alejandro, he signed a remark. The de la Vegas gazed at each other when the boy finished. "Felipe's right," the elderly caballero told Don Diego. "There are some interesting similarities between Don Francisco de la Calderon's visit, last winter, and Paco Lopez's trip up here, now."
Don Diego nodded agreement. "Both came here, fleeing wicked people, didn't they? Don Francisco brought his family here to flee an assassin, and Paco brought his nephew here to flee his own patrón." He shook his head.
Don Alejandro smiled at the boy. "We'll do everything in our power to keep your godfather and childhood playmate safe, Felipe." Don Diego nodded agreement. Felipe smiled gratefully.
I will pray for God to spare him, Felipe thought. I will start a novena, tomorrow, asking God to heal him. Godfather Lopez is too good a man to lose. I need him--Rafael needs him. We all do.
During the weeks that followed, Felipe did just that, and his prayers for Paco's healing didn't end with his novena. He gave half of his salary to Paco. And he spent a lot of time at the Lopez farm, as well. He visited three or four afternoons a week, and he sometimes spent a night or two with the Lopezes. He helped Paco and Rafael with the farm work and went exploring with Rafael.
Together, the boys helped Paco sow a corn patch, beans, chili peppers, and tomatoes. The boys chopped wood and took care of the animals and the orange trees. They tried to slow the progress of Paco's illness by making him nourishing meals and taking him for walks in the fresh air. Meanwhile, Don Diego's leg mended completely, and he exercised it daily to strengthen it. At the same time, he resumed Felipe's fencing lessons.
In return for Felipe's aid, Rafael went to the de la Vega hacienda, every afternoon after siesta but Sunday, for lessons in reading. In two weeks, he had learned the alphabet; in another month, he could read the primer and the 1st reader. At that point, Don Diego added lessons in printing and spelling to the boy's curriculum. "When you've mastered printing, Rafael, I'll teach you to write in cursive," Don Diego told him.
All the while, Felipe continued his own lessons in the mornings. Don Diego's goal was to prepare him for college entrance examinations; he wanted Felipe to attend college when he turned 21. And Felipe wanted to become a lawyer when he was older.
Each time Felipe visited the Lopezes, Paco told the boys at least one story, sometimes two or three. Among the many stories he told them was the story of Prince Jiculi, prince of the Huichols in northern Jalisco, whom the gods had transformed into the peyote plant. Other stories he told Felipe and Rafael included the story of Juan Diego, whom the Virgin of Guadalupe had ordered to build a church; and the story of the China Poblana, otherwise known as Princess Mina, the Mongolian princess who had been kidnapped by Chinese pirates, sold as a slave in Mexico, and who, when set free, had devoted her life to helping the poor and the sick.
When Paco played hymns and folk songs on his mandolin, he and Rafael sang them, and Felipe listened. There seemed to be no end to the number of songs Paco could play and sing. All the while, despite the boys' efforts to strengthen him, the farmer gradually weakened and lost weight. Sometimes, he would cough while singing or telling a story. Eventually, Paco became so weak, he could no longer work. Rafael had to do it all.
ZZZZZ
Early one morning, two months after the Lopezes had moved to Los Angeles, Don Ignacio de Soto, alcalde of Los Angeles, sat in his office, filling out some forms. As he signed one of them, someone knocked on the front door.
He sighed wearily and raised his head. "Come in!" he called.
The door swung open. A silver-haired caballero stepped inside. He wore a tan frock coat, a snow-white, ruffled silk shirt, a coal-black silk cravat, a light-brown satin vest, and a black top hat. A dark-brown cape dangled down his back.
"I am Don Esteban de la Curillo." He approached the smooth pine desk as the alcalde rose to his feet. "I come from Mexico."
Don Ignacio shook his hand. "De la Curillo." He furrowed his eyebrows. "Isn't there a distinguished family by that name in central Mexico? Somewhere north of Mexico City and Guadalajara?"
Don Esteban smiled. "There is, and I belong to that family. We own a hacienda outside the pueblo de San Miguel de Bajio."
"Won't you have a seat?" The alcalde gestured, and both gentlemen sat down.
"What can I do for you, Señor de la Curillo?" De Soto rested his arms on his desk as he spoke.
Don Esteban leaned forward. "You can help me reclaim a couple of my peons who ran away, three months ago--a man and his nephew. I've spent the last two months tracking them. I have reason to believe they're here."
Don Ignacio rubbed his goatee. "What are their names?"
"Paco Lopez. And his nephew, Rafael."
The alcalde frowned. Sergeant Mendoza had told him about the two newcomers on the day of their arrival. "Si. I know of them. They rented a plot of land from the de la Vegas, two months ago."
Now, it was Don Esteban's turn to frown. "I've heard of the de la Vegas. A very wealthy and respected family, is it not?"
Don Ignacio nodded. "And their servant boy, Felipe, it seems, is godson to Señor Lopez. His family and the Lopez family lived on adjoining farms in Mexico."
The caballero pursed his lips. "If his father was another one of my peons, I want him, too. I'm going to check him out while I'm here. You know what his last name is?"
The alcalde nodded. "Cortez." He scratched his neck. "Felipe Cortez. His father's name was Juan. Don Diego de la Vega brought him here 10 years ago, when he was just seven."
The caballero sat silently for a moment, frowning. After a minute, he rose to his feet. "Gracias, Señor Alcalde. You've been very helpful." He removed a silk handkerchief from his coat pocket to wipe his face.
"Do you need any help in rounding up your peons, señor?"
Don Esteban shook his head. "Gracias, but no. I've brought my own henchmen with me." He left the office.
ZZZZZ
At the Lopez farm, Felipe had just arrived on his black-and-white pinto pony, Parche. He sat outside with Rafael, tossing pebbles at the barn door. It was mid-morning, and the air felt crisp and cool. For a moment, Felipe gazed at the corn crop. The stalks had grown as tall as he was.
Rafael looked at his friend. "My uncle's gettin' weaker and weaker, Felipe. He can't do no work, no more. I have to do it all, now." He shifted position restlessly as he spoke.
Felipe nodded. He made a gesture of prayer, then pointed at himself while nodding toward the hut. Rafael nodded back and sighed.
"Si, me, too. I've been prayin' ever since Uncle Paco told us he was dyin'." He sighed again. "But it does no good. Our efforts to make him well don't work, either. He's gettin' no stronger, just sicker." He pursed his lips. "Last night, he slept in the barn. He said he didn't want to keep me awake no more. He coughs all the time, now. He can hardly sing or tell stories anymore." His voice shook, and he took a deep breath. "He's goin' to die, soon, Felipe."
Felipe gently squeezed his arm. For a long moment, Rafael rested his face in his hands. Silently, Felipe prayed that God would spare his godfather.
When Rafael raised his tear-streaked face, Felipe gestured a request. Rafael sighed and rose to his feet. "Si, we'll go in." He wiped the tears off the face, then he led the way into the hut. His sandals clicked on the stone-tile floor.
The boys found Paco resting on his bunk. "Well, muchachos, did you have fun?" The farmer smiled.
The boys nodded. "Si, tio." Rafael poured a clay cup of water as he spoke, and handed it to Felipe. As Felipe sipped it, Rafael poured another cup for himself and swallowed a mouthful.
Paco gazed at Felipe. "Felipe, would you--" He clutched his chest as a coughing fit seized him. Felipe grasped his shoulder until the fit subsided. Paco nodded his thanks, then laid his head on the pillow. "Would you bring your godfather a cup of goat's milk?" Felipe nodded. "And Rafael, I want you to feed the goats."
Before anyone could move, the pine door banged open. A caballero marched in, surrounded by four peasants. Felipe and Rafael froze in shock.
"Don Esteban de la Curillo!" Paco shot up on his bed, his face frozen with shock.
The caballero nodded, pursing his lips together. "Si, that's me. So, you thought you could get away from me, did you?" He glared at Rafael. "Paco, as long as you owe me even a centavo, you will work for me, and your nephew, too! And that means you will work in my mines, and your nephew will work in my fields!" He clenched his fists.
"And you--" He turned to Felipe. "Who, may I ask, are you?" He stared at the servant boy for a long moment, narrowing his blue eyes. Felipe held his breath.
Recognition seeped into the caballero's eyes. "Well, well, if it isn't Felipe Cortez, son of my late peon, Juan Cortez! And here, I'd thought you were dead!" He approached Felipe as he spoke. "Tell me, where are your parents, muchacho?"
Felipe did not say a word. Don Esteban raised his hand to slap the boy's face. Rafael spoke up before the caballero could strike his friend. "Dead, señor. They died when he was little. Felipe can't hear or speak." The boy's voice shook.
Don Esteban shrugged. "No matter. He can still work. All three of you are going with me back to San Miguel. I could use you in my fields, too, muchacho!" He poked Felipe's chest as he spoke; the servant boy pursed his lips and shook his head.
Don Esteban grabbed Felipe, who struggled and fought with him. But it was no use; the don was bigger and much stronger than Felipe. He wrapped his arms around the boy's chest and, pinning Felipe's arms to his sides, clutched the boy against his own chest in a viselike grip. "Not so fast, young man," the caballero hissed. "You will not escape me, this time!"
"Señor, my uncle is dyin'!" Rafael cried, as two of the henchmen grabbed him and Paco. "He can't work no more; he's too weak! He can't even do the chores on this farm no more! Ow!" He cried out, as one of the remaining henchmen struck him.
Upset and angry, Felipe struggled to free himself of Don Esteban's grip. He remembered this terrible man, now. His parents had not liked the caballero, and neither had the Lopezes. He had used, abused, and exploited his peons, caring nothing for their welfare. To so much as lay eyes on the man after all these years--let alone be kidnapped by him--was too much!
"Take them away!" Don Esteban ordered. "But first, tie them up!" He whipped a pistol out of his holster and pressed it against Felipe's temple. The boy winced and stopped struggling. "Paco, if you want this boy, here, to live, you will not struggle. And Rafael, the same goes for you!"
The five men bound the three peasants' hands behind their backs, as Don Esteban held a pistol on a trembling Felipe. "Let's go," the caballero ordered. As he led the way, the henchmen marched the prisoners out the door.
ZZZZZ
Hours later, Don Diego sat at the dining table, picking at his food. With a sigh, Don Alejandro picked up a crystal goblet filled with grape juice. The sun had set an hour before; two gleaming silver candelabrums stood on the dining table and lit the dining room.
"Father, I'm worried about Felipe. He should have been home hours ago."
Don Alejandro nodded. "I know, son. After dinner, we'll ride out to the Lopez farm and check on him. He may have lost track of the time." He sipped the juice and set the goblet on the glistening, snow-white tablecloth.
Someone knocked on the mahogany door. Don Alejandro rose to his feet, strode toward the entrance, and opened the door. "Don Alejandro, where--where is Diego?" Victoria panted and leaned against the doorframe.
"Right here." Don Diego joined them. "Victoria! What's wrong?"
Victoria leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. "Felipe--and the Lopezes--are in grave danger. They've been kidnapped."
"Kidnapped?!" Don Diego caught his breath.
Victoria nodded. "Si. By a caballero I've never seen before, and four henchmen. I saw them from a distance when I was returning to town. They were heading south. Toward Mexico."
The de la Vegas gaped at each other in shock. "Father, could it be their former patrón--Don Esteban de la Curillo?"
Don Alejandro pursed his lips. "Si, Diego. It could well be." He turned to Victoria. "Where did you see them, and when?"
"An hour ago. South of Los Angeles, just off El Camino Real."
Don Alejandro scowled fiercely. He pressed his lips into a tight line. "Then Diego and I will go after them. Come on, son, let's saddle up."
Don Diego nodded. "Thank you, Victoria, for coming out and telling us." He turned to his father. "You go on ahead while I escort Victoria back to town. I'll catch up with you, later." Don Alejandro nodded.
ZZZZZ
South of Los Angeles, less than a half-mile off the King's Highway, Don Esteban and his henchmen had built a campfire. Clusters of stars dotted the cloudless sky, and a breeze ruffled their hair.
Don Esteban's exhausted prisoners sat propped against a huge boulder. Felipe sat still, but Rafael wiggled his legs nonstop and swayed from side to side. Again and again, Paco hunched over and coughed.
Felipe gazed miserably down at his lap. The rope bound his hands so tightly that they felt numb. Silently, he prayed for rescue.
"We'll take turns sleeping every night, until we reach San Miguel," the caballero told the four henchmen. "One of us has to be awake at all times, to guard the prisoners. You've done well, men. You shall be rewarded."
Don Esteban had untied Paco's hands, since he was so weak and exhausted. The caballero leered at him, now. "Señor, I'm not goin' to last that long," the peon said, feebly. "The end is near for me. Too near." A violent coughing fit interrupted his protests.
"Then, your nephew will inherit your debt and work in my mines." Felipe froze at the chilling words. Rafael flinched. "Felipe has already inherited Juan's, and he will spend the rest of his life working it off. As will Rafael."
"Señor!" A familiar voice startled Felipe. An equally familiar white mare approached the campfire from the other side.
Don Alejandro! Felipe sighed, relieved. Thank You, God!
Don Esteban whirled around as Don Alejandro dismounted. "Who in the blazes are you?!" he asked.
Don Alejandro approached him, holding Dulcinea's reins. Circling the campfire, Don Esteban strode toward the aged don, followed by his henchmen. "I, señor, am Don Alejandro de la Vega. Felipe is my indentured servant boy, and the Lopezes are my tenants."
"Not any more." Don Esteban gestured toward the three peasants. "They were mine before they ever became yours, and I'm taking them back."
"Why?"
"Because they owe me money! Much money!"
Don Alejandro pursed his lips as he nodded. "I thought as much. How much money do they owe you?"
"More than they or their descendants will ever be able to pay back. 5,000 pesos."
Don Alejandro glanced across the campfire at Felipe, who held his breath and prayed silently. "I will pay you the 5,000 pesos in exchange for their freedom, señor." He removed his riding gloves and clutched them in his left hand.
Don Esteban smirked. "Will you?" His men milled around them. "Gracias, but no. They will work off the money themselves, if it takes the rest of their lives to do it--and it probably will."
Don Alejandro glared at him fiercely. "And does their welfare mean nothing to you?!" he shouted. He slashed the air with his riding gloves as he spoke.
Don Esteban shook his head. "Why should it, señor? They're only peasants, after all--I owe them nothing. The only thing that concerns me is the work they do for me. How well they do it, and how much of it they do."
A black shadow suddenly crept around the boulder and held a finger to his lips. Zorro! Felipe thought, relieved. He came!
Felipe and the Lopezes nodded their acquiescence. They would keep silent. Felipe prayed fervently that his godfather would not cough.
"Paco can do no work for you, señor, in your mines or your fields!" Don Alejandro clenched his fists. "He's too weak and ill. He will not live much longer."
"That, señor, is of no concern to me." Don Esteban's voice sounded cold.
As Don Alejandro stood on the other side of the campfire, arguing with Don Esteban, Zorro untied each boy's hands. He helped Paco to his feet, and the boys helped him walk away. To Felipe's relief, Paco did not cough once.
Zorro led them toward a gurgling stream and helped Paco and Rafael hide in the bushes. As all three crouched down, they could hear the caballeros arguing in the distance. Zorro laid a restraining hand on Felipe's shoulder before the boy had a chance to follow his friends into the bushes.
"Paco, Rafael, stay here and hide. Felipe, you come with me. I need you to help me set up a diversion."
Felipe nodded and scrambled to his feet. He returned with Zorro to the camp. Please, God, he prayed silently, don't let my godfather cough!
Zorro gave Felipe some firecrackers. "Felipe, I want you to set two of these in each tree that surrounds this camp, and light them. That will startle Don Esteban's henchmen and hopefully frighten them off. I, myself, will deal with Don Esteban." Felipe nodded.
For the next several minutes, as the two caballeros continued to argue, Felipe tiptoed from one tree to the next, setting up the firecrackers. When he had set up the last one, he raced from tree to tree, lighting them. He then raced back to the stream, joined Paco and Rafael, and covered his ears.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
"What was that?" one of the henchmen cried.
"We're bein' attacked!" another one shouted. "Let's get out of here!"
"The prisoners are gone!" Don Esteban shouted. "Go find them! Now!"
Felipe held a finger to his lips and crept out of hiding. As he approached the camp, he saw the four henchmen running away and Don Esteban shouting at them to return.
"You babosos!" he shouted. "Get back over here and look for those peons! That's an order!" Enraged, he whirled on Don Alejandro as he unsheathed his rapier. "This is your fault, señor, for interfering in something that was none of your business! You'll pay for this!" He raised his rapier with the evident intent to run Don Alejandro through.
Felipe hid behind another boulder and watched in horror. To his relief, Zorro sprang up from behind Don Alejandro and struck the man's sword with his own. "Who are you?" Don Esteban gasped.
"Zorro." The masked avenger saluted. "Friend to all peons and tenants and servants and ranchhands--anyone who's the victim of injustice!"
"How I treat my peons is my affair, bandido!" Don Esteban tried to run Zorro through, only to find his move parried by Zorro's saber. "I will take them with me, and I'll treat them however I wish!"
For the next several minutes, Zorro and Don Esteban dueled. As their swords clanged, they lunged, parried, sidestepped, etc. At last, Zorro disarmed the caballero, carved a Z on the lapel of his frock coat, and held the tip of his sword against Don Esteban's chest.
Pressing his lips together into a tight line of rage, Zorro forced the man to walk backward, step by step, toward the blazing campfire. Don Esteban winced and squirmed; clearly, the heat from the fire was singeing his back.
"You have two choices, señor!" Zorro told him sternly. "Accept Don Alejandro's offer, or die right here! Take your choice!" He prodded the don backward a step.
Don Esteban glared at him. "I can certainly see why there's such a big price on your head," he hissed. "You--you--!" He spat at Zorro.
"Don't make me any angrier than I already am, señor." Zorro prodded him yet another step backward. "I might do something I'll later regret. You're already dangerously close to that campfire, as it is."
Don Esteban stood fuming for a long moment, as he squirmed in pain. At last, sullenly, he said, "Very well. I'll accept his offer."
"Good." Zorro turned to Don Alejandro. "Señor, I took the liberty of taking out more than enough money from the bank to ransom Felipe and his friends. It's in my saddlebag." He whistled shrilly. "Your pardon, Don Alejandro, for taking your money without asking permission, but I don't trust this man to return with you to town to collect it."
"I quite understand, Zorro, and I thank you." As Toronado approached, Don Alejandro removed the bulging saddlebag and tossed it toward Don Esteban. It landed at the ruthless caballero's feet with a loud clunk. "How much did you take out of the bank?" Don Alejandro wiped his face with his linen handkerchief.
"6,000 pesos." Zorro sheathed his saber.
Don Alejandro nodded. "He may have it all. It's money well spent to save Felipe and the Lopezes from further peonage." He turned to Don Esteban. "Feel free to count it if you wish, señor. We'll wait." Don Esteban glared at him, but did not say a word.
"First, señor, listen to me." Zorro grasped the hilt of his saber and looked at the ruthless caballero sternly. "If you ever come back to California and trouble Felipe or the Lopezes again, I'll kill you! You are to relinquish all claims to them, or you will be buried in Los Angeles! Their debt to you is hereby paid; they owe you nothing, now! Do you understand?"
"Si, Zorro." Don Esteban glared at him for a long moment, then knelt to count the money.
Felipe smiled and silently thanked the Lord. He crept back to the stream to join Paco and Rafael. I thank the Lord, he thought. I thank Him for sending us Zorro. He froze. And for stilling my godfather's cough! Gracias de Dios! Maybe God has healed my godfather! He made the sign of the cross and gazed at the stars imploringly.
A half-hour later, the trio listened to the fading clomping of hooves. A few minutes later, Zorro approached them. "You may come out, now, amigos. Don Esteban has left. He won't bother you anymore."
Felipe and Rafael rose to their feet. Together, they helped Paco stand up. "Gracias, señor," Paco said. "We owe you so much for saving us." A coughing fit seized him, and he doubled over for a long moment while his nephew and godson held him tightly.
Felipe tried to swallow his disappointment. He had hoped that the good Lord had healed his godfather; evidently, He had not. The boy sighed.
When Paco stopped coughing, the boys helped him return to the campsite. Don Alejandro hugged Felipe tightly. "Are you all right?" he asked, huskily. Felipe nodded; with a sad expression, he pointed to Paco and shook his head. Sighing, Don Alejandro nodded. "Then we'd better get him home." He patted Felipe's shoulder. "Paco will ride behind me on Dulcinea."
"Señores, we owe you our lives." Paco shook the elderly caballero's hand, then Zorro's. "How can we repay you?" His voice sounded feeble.
Don Alejandro smiled. "Paco, just knowing you and the boys are safe is more than enough repayment for me." Zorro nodded agreement.
"I'll accompany you, as you take Paco and Rafael back to their farm." Zorro swung himself on Toronado. "Rafael can ride with me. Felipe's horse is tied to a bush west of here."
ZZZZZ
An hour later, Don Diego rushed out the door of the Lopez hut to greet them as they approached. Zorro had left them, ten minutes before; Rafael had ridden with Felipe on Parche the rest of the way. Felipe dismounted and helped his friend climb down.
"Felipe! Rafael! Paco! Are you all right?" Don Diego clasped Felipe to his chest for a long moment, as Rafael tied Parche's reins to the hitching post next to Don Diego's own horse. "Did Don Esteban hurt you?" Felipe shook his head.
"Diego, son, give me a hand with Paco. He's completely exhausted." Don Diego approached Dulcinea and helped Paco dismount. "I'm afraid his ordeal has accelerated his illness. He needs rest and nursing care." Don Alejandro climbed down off Dulcinea.
"They made us walk the whole way," Rafael said, as Don Alejandro tied Dulcinea's reins to the hitching post, next to Parche and Esperanza. "They wouldn't let my uncle rest or nothin'!" Don Diego pressed his lips into a tight line of anger. Don Alejandro shook his head.
The de la Vegas helped Paco inside as the boys fastened Dulcinea's reins to the hitching post. When Felipe followed Rafael in, he found Paco lying on his bunk, breathing heavily. Don Alejandro started a fire in the fireplace while Don Diego examined Paco. The blazing fire made reflections dance on the walls.
"Father, we'd better send for Dr. Hernandez." Don Diego sounded worried as he bent over the dying peon and took his pulse.
Felipe froze at the words. Suddenly, he heard a rattle in Paco's throat. The death rattle! he thought, stricken. A surge of grief welled up in him; he was about to lose his beloved godfather.
"It wouldn't do no good, Don Diego," Paco said feebly. "No one can help me, now. I'll be gone very soon."
Don Diego and Felipe gazed at each other for a long moment. Don Diego turned to his father. "Father, with your permission, the boys and I would like to speak with Paco privately for a moment."
Don Alejandro nodded. "Si, Diego. I'll wait outside." He trudged out the door.
Don Diego inserted his left thumb into one of his vest pockets as he turned to Rafael. "I have learned, amigo, that you well know how to keep a secret." Rafael nodded, shifting position from one foot to the other. "That's good, because I'm about to share one with you and your uncle, now. Two secrets, in fact." Don Diego glanced at Felipe, who nodded.
Don Diego turned to Paco. "The first secret, Paco and Rafael, is this: I am Zorro."
Paco gaped at Felipe, who nodded. "You saved us from Don Esteban?" Don Diego nodded. Paco and his nephew stared at him, open-mouthed.
"Señor, there's a bounty of 5,000 pesos on Zorro's head. For his own safety, my own father does not know of my secret identity." He paused. "The second secret is this: Felipe used to be deaf, but he isn't, anymore. He regained his hearing when he was thirteen. I believe that, one day, he will regain his voice as well."
Paco and Rafael smiled broadly at Felipe, who grinned bashfully. Don Diego put his arm around the boy's shoulder. "He keeps his hearing a secret, so he can spy for Zorro without endangering himself or me. Not even my father knows he can hear. Only you two know, as of now."
Paco nodded. "Rafael will carry your secrets to his grave if he has to." His voice sounded feeble and weak. Rafael nodded agreement. "And so will I." The boys winced. "Señor, are there any more secrets I should know?"
Don Diego shook his head.
"Then I'd like to see Don Alejandro, por favor."
"Certainly." Don Diego turned to Rafael. "Rafael, you must promise never to tell anyone. If the alcalde ever suspects that you know who Zorro is, he will do all in his power to force you to tell him. His knowledge will send Felipe and myself to the gallows if he learns that I'm Zorro. Do I have your promise, amigo, that you will keep our secrets?"
Rafael nodded solemnly. "Si, señor. I promise never to tell."
He opened the pine door, and Don Alejandro stepped inside. Paco smiled at his nephew. "Rafael, the farm is yours, now. Take good care of it." Rafael nodded and swallowed hard. "And Felipe, you know all my stories, now. Keep them in your head to tell your own children, someday."
Felipe nodded. He intended to do just that. A sob rose in his throat; he struggled to swallow it.
His godfather turned to Don Alejandro. "Don Alejandro--" Paco's feeble voice faltered. "You did more for us than we can ever repay. It--" His voice faltered. "It'll take my nephew a very long time to repay you that 6,000 pesos, I'm afraid."
Don Alejandro shook his head. "That won't be necessary, Paco. You and Rafael have already repaid Diego and me."
Paco stared at him, puzzled. "How?"
Don Diego put his arm around Felipe's shoulders. "By what you did for Felipe, here." He smiled affectionately at the servant boy. "Until you came back into his life, Felipe didn't know anything about his early life--his last name, his parents' names, the name of his home town--nothing."
Sadness crept into the handsome caballero's eyes and his voice as he spoke. "You've restored that knowledge to him, señor. And you've restored to his memory a precious part of his early life. For doing that for him, amigo, my father and I will always be grateful to you."
Don Alejandro nodded agreement. "We certainly will, Paco. If anything, we owe you; we're in your debt! 6,000 pesos is but poor payment of such a debt, but I hope we've repaid it to some extent."
Paco's eyes shone. "You certainly did! You saved my boys and me from Don Esteban. Muchas gracias, patrón."
Don Alejandro clasped his hand. Their eyes exchanged a message that words could not express. Paco smiled tenderly at Felipe.
"I'm so glad the good Lord let me be reunited with you before I die, my godson. I'm so proud of the fine young man you've grown up into, and I know your mother would be, too. The de la Vegas have brought you up well." Felipe smiled his appreciation of the praise. Paco closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. "Felipe, I've left my nephew my farm. I want to leave you my mandolin."
Felipe gazed at Rafael, who smiled wanly and nodded. "Si, Felipe." He grasped his friend's arm. "If Don Diego plays it for you, it'll be like having Uncle Paco doin' it."
Paco nodded agreement. "I'll see you in Heaven, boys. Until then, do me proud, both of you, por favor." He closed his eyes and took his last breath. A grief-stricken Felipe laid his head on the dead man's chest and wept silently.
ZZZZZ
The funeral was held the next day. Padre Benitez officiated it, and Don Alejandro delivered a eulogy after the burial. The early-June sun hung suspended overhead in a cloudless sky. A cool breeze caressed Felipe's cheeks.
"Paco Lopez was a truly good man." He gazed at the two grief-stricken boys as they fought to swallow their sobs. "He brought laughter and joy and singing into the lives of two boys--and into ours." Don Alejandro's voice sounded husky as he spoke. He gazed at his son and Victoria, who nodded agreement. "And not just ours, either, but the lives of everyone he came in contact with. I was proud to call him my friend. We all were." His voice shook.
"I certainly was." Victoria adjusted her black satin shawl.
The elderly caballero tossed a bouquet of flowers on the mound of dirt, and the other mourners followed suit. He approached Rafael and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Amigo, we're here for you for as long as you need us." Rafael nodded. "Diego and Felipe are going to spend the rest of the week with you."
"I know, señor." Rafael turned to Don Diego. "Gracias." He bit his lip. Looking at him, Felipe took a deep breath.
Don Alejandro laid a hand on his son's arm. "Diego, I want you and Felipe back next Sunday, all right? I've just learned from the alcalde that an emissary from Spain--a Don Gilberto Risendo--is due to arrive in Los Angeles, late next week. He doesn't know why the emissary's coming, but he wants all of Los Angeles to be in town when Risendo arrives."
Don Diego nodded. "Yes, Father." He smiled at Felipe. "Meanwhile, let's go back to the hacienda, for now."
Don Diego put his arm around Rafael's shoulder. "We'll return to your farm later. You've had nothing to eat since yesterday morning, and neither has Felipe. Maria is making you both some food even as we speak." He smiled tenderly and sympathetically at his servant boy. "You may ride with us in the back, amigo. I think it would comfort Rafael to have you sitting beside him." Don Alejandro nodded agreement.
Felipe and Rafael nodded back, gratefully. The de la Vegas led them toward the waiting carriage. Victoria gently kissed each boy on the cheek, then trudged toward the tavern. Don Diego stood back as the two grieving boys climbed aboard the carriage that waited to take them to the hacienda.
Big changes are coming in my life, Felipe thought, as the carriage started to roll. I know it; I sense it. Will they be good changes, or bad ones? He sighed. Only God in Heaven knows. I can only pray that the changes will be good.
With another sigh, he touched Rafael's arm and relaxed against the back seat. At least, a part of my childhood has been restored to me. Thanks to my godfather. May he rest in peace. Felipe smiled and gazed at the surrounding desert.
©1999 by Kathryn D. Green