CHAPTER 16: "'Lover of Horses'"
"Diego."
Don Diego turned his head and muttered. A hand gently shook his shoulder.
"Wake up, Diego. The men you hired yesterday have returned."
Yawning, Diego opened his eyes and looked into the eyes of his tutor. The young caballero stretched his arms above his head. "Give me a moment to get dressed, por favor," he said. "Tell them I'll be out shortly."
Señor Spencer nodded and stepped outside. Don Diego shaved, donned his yellowish-beige jacket and a pair of matching trousers, and tied on a woolen sash. His quality leather boots made tracks in the dirt floor.
For a moment, Diego paused to glance at the sleeping boy. He lay curled on his reed mat, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. The night before, Diego had draped his cape over the little boy's side; the boy's bare left arm rested on the cape's soft woolen surface. His index finger rested in his mouth.
Don Diego shook his head at the sight. He didn't yet know how old the boy was, but he was certainly quite old enough to have outgrown such infantile habits. As the caballero bent over to pull the top of the cape over the boy's arms and shoulders, he wrinkled his nose at the smell of the boy's clothes, now folded in a pile near the boy's sleeping mat. He also shook his head at the sight of the scuffed, worn-out sandals, resting on top of the boy's blue shirt.
His sandals have just about had it, he thought, ruefully. It won't be much longer, now, until they fall apart. Furthermore, he desperately needs a bath, and his clothes need to be washed. He sighed. As do ours. He turned his attention to combing his coal-black hair.
When Don Diego looked presentable, he turned to Jose. "While Señor Spencer and I are outside, wake up the boy and see that he gets dressed."
"Si, patrón."
Don Diego stepped outside. He found the man who had rented his hut to them standing at the head of the group of men Diego had hired the day before.
The peon stepped forward, holding his wide-brimmed straw sombrero in hand. "Señor, we tried," he said. "We asked everyone in camp, but no one even knows the boy's name. He has no relatives here, and no one wants him. I'm afraid his parents are dead, señor."
Sighing, Don Diego nodded. He was saddened, but not surprised. Ever since the unpleasant conversation with the hostile peon the night before, he had expected this news. He and his tutor would just have to take the boy with them.
Diego reached into his inside jacket pocket to draw out a leather money pouch. He poured several gold pesos into his hand, counted them, and handed it to the man. "Gracias," he said. "You did your best."
One by one, he handed several pesos to each man as he stepped forward. When Don Diego had handed the last peon his money, he looked back at the peon who had rented his hut to the four travelers. "We will leave today."
The peon nodded. Without a word, he followed the others out of sight. Señor Spencer stepped up next to Diego as the men disappeared.
Jonathan laid a comforting hand on his pupil's shoulder. "Amigo, if I know you, you won't rest until that boy has a home."
Diego nodded agreement. "Indeed, I won't! That boy is much too young to take care of himself. We'll just have to take him with us to California and find him a home there."
"And we will. We will certainly try." Jonathan drew his gold pocket timepiece out of his vest pocket. He glanced at it as it gleamed in the early-morning sunlight. "In that case, we'd better be on our way as soon as we can get ready, Diego. We're at least four or five days off schedule, as it is, thanks to the battle that slowed us down, and our errand of mercy's going to slow us down further. So if we're going to stop in the next town to buy supplies for this camp, we can't afford to waste any more time."
"No, we can't." Don Diego straightened his ruffled sleeves. "But we need to eat, first."
The two men entered the hut. They found the little boy crouching in the corner, gazing down at his rosary as it dangled from his fingers.
"The boy is praying," Jose said. "As soon as I got him dressed, he pulled it out of his trousers and started sayin' his prayers."
Don Diego and Jonathan glanced at each other and smiled. "We won't disturb him, then. Let him finish," Jonathan said.
Diego nodded agreement. "We will all pray, while the little boy does so. Then we'll eat breakfast and pack the wagon."
The three men knelt on the dirt floor. Being the good Church of England member that he was, Jonathan did not use a rosary, but the two Catholics did. Out of respect for Señor Spencer's Protestant sensibilities, Don Diego and Jose did not pray out loud. Instead, as they held their rosaries, they said their prayers silently. All three men made the sign of the cross at the beginning and the end of their prayers.
When the men had finished praying, they looked up. The little boy was gazing at them, sucking his index finger.
Smiling, Don Diego rose to his feet and approached the boy. He knelt before the child, pulled the boy's finger out of his mouth, and brushed a stray hair out of his brown eyes. Slowly, distinctly, he spoke to the boy, making signs to ensure that the child understood.
"We can't find any of your relatives," he said. "We can't find anyone here to take you in, either. We are going to take you with us to California and find you a home there. After we eat breakfast, we will pack the wagon and go."
Don Diego wasn't sure how well the boy had understood him. Somehow, he would have to teach the child to communicate. He patted the boy's shoulder and stood up.
For breakfast, the four ate cold leftover tortillas, then they repacked the wagon. The little boy lugged small bundles outside and gave them to Jose, who in turn loaded them in the wagon. When they had finished packing, Don Diego lifted the boy up in his arms and set him down in the wagon.
Jose climbed onto the wagon seat and took hold of the reins. The two gentlemen mounted their horses. Don Diego nodded at Jose, who lifted the reins.
"Hee-yah!" Jose slapped the reins, and the two horses started to pull the wagon. Diego and Jonathan followed on horseback. The early-morning breeze caressed Don Diego's cheek and ruffled his black hair. The cloudless sky had turned bright blue. It was a beautiful morning.
Don Diego gazed at the little boy as he leaned against the side of the jolting wagon with his head bent down. How he wished he at least knew the boy's name! Communication would be so much easier if he at least had a name to call the boy.
"Diego? What's wrong?"
Diego glanced at his cultured British tutor, who gazed at him with concern. The young caballero sighed. "I was just wishing we knew what the boy's name was. It's going to be difficult to establish communication with him unless we know what to call him."
Jonathan nodded. "When we stop for lunch and siesta, we'll try to find out. If need be--if we can't find out his real name--we'll just have to give him a new one." He paused. "You know, Diego, it's entirely possible that, being a deaf-mute, he doesn't know what it is."
Don Diego winced. He hoped that wasn't the case. Surely, if he knows how to pray, he knows his own name, he thought.
When the sun had reached the middle of the sky, the group stopped at a creek to rest. By then, the air had turned hot, making their faces perspire. While Don Diego held the boy in his arms and cuddled him, the other two made lunch. Jose heated some broth while Señor Spencer unpacked some tortillas and filled the canteens with water. All the while, the little boy nestled against Don Diego's chest. Several times, he tried to suck his index finger, but the caballero would pull it out and shake his head. The boy just frowned at him, evidently bewildered.
As soon as lunch was ready, the three men and the boy sat in a circle and asked the blessing. The men sipped their broth with wooden spoons, but the boy dipped the tip of his tortilla into the broth and bit off that edge. When he had finished off his tortilla, the boy grasped his clay cup with both hands and gulped down the rest of the broth.
After the group had eaten, Jose washed the cups, pan, and wooden spoons. The men then sat down to rest. "Let's find a creek or stream to camp by, later," Jonathan said. "When we do, we'll take our baths after we make camp." Don Diego nodded agreement.
The boy rose to his feet and wandered toward the two riding Andalusian horses tethered to a bush. One was a light-brown stallion, and the other was a bay mare. Don Diego swallowed hard. "Let's hope they won't harm or frighten him," he said.
While Diego and Jonathan watched, the little boy stood gazing at the horses for a long moment. Finally, he approached the stallion and reached out to touch its face. With a whoosh! the horse bumped its face against the boy's forehead, startling him and making him jump backward.
Don Diego stiffened, and prepared to leap to his feet. He wasn't about to let the horses hurt the boy if he could help it.
Slowly, cautiously, the little boy approached the stallion again and reached out to stroke its cheek. This time, the horse stood still. The boy slowly rubbed its right cheek with his fingertips. Soon, he was petting the horse on its cheeks, its mane, and its nose. From time to time, the horse nickered. Several times, it nuzzled the boy's hand.
Don Diego and Jonathan looked at each other and smiled. "Well, the boy seems quite drawn to our horses," Diego said. "He seems to have an affinity with them."
Señor Spencer nodded agreement. "He certainly does, doesn't he? That's interesting, too, seeing as his family only had a burro and two goats. The one peon who would volunteer any information told me that. But not even he would give me the boy's name or that of his parents."
Diego nodded, then leaned back to think about that. So far, his efforts to find out the boy's real name hadn't worked. He would have to give the child one. Suddenly, an idea came to him.
"Señor Spencer, doesn't the name 'Felipe' mean 'lover of horses'?" Don Diego asked.
Jonathan nodded. "Si. And in English, the possessor of that name would be called 'Philip.'"
"And in French, 'Philippe.'" Don Diego rose to his feet. "That's what we'll call him, then. I think it fits him."
The caballero strode toward the boy. He touched the child's shoulder, then turned him around to face Diego. "Nice horse," he said, slowly. He paused, then said again, "Nice horse." He patted the horse's neck.
The boy nodded. Smiling, he rubbed the horse's other cheek.
Diego led him back to the tree. Squatting on the ground, he patted the ground next to him. The boy plopped down next to Diego and crossed his legs, Indian-style.
Don Diego rested his hand on his chest. "Diego," he said. "Diego."
The little boy gazed at him intently. Diego repeated the name. The boy's face brightened.
"Diego?" he mouthed.
The caballero nodded. Slowly, he said, "Diego de la Vega. Diego de la Vega."
The boy mouthed the words after Diego had spoken them. Don Diego nodded approvingly.
"Don Diego de la Vega."
The boy mouthed the phrase.
Don Diego smiled his approval. "Bueno! Muy bueno." He gazed at the boy. "You know, amigo, we need a name to call you. Como si llamo? "
The little boy just sat there and gazed uncomprehendingly. Diego repeated the question, slowly and distinctly. Sadness welled up in the child's expressive brown eyes, and he lowered his head.
Leaning forward, Don Diego cupped his fingertips under the boy's cheek. He raised the boy's face until he was gazing back at Diego. "I'm going to give you a name," Diego said. He pointed at the boy. "Felipe." He paused. "Fe-li-pe." He pronounced the name slowly. "Felipe."
The boy's eyes lit up in recognition. He nodded vigorously. Beaming, Don Diego hugged him.
"Then, Felipe it is!" He swiveled his head to glance at Jonathan and Jose. "It appears to be the boy's name; he reacted with recognition when I spoke it."
Señor Spencer and Jose glanced at each other and chuckled. "That is good news!" Jonathan drew his gold timepiece out of his vest pocket and looked at it. "We'd better be on our way, Diego."
The men repacked the food crate and loaded it onto the wagon. Don Diego lifted Felipe and set him down next to the crate. A few minutes later, they were on their way. Diego's heart felt light. It would be some time before the boy could communicate with any degree of proficiency, but at least a start had been made. Now he had a name to be called by, and he knew Diego's name. Don Diego smiled with satisfaction at his tutor, who smiled back.
END OF CHAPTER 16