Chapter V

A beam of yellow light pouring through some twisted and dried up branches. Trying to focus her gaze, only to see more warm light and a bright blue curtain as a background. Over here, closer, there was grass everywhere: against her cheek, under her arm… the smell of soil, too.

"Good morning, señorita."

A wave of numbness in all of her body when attempting to sit up. And then, she recognized the voice, the face, Diego popping berries in his mouth as if it was a picnic in the middle of a field day, and there was also the mental avalanche of everything that had happened the day before, like she'd read it in an adventures book, or uncle Pedro had told such impossible story during the afternoon snack time.

"...Good… morning…"

Another try and she managed to sit up.

"Breakfast's ready, I hope you'll like it."

A large, green leaf served as a tray for blackberries and… gooseberries? Whatever they were, they seemed nothing short of a feast.

"It looks really good. Where did you get this?"

"Around there. I think there must be peaches nearby as well, but I didn't want to go too far."

The flavor, part sweet and part sour, gave her an effervescence in the palate and a wellbeing feeling she hadn't expected. Maybe it was because of how hungry she was… or not, maybe it was being with him here and now, as if the previous day had been nothing but a bad dream, but it was real and they knew it and shared it, while they took berry after berry and the tips of their fingers turned violet and blue.

"I also found this." A small bunch of yellow flowers, primroses perhaps: "And I wanted to wish you a happy birthday again, in spite of everything."

But what was actually unreal, the previous events or this? Or it all? What she said the previous night, that being alive was enough, was even clearer now.

"Thank you… You're not going to believe it but I hadn't remembered… And they smell wonderfully. Thanks, Diego."

"My pleasure, though they aren't much."

"You're wrong. They're a lot. And they mean a lot." A while later, something occurred to her: "Did you get any sleep?"

"..." He nodded, chewing on some berries.

"You did?"

"There will be time for that later on."

"You mean, for sleeping?"

"You'll see, danger was over, I was almost sure of that. Almost."

"Do you say it because of the kid?"

"Because of him or anyone else."

"You don't think he learned his lesson?"

"I would hope so. I hope he grows to be a useful member of society, that he can study or work. But I cannot read his mind and know what he was really thinking."

"I think he was really sorry and scared. That thing you said about keeping an eye on him: will you?"

"I don't know yet. Do you think I should?"

Josefina looked for the answer among the few fruits left in the improvised bowl:

"No. I think it won't be necessary."

"You have faith in people."
"You don't?"

"I do, in fact. But not to the extent of leaving us, and leaving you, at the mercy of mere faith."

"You've seen a lot of this, haven't you? I mean, injustice, people being hurt by others… desperate situations. You've seen a lot of that."

The last part wasn't a question anymore. She knew he had, that even if he was an educated, elegant and, seemingly, wealthy man, he was no stranger to adversities, he didn't just spend his time taking everything that was handed to him in silver platter.

"At times" was all he replied, eyes on hers.

At times, words are not necessary anymore.

"Thank you for the breakfast. It was delicious."

"I'm glad you liked it. We should get going now."

He stood up and offered his hands to help her up.

Josefina's first attempt at putting the foot on the ground didn't go so well; it hurt even worse than the day before.

"Are you going to tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you got hurt in the accident and it's bothering you when you walk."

"Ah… that."

"That."

"Well I don't have a choice. I didn't want to cause any more trouble than we already had."

"May I?"

She nodded and showed him the injured ankle, holding on to the tree not to lose balance.

"Looks a little swollen."

"It is very swollen, Josefina, look. It's a sprain or even a crack in the bone. It'd be best if we took the shoe off."

"All right, I-"
"I'll do it, yes?"

His hair was perfectly cut, she could see it behind his ear and on the side, though on the top and over the forehead, a few brown waves had rebelled against order. The collar of his shirt was still neatly ironed and starched, despite all of the vicissitudes it had witnessed. And his hands, the same hands that had beat up half a dozen criminals hours before, were now removing her shoe with utmost gentleness.

"Should I wait here while you get help?"

"Josefina, if you really think I'm going to leave you here all by yourself, you couldn't be more wrong."

Well, this is exactly the kind of trouble she had wanted to avoid: having to make him carry her around.

"How long do you think it'd take from here to the road?"

"Around three hours."

"And you plan to carry me like that, all that time?"

"I plan to, yes."

"It doesn't sound very practical."

"We can switch now and then and you could carry me for a while."

"..."

"Don't worry. I can do it."

"Wait, what if… my cousins and I used to call it piggy back ride, you know? I think that'd be more comfortable for you."

"That's an excellent idea. All right, then: hop on!"

She tucked the flowers in the belt of her dress.

And, well, she hopped on.

This kind of maneuver was surely not in any etiquette for señoritas handbook, but circumstances were more than exceptional.

Off they went.

(...)

It was an intense summer: even if it was only nine or ten in the morning, it was already quite hot. However, Diego wasn't giving any signs of slowing down the pace or being tired in the slightest from the bundle he was carrying on his back.

"See those formations?" A jumble of rocky mountains and canyons was barely visible in the distance: "Most of the indians of the region live there."

"Are they peaceful?"

"If no one bothers them, they don't bother anyone. The problem is that the expansion of the city tends to be… of little benefit for them, to put it a certain way."

The few and only clouds that could be seen were towards the indians' lands. Besides that, the sky was an ablaze tent with the sun as a burning lamp.

"Looks like it's the same in both Monterrey and Los Angeles. Have you always lived there?"

"I was in Spain a few years, but besides that, yes, at the hacienda. I'd like to take you there and show you around, if you, your aunt and uncle would honor us with a visit."

"Sure we will, but I hope you don't have to carry me then."

"I'd do it a thousand times."
Josefina then knew this was one of those improbable and unrepeatable things that she'd mentally revisit over and over again, with as much detail as her memory allowed her to: the warmth of his body, the texture of his shirt, his voice, the mostly arid landscape around, the crystalline creek they stopped by for water, halfway down they way; even the pain in the hanging foot was distinctive of this moment.

She'd remember it well.

When they reached the top of a slight hill, they finally saw the road down there, twisting and turning in both directions. They'd just started to descend when-

"Diego, look!"

Three lancers and their horses appeared around a bend.

(...)

On the other side of drawn back curtain, the town of Nuestra Señora de Los Ángeles del Río Porciúncula was approaching, a bunch of small houses and buildings in the heart of a valley. The coach was like an oven, given the early afternoon heat, but that wasn't much of a problem being provided with fresh water, grapes and bread. They were also informed that the soldiers had found Father Felipe already, and he'd receive Christian and proper burial.

They'd attend the vigil and the funeral; then, they'd give their statements at the Garrison and entrust the relic to the Mision. Now, it was the pause, the continuity of the horses' irregular trotting, the closing of the unexpected journey. The injured foot rested on a cushion on the seat in front of her, and besides it, there was Diego.

"We were so lucky to find you safe and sound, señorita, don Diego." Sergeant García was accompanying them for their protection: "Your aunt and uncle were so worried, they even went to the Quarter. And your father, don Diego, he was just stepping out of the hacienda with some vaqueros to go and look for you, when we let them know we'd found you already."

"And we couldn't be more thankful, Sargento" Diego said, looking at her.

"Of course. Thank you, Sargento."

"You're very welcome! I told the Comandante: Comandante, the stagecoach hasn't arrived yet, that can't be normal, we have to go find it immediately, they could bump into some bandits, and he said, lead the search yourself, Sargeant, start by…"

The Sargento went on with his story for a while, though Josefina wasn't paying much attention and she was sure Diego wasn't either. He'd just look at her, and she'd look at him, like the first instant they met, like in the morning at the picnic, like in her dream with the birthday cake.

Los Angeles was imminent. The road was over for now.

END.

Notes:

When it comes to the bandits, are they dead? Maybe, maybe they were just hurt. I didn't want to make it too specific there, but in the 1957 Disney series, in which I base my stories, Zorro did kill several times in self defense or in defense of others.

I always love the idea of Zorro protecting the girl. Typical, right? I mean, he's Zorro after all. I didn't want to make her too damsel in disgrace, and neither a heroine; kind of in between, like a normal person who isn't used to that sort of adventures would react (I tried).

I didn't want them to kiss here either, I wanted to leave that to the future, to what could happen next.

Thanks so much for reading!