“Do you understand what you saw, Diego?” Isabella asked him when they were well on their way.
“You stopped Don Cesár from whipping his servants in the plaza,” he said. “You gave them water to drink because they were thirsty and let them rest for a little while.” He felt like his mother was looking for something more, but he did not know what.
“Yes, I did all of that,” she said. “But there was something much more going on that you need to understand.”
“What is that, Mama?”
“Diego, my son, you know from your father that you have noble blood in your ancestry?”
“Oh yes, Mama. Father has spoken of it many times.” His father never bragged about their ancestry, but he was proud of it and made sure that Diego knew his lineage.
“You know that one day, you will take over the rancho and manage it as your own?” Diego nodded. Isabella paused, then said, “Today when you looked around the plaza, who did you see?”
Diego felt like his mother was jumping all around, but did his best to answer her. “I saw the merchants, and the soldiers of the cuartel. I saw Padre Felipe over by the church. I saw some vaqueros ride up to the tavern and go in, and I saw Señor Medina.”
“Is that all? Did you not see someone else?”
He thought for a moment. “Oh yes. And I saw the peons and Indians working about the plaza and the ones trying to load the wagon for Señor Medina.”
“What did you notice about Señor Medina’s peons?”
“That they were dirty and seemed very unhappy and scared. Not like our peons at all.”
“Why do you think that is?” asked Isabella watching her son closely.
“I do not know, Mama. Is it because Señor Medina whips them?”
“That is partially the reason. But it is something deeper than that. Señor Medina treats them like they are his property and not like they are people like you and me.”
Diego looked perplexed. “But they are not like you and me, Mama. They are peons.”
Isabella knew that Diego was speaking out of his innocence. The class structure that they lived within would lead a young boy to make such distinctions. So she said, “Diego, peons, servants, vaqueros and others are people too. They have hopes and dreams and feelings just as we do. They want to be treated with the respect due from one human being to another. We all have our places in the world, but one’s station at birth does not mean that you are any the less deserving of respect than those who are “above” you. Can you understand that?”
“I think so, Mama,” he replied thinking hard. These were ideas that he had not ever thought about before.
“When you were giving the water to the peons, did you not see that they were grateful for that small act of kindness? And did you not feel something stir in your heart as you looked at them?” At his nod, she continued, “What you felt was compassion, Diego. It is a very grown up feeling for a young boy to have.” Diego looked up at his mother in wonder.
“Yes, Diego. A very grown up feeling indeed. Compassion is what we are feeling when we find that we want to help someone who needs us.
“So that is why I had that strange feeling come over me when I gave water to the peons,” Diego thought to himself. He was glad that he had a name for it. And he was glad that his mother valued it so highly. It made him feel more comfortable with his own emotions.
Isabella continued. “Some men, like Señor Medina, never seem to grow up and mature in ways like this. If he would treat his servants as your father does, he would accomplish so much more. But he treats them as if they were possessions. That is why I mentioned that someday you will be running the rancho. Always remember that noble blood does not give us the right to be unthinking and cruel. Can you see now that it is better to treat people, all kinds of people, with dignity, respect, and compassion?
Diego nodded his head wisely, as if he had known it all along, trying to appear very mature about it. Isabella hid her smile behind her kerchief. Then she became serious again. “There is something more to be learned about compassion, my son,” she said.
“What is that, Mama?”
“It is the things that compassion can lead you to do. It can be something as simple as giving a cup of water to a thirsty man, or it might mean that you are willing to give your life on behalf of others.” She watched Diego’s face sober as he absorbed what she had said. It was probably the first time in his young life that he had considered his own mortality. They rode on in silence for a while.
“Compassion is a very strong thing, Mama, to make you willing to die for it, isn’t it?” he asked quietly, looking to her for comfort.
“Yes, Diego. Compassion is what led our Lord to die for us. Always remember that. We must try to be like him in every way that we can.”
“But how, Mama?” he asked. “Must we die too?”
“No,” she said gently. “I did not mean it like that. What I mean is that in the ways that are open to us as humans, we need to treat everyone fairly, to think of others before ourselves, and be willing to risk embarrassment or ridicule in order to right a wrong if it is within our power. But if you make compassion a part of you, there may come a day when you will feel that you must take a stand against injustice or corruption in order to do what is right and thereby risk your life.” She hugged Diego to her. “I know this is a difficult thing for someone your age to think about, but I felt like you were ready to hear it. You just think about what I said and come and talk to your father or myself if you have any questions. We will be glad to talk to you about it.”
“All right, Mama. I will,” said a thoughtful Diego. They drove on silence for a while. Diego was trying to absorb everything his mother had said. This was the first time she had spoken to him in such a grown up manner. They had always talked incessantly about a lot of things Diego’s curiosity being what it was, and Isabella made sure he knew what he was supposed to do around the rancho, but that had always been as mother to child. This was very different. Diego felt proud that his mother thought him mature enough to speak to him so.
After a time he asked, “Mama, what will happen to Señor Medina’s peons? Will he whip them anymore?”
His mother surprised him by laughing lightly. “You know, Diego, I do not think he will,” she said.
“But how do you know?” Diego was puzzled.
“When you are older and more wise in the ways of people, you will come to understand what will motivate some people, my son. I know that Don Cesár is motivated by one thing. He wants to be as good, or better than your father in everything that he does. He wants more and better cattle, better horses, and now (she laughed) he wants better servants.” She laughed again. “It can be quite amusing to get someone to change his mind about something or change the way he treats someone, while all the while he is thinking it is his idea in the first place. I just gave him the idea that your father’s servants were superior to his because they were clean and had their dignity. I intimated that this showed a lack in Don Cesár’s servants. He will treat his servants differently, especially after the next time he comes to our rancho. You can be sure that he will watch how your father handles his peons and vaqueros. Then he will go home and try to do it better. It is his nature. He can not stand to be second to anyone if he can help it. Yes, I can see a better time ahead for the peons of Señor Medina.”
She continued, “There is still something more that you can learn from this, Diego. Your grandfather had an old saying: when you cannot put on the skin of a lion, put on that of a fox. Do you know what that means?
“I’m not sure,” Diego said, looking up at his mother. He smiled because she was smiling. He always liked her smile, especially when her eyes sparkled like they were doing now.
“Sometimes when you see something wrong, you can not go in like a lion using your claws and teeth,” she said. “That might only make things worse. But if you go in as sly as a fox, using your mind and intelligence, you can work behind the scenes to get people to do what you want without them knowing about it. For instance, I was very upset at the way Don Cesár was treating his peons, but if I had stormed over to him like a lioness and tried to make him stop, he would have been within his rights to tell me to mind my own business. But because I knew Don Cesár and his weaknesses, I was able to use that in a subtle way to get him to stop whipping his peons today and to cause him to rethink how he treats them in general. He does not want anyone to think less of him than they do your father; and if his servants do not measure up, then that means he does not measure up. He will not stand for that and he will change. And only you and I will know why he did it!”
Isabella put her kerchief up to her mouth as she smiled again. It was not seemly that a peer of Don Cesár’s should be seen laughing at him, but she could not help it.
“So you were the fox today, Mama,” said Diego brightly.
“Yes, that is right,” she said smiling down at her son. “A clever boy,” she thought fondly.
“Then I want to be a fox too!” said the excited young man. He was intrigued by his mother’s ability to be as crafty as the fox and admired her for helping the peons right under Don Cesár’s nose. He wanted to be just like her.
Isabella hugged her son in happiness. “Yes, you shall be El Zorro, the fox! And a fine fox you shall be, for you are already such a scamp!” She ruffled his hair as he drove the carriage up to the door of the hacienda.
Diego and his mother were laughing and looked so happy that the servants began smiling too. As Diego looked at them, he knew he would never look at them the same way again. They were people just like his mother said they were. He would always remember that.
Table of Contents
Part One
Part Three
