[August 21st] [The Alamo (1960)] Diamond in the Rough, 6

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Title: Diamond in the Rough, scene six
Day/Theme: August 21st - Dismiss your last allies: hope and trust
Series: The Alamo (1960 film)
Character/Pairing: Emil Sande, Graciela "Flaca"
Rating: T/PG-13 (overall; this segment is very G)

This is probably my favorite theme of the month. I definitely had to do something with it.


By Lucky_Ladybug

Graciela was sitting at a table in the cantina with a drink and a series of scattered notes. Every now and then she reached over with her quill pen, scratching in an addition to one of them.

“Well, Graciela. Planning your next mode of attack on General Santa Anna’s supporters?”

She glanced up at Emil’s smooth voice, not entirely sure whether he was mocking or serious. He was wandering over to her table, drink in hand.

“I suppose you could put it that way if you want,” she said. “Does that mean I am attacking you?”

Emil shrugged and sat down across from her. “He doesn’t seem to have won.”

“Indeed not. He’s being taken to Washington now that he has been defeated. But there are still those who support his cause. There are even still some skirmishes being fought across Texas.”

“I believe I said I would join whoever was victorious in the battle.”

Graciela sighed. “You did. And that is still your plan?”

“Most likely.” Emil took a sip of the drink.

Graciela replaced the quill in the inkwell. “I still don’t understand. Why do you have no real interest in the Texas government? It affects all who live here.”

“Dear lady, if it truly affected me, I would be interested,” Emil said. “The fact is, my situation remains the same no matter who is in power. And that is why I don’t particularly care one way or the other.”

“Then you mean to say that if the government suddenly passed legislation that negatively impacted your business, you would fight against it,” Graciela said. “But not at any other time.”

“That is what I mean to say,” Emil agreed.

Exasperated, Graciela raised her hands in the air before dropping them onto the pages. “You still look out only for yourself.”

Emil’s eyes flickered and he looked away. “Yes.”

“It isn’t like you to feel cornered and ashamed of it,” Graciela noted. “What if legislation was passed against the people who helped you when you were wounded?”

“I’m not ashamed,” Emil countered. “And what legislation could possibly be passed against them?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Graciela said. “Just for the sake of discussion, suppose something was. What would you do about it? Would you do nothing to help them, even after they spared your life and nursed you back to health?”

Emil leaned back in the chair. “You ask an unfair question. I don’t know the answer. But anyway, I doubt one more person could make much of a difference.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Graciela protested. “Each person makes a difference. And you are very influential. You know many powerful people. If you aligned one way, it might convince countless others to do the same.”

“Perhaps,” Emil mused. “But what if they followed my example because they were feeling mercenary? You wouldn’t want that, I’m sure, even if they were supporting your cause.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Graciela sighed in resignation. “They would turn their backs on the cause if ever it did not fit with their own desires.”

“Then that brings us right back to the same dilemma, doesn’t it,” Emil remarked.

She shook her head. “Regardless of who might follow your example and why, I would hope you would wish to help the people who helped you.”

Emil smiled. “Even if I did not believe in the cause and was only doing it to repay them?”

Graciela gave him a long look. “No,” she conceded. “Not then.”

“I’m sorry, Graciela, I’m afraid it’s a lost cause,” Emil said. “You want me to find some sort of foundation or root for something other than myself. And even though you want me simply to believe in some point-of-view instead of just the money, you hope I would pick your side. But since I don’t believe in any point-of-view, you don’t want me to be untrue to myself, either.”

Graciela exhaled, wearily. “I just wonder what it would take for you to find something to fight for other than yourself. If you believed in values for everyone and not just for you, then I believe you would take a stand.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” Emil finished the drink. “Well, maybe I would. But I would also have to believe that something would actually get done and that it would be worth the time spent.”

“By that logic, you must have no trouble believing that your demands will be met,” Graciela observed.

“No, I don’t,” Emil said, toasting her with the empty glass. “Someone such as myself knows how to manipulate the system to have their demands met. Besides . . .” He set the glass down. “This way I only have to concern myself with the possibility of letting myself down, instead of Heaven knows how many other people too.”

Although he still spoke in a light tone, it sounded to Graciela as though there was an undercurrent of bitterness in his words. She frowned, studying him as her thoughts whirled. Was it possible that he blamed himself at least somewhat for his parents’ deaths? Perhaps he thought he should have spied the fraud perpetrated by the other members of their party. Or perhaps that he should have been able to defend them against their betrayers.

And perhaps he sensed that she wanted to ask him about that. “Coming to think of it, do you practice what you preach?” he wondered, changing the subject. “You were willing to marry me solely to retrieve some of your land. Would you call that being true to yourself?”

Graciela looked down. “. . . In one way, no,” she said. “But in another . . . I could have never been at peace had I not tried every path open to me to regain what should be mine.”

“Then I have to wonder again—are we truly so different?” Emil looked thoughtful. “We’re both just trying to survive in a cruel and unforgiving world.”

“Perhaps,” Graciela agreed. “But my decision would have only hurt me. Your decisions, especially taking weapons to Santa Anna, could have hurt many people.”

“Although, actually, any weapons dealer runs into that dilemma,” Emil said. “Surely you don’t believe they should stop selling weapons because of it. Then your side wouldn’t have any, either. So ultimately it comes down to what’s in the dealers’ hearts.”

“. . . If you put it that way, then yes,” Graciela said.

“You know, it amazes me that we’re having a relatively civil conversation,” Emil said. “Ordinarily it seems this topic would have escalated into an argument and you swearing at me in your native tongue.”

Graciela averted her gaze. “It amazes me too,” she had to confess.

For some reason, Emil was not angering her today. Exasperating her, perhaps, and wearying her, maybe, but not angering. And the conversation itself was stimulating. She had never really debated like this before, except with hecklers just trying to make her angry, as Emil had told her she would encounter. And by contrast, Emil just seemed to want to talk.

Perhaps too, knowing that he was not the same man he had been and that he was trying to change in at least some ways, made a difference in her attitude.

She was seeing him with completely new eyes, really. What he was saying to her now was not so different from the arguments he had made at the rally. But she was not blinded by fury as she had been then.

“. . . What have you been doing today?” she queried at last. “You seem in good spirits.”

“I admit it, I am,” Emil said. “I closed a very profitable business deal.”

Graciela raised an eyebrow. “A legal one? Or do I not want to know that?”

“There isn’t anything out of sorts about it,” Emil said. “Don’t worry, Graciela.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” Graciela returned, “unless it somehow involved myself or other upright citizens.”

“It’s perfectly upright.” Emil summoned the waitress and ordered another drink. Graciela silently observed.

“. . . Do I know this outstanding person?” she wondered when the waitress left.

“No,” Emil said. “I would doubt it, anyway; he’s not from around here.”

“Can you be sure he isn’t cheating you?” Graciela asked. “Since you seem so concerned about such things.”

“He wouldn’t cheat me,” Emil said. “But I do have a man watching him, just in case.”

Graciela shook her head. “I thought as much. Do you trust anyone?”

“Completely? No, I don’t believe so. Giving your full trust to anyone is a foolish move that will only backfire on you eventually.”

“Even, perhaps, to the people who aided you?”

Emil sighed, a bit of his cheer fading. “You keep coming back to that.”

“Because it’s a pivotal point in your life,” Graciela said. “It’s defined who you have become now.”

“Well, I can’t deny that.” The waitress brought the drink and Emil smiled and thanked her. When she left, he took the glass and stared at it for a moment, uncertain, thoughtful. “I haven’t believed in giving my full trust to anyone in years.”

“You’ve opened parts of yourself to certain people, even to me,” Graciela pointed out.

“And look where it got me.” Emil touched the spot on his chest where she assumed he had been wounded. She looked away. “There are two lessons I should have learned when my parents were murdered—hope and trust are false friends that should be abandoned. They only bring pain and sorrow and death.”

Slowly she raised her gaze to meet his. “. . . You say you should have learned them,” she prompted.

“If I had, I don’t suppose I would have been deceived by others in the succeeding years.” Emil took a sip of the drink and absently swirled the liquid around in the glass. “Alas, in spite of myself, some part of me continued to believe in the good side of human nature.”

“And what about now?” Graciela asked. “Has your faith been affirmed at all?”

“There are still good people in the world,” Emil said. “But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to trust them with everything about me.” He leaned back. “Does anyone ever trust that much? Don’t we all select certain parts of our personalities to emphasize depending on whom we’re with? And no one person ever sees all sides of us?”

“In a marriage, the two parties see each other in every conceivable circumstance, good and bad,” Graciela said.

“There are plenty of marriages where at least one spouse keeps their secrets from the other,” Emil said.

Graciela looked at him. “You know of my own short-lived marriage. What about you? Were you ever married?”

Emil found the drink most interesting to look at. “I almost was, once,” he said. “But that was a long time ago. It’s of little consequence now.”

“What happened?” Graciela found she honestly wanted to know.

Emil shrugged. “Oh . . . the girl’s father didn’t like me.”

“Did he have reason not to?”

“I was a great deal younger then, and far more naïve and trusting. But I was also developing my own business methods.”

“What you are saying is that you were becoming the ruthless character I came to despise.”

“If you want to put it that way. But that wasn’t even the problem.”

Graciela quirked an eyebrow. “And what was?”

“He thought I wasn’t making enough money to properly support his daughter,” Emil smirked. “You know, if anything, he encouraged me to be more ruthless. But nothing was ever good enough for him.”

“Do you know what happened to her?”

“Eventually she married some stuffy man her father liked and set her up with,” Emil said. “But I haven’t seen her since long before that.”

Graciela toyed with the edges of the pages. “Do you regret it?”

“Not really. With her overbearing father always hovering over our shoulders, life would have just been miserable.”

“And you’ve never been seriously involved with anyone since then.”

“Seriously involved?” Emil echoed, a wicked twinkle in his eye. “Why no.”

Graciela gave him a withering look. “So you’ve played with hearts in addition to your many other sins?”

“. . . I wouldn’t put it quite like that.”

“And how would you put it?”

Emil spread his hands in front of him. “The girls I associated with didn’t have anything serious in mind themselves.”

Graciela was not convinced. “And you are sure of that?”

“Well . . .” Emil cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable. “Usually. But . . . if some giddy patrons of my wares got the wrong idea when I was congenial to them . . .”

Graciela shut her eyes in exasperation. “Why I am associating with you is beyond my ability to understand.”

“I really couldn’t help what they thought.”

“No, of course not.”

“All I did was to help them find certain items they wanted. If they chose to interpret that as anything more than a merchant seeking happy customers, how could I control that?”

Graciela opened her eyes. “You couldn’t,” she conceded grudgingly. “Unless you saw what was happening and added a bit more of your charm in the hopes of making more sales.”

“Well . . . perhaps.”

Graciela sighed. “You wretched man.”

“No harm was really done,” Emil protested.

“How can you be so sure?” Graciela countered.

“Those girls soon forgot all about their silly infatuation,” Emil said. “It wasn’t long and I saw them swooning over someone else.”

“I hope you didn’t consider that reason why you should continue leading your impressionable young customers on,” Graciela frowned.

“When I thought I could make an easier sale. Oh, come off it, Graciela! Many businessmen do it.”

“Perhaps if they were chased by starry-eyed romantic-hopefuls, they wouldn’t be so willing,” Graciela said.

“Alright, here’s an interesting question,” Emil announced. “Is there any aspect of my business practices that you don’t think is utterly deplorable?”

Graciela allowed herself a small smirk. “Am I allowed time to think on that?”

“If you think you need it,” Emil quipped.

“It may take a while. And I have so much to be working on.” Graciela gestured to the papers on the table.

“Ah yes, your battle plans.” Emil took a half-hearted glance at one of the sheets. “Are you planning to debut this tonight?”

“I’m not certain it will be ready by then,” Graciela replied. “Maybe in a day or so.”

“Don’t forget to let me know when and where. Now I’m curious.” Emil spoke grandly as he pushed the paper aside.

She took it. “Are you planning to heckle again?”

“Why, that depends on if I find I have anything interesting to say,” Emil said.

She looked at him. “I am sure you could always find something.”

Emil finished the drink and stood up. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“If you like.”

Emil touched the brim of his hat. “I do. Well, I’m off to plan more devious deeds. Good afternoon, Graciela.”

“Good afternoon.”

Graciela watched him stroll to the doors and into the street. Then she turned, busying herself with the assorted pages.

It took some time before she realized she was wearing a smile. And although she tried to deny it, she knew full well that it was there because of the scoundrel who had just left.

She leaned back, holding one of the pages to her chest.

Emil was changing, in spite of his jokes and his lack of a foundation and whatever lingering shadiness was still in his heart.

Then again, he was not the only one.

She had been blind before, seeing him only through her anger and grief and not letting herself recognize the good that still existed in him. Now it was all so apparent.

She liked his company, whether or not she would admit it.

“You fool,” she chided herself under her breath. “What would Davy say?”

She paused as the reality hit her. Davy had nothing to say about it now. He was gone. And she herself had said that they had not known each other long. She did not know if she had been in love with him. She was certainly free to make friends with whomever she chose.

It was just that she had never thought she would choose Emil Sande. And maybe she hadn’t; he had seemed to choose her. But she did not repel him. On the contrary, she had agreed to continually run into him on purpose, if they did not meet by accident.

And she could not shake the feeling that Davy would be shaking his head in disapproval if he knew.

That left her uncomfortable, somewhat.

She gathered her papers and the inkwell, heading for the door. She would finish this at home in the solitude of her father’s study.

Then she could also continue pondering on the matter of her strange feelings towards a man she had detested. She did not detest him anymore, albeit part of her wondered if she still should.

That part never won an argument.

Emil Sande was likely just playing with her as he had played with others. And yet . . . he had admitted that he wondered if he cared about her, that she was the reason he and Davy had not gotten along.

Maybe some part of her hoped that they could be friends, as she and Davy had been friends.

Maybe she was just lonely. And, with the realization that Emil was not a complete cad, she had decided he was a suitable means of not being lonely.

She wished she could understand her own feelings. She did not want to lead him on any more than she wanted him to do the same to her.