[August 28th] [The Alamo (1960)] Diamond in the Rough, 11

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Title: Diamond in the Rough, scene eleven
Day/Theme: August 28th - As if we were playing hide-and-seek and he were the one counting
Series: The Alamo (1960 film)
Character/Pairing: Emil Sande, Graciela "Flaca", Jackson Ferris (OC)
Rating: T/PG-13


By Lucky_Ladybug


It was difficult to be in town over the ensuing days. Emil was right about the gossip spreading in all directions. It almost seemed that each person had a different vision of what had happened the night Jarvis and one of his men were killed.

Some believed Graciela had somehow been at fault, while others suspected that Emil had been in on the attack. Still others thought that he had probably killed the men in cold blood, using Graciela’s plight as a cover for his true motives. A very few believed the truth as told.

Graciela was distressed and frustrated. “It’s insulting enough for them to blame me,” she told Emil as she visited him at his shop, “but for them to feel you did something amiss is an outrage.”

Emil, leaning over the counter, gave a weary shrug. “It’s nothing I wasn’t expecting,” he said.

“You take it so easily,” Graciela frowned.

“Everyone gossips about me anyway,” Emil said. “And I suspect they’ve done the same for you, considering your family’s prominence in town. That never comes without a price.”

Graciela sighed and turned away. “Sometimes it feels as though they’ve all been jealous of my position. Some of the townspeople were angry with my father, feeling that he owned so much while they had to slave over whatever small portions of land they had.” She spun around to face him again. “My father worked hard for every acre and every piece of money. It was his by right. I try to understand their feelings, but sometimes it makes me furious.”

“They always say the rich are snobbish and arrogant,” Emil said. “It’s almost become a myth. And it’s true sometimes; I’ve encountered many well-to-do people like that.

“But what no one seems to remember is that it goes both ways. The poor can be just as snobbish and arrogant when they want to be.”

Graciela sadly nodded. “Yes. My father learned to live with it, but he should not have had to. It wasn’t right.”

“Well . . .” Emil straightened. “If I run across anyone ridiculously insulting you, I’ll point out the stupidity of their words. But I won’t be the sort of gallant fool who would immediately demand satisfaction in the form of a duel.”

“I wouldn’t expect or want that,” Graciela said. “It’s an idiotic custom.”

“I’m glad you agree.” Emil came from around the counter. “The only thing that can really be said for it is that if anyone is enough of a fool to participate, they probably deserve to be shot. Or stabbed.”

“Emil!” Graciela stared at him in disapproving shock. “That’s a terrible thing to say.” But there was a faint, amused smile tugging on her lips. Emil was blunt.

Emil noticed. He shrugged in response. “I wonder how many of the world’s idiots have been eliminated because of dueling. Unfortunately, for every one cut down, five more take his place. So it’s not as if the duels really solve anything.”

“Really, Emil.” Graciela turned away, not wanting him to see her wicked amusement.

“Ah, well.” Emil wandered to the window. “Here now, what’s this?”

Confused, Graciela followed him over. “Someone’s getting off that stage across the street,” she said. “Do you know him?”

“Yes, actually.” Emil looked troubled. “I met him in New Orleans some time back. What’s he doing here?” He crossed to the door and hauled it open.

Graciela chased after him. “Who is he?” she demanded.

“Jackson Ferris,” Emil called over his shoulder. “A businessman of ill repute and a gambler besides. New Orleans nearly came apart at the seams because of us. We long ago decided that the two of us in the same place was just a recipe for disaster. And we parted with a mutual agreement to leave each other’s territory alone.”

“Does he know you’ve settled in San Antonio?!” Graciela exclaimed as she caught up.

“He’s about to,” Emil vowed.

Ferris turned as they approached, twirling his cane and then resting it on his arm. “Emil Sande?!” he said in utter disbelief. “I heard you were dead.”

“The reports of my death were highly exaggerated,” Emil replied. “But tell me, Ferris. Did you also hear where I was living? Did you come, perhaps, hoping to gain control of the assets I’d left behind from my untimely departure?”

Ferris’s eyes glimmered. He gave an awkward shrug. “Well . . . after all, Emil, there wouldn’t be any sense letting them go to waste.”

“No, there wouldn’t,” Emil agreed. “But as you can see, I’m alive and well. Those assets are still mine. There’s nothing for you here, so you may as well move on.”

“That’s no way to greet an old friend,” Ferris said with a smile. “I figure as long as I’m out here, why waste the trip? Maybe we can even do some business.”

Emil shook his head. “Don’t you remember what happened the last time we ‘did some business’?”

Ferris burst out laughing. “We brought New Orleans to its knees. Oh, it was a wonderful feeling.”

He paused, suddenly taking notice of Graciela, who was standing by and frowning. “My apologies, Señorita. We haven’t been properly introduced.” He held out his hand. “Jackson Ferris.”

Graciela only afforded him a curt nod. “I am Graciela.”

“. . . Suddenly the temperature has dropped at least twenty degrees,” Ferris mused. “Emil, how did you wind up with this frosty fair maiden?”

“Graciela is a childhood friend,” Emil said by way of explanation. “And I’m afraid she doesn’t take kindly to our kind.”

“With you as the sole exception?” Ferris smirked.

“No, actually.” Emil glanced around. By now a crowd was starting to mill about, curious about the newcomer. Ignoring them, Emil looked back to the other businessman. “To be honest, Ferris, I’m not the same character you knew in New Orleans.”

Again Ferris looked surprised. “Putting on a show for the little lady, Emil?” He patted Emil’s upper arm. “Well, I understand. We’ll talk later, in private. I’ll be at the hotel.” He bowed. “Farewell, Miss Graciela.”

As he strolled off, a murmuring burst swept through the crowd. Some of them followed after him, watching and even asking questions.

Emil’s expression darkened as he observed the scene. “This isn’t going to be good,” he said. “He’s planning to stay. I know; I unfortunately became quite familiar with his behavioral patterns in New Orleans.”

“What are you going to do?” Graciela wondered in concern.

“I don’t know yet,” Emil said. “I’ll think of something.” He turned, heading back to his shop.

Graciela started after him. “You won’t send your men after him?” she worried.

“That wouldn’t scare him even if I did,” Emil said. “He isn’t a simple-minded man, Graciela. He’s cunning and crafty. And if I don’t find a way to get him out of town, there might not be much town left when he’s through.”

Graciela paused at the doorway, biting her lip. “Emil . . . what did you do in New Orleans?”

Emil stopped and looked to her. “Probably nothing you don’t already know or couldn’t guess,” he said. “But I’d rather not go into it now.”

Graciela nodded. “Alright. I won’t press you about it. Just tell me this.” She looked into his eyes. “Are you in any danger from that man?”

Emil hesitated. “I don’t know,” he said honestly.

“But you would tell me if you knew you were?”

“Yes, of course.” Emil stepped into the shop. “I might be by later. I’m not sure.”

Graciela moved away from the door. “I wish you luck.”

“So do I,” Emil remarked.
****
There was one thing Emil suspected but had not told Graciela. After their upcoming meeting at the hotel, Ferris was bound to be in a very ill mood. Then he would more than likely try every tactic he could to make himself a shining and stalwart pillar while painting Emil as the worst possible villain the town had ever seen.

Emil was already steeling himself for that as he knocked on Ferris’s door that evening. It soon opened, thrust aside by a smiling Ferris.

“Well, come in, Emil.” The other man gestured at the room. “You’re alone now, aren’t you? No pretty Mexican filly with you tonight?” He glanced up and down the hall outside, as if searching.

Emil brushed past him into the room. “No one,” he said. He was displeased at how flippantly Ferris referred to Graciela, but he was not yet ready to bring it up. There was something else he had to get out first.

“Good, good.” Ferris shut the door and sauntered to a small round table near the couch. “Drink?”

“I won’t be staying long, Ferris.” Emil’s gaze traveled over the room. “It looks like you’ve done well for yourself.”

“Surely you’re not surprised.” Ferris fixed himself a drink and turned back as he sipped. “You know how well I did back in New Orleans.”

“As I recall, we both did well,” Emil said. “But not without getting into far more trouble than we expected. And we decided that we couldn’t safely occupy the same space.” His eyes narrowed. “We made a deal. I haven’t broken my side of it.”

“And I wasn’t aware I was breaking my side,” Ferris returned. “I thought you were dead when I came. I told you that. And after finding that you’re alive, well, I just wasn’t ready to pack up again and move out. There’s good pickings here. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t stay on if this situation was reversed, deal or no deal.”

Emil took a deep breath. “That’s just it, Ferris. Yes, maybe I would have stayed on in the past, but not now. I meant what I said earlier. I wasn’t just trying to show off for Graciela. I’m not the man I once was.”

Ferris swallowed hard, but instead of choking on his drink he looked up, suspicions flashing in his eyes as he studied his fellow businessman. “What are you saying?”

Emil’s stomach was churning as he replied. But as the words fell from his lips, he knew they were the truth. And as he spoke, some part of him finally felt free.

“If you wanted me to go with you to New Orleans now and do what we did then, I would say No. And not just because I’ve settled here with a good business. I don’t want to be involved in those types of shenanigans anymore. I know we walked a fine line between the legal and illegal, always making sure to fall just barely on the legal side so we couldn’t be touched by whatever law there was, but that isn’t my life now. I want to make a completely honest living.”

Ferris set down his drink. “You are serious, aren’t you,” he breathed. “Nearly dying knocked all the sense and courage right out of you.”

“That isn’t true. I haven’t lost my senses; I’ve come to them. And I’d rather not have to get unpleasant, Ferris.” Emil stood his ground. It was tempting to reach for his gun, just to feel more secure knowing it was there, but he restrained himself. Ferris might have a gun of his own and would immediately draw and fire if Emil made such a move.

“You’re already unpleasant, Emil.” Ferris remained where he was, not moving. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to honor the agreement we made and get out of town,” Emil said. “This is my area. I don’t want to share it with the likes of you.”

“Oh, but that agreement was made when you were still thinking like me,” Ferris said. “Do you really think it’s fair to hold me to it now?”

“Ferris, I have influence here,” Emil said. “I can see to it that the entire town knows who you are and how you operate.”

“Maybe,” Ferris nodded. “But will they believe you? Judging from some of the people I talked to on the way over, you’re not a very popular man in town.”

“No, I’m not, at least not with the common townspeople. But I’m not lying about my influence.”

“Well. I think I’ll just stick around and we’ll see about that.” Ferris’s smile turned sickly. “You know I’m a stubborn man, Emil. About as stubborn as you, I reckon. I can make this a battle to the death if I want. And I’m sure you don’t want to go through all of that unpleasantness again.”

“I won’t,” Emil vowed. “You won’t kill me, Ferris. If anything happens to me, I’ve instructed my servants to deliver an envelope containing information about you to the authorities. Even if you escape, you’ll be a wanted man.”

“Oh, you misunderstand me,” Ferris purred. “I wouldn’t kill you, Emil. Oh no. I’d just make your life such a living Hell that you’d go and kill yourself to be free of it.”

Emil gave him a dark smirk. “After nearly dying, and managing to survive, you think I would be so weak as to put myself out of my misery? I’m wondering just how well you knew even the old me, if you think that would work. Why, if nothing else, I’d cling to life just to show you up.”

“. . . You would, wouldn’t you,” Ferris mused. “Well, no matter. I’ll think of something. You know how I operate, Emil. You know I can carefully and skillfully take everything away from you—your business, your home, your servants . . . your señorita.”

“You’d never get Graciela,” Emil retorted. “I told you, she doesn’t like our kind. She wouldn’t like me, except that she knows I’ve changed.”

“But you still say ‘our’ kind,” Ferris said. “At least part of you still puts yourself on my side of the fence. Maybe I can still sway you back.”

“Not a chance.” Emil turned, heading for the door. This conversation was pointlessly going in circles. He was tired of it. And he was disturbed by how much it was like talking to himself. Ferris had the same basic attitude that Emil had carried for years, albeit a bit more extreme. On the one hand Emil felt a definite pity and understanding. On the other, frustration over the man’s blindness.

“Oh, by the way,” he said, glancing back at the angry and bewildered man, “Graciela was married. Her husband is dead. It’s Señora, not Señorita. Goodnight, Ferris.”

He stepped into the hall, pulling the door shut behind him. Now that he was alone, he let out a breath he had not realized he was holding. The meeting was over.

But he had pretty much delivered a declaration of war to Jackson Ferris. The battle for San Antonio was just beginning.
****
Graciela was both surprised and concerned when she went back to the shop that evening and found the door unlocked. All was dark inside. She pushed it open, stepping into the main room. “Emil?” she called. “Are you here? Paco?”

Her footsteps sounded loud in the silence. She crossed to the curtain separating the front half of the shop from the back room and storage area. Slowly she parted it, squinting into the darkness.

The moon shone in from the window, lighting on the fancy red couch Emil kept for himself to rest on. He was lying on it, one arm thrown up above his head.

Graciela frowned. Was he asleep? It wasn’t like him to doze during business hours. He often kept the shop open late. And what about his meeting with Jackson Ferris? Had he gone to it?

She stiffened. He looked awfully still. What if he had gone and Ferris had been furious at his ultimatum? What if Ferris had even poisoned or wounded him and he had staggered back here before . . .

Letting the curtain go, she hurried into the room and knelt by the couch. “Emil?!” She touched his shoulder. “Emil, are you alright?! Please, answer me!”

For a moment he did not move. But then he grunted, moving his arm away from his head. “. . . What?” He turned, his eyes fluttering open halfway. He squinted at her in the moonlight, fighting to focus.

Graciela slumped back with a sigh of relief. “Nevermind. I thought maybe that man had hurt you.”

Emil sat up, running a hand through his hair. “No. No, not at all.” He leaned forward. “I came back here to think after our meeting. Apparently I was more exhausted than I thought.”

“What happened?” Graciela sat down next to him without waiting for an invitation.

“Oh . . . it went about as well as I imagined it would. In other words, bad.” Emil straightened, reaching to light the lamp on the table beside the couch. “Basically, he threatened to make my life so miserable that I’d kill myself to escape it.”

Graciela was chilled. “Oh Emil. What are you going to do? What is he going to do?” This was a new nightmare unfolding before them. Graciela had never stopped to think about what might happen if some of Emil’s old acquaintances came to town. Particularly someone with whom Emil was not on good terms.

“What he’s going to do is anyone’s guess. But he’ll probably try to worm his way into the townspeople’s hearts while trying to convince them to oust me. And what I’m going to do . . . well, that all depends on how bad it gets. I won’t stand for it, I’ll tell you that. I don’t want him here, in this town. It’s mine. There isn’t room for both of us.” Emil stood and walked to the window, pulling down the blind.

“Then you’re going to fight,” Graciela said.

“However I need to. I told you I’d fight for any cause that concerned me personally. This one does.” Emil came back to the couch but paused, not sitting back down.

“It was strange, Graciela. Strange and unsettling. All the time I was talking to him, I . . . I felt like I was seeing myself for the first time. The old me, that is. Really seeing him. Everything Ferris said, did, his attitude . . . it’s all so much as I was.”

Graciela looked up at him, slowly rising. “Was?” she repeated.

Emil nodded. “I suppose that’s when and how I had this . . . revelation, epiphany, whatever you want to call it. I didn’t want to be that man anymore. I’ve struggled with how to cast him off. I’m still not fully sure how. I’m, as you’ve put it, a scoundrel. But Ferris, he . . .” He shook his head. “He repulsed me in a way I’ve never felt before, about him or me. I have to change, Graciela. I want to change. I want to be the opposite of everything he stands for and is.”

Graciela stared. A warm feeling was rushing over her, thrilling her, giving her hope. “Emil. . . .” She smiled. “You haven’t been like him for a long time. It’s never easy to change your entire outlook, as you yourself said. But you have been doing it ever since your recovery. It was gradual at first, and I didn’t or wouldn’t look beyond your obnoxious comments to see it, but then it became so obvious to me.”

“Those comments are part of who I’ve been even before my parents died,” Emil said. “But since then I’ve used them mostly as a shield. I was changing, you’re right. And I didn’t know how to handle it. I fell back on something familiar, something I could understand, in order to hide my confusion and indecision.”

“I’m used to it now,” Graciela admitted with a bit of a wry smirk. “I think I would miss bantering with you, even though I used to abhor it. Do you remember what you said on our very first meeting?”

“No.” Emil shook his head. “All I remember is watching you from inside the wagon and you coming out to explore.”

“I’d never seen one before,” Graciela said. “I was curious. And then suddenly you sprang up from inside and scared me half to death.”

Emil laughed, sitting back on the couch. “I remember that. And how you screamed before indignantly demanding to know what I was doing scaring people.”

Graciela sat next to him. “You said you belonged there and I was trespassing, but you would be happy to invite me in and give me a tour if I was interested in buying a covered wagon like it. So young and already trying to be a salesman.”

“It worked, didn’t it? You seemed fascinated, anyway.”

“I remember begging my father to let us get one,” Graciela said with an amused smile. “He said we didn’t need one, since we weren’t going anywhere. But I still wanted one. Sometimes I even had dreams of following you out West.”

“It’s just as well you never did,” Emil said, sobered now. “You might have run into the same men who attacked my family. Or you might have found me in my beaten and angry condition afterwards. That would have been a sharp and cruel end to those dreams.”

“. . . I wonder what would have happened if we had met again back then,” Graciela mused. “Would everything have still gone the same in the end? Would you have turned bitter and ruthless?”

“Would you have been able to stand being around me?” Emil returned. “You might have fled in frightened distress and I would have counted it another betrayal.”

“I don’t want to think I would have done that,” Graciela said. “But we were both so young. You’re right; I might not have handled it well. I didn’t handle it well when you returned to San Antonio a mercenary merchant. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to run home and dig through my memories of the two days we spent together as children or to ban those memories and pretend they never happened.”

“And in the end, you decided on the perfect compromise—declaring the boy dead and buried.”

Graciela looked down. “Yes.”

“You certainly weren’t the first. I believed it myself. He was a pathetic figure, I told myself. Someone so childish and naïve that I was happy to be rid of him. I still don’t want to return to that behavior and that mindset. I want to find a middle ground, accepting that there are good people while never forgetting that evil men exist too.”

“You’re finding that ground, Emil.” Graciela laid her hand over his. “. . . When do you think Ferris will begin his campaign against you?”

“Tomorrow, most likely. He won’t waste any time.” Emil watched her fingers as she gently caressed his hand. It was slightly ticklish, but at the same time it felt nice. “. . . But he’s right that the people probably won’t believe me when I try to come down against him. If I only had some proof!”

“You don’t have anything?”

“Nothing that would hold up in a court of law, if it ever comes to that.”

Graciela leaned back. “How hard would it be for you to obtain this proof?”

“I don’t know how I would. He’d practically have to be caught in the act of plotting against me with his men, if he sends for any of them. Or one of those men would have to be captured and convinced to speak of what he knew.”

“It’s almost a twisted game of hide-and-seek,” Graciela said.

“Or cat-and-mouse. And I’m very good at both. The thing is, so is Ferris.”

“Who’s counting and who’s hiding?”

“I don’t know if I’m counting,” Emil admitted, “but I’m not hiding. That’s one thing I’ve never done.”

“Unless you wanted to pounce on unsuspecting little girls to frighten them,” Graciela said in mock indignation.

“Hmm. Maybe when we were children. I don’t think I’d try that anymore.”

“Afraid of harming a delicate woman?” Graciela asked.

“On the contrary, dear lady,” Emil smirked. “I’d be afraid of the ‘delicate woman’ harming me.”

Graciela laughed. “That,” she said, “is a good answer.”