Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to any of the New World Zorro characters, nor do I profit from writing these stories.

Zorro's Wife

Chapter One: An Unexpected Arrival

With a final rumble of wheels and a small cloud of dust, the afternoon coach halted outside the tavern, and a petite but determined matron alighted with her two glossy-haired and dark-eyed youngsters at her skirts. The woman herself was neatly dressed and looked to be the wife of a moderately prosperous merchant or clerk. She wore a no-nonsense but well made walking dress and matching bonnet in a sober shade of deep maroon. The two children, a boy who looked about six or seven years of age and a girl who looked about three or four, stared around them at the pueblo de Los Angeles with wonder and curiosity.

"Welcome to Los Angeles!" exclaimed Victoria Escalante, who always made it a practice to look out the door when a new stage arrived in case it was bringing guests to her tavern. "I am Señorita Escalante, the owner of the tavern. Can I help you find your way somewhere? Or were you hoping to find a room here?"

"Hola, Señorita," returned the woman with a reserved yet not unfriendly manner. "Sí, por favor, I would like to book a room large enough for myself, my husband, and our two children."

"Oh, is your husband here as well?" inquired Victoria with a friendly smile.

"I expect to meet him here," the woman replied. She dropped her voice so that her words could reach no one's ears but Victoria's. "He tells me that he often uses your tavern as a sort of headquarters. Since we haven't seen him in over two weeks, I decided to surprise him here for our anniversary."

"Do I know your husband then?" Victoria asked.

The woman leaned in close to Victoria. "We will check in under the name of Guillermo de la Palma, but since I know that he trusts you, I can tell you that he is better known as Zorro."

"Zorro!" exclaimed Victoria with evident surprise. "You are Zorro's wife? These are his children?"

"Sí," the woman affirmed, "but Señorita, please keep your voice down. I am counting on your discretion to help protect my husband's safety."

"Oh, of course," agreed Victoria through numb lips. "I am sorry, Señora. It is just that Zorro is such an enigmatic fellow that no one here knew he was married." Her mind was racing, but she steeled herself to act calmly and as normally as possible. If it were true, she did not want to give the woman any reason to be jealous or suspicious of her own conduct. Certainly, it could not be true! What was she thinking? It was unthinkable. . . But what if it were true? She found herself wondering – what, after all, did she really know about Zorro? What did anyone really know? The seeds of doubt and suspicion were planted in her mind. Hiding the inner turmoil she felt, somehow she went through the motions of signing the woman in on her registrar of guests; she noted mechanically that the woman had signed her name as Antonia de la Palma. Then, in a daze, she led her up the stairs and to the guest room. The two wide-eyed children followed their mother.

As soon as Victoria had opened the door and handed the woman the key, the two children sat down on the bed with a flounce. "Our father is Zorro," announced the boy, making the sign of the Z in the air vigorously with a pretend sword. His sister nodded shyly and swung her own arm in a clumsy Z as her brother continued. "He is quite a hero. Mother won't let us talk about him, but she said you were a safe person, Señorita," he announced.

"Indeed," agreed Victoria politely, "Zorro has certainly helped the citizens of Los Angeles often, and we all owe him a debt of gratitude." Then she changed the subject as quickly as she could to forestall any further conversation. "Dinner will be served in the dining room below whenever you are ready. Now, if everything is satisfactory, I need to get down to my other customers. "

Once the door closed behind her, Victoria leaned against the wall with a shuddering sigh. Her head and her heart ached with doubts and possibilities. She didn't want to believe it, but why would someone come to town claiming to be Zorro's wife? Another side of her mind argued against the possibility, Surely, Zorro is a hero, a gentleman, an honorable man. He loves you, and you love him. He promised you would be together. He would never do such a thing. Just as quickly, however, the side of her that was giving way to doubt responded, Yet he has never actually said he loved you. Why should he wait five years if he was not a married man? You've been quite a little fool to fall for his romantic words and daring deeds without knowing more about him. Victoria pressed her fingertips to her temples and then pressed her fist against her lips to stifle a moan. She would not be an Escalante if she could not carry on despite adversity, she told herself, so she tossed her head disdainfully, took a deep breath, and headed back towards the kitchen, determined to control her emotions no matter what. She was equally determined to question Señor Zorro intently whenever that masked man should appear.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZ

As she descended the stairs, she caught sight of Don Diego de la Vega lounging casually against the edge of the bar. "Ah, Victoria," he greeted her. "I'm on my way back to the hacienda, but I thought I would drop off these papers for your inspection." He held a few sheets of paper surreptitiously before her, and she saw at a glance that they were the proofsheets from her latest series of articles for the Doña Corazon column of the Guardian. It was still their secret that she wrote advice to the lovelorn, the lonely hearts, and those struggling with their relationships under that pen name. How ironic, she thought to herself. At the moment, she definitely needed some reliable advice!

"Gracias, Diego," she responded. "As long as you are here, can you please take a look at that leaky faucet in the kitchen?" As she spoke, she took his arm and steered him towards the kitchen. Surprised but not unwilling, he walked beside her.

She let the curtain fall shut and drew him over to the far side of the room before whispering urgently, "Diego, there is a woman upstairs who claims to be Zorro's wife?"

"What?" he exclaimed, raising his dark eyebrows in complete bafflement. "Zorro is not married!"

"Or so we thought," hissed Victoria. "How do we know he's not married?"

"But that's ridiculous! Of course, we know he's not married. He would hardly be romancing you if he were!" Diego argued.

"Diego! You are so naïve at times! Just because you wouldn't behave that way doesn't mean that other men wouldn't!"

"Victoria! What are you saying? Surely, you don't believe that Zorro is some sort of Don Juan or Casanova? I know it's not true!"

"How do you know? How do any of us know?"

"Zorro is a good and just man. As a man, I can tell that his is a reliable character. Besides, if he were not what he seems, you would certainly know!" Diego insisted, although he could not help seeing the irony of his own words.

"That's just it!" she wailed. "I want to trust him! But what if I'm wrong? What if I've been taken in by his dashing ways and romantic words? What if those are his wife and children up in my guest room? Or perhaps they are already in my dining room! I don't know what to think!"

"Surely, there must be a reasonable explanation. Zorro protects his identity and his friends very carefully. I can hardly believe he would be so careless as to have a wife who goes around the country announcing her identity – and his!"

"I should have known you men would stick together!" she exclaimed.

"Nonsense! Victoria, when Zorro comes to see you, you have to give him a chance. Remember: innocent until proven guilty," Diego admonished firmly.

"I wish I could be so certain," she whispered through tears.

Diego took her hands gently in his and looked her in the eyes. "Victoria, keep faith. Trust me. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this cannot be true. Promise me you will listen to Zorro when he comes."

She nodded mutely, and his heart sank. To know that she could doubt Zorro so quickly struck him with grief. He wanted to gather her into his arms and soothe away the hurt look in her eyes, but he reluctantly released her hands and stepped back into the persona of quiet, mild-mannered Diego.

"Perhaps I should get back to the dining room and see if I can strike up a conversation with our mysterious señora. There must be more to this situation than meets the eye. Will you be all right?"

She nodded again and then said through trembling lips, "Sí, I will just take a minute or two to pull myself together. I am an Escalante. I will be all right."

"That's the Victoria we know," he smiled. That's my Victoria, he thought proudly to himself, but he dared not say it.

Diego left Victoria standing in the kitchen even though every fiber of his being cried out against leaving her there alone. Nonetheless, he had to admit to a burning sense of curiosity as well. After all, it was not every day that one met one's wife and children. He entered the crowded dining room and casually strolled to a few tables, greeting friends and neighbors, inquiring about the things of importance to each one, answering questions about his recent series of editorials in the Guardian. At last, he arrived at the table where the señora and her two children had just settled themselves.

"Buenos tardes, Señora," he greeted her politely. "Don Diego de la Vega, at your service. Señorita Escalante tells me that you are a visitor to our pueblo."

"Buenos tardes, Don Diego," she responded pleasantly. "Sí, I am visiting this fine pueblo. You may call me. . . Señora de la Palma." She looked up at him with a close and searching glance, and he fancied perhaps a calculating one.

That pause just before giving her name struck Diego as too practiced, too studied. She had the air of one who wanted to appear hesitant to give her name, but he couldn't help feeling that she was, in reality, deliberately putting on an act. If she introduced herself like that to everyone in the pueblo, it would not be long before gossip was circulating wildly. What game was she playing? One thing was certain, she was a stranger to him. Of that he had no doubt. But would Victoria believe him?

Diego noted out of the corner of his eye that Alcade DeSoto was heading towards them, and he looked a little bit worried. That's curious, thought Diego to himself. Does he wish to prevent me from talking to her?

"Buenos tardes, Don Diego, Señora de la Palma," he greeted them politely.

"Buenos tardes, Alcade," she returned the greeting politely.

"Oh, I see that you two have met previously," Diego observed.

"No," De Soto said.

"Sí," the señora said simultaneously.

Diego raised his eyebrows again and looked from one to the other curiously. Both were looking embarrassed now and stumbling to recover themselves.

"I mean, no, not really," corrected the lady. "The Alcade was kind enough to welcome us to the pueblo and introduce himself when I first arrived, but no, we have never met before. This is my first visit to Los Angeles. Emilio and Maria are anxious to see the sites," she said, indicating the children, who were happily eating their dinners with the air of children who had not gotten enough to eat that day.

Diego gave his bland and credulous smile to set them at ease. "Oh, yes, I see," he agreed fatuously. "Well, if you'll excuse me, Alcade, Señora." He bowed politely and excused himself.

As he headed for the door of the tavern, he passed Victoria again where she stood near the bar. "There is something not quite right about the Señora. Faith and courage, Victoria. Innocent until proven guilty," he whispered and continued on his way out the door, afraid to risk a glimpse at her expression.

ZZZZZZZZ

Diego sat at his work table in the cave, leaning over an open manuscript with a rack of test tubes in front of him, but Felipe could tell his heart was not in it. His mentor had been strangely preoccupied ever since his return from the tavern a short while ago. Felipe caught his sleeve and signed several questions to him.

"Sí, I was perfecting a formula for sweet vitriol, or ether, that I read about in the works of Raymond Lullus, Paracelsus, and Frobenius. It renders those who breathe it temporarily unconscious and immune to pain. Paracelsus experimented on chickens. I can't find much research on humans, so I want to be very careful to cause no lasting harm. My current research looks very looks promising, but you are right, Felipe, I am concerned. Something strange has happened."

With eyes wide, Felipe listened in open-mouthed astonishment as Diego explained the situation in the pueblo and described his conversation with Victoria. Always one to stick loyally by his mentor, Felipe offered to spy on the Señora de la Palma during her visit in Los Angeles, and Diego reluctantly agreed. "Sí, amigo, tomorrow, you will execute your plan to shadow the señora and her children. I want to know whom she talks to and why."

Felipe nodded in agreement.

Diego concluded decisively, "Zorro must ride tonight." Felipe shook his head somewhat dubiously, but Diego continued, "I have to investigate the supposed Señora de la Palma and reassure Señorita Escalante if I can. I refuse to lose her over an imposter! I wonder what game our mysterious visitor is playing."

He watched Felipe for a moment and then responded, "I realize it may be a trap, but I can't afford to wait. Every moment that goes by allows doubt to take root and grow in Victoria's mind."

Felipe signed quickly and desperately.

"Sí, I will be careful," Diego promised. "And if I have to produce witnesses to prove I'm not married, then I will just have to do that."

Felipe raised his eyebrows and drew a question mark.

"You and father, of course," explained Diego. "But that would mean revealing my identity to Victoria and Father at least. Let's just hope we can contain this situation."

Author's Note: Background research on ether came from the Wikipedia article entitled "Anesthesia" found at wiki/Anesthesia and accessed on 27 Dec. 2012.

Since the concept of some sort of ether or anesthesia was used in the New World Zorro series, I was curious to see just how plausible that idea was historically.

Early Arabic writers mention using a "soporific sponge" to administer a type of anesthesia via inhalation as early as the 12th and 13th centuries. Spanish physician Raymond Lullus experimented with sweet vitriol in 1275, but he does not appear to have experimented on humans. Paracelsus, a Swiss physician, experimented with a similar concept in the 16th century, although his research was on chickens rather than humans. German scientist Frobenius named the compound "ether" in the 1730's. Successful use of anesthesia for surgery did not occur until the mid and late 1840's.