Part Two
Chapter One
"I hesitate to say it, but I've never been very good at writing letters...family always complained I soon tired of the task..." Rosarita looked at the lines in frustration. How dare Diego act like this new him was acceptable? It was nothing like he'd always been.
She'd returned to Los Angeles after such a long time away, and she'd fully expected Diego to keep his word and never change. And now, here she was, facing the horrible truth that Diego had changed. Irrevocably.
The Barbarossa situation was horrible. Magistrado Galindo had no right to be doing what he was. And Diego. All he had done...
Tears came into her eyes. "Write a letter!" She spat. She would never have thought that Diego would act like that, especially after their meeting in the plaza.
"You are even more lovely than I remember," and then,
"Vows? Oh, that we would marry when we grew up." He had laughed at that, so she had laughed with him. But why did he laugh? He had acted so confused and hurt by her departure; it was Diego who had proposed those very vows and now he laughed at them!
She looked out the window to see the sun finishing its descent, marking the first day of Franco Barbarossa's imprisonment and torture. She pressed her lips tightly together.
If only she could do something! A thought flew into her head, then it was followed by words of her father. "I know you seek justice, hija, but you cannot do this. A senorita never...a woman shouldn't...it is a man's world." Lectures over the years melded together to form one thought. It was a man's world.
But Diego was no longer the man she thought he'd be.
It was early the next morning, when a tired Rosarita made her way down to breakfast, that she heard the news.
"I know this will cheer you," Uncle Izar told her when she walked in. "Franco Barbarossa was set free last night, by the man who calls himself Zorro."
"He's free? Will—will that last?"
"Time will tell, sobrina, but I think Carlos Galindo is too proud a man to try it again."
Rosarita sat down in her chair rather heavily. She couldn't believe he'd actually been set free. "Who is this Zorro?"
Her uncle shrugged. "No one knows, that is the point, I suppose. He is an outlaw, but not like one you'd know, or one you'd associate with the word. He helps people."
She blinked, confused. Her uncle continued. "He is like an avenging angel."
"Then why does he call himself Zorro?"
"Do not ask me. It was his own choice of title. I suppose it sounds better, and he does have a knack for getting out of hard places, like a fox would."
"When did he first appear? He wasn't here when I was. This is the first time I've heard of him."
Her uncle paused. "Ah...we had a commandante named Monastario. He was not a...good man. He was cruel and power hungry. One day he went too far, by arresting Ignacio Torres. It was then that Zorro appeared. He rescued Ignacio and then stuck around to help with other issues during Monastario's reign. I will confess that no one expected to see him again after Monastario left, but lately," her uncle's brow crinkled. "More issues have come up and Zorro has appeared more and more. Just recently, Don Francisco—" He broke off rather abruptly. "But that doesn't need to be spoken about."
"What about Don Francisco?" Rosarita asked, her curiosity piqued.
"I suppose you are old enough." Her uncle mused and Rosarita raised an eyebrow. What was this story? "Obviously no one really knows the details but his daughter Magdalena had returned and..." he trailed off. "I don't know, but as best as I can tell it, after the fiesta for her at the de la Vega hacienda, there was trouble for her and her father on the road. Zorro rescued them, but it was a queer situation all around, and soon after Don Francisco took his daughter and went to Santa Barbara."
After breakfast, Rosarita wandered out onto her uncle's patio. What a strange man, this Zorro. At once a hero and an outlaw but no one actually knew anything about him.
She moved slowly towards her uncle's carefully cultivated rose bushes, a red one, a pink one and a white one. She touched the blooms with absent fingers, thinking over things.
She needed to ask someone about Zorro, someone who actually knew something; or at least more than her uncle did.
The answer came to her in a flash. Elena Torres! Uncle Izor had said her father's arrest was what prompted Zorro to action.
Biting her lip, she considered things a moment. "Uncle Izor," she called, hurrying back into the house. "May I use your carriage?"
He was still sitting in the sala, writing a letter. "Si, sobrina? What do you wish my carriage for?"
"I'd like to visit with Elena Torres, por favor. And I was wondering if I might pick one of your yellow roses. If I recall correctly, she always liked them."
"Por supuesto," he agreed. "By the time you have changed, my carriage will be waiting."
"You wish to speak of Zorro?" Elena asked in her usual quiet manner, after pleasantries had been passed.
Rosarita was glad to see that Elena hadn't changed. She was still beautiful and quiet, with a stiff dignity about her that Rosarita had always admired.
"Si. It's just that I was very worried about the Barbarossa situation, and I even went to see the Magistrado about it," she paused.
"You went to see Don Carlos?" Elena asked, sounding worried or shocked, Rosarita couldn't tell.
"With Don Diego as my escort," she hurriedly explained, and Elena relaxed again.
"It didn't turn out very well," Rosarita continued. "Diego spoke to him quite elegantly but Don Carlos simply yelled back and kicked us out. I...Diego refused to do anything else and I was of the mind that no one would do anything, but this morning I wake to find that a Zorro has freed Franco Barbarossa and I don't know what to think!"
Elena looked faintly amused at Rosarita's rushed words. "It is not 'a' Zorro. It is simply Zorro. That is his name."
"Si, por supuesto," she hurried. "But what can you tell me about him?"
"He saved my father's life, my life, my mother's life, and Benito's life."
"Benito?" Rosarita echoed, confused. A faint blush stained Elena's cheeks.
"For a time, I considered him to be my galan. My father spoke to me about it, though, and I realize now that it would be impossible." Elena seemed uncomfortable, so Rosarita dismissed the surprising news that someone like Elena Torres could fall for a vaquero like Benito. They were in such different worlds, and Rosarita had always thought Elena to be one who considered those things very important.
What she wanted to talk about was Zorro, though, and she knew from past experience that if she was too outspoken Elena would dismiss her, in her usual quiet way. "But did you actually ever meet Zorro?"
Elena considered things. "I never actually spoke to him, no," she began, speaking softly. "But I saw him on many occasions and he always seemed to be a very talented man with a sword, and also a very talented speaker. He could always goad Capitan Monastario into losing his temper, making Zorro's path that much easier."
"What else? About his temperament?" Rosarita asked desperately.
A bemused expression came over Elena's face. "He was good in a troublesome situation. He never panicked. Would you like something to drink?"
Those words washed over Rosarita like ice. Elena didn't wish to speak about it anymore, and if she didn't leave soon, she risked Elena not speaking to her, not out of stubbornness or anger, but simply because the other girl didn't understand the questions and was getting suspicious as to Rosarita's intentions. This wouldn't be the first time Rosarita had gotten her into trouble...
True, they were older now and Elena certainly didn't hold grudges. Still, Rosarita took her hostess' cue, deciding that being a good guest was better than learning about Zorro. For now.
"What do you think of the new padre at the mission?" Rosarita asked cordially. "He said Mass yesterday evening, when I went to pray for the Barbarossas."
She left Elena's in a good mood. After the subject of Zorro had been dropped, she and Elena had had a very enjoyable time getting to know each other again. She'd forgotten how talented Elena was at simply making you feel happy.
But where to next?
"No, I've never met el Zorro," Moneta told her. "But I know who has, presumably many times. Diego."
She said the word simply, matter-of-factly. Rosarita's tea cup clanged onto the saucer. "Diego has met Zorro?"
"That is how I understand it," Moneta said, her eyes piercing Rosarita. "But why are you asking about Zorro? Have your feelings for Diego evaporated?"
Rosarita flushed. "It's because of the Barbarossas," she explained. "I was very worried for them after yesterday's events and I was very relieved to see that someone helped them."
"He helped them because the only thing he can lose is his identity," Moneta said crisply. "As long as that is safe, he is. And so the silliest thing for him to do would be to get acquainted with the inhabitants of the pueblo. Would you like more tea?"
"Si, you always had the nicest selection," Rosarita said eagerly.
"This blend came from England," Moneta told her. "It is my favorite also. How long are you staying in Los Angeles, Rosarita?"
"A fortnight," Rosarita beamed. "And I had hoped that..."
"That this would be the journey when you got your wish?" Moneta's eyes twinkled. "Your feelings for Diego were always transparent, hermana."
Rosarita was glad to have Moneta call her 'hermana' so familiarly. She was again glad to see that some people didn't change.
"I did think that I'd come close, the night of my fiesta," she blurted, leaning forward in her seat.
"So did everyone else. Diego must have danced four dances with you."
"Five," Rosarita admitted. "He asked me for another at the end of the evening, when many had already left, but Don Alejandro was speaking with my uncle Izor, so they weren't leaving yet."
Moneta's keen eyes pierced her again. "I hesitate to say this, but I feel I should tell you. He danced the same amount of dances with Don Francisco's daughter, Magdalena. She came here, and everyone was sure they'd be a match."
"What happened?"
Moneta shrugged. "I don't know. I was there that night, and I was pleased to see that Magdalena wasn't as bold as rumors implied. She seemed to simply be following Diego's lead."
"And?"
"The next morning, there were rumors of Zorro saving their lives, and the next thing we knew, Magdalena had been whisked off."
"But what about Diego?"
"I did notice, that at the end of the evening, he grew...testy," Moneta said slowly. "He had words with his father, and there was an odd situation with the Magistrado. I think he had other things on his mind that night."
Rosarita settled back into her seat. "So you suggest I speak to Diego about Zorro?"
"I wouldn't say suggest," Moneta laughed. "But Zorro was said to be at the de la Vega hacienda many times during Monastario's reign."
Rosarita felt more than hesitant to speak to Diego about Zorro. After her explosion yesterday, it didn't seem appropriate.
Beggars can't be choosers, though, and her next destination was the de la Vega hacienda.
Diego wasn't fencing when she walked in this time, nor was he at the piano as he'd been yesterday. For whatever reason, she wished for either of the stances rather than what he was doing, which was slouching in a chair and playing his guitar very lazily, but the tune was intriguing. It was a soft, wistful tune, and when played slowly as it was now, it seemed to be a dream spoken through music.
She stood stock-still for a moment, simply astounded. This was what Diego had turned into? While innocent men suffered, he slouched at home and played the guitar?
Diego's gaze wandered around the room, and when it fell on Rosarita he jerked to attention. "Rosarita! What are you doing here?"
He jumped to his feet, the guitar left abandoned on his chair. That cheered her, his inattention to it. "I'm sorry for letting myself in, but no one answered my knock," she replied.
"Everyone is busy right now, I suppose. My apologies for being kept waiting," Diego hurried, running a nervous hand through his hair. "I must say, this is a surprise, you, Rosarita, being here at this time of day."
His words grew steadily louder, and Rosarita's eyes grew steadily wider. There was a faint thump, or click, or something, and her eyes darted to the fireplace, then past it to the cabinet.
Diego jumped into her line of vision. "Let's go for a walk," he urged. "Just the path we used to take, down to the Torres stream."
He had taken her arm and had steered her out the door before she could say anything, but just as they reached the gate, he slapped his forehead. "I forgot my hat," he explained with swift words. "I'll be just a moment, por favor."
She wanted to say something cutting, but he was gone so quickly it was like he'd vanished. She watched him run back into the sala, then turn around and dash to the stairs, shooting her an apologetic glance as he did so.
His moment was longer than any moment should be, and when he came down, he didn't have his hat, even.
"How about we just walk to the hill?" Diego requested. "I'm not as free as I thought I was. My father has some tedious task for me when I return."
"Your father was in your room?"
"Bernardo gave me the message," he explained.
"Who is Bernardo?" She asked curiously.
"A man I hired in Spain, he is deaf and dumb, but he would die for me," Diego explained mechanically, as if this were a well rehearsed response.
"Ah, that makes everything clearer," she returned, sarcasm in her voice.
"Doesn't it?" Diego asked distractedly. "Look at that sky! I do think it's going to rain! I really shouldn't be out if it is." He turned to her. "I promise I will take you out tomorrow, to make up for it, eh? You can get Amelia to act as duena, and we can go for a real ride."
His mention of a duena completely floored her, and suddenly she didn't care a whit for Zorro. "Si," she gasped.
"Good. I'll see you then," he said, hurrying her into her carriage. "Tomorrow at ten."
"All right," she affirmed. "I'll be waiting."