Nightsong
1 - Duty
Nightsong
Chapter 1: Duty
A/N: These two chapters were originally written as part of "The Dream Fulfilled". But I decided, first, that they made the story longer than I wanted, and second, that Alejandro's "conversation" with Isabella made a much better ending for "The Dream..". So they are presented here as a short and separate work.
A week after the birth of young Alejandro the peaceful atmosphere of the hacienda was broken by news from the Los Angeles that someone had tried to break into the farmacia. Diego and Bernardo had not been to the pueblo for some time so the two of them decided to ride in and investigate. They were just tying up their mounts before the inn when Diego caught sight of Sergeant Garcia making his way across the plaza. "Sergeant," Diego called out. "Come, my friend, share a bottle of wine with me and tell me all the latest news."
"Ah, Don Diego!" the sergeant greeted his friend. "How are Doña Margarita and your son?"
"They are both well, gracias," responded Diego. "Margarita is recovering as she should be and the baby is healthy and growing."
"Well, that is the way of little ones," replied the portly lancer, smiling and nodding. They made their way to a table in the inn, Bernardo as usual taking up a position near the bar to observe the customers. Diego motioned to Señor Pacheco for a bottle of wine and two glasses. "Uh, Don Diego," began Garcia in an uncertain voice, "are you sure you want 'Roberto' for his middle name? Is not 'Demetrio' a fine-sounding name for a young caballero?"
"Well, I don't disagree with you about your fine-sounding name, Sergeant, but I'm afraid my wife insists that it is only fair to name him after both grandfathers."
"Well, perhaps one of your many other children, then," declared the sergeant, gulping down his rojo.
"Sergeant!" cried Diego, choking on his wine. "My wife and I are just getting used to having one child. And we would like to get back to sleeping regular hours. Por favor, allow us to increase our family at our own pace, eh!" But he was laughing as he said it. "And now, tell me about the farmacia."
Garcia set down his glass, serious now. "I am afraid there is not much to tell. The midnight patrol was making its rounds when the two of them heard a rattling noise coming from the farmacia. As they got closer, they saw a dark shape crouched in front of the door — evidently someone trying to pick the lock. As they approached, the shape stood up and ran away down the alley next to the building. When they followed and reached the back of the building, the intruder had disappeared."
"Could they tell which way he fled?" asked Diego.
"No, and that is a very strange thing. They heard no hoofbeats, and when they went back after daylight there were no hoof prints and no signs of a horse being tethered there. It looks like whoever did this either got away on foot in the middle of the night, or is still in the pueblo."
"That is indeed strange," replied the young don, pouring the sergeant a second glass. "Did the owner say anything was missing?"
"No, the intruder never was able to enter the shop. It is a great puzzle."
"Well, Sergeant, I'm sure you will be able to capture this man sooner or later. And now I must be on my way. Enjoy the rest of the wine." Diego rose and headed for the door, Bernardo following him. Once outside and back at the horses the muzo made a small "Z" in the palm of his hand.
"Yes, I think so," said Diego quietly. There are many things inside the farmacia that can be dangerous if used improperly. Tornado will get some exercise tonight."
When he arrived back at the hacienda, Diego received some disturbing news. Cresencia crossed the patio toward the two men and said, "The señora is ill. She has taken to her bed."
"Have you sent for Doctor Avila?" asked her husband.
"No, patròn. We do not believe it is serious. We think it is only something she ate. Doña Margarita had some fruit with lunch and became ill an hour or so after eating it. Two of the servants had some of the same dish, and they are ill also. If they are not better in the morning Don Alejandro has agreed that we should send for the doctor. Your wife is asleep up in your room."
"What about little Alejandro? Who will feed him?" asked the anxious father.
"One of the vaquero's wives is still nursing. She will come shortly to the hacienda for your son." Noticing Diego's worried look, she added: "It is often done, patròn. There is no need to be concerned."
"She is right, Diego," came his father's voice from across the patio. "In fact, your mother had help with you once or twice, as I recall. Now wash and get ready for dinner."
A dark figure huddled behind two barrels in front of Senor Avila's store, watching as the lancer patrol finished its round of the plaza and headed back toward the cuartel entrance. When they were about to pass through the gates, he felt safe enough to slip along the storefronts to the farmacia. This time he was better prepared. He had slipped a long thin piece of steel out of his musket kit, and with this he began to work the lock on the front door. After a little effort he heard the lock workings click, and he pushed the door open. He also opened the door of the dark lantern he carried and held it up. Making his way carefully in the scant light, he lifted the sought-after items down from their shelf. He was about to leave as silently as he had come when he felt a point of cold steel in his back and heard a silken voice behind him.
"It is customary in this pueblo to shop when an establishment is open, señor." He turned to find Zorro standing directly behind him, the sword point now resting on his chest. The outlaw looked at the thief in the dim lantern light. "I know you. You are one of the lancers of the cuartel. What is your name, and why does a King's soldier steal?"
"I am Morales," the man answered. Then: "Have pity, Señor Zorro. It is my father. He keeps goats on a small farm just outside of the pueblo. Everyone loves the cheese he makes of their milk. But four days ago he wrenched his back chasing one of the animals. He says it has happened before and that it will mend, but I know he is in great pain. This is to ease his pain and help him sleep."
"But why do you not just purchase this normally?"
"I cannot Señor Zorro, for I have no coins. We have not been paid in four months. My father is a stubborn man, he will not spend his money on something he believes is unnecessary."
Zorro gave a small grunt. He knew all about stubborn fathers. After a few moments he said, "Morales, can you write?"
"Sí."
"Very well, come with me." He led the man to the standing desk where the ledger and other clerical supplies were kept. "Take paper and pen and write what I tell you." The lancer did as he was told. When he had finished writing, Zorro took the pen and inscribed a large "Z" at the end of the message. "Now," he said, turning back to the lancer, "take your lantern and your bottles and go. And do not attempt to steal again. If you have further need of this, speak to Don Diego. He has been known to be kind to those in need."
"Muchas gracias, señor. You are a true friend to the people." Morales disappeared out the front door and made his way back to the barracks, entering by the side door which he had left unlocked when he went out.
Riding home in the starlight, Zorro offered a small prayer of thanks that things had gone so well. He had carefully locked the pharmacia door as he left. In the morning the owner would find a note on the standing desk:
For one bottle of laudanum and one bottle of liniment
I owe you 12 pesos.
Z
In a day or two he would send Bernardo on an "errand" into the pueblo, and at some point his muzo would use his magic hands to inconspicuously deposit a small sac containing twelve pesos and tied with a label bearing a "Z" on the standing desk. So technically nothing had been stolen.
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