AN: The second of the original Walt Disney Zorro stories. It is set in Monterey but I don't believe it follows any of the story arcs.
Diego de la Vega stood inside the balcony doorway of his Monterey hotel room and stretched. He was tall-so tall his fingers almost touched the white washed ceiling of the room. He could feel the brisk sea air from Monterey Bay and the breeze was refreshing.
Diego had arrived yesterday in Monterey the capital of California accompanied by his trusted servant Bernardo and Sergeant Garcia. Diego and Bernardo could have made the trip by themselves but Garcia went along for added protection. Protection? Twice Garcia had fallen off his horse; once he had gotten them lost in the weeds on the wrong side of the Salinas River; and that time with the bee hive while gathering firewood was best forgotten. It was so painful Garcia still wouldn't put honey on his bread without a grimace.
The business had been taken care of and now Diego was ready to relax a few days before returning home. He had taken a room in the hotel on the plaza. The second floor of the hotel had a balcony running the length of the building and rooms opened off the long narrow platform. It was on the balcony that Diego now stretched and gazed at the bustling scene below. Numerous peons had small stands in the town plaza and they sold everything from fresh fish, (caught in quantities in the bay,) to pottery, corn, leather goods and fresh vegetables which seemed to thrive in the inland valley.
Suddenly a piercing scream broke the peaceful scene. It was Theresa who owned the tamale stand. In a voice that on a clear day could be heard halfway to Santa Cruz she was yelling at two men near her stand.
"Go away," she bellowed like a wounded tigress. "I work hard here. Why should I pay you? What could happen to my stand? I hate you. Go away, pronto!"
The men looked around fervently. They tried to quiet her but it was useless. As one of the men placed a restraining hand on her shoulder she smacked him with a cornstalk. A crowd began to gather and the men hurried away. Sergeant Garcia attracted by the noise came waddling up. Half out of respect half out of self preservation the crowd parted as Garcia approached.
Theresa turned on the hapless sergeant "Fine lot of good you do," she screeched. "Why didn't you help?"
"How could I?" asked Garcia. "I only got here."
Theresa fumed. Diego could almost see the sparks come out of her eyes she was that angry.
"You and your lancers are useless," she stormed. "Where are you when these two bandits try to hold me up? They demand I pay them money so they can 'protect' me. I can protect myself, thank you."
Diego nodded in silent agreement.
"If you give me their names, I will catch them," Garcia suggested.
"Names, if I knew their names I would catch them myself, fat one."
Garcia was getting no place and seem defeated. "I wish I could help you, senorita," he said.
"Sergeant you can help me only if you stop eating, you arrived yesterday and today, for the first time I run out of beans by mid morning."
"It is well that you get so much business," said Garcia with pride.
"Si, except that you buy on credit," retorted Theresa.
Diego had heard enough so he retired to his room. He forgot about the patter between Theresa and Garcia but if he thought he heard the end of it he was quite wrong.
Diego was a light sleeper. Since he assumed his duel identity as Zorro he reflexes had become as sharp as a barber's razor. A word, a sound, a lonely call in the night- all would awaken him. It was a clap of heal against brick and a muffled whisper the woke Diego that night. He sat up in bed and pushed aside the blankets. He tiptoed to the balcony and looked across the plaza.
Two figures in dark clothes were visible in the gloom and wisps of fog that swirled in from the bay. They were standing whispering by Theresa's tamale stand. Remembering the incident of that morning Diego rushed into action. He donned the black mask and cloak which transformed him from the book loving, soft speaking Diego into the hard fighting sword swinging Zorro.
Looking about cautiously to make sure he was not seen, Zorro stepped over the railing of the hotel balcony, caught hold of the banister and dropped to the ground. Stealthily he picked his way across the deserted square. He walked quickly but he had to circle the plaza, keeping always in the shadows. The sound of a single footstep would give him away.
As he crept forward he could see one of the intruders stuffing dry hay and straw under Theresa's stand. As he got closer he saw with horror the second man carried a torch which he attempted to hide by shielding it with his coat.
Just as Zorro drew closer the men jammed the torch into the tinder. The structure burst into flames as Zorro called,
"Hoa...if you value your lives do not move."
The men turned and Zorro saw their faces in the orange glare of the burning stand. Each man pulled a long, wicked, hunting knife and prepared to lunge at Zorro whose swiftly flicking sword kept them at a safe distance. The three circled each waiting for an opening in the light of the fire.
The flames attracted spectators and soon persons were rushing into the square. They saw the masked Zorro and yelled, "The man with the mask. He must have started the fire." They ran towards him.
In Los Angeles, Zorro would have been recognized as the champion of the people but way up here in Monterey he was not known. He had to retreat before the mob rushed him. His two opponents realized this and they inched forward ready to spring.
Slowly giving ground but still keeping his sword dancing in front of him, Zorro spied a wooden bench against a building. At that moment the two henchmen rushed forward. With his free hand Zorro toppled the bench and the men stumbled in a tangle of arms and legs. Zorro fled down a side street and through the unknown alleyways of Monterey.
He turned a corner and stopped by the entrance to a livery stable. He inched inside the door and waited. His pursuers came running down the street and fanned out in all directions. A stranger stuck his head inside the doorway. Zorro was close enough to shave the man with his sword but dared not to move. The stranger could see nothing so he ran on.
Hours later, Zorro slid out of the stable and worked his way slowly back to the hotel. Again the plaza was bare but he could still see the still smoldering ruins of the tamale stand. He listened carefully but not a footstep did he hear. He ran across the square and leaped towards the balcony catching hold of a support and pulling himself up. A few minutes more and he was Diego de la Vega, back in bed as the first pink of dawn appeared over the Monterey hills.
There was much commotion in the plaza next morning when Theresa discovered her stand burned to ashes. Garcia tried to calm her but to no avail.
She repeated her tale of woe to Diego and as she was talking a stranger walked up. He was Senor Jamie Ropa.
"I have come to offer my condolences to Senorita Theresa," said Ropa.
"A lot you care," sputtered Theresa "I don't see you offering to rebuild my stand."
"Ah, senorita, that is exactly why I am here," he smiled and oily smile.
At this Theresa simmered down. Garcia and Diego looked with surprise at Senor Ropa.
"Are you really going to help me?" she asked.
"I have known difficult times myself," he explained in a soothing voice. "And I want to help you repair your stand. How much will it take?"
Without hesitation, Theresa replied, "Five hundred pesos."
"I can arrange such a loan," said Ropa. "When would you want to pay me back?"
Theresa had to think a moment on that one. "With good luck in a year, maybe two," she said thoughtfully.
"Then it is agreed," replied Ropa "I will loan you five hundred pesos. If you pay me back in a year, you will only pay seven hundred and fifty. In two years it will be one thousand pesos."
"One thousand pesos! That is robbery," screamed Theresa.
"Senor Ropa is surely joking," said Garcia, chuckling at the obvious jest.
"No," said Ropa, looking amazed and hurt that his offer was not appreciated. "I am entitled to interest for the loan."
"Fifty percent interest each year is robbery," snorted Theresa. "Get out."
Ropa's soothing voice rasped as he said, "I am sure you will want reconsider my offer, I will be back."
"I never want to see you again." spat Theresa. "You are as bad as those pigs who burned down my stand because I wouldn't pay them protection money. Get out. Pig." She started to batter her clenched fists against his back but Garcia and Diego pulled her off, still fighting and kicking.
Diego told Theresa, "Senorita I will loan you the five hundred pesos. You may pay me back when you are able. And there will be no interest." Theresa threw her arms around Diego's neck and gave him a big kiss. Diego, shocked by her action stood there slightly embarrassed.
Winking slightly at Bernardo, Garcia moved towards Theresa, hoping she would give him a big kiss too. But as he stood there with his lips puckered Theresa turned on the big sergeant and began peppering him with her fists. "Why didn't you look out for my stand?" she demanded between breaths. "Where were you when the fire started?"
Diego smiled. "There's no telling with women," he murmured to Bernardo as the two walked away, leaving Garcia to take care of himself. Diego suggested they pay their respects to the governor, perhaps mentioning the outrage against Theresa. Bernardo agreed and they headed for the governor's office.
They were walking down a narrow street leading to the Presidio when Diego stopped short. Ahead of him, coming out of a dingy tavern were the two men he had seen last night. He would never forget those evil faces lighted by the dancing orange flames.
Keeping out of sight Diego and Bernardo trailed the two and crept forward until they could over hear the conversation. They heard only the words, "ten tonight at Pine Point," before the two men moved out of earshot. Motioning for Bernardo to follow the pair, Diego went ahead to see the governor. But his thought were not on talking to the governor of California. Instead he was thinking about the sinister men and Pine Point and...Zorro.
He rented a horse at the livery stable where he had hidden the previous night and tied the animal to a hitching post behind the hotel. Then Diego retired to his room to wait for Bernardo's report. But Bernardo did not appear. As ten o'clock drew near Diego donned the clothes of Zorro, stole quietly downstairs and rode out of Monterey towards Pine Point.
The point was a cliff overlooking the pacific ocean, where the surf beat and whipped against big, ugly boulders. Diego carefully scouted the point. Thick stands of pine trees grew fifty feet back from the cliff edge. There was a small beach far below and Zorro could barely see a rugged path leading upwards from the beach to the point.
It was an ideal place for a meeting, he thought. If a man were trailed on horseback, he could escape from his pursuer by sea. If he were followed as he rowed in from the ocean, he would escape through the woods.
Once Diego made certain nobody else had arrived at the point, he peered towards the ocean he saw two dim figures in a boat rowing towards shore. Obviously he was in the right location, at the right time. He stood far back from the point near the edge of the trees for concealment but close enough to the cliffs edge so he could see the boat when it beached.
He stepped closer to the edge to get a better look at the boat. Suddenly a voice called out, "What do you want, senor?"
Zorro spun to see a dark figure walking from the pines. But as he stepped toward the stranger, the ground crumbled beneath him. The soft earth giving way and clods of dirt rumbled down the cliff side. Zorro lurched to regain his balance but he clutched vainly at thin air. He was falling towards the frothing boiling sea, two hundred feet below.
As Zorro fell towards the churning ocean, he pawed desperately for a hand hold on the cliff face. He landed on a narrow ledge and miraculously his hands grasped a scrubby bush. He grabbed hold as the rocks and stones and dirt rained down on him. Never had his hands and arms ached so much and never had his body been so bruised from the shower of stones that cascaded down on him as he clung to the cliff.
Zorro had landed on an old trail leading down the bluff, to the beach. The two men in the boat were coming up a newer trail farther down the coast. When they reached the top, they joined the dark figure from the woods and all three peered over the cliff edge. In the darkness they could not see the black figure of Zorro perched on his narrow ledge- all they could see were the waves crashing below.
The three men conducted their business quickly. They exchanged necessary information and agreed to meet the following night at "the camp." Zorro could not hear the voices distinctly. Nor could he hear any of the words...except the single phrase "the camp."
In due time the meeting broke up, the single figure leaving through the forest and the two henchmen picking their way down the dangerous path to the ocean. When they arrived at the beach, they looked again at the cliff as if searching for some clue to Zorro's fate. They could not see Zorro and they pushed their boat through the breakers and returned to Monterey.
When he was certain they had left and couldn't see him, Zorro began the tortuous job of climbing up the cliff. For a few feet the going was easy- he was on the old path. But the trail vanished-a landslide many years ago had wiped out an entire section of the ledge and now there was no place to go. Here and there an occasional bush grew from a crack in the cliff. reaching first for one and then for another, Zorro pulled himself up.
Slowly and painfully, hand over hand, he scaled the cliff wall. His foot slipped and a shower of dirt fell the long way to the ocean. As he hung flat against the cliff, Zorro could hear the rumbling surf. The thought of falling into the white froth spurred him on and he continued the ordeal of climbing the cliff.
It seemed hours before he finally pulled himself over the edge and he lay face down on the damp ground panting from exhaustion. When he recovered his strength, he crawled across the open area on his hands and knees- he didn't dare walk upright for fear of being seen. Zorro found the horse still standing quietly where he had tied him so he mounted and rode into town.
Arriving in Monterey, he tethered the horse at the edge of town and keeping in the darkest corners, made his way to the hotel. Only after he made doubly sure here was nobody in the plaza did Zorro cross the square and vault the balcony railing to his hotel room. As he opened the door he realized-too late- there was somebody in the room.
He stepped inside hand on his sword and breathed a heavy sigh of relief to see that the "intruder" was his servant Bernardo. While Zorro was peeling off his torn clothing and bathing his throbbing muscles in warm water, the servant used his hands and gestures to tell his story: Bernardo had followed the two men down to the wharf where they had boarded a boat and headed up the coast north towards the sand dunes.
Bernardo had chosen to follow them on horseback along the coast rather than in a skiff so he rented a horse and set out along the dunes. He always managed to keep them in sight and several miles up the coast they had put into shore. Bernardo had hidden himself near "the camp" as they called it while the men dozed, ate dinner and then set off for their "appointment." Bernardo had marked a hill so it could be seen by land or sea and then he had ridden back to Monterey.
Zorro and Bernardo now decided the best move would be to see Sergeant Garcia. If the could get him to visit "the camp," he could collect enough evidence to arrest the culprits. But the next morning Sergeant Garcia was not too keen on sailing north along the sand dunes.
"Sergeant," argued Diego. "You look peaked. Are you sick? You have lost weight."
"Have I?" asked Garcia, eyeing his stomach which stretched like a mighty desert from his chest to his legs.
"Certainly. You must be down to a mere 350 pounds. Now what you need is a good sea voyage. Spend a day out in a boat. Do you good."
"Do not mention boats to me, Don Diego," wailed Garcia. "Since my trip to California from Spain I have avoided them. Most of my time was spent near the rail."
"Enjoying the fresh sea breeze?" ventured Diego.
"No my friend. Being sick."
"Oh" said Diego disappointed. But he quickly tried a new approach. "As a soldier of the king you should inspect the coastline north of here. Check for pirates."
"Don Diego, we have a navy for that."
"The scenery is wonderful this time of year."
"Don Diego, I am a soldier, not an artist. Besides," he looked at a pretty girl walking past the barracks. "The scenery is nice in town too."
Diego tried another tack. Moving closer to Garcia and speaking in low tones he said, "Sergeant, listen carefully. Many years ago when Indians threatened a raid, the men of Monterey moved their supply of wine to the hills north of town. My servant and I found out about it yesterday."
"Yes?" said Garcia, brightening.
"There are the finest wines in all California," continued Diego.
"Go on. Wines, you say," bellowed Garcia.
"Shhh, sergeant. We must keep this very quiet. Bernardo and I know exactly where they are hidden. If you will come with us, we will take you there."
Garcia did not hesitate an instant. Turning to his corporal he announced, "I am going to locate extra rations for the men. I'll be back later." And Garcia, Diego, and Bernardo walked towards the waterfront.
When all three were settled in the boat, they pushed away from the dock. At that moment, Garcia decided to change seats and he stood up. The great bulk of Garcia was moving too much for the small craft and it pitched sharply.
Garcia spun off his feet and fell outward. His fingers touched the wooden ties of the pier and for a moment, Garcia hung halfway between the land and the sea. He held onto the wharf with his hands but his feet were still in the boat. He rolled from side to side as Diego tried to bring the boat closer in.
Suddenly, Garcia fell with a mighty roar. Water geysered up, drenching Diego and Bernardo. Garcia floundered helplessly in the water. A friendly seal swam up and sticking his nose in Garcia's face, barked. Garcia panicked at the sight of the by-whiskered seal and thrashed even more.
With the help of a few dock hands, Diego and Bernardo pulled Garcia to the beach, where he lay like a huge marooned whale. Dripping wet and soaked clear through, he began removing his boots. He poured water out of one and from the second came more water and a fish. Garcia looked at his prize ruefully, picked it up and began squishing his way back to the barracks.
"Looks like our plan was all wet," said Diego laughing. Bernardo made a face at Diego's bad pun.
Back in the hotel room, Diego and Bernardo made other plans. It was now necessary for Zorro to do the job by himself.
Late that afternoon, hardly anybody paid attention to Diego de la Vega and his servant riding north out of town. The two went in silence and they rode slowly to save their horses. When the neared "the camp," Diego rode behind a low hill and when he emerged he was dressed as Zorro.
It was agreed, Bernardo would stay out of sight unless absolutely needed. So he rode a safe distance and waited to be called.
Zorro tied his horse and crept forward until he reached the rim of a bowl like valley called "the camp." It was completely in shadows but from the glare of the fire, Zorro could make out the two toughs- they looked much like they had the night of Theresa's fire. Zorro leaped forward and the battle was brief.
Taken completely by surprise the men were defenseless. Zorro had knocked one out before the second attacked. The masked man side stepped and neatly tripped the second, who went sprawling in the sand. Before he could rise, Zorro had tied his hands; and while he struggled in vain to free himself, Zorro tied the other.
The two men, bound and gagged sat by the campfire. In the dim light they looked exactly like they had before Zorro's quick attack. Unable to say a word, they waited silently for the arrival of their leader. And off in the shadows, also waiting, was Zorro.
Inside of an hour, Zorro heard motion in the dunes. He tensed. The men at the fire still struggled with their bonds. The leader reined up and dismounted. As he walked towards the men, Zorro stepped from the shadows, his sword drawn and ready for action.
"Wait where you are," he commanded.
The leader stopped stark still. Zorro could see the color drain from his face.
"This cannot be. We-I saw you die last night falling from the cliff. You must be a ghost."
The leader was of course Senor Ropa the supposed "friend" who offered to loan Theresa the money.
"I see your game now," said Zorro. "The Ropa fortunes have vanished. You probably gambled them away. So you became a leach, sucking the hard earned money from the peons. If you couldn't get it by threats, you burned their stands as you did Theresa's and then offered to loan them money at high interest rates. Either way you got your blood money. How low have you fallen, Ropa. You are worse than the dirtiest scum on a prison ship."
Ropa waited for an opportunity and moved swiftly. As Zorro finished speaking Ropa feint and drew his sword. Zorro's blade darted forward but with a sharp rap the thrust was parried.
The two men backed away and once again touched blades. If Zorro believed he might easily overcome the older man, he was wrong. The steel blades flashed in the firelight and rang over the deserted sand dunes as Zorro strived to disarm his foe.
He slashed and cut, the blade flicking in and out. But he never seemed to gain an advantage. With supreme effort he pressed forward and Ropa, stepping back fell over a stone. As Zorro rushed forward the older man leaped up and pitched a handful of sand straight at Zorro's eyes.
Zorro reached for his face trying to stop the stinging, burning sensation in his eyes, Ropa, rather than continue the fight he knew he could not win, raced for his horse. He jumped on his mount and galloped over the empty dunes.
His eyes watering so he could hardly see, Zorro ran towards his horse. By the time he was in the saddle, Ropa had a good start. Zorro pursued the other man but it was slow going. His horse could not run fast in the soft sand and he seemed to be tiring after a few yards. Oh, if Zorro only had Tornado to ride, the chase would be over by now.
He spurred his horse. Ropa was still ahead and Zorro could easily follow his hoof marks in the sand. A short way ahead he could see the sand whipped up by Ropa's horse. Little by little, Zorro seemed to be gaining. He got closer...closer...closer.
Zorro reached for his lariat and spun a loop. Swinging it over his head, he waited for the right moment and let fly.
The noose sailed through the air and fell over Ropa's shoulders. Ropa fell from his mount into the sand. He was finally in Zorro's power.
Zorro tied Ropa securely before returning to locate his other prisoners, then he tied one to the other around the waist and with their hands still bound with cord behind their backs, they began the long slow trip into town.
The next morning the story was all over Monterey. In jail was Ropa and his two henchmen. Everybody knew about Zorro's close call but still nobody knew who Zorro really was. He had vanished as mysteriously as he had come.
Diego de la Vega and his servant joined those in the plaza who talked about the strange comings and goings Zorro. But Diego was more interested in getting Theresa's stand re-built. He loaned her money and she quickly made a deal for some lumber. By noon the stand was completed.
In charge of the whole operation, but doing little of the actual work, was Sergeant Garcia. He had no sooner taken over than Theresa screamed at him to get out of the way. He turned to reply and she kicked him in the shins. Then she tried to bite him and before long he was running back and forth, (mostly back,) trying to defend himself.
Yes, Diego thought to himself laughing inwardly. everything in Monterey is back to normal again.