CHAPTER THREE – Permission to Court

Jackson Barton was weary of stage coach rides, but he knew it would get him to Los Angeles faster than by ship. Today they would make San Diego, tomorrow, San Juan Capistrano, and in two days…Los Angeles. He could hardly wait…to start his new life.

Everything will be different here… they will accept me for who I am, and what I know. I have worked too hard for too long to have it all fall apart now. I will be the only doctor in this pueblo…they'll have to come to me…there won't be anyone else.

Oh, that's right. Doctor Hernandez said in his last letter he had a part-time assistant, a young caballero, who he said knew as much about medicine as he did. We'll see about that. Amateurs! Ha!

Jackson had ample opportunity to think about his life so far and how he wanted to live it in Alta California as he took stage after stage after stage, all the way from St. Louis, through Mexican territory. The trip seemed endless, and boring. Once he was in Mexican territory, only the towns along the way had much vegetation or crops surrounding them – with much desert or empty land in between.

Jackson was raised in an orphanage. He was a foundling, left on the doorstep as a baby. He was named Jackson after the orphanage's doctor who treated him as a sick baby, and Barton, the name of the orphanage. The doctor was kind and gentle with Jackson. He was the only father figure Jackson had, and the only person who seemed to really care about Jackson, except for his friend George Roberts, who was two years younger. They shared a bunk in the boy's dormitory. Jackson slept on top, George on the bottom.

One day, Jackson came back from chores in the stable, and found George on the floor by his bunk. Jackson remembered it like it had just happened the other day, instead of nearly fifteen years ago.

"George! Are you all right? Who did this to you?" Jackson bent over his friend George, who was writhing in pain on the floor of their room. He had obviously been severely beaten, with cuts and bruises. His mouth leaked blood, as well as cuts on his temple, and bruises on his cheeks and chin.

Panting, trying to catch his breath, eight-year old George mumbled something ten-year-old Jackson couldn't understand.

"It was the Johnson gang, wasn't it? When I get my hands on them…they'll pay for this!" Jackson's temper was already at the boiling point.

"No, Jack-thon, dthon't! Ith's all right. Justh get me thew thuh infuh-mawy. I – I think – my ahm ith bwoken." George's speech was slurred from loose teeth and bloody lips.

Jackson carefully helped George to his feet. George held his injured left arm in his right. Jackson put his arm around George's waist for support and for comfort.

In the infirmary, Dr. Jackson, as gently as he could, set and splinted George's arm. Jackson watched with great interest, asking questions along the whole process.

There were many trips to the infirmary for George and Jackson. Sometimes George was the patient, sometimes, Jackson was.

Dr. Henry Jackson, for whom Jackson was named, took the boy under his wing and taught him extra things about the sciences. Jackson was an apt pupil who learned quickly. Medicine intrigued Jackson and he immensely enjoyed the work. Dr. Jackson helped young Jackson get into Harvard Medical College after he returned from a study of medicine in England and Spain.

Jackson was tall, about six-foot three. He was built muscular, strong, and stocky, but not overweight. He was small as a child, but when he started maturing, his frame filled out, and he could have become the orphanage bully, and he was in a way, but he chose a different path to get revenge on those who had bullied him. And his revenge was sweet – until the bullies left at age eighteen.

Z

Once the tavern doors were locked up, Victoria came back to the table and sat down. "Diego, I want to respond to what you said earlier. And – I want to apologize for losing my temper." She paused a moment to catch her breath, and to gather her courage. She took a sip of water from the glass she had brought with her from the counter. She placed one in front of Diego as well.

"First of all, I was very interested in you when you arrived home from Spain. When you walked through my tavern doors that day the lancer insulted me; and you nearly got into a duel with the alcalde; I was very impressed with you. And by the look of you when you kissed my hand that day, I could have sworn you were interested in me, too." Victoria watched him for reaction or response. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, but knew he was listening, until she noticed his mind went somewhere.

Diego remembered that day as if it were yesterday.

Diego and Alejandro entered the tavern. Diego's eyes needed to adjust from the bright light outside to the dimmer light inside. As they did, his eyes centered upon a vision of the utmost loveliness. Who's this? Diego thought. She seems familiar.

Alejandro said, "Diego, you remember Senorita Escalante?"

Did he ever! He had just asked his father about her when he arrived home. He'd known her as a child. He'd played with her brothers Francisco and Ramon. But this beautiful vision of loveliness couldn't be that gangly, under-foot teenager of nearly four years ago! She'd grown up, and her beauty now radiated from her in ways that sent his senses tingling, and his eyes popping.

He did the only thing a well-bred caballero could do. He took her hand and kissed the back of it – but he never took his eyes off her. He gauged her reaction the same as his.

Diego finally found his voice. "Indeed. But you've changed…for the better, that is." He tried to emphasize the word 'better' so he wouldn't sound so ridiculous.

Victoria continued. "Diego? Diego! Diego de la Vega! Are you listening? Where did you go in your thoughts just now?"

Diego smiled. "Oh – I was just remembering…what you were talking about."

Victoria paused a moment, and remembered too, then she went on. "But you changed overnight. I don't know what happened, but after your father and I were released from jail by Zorro, you seemed different, uninterested, and uninvolved. You didn't do anything to gain my affections or my attention. You – you seemed to bury yourself in your books! You didn't…ask permission to court me. I thought you weren't interested."

"How could I compete with a hero who was quickly becoming a legend? I agree – I did seem to change. But – go on." Diego inwardly braced himself for what he thought might be coming. He was surprised.

"Well Diego, you've never been unattractive to me, and I have relied on your friendship. But until a couple of months ago…" Victoria leaned forward over the table.

"Until a couple of months ago…what?" Diego leaned backward a bit.

"When your – brother died…you started opening up to me. You hardly ever talked about your feelings or thoughts – or – anything personal before. I've talked to you about my feelings many times. You've always been there for me." Victoria looked intently at him, trying to gauge him, looking for anything, any response that would show his inner self – the one she knew was there, but only rarely saw.

Diego sat a moment, thinking. His eyes down. He said nothing. Victoria continued her stare, then finally spoke again.

"Diego, what is it you want from our relationship? Do you want to be just friends, as we have been – or do you want more? Isn't there something you must have?" Victoria knew she was getting bolder in her questions. She didn't care – she still repeated the question from the night at the windmill.

Diego felt heat coming up his neck. He ran a hand through his hair, but couldn't look at Victoria for a moment. All his emotions seemed to be running together in his mind. He remembered the question from the windmill – how he had wanted to answer – but couldn't – not then. But a lot had happened in almost two years. Slowly lifting his eyes towards her, looking through his eyelashes, he said quietly, "Yes, Victoria, there is something I want…I – want – I want – to – to court you…if you'll permit me." His eyes blazed with all the love and passion he felt. He couldn't hold it back. Not anymore. Not with her.

Ah-h-h-h-h-h! There's the look I've been after, thought Victoria. He finally said it! He will continue to bear watching just to be sure, but there it is! I believe I have my Fox at last!

Victoria drew in a breath of recognition, then let it out. He heard it. He looked at her. She looked at him. It was almost a repeat of the windmill, only this time was different. The bold intent of Diego de la Vega was out in the open – at last. Fear came to his eyes. Here it comes, he thought. She'll laugh at me, I just know it.

Victoria reached out her hand to Diego. He gingerly took her hand in both of his, one beneath, one above. He moved the hand on top, and brought her hand up to his lips. His eyes were on her lovely face, looking for any sign of rejection.

She smiled warmly, but this smile matched the true affection in her eyes. "Of course, Diego, you have permission to court me."

Diego let out the long breath he had been holding without realizing it. He beamed. "Really, Victoria? Really?"

All the words in his heart came pouring out. "You don't know how happy you've made me. I – I – I've wanted to court you ever since I came home from Spain. But when Zorro appeared, and you were so taken with him, I was afraid to ask – knowing I could never compete with the legendary hero. I'm just an ordinary man, with feelings, fears, and everything else human…I get hurt, I get angry, I make mistakes. I'm human…not a legend."

Victoria stifled a giggle, and increased her smile, knowing he'd come about as close as he could without telling her who he really was. "Diego, you are not ordinary. You are intelligent, educated, and well-bred. What you may lack in bravado, you make up for with caring and concern. Although in the last six months, you've done several very brave things. And you speak out in the Los Angeles Guardian."

Rising from the bench, Diego said, "Gracias, Victoria. You are too kind. Now, I think I must go. Father's expecting me home after siesta to help with the ranch." Diego smiled a very large smile, then left.

Victoria watched him go. Uh-huh. That's my Fox. I really think so, but I'm going to wait before I confront him. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, I want to be sure, she thought. He's kept the secret for years – so can I. There will be a 'right' time – and I'll wait for it.

Z

Diego went back to the newspaper office, picked up his medical file, then rode home with a light heart. Finally – I get to be who I really am with someone, he thought. And it's with the woman I love! I can hardly believe it! She's going to let me court her! Maybe the Fox can stay anonymous after all.

He didn't realize it could just possibly be the opposite – that now his secret was in more danger than ever.

Z

After supper, Alejandro and Felipe played chess in the Library, while Diego sat on the couch across the room, looking over his medical file. Adoption proceedings for Felipe were already underway. After a talk between the three of them the day after Gilberto's death, it was decided that Alejandro would adopt Felipe.

Alejandro looked up from the game, and rubbed his hands together. "Ha! I did it! I finally beat Felipe in a game of chess!"

Felipe smiled and signed something. Diego interpreted, but chuckled as he did so. "Father, he says that one of these days, he's going to 'HA!' back at you, when he comes up with yet another unique strategy for winning." Alejandro laughed and reset the chess board on his side.

"Felipe, set up your side. Let's play one more – I want to see if I can win two in a row!" Alejandro noticed the file in Diego's hands. He thought Diego had been reading a book.

"Diego, what's that you're reading?"

"This? It's my medical file that Doctor Hernandez has kept on me since I was a boy." He chuckled in amazement as he read something. "You know, Father, I'd forgotten I fell out of Don Hernando's orange tree when I was eight. Dr. Hernandez said I needed five stitches. I don't remember that very well. Where was the cut, and why don't I have a scar?"

Alejandro laughed as he put the last chess piece in place – ready to start another game. "That's because the cut was just above your hairline. You lost a bit of hair when the cut healed, and you had a bald spot for a few months, but the hair grew back and no one was the wiser. In ten years, if you have a white streak in your hair – that would be the cause."

"That explains it," said Diego as he continued to read.

Alejandro looked puzzled. "Diego, why are you reading your medical file? Isn't that supposed to be confidential?"

Diego looked up, and closed the file, keeping his finger in the place in the stack of papers. "Doctor Hernandez asked me to take a look at it to see if any corrections needed to be made – since I've been his assistant – I – guess he – trusts me enough to review my own file." Diego felt uncomfortable, trying to keep his voice tone normal, and not convey his nervousness. He still hadn't told his father about Zorro yet, and if all went well – he wouldn't have to for a while yet.

I wonder what this new doctor will be like, thought Diego. Doctor Hernandez seems to think we'll get along famously – I hope so. And yet – he thinks I should make sure this file is in order. He's right – until we get to know our new doctor, it's best not to trust him.

Why do I get a bad feeling about this man, Diego thought. I haven't even met him.

Alejandro raised his eyebrow. "Humpf! He didn't ask me to review mine! You must have special privileges! Felipe, your move."

TBC