Further Trouble

Alejandro went back into the tent, just to sit and watch his sleeping son. He sat near enough to see his chest rise and fall with his breathing, and if he wanted to he could reach out and touch the boy.

Diego was 27 now, hardly a boy, his head told him. But he realised Diego would always be a boy to him. He was a soft, educated man both in words and deeds. A patient, calm, respectful man. Not prone to violent outbursts or temper tantrums of any kind. Zorro was similar but not quite the same.

Zorro was a man who got things done. A man without bloodlust, but unwilling to back down when he was needed. The worst injury his enemies sustained was a moderate blow to the head, and a subsequent headache. Most sustained injury to their pride, the Fox delighted in upstaging all he faced in combat. Very occasionally he unleashed a fury that terrified his adversaries.

Zorro was cheeky and foolhardy, but charmed with a luck that seemed to bypass reality. One day perhaps that luck might fail him. He had barely scraped through the day with his life.

The shoulder could have been a lot worse. He had been tied down on the baked earth for quite a while, Angry Eyes believed. Shot at close range, the shot should at least have shattered his shoulder bone. Instead it landed close enough to the skin to slice it as it grazed, cutting the shirt and causing a gash, but no lasting damage to the arm.

He had been tied down and left to die, baking in the desert like heat. If he had been there long enough he would have been dead when they found him. Alejandro shivered with the realisation that his son had very nearly died many times in the last week. Diego had faced it with what seemed a grim determination that he would survive against all the odds stacked against him, and he had survived. His romantic spirit seemed weakened by his ordeal, but not his stubbornness.

"Father," he murmured, tossing a little. "Father, I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to forgive, my son," Alejandro said, gently reaching out to stroke his son's forehead. "Absolutely nothing to forgive. It's alright…" He hushed him softly. His boy was sleeping, the dreams manifesting his guilt for all the years of deception. He sat back on his heels and watched as Diego resettled in his sleep.

"Victoria," Diego murmured, and then sighed. He rolled onto his right side and promptly woke up. "Ow…" He rolled abruptly onto his back.

"Diego?"

"I'm alright," Diego said. "I just need to stop doing that. My shoulder…" He grimaced and then smiled reluctantly. "Any hints on my future bride?"

"Early days, Diego. I have so many to consider…" Alejandro said, looking away so that the sleepy Diego would not see the twinkle in his eyes. If his son could keep secrets, so could he.

Diego nodded, and folded his arms. Alejandro glanced down at him thoughtfully, as Diego rolled reluctantly onto his left side. The older man draped another blanket over his son, and Diego grabbed it gratefully. He sighed and in a few moments Alejandro knew his son was asleep again.

Morning light crept slowly over and through the tent. Alejandro glanced at his sleeping son, and picked his way carefully around him to get to the opening. Stepping out into a brisk autumn morning, he was glad that Diego was warm and comfortable inside the tent.

Victoria was pouring coffee into mugs for the Spaniards. Alejandro took his mug gratefully and watched Juan and Victoria as they began to sip the scalding liquid. Steam swirled and spun as it rose from the mugs, and Alejandro watched it thoughtfully.

There was a sharp burst of gunfire, and Alejandro found himself making Victoria duck for cover. Together they glanced at the tent, but both decided at the same time not to head over there. If it was the kidnappers, Diego needed to be protected from their violence. They had to lead them away somehow.

Harry, Jerry and Max strode through the Indian camp. They grabbed for a little girl, making her shriek with fear as they dragged her to the camp fire at the centre of camp. Alejandro left Victoria's side and began to stare them down. He was quiet, trying to think of the right thing to say.

"Don de la Vega. In the absence of your own son, perhaps the life of this child could be forfeit…?"

"Touch that child, and you know you will be hunted down like animals for the rest of your lives," Alejandro said with a shout. "These people operate outside Spanish law."

Max looked a little worried. "Perhaps we should let the little girl go," he whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear. "A grown man is one thing, this little thing is another. Besides, these men have bows and arrows."

"An Indian can reload his bow faster than a white can reload a pistol, gentlemen," Alejandro said.

Jerry hit the quavering Max with a backhand slap that sent him flying through the air. "Shut up, stupido!" He glared at Alejandro. "You will regret trifling with us, Senor."

"We wish to swop the child for Diego de la Vega," Harry said softly. "I am sure she has a brother, or a father, an uncle or a grandfather who will help us with this."

There was a noise behind Alejandro, and he didn't dare turn. He knew with a sense of dread what it signified.

"Excuse me gentlemen," came the familiar voice. "I believe you wanted to see me." Alejandro turned and saw Diego standing awkwardly, fully dressed in his dusty blue suit. He had a sword in his hand. Alejandro noticed with a shiver that it wasn't Zorro's sabre, but his own sword, a mere rapier.

"Diego…" Victoria whispered.

"Do we fight it out like gentlemen, senores? Hand the girl over to her mother, and face me properly…" Alejandro heard his son but it sounded a lot like Zorro's voice.

"Diego, please, don't…" Alejandro found himself saying. It was a strangled whisper, as if he was trying not to speak at all. All he could think of was his son's injured head, his painful shoulder…

"Well, well," Harry laughed. There was a swift movement that Alejandro couldn't follow. A knife whistled through the air and pinned Diego's jacket to the tent he had just came out of.

The sound of an approaching horse and men distracted them all for a moment. Alejandro watched as Diego pulled the knife out of his clothes. He stepped forward as his son was suddenly caught by Jerry in a head lock. The arm around his neck could so easily cut off his air supply.

"Back off old man," Jerry hissed, as he applied pressure to Diego's throat. Diego's hands both went up to pull at the man's arm as he fought for air. Jerry relaxed his arm a little.

Alejandro took a step back. "What do you want?" He said, biting his lip thoughtfully. Diego's eyes were angry, with just the hint of fear in their depths. Diego was obviously feeling trapped.

The Alcalde strode through the camp, and paused when he saw Jerry with Diego.

"Well, what do we have here?"

"Any moves to stop me, and I crush his airways," Jerry warned, applying pressure enough for Diego to gasp for air.

Alejandro glanced at Ignatio de Soto. The Alcalde put his hands in the air and kept them there. Alejandro could see Ignatio's eyes narrow.

Jerry dragged Diego out of the camp, and over to a nearby rock. Alejandro and the Alcalde followed at a distance.

"Alcalde, do something," Alejandro said softly. "This madman will kill him."

De Soto gazed at the deranged killer with interest. "If only we could get someone to move to the other side of this man," he murmured. "A sharp blow to the head would stop him."

"Where are the others? Harry and Max?"

"Max? The trembling fool who ran out of the camp, and surrendered to Mendoza?"

"Could be," Alejandro murmured. "Harry is the ringleader, I think."

Diego gasped suddenly, and struggled against Jerry's grip around his neck. He was slowly losing consciousness, Alejandro realised.

A shot rang out, echoing in the sheltered canyon. Jerry fell with Diego to the ground. Alejandro leapt forward and gathered Diego into his arms. The Alcalde gazed at him, while Alejandro desperately checked for a heartbeat and signs of breathing. The sigh of relief from the old man made the Alcalde relax and proceed to investigate the still body of Jerry.

A bullet had pierced his skull, neatly and expertly. The man was dead, no question. The Alcalde glanced in the direction where the bullet must have come from, but of course there was no one there. "Zorro," he murmured thoughtfully.

"He's dead, Alejandro. Bullet between the eyes. Neatly done," the Alcalde said. "Is he coming round?"

Alejandro shook his head. "Where's Harry?"

The Alcalde sighed and went back to the camp, searching for the ringleader.

Alejandro shook his son gently. He touched wounds he knew to be tender, just to try and get a reaction from his pale son. His lips were edged with blue, but he was breathing. Shallow but vaguely regular. No response was forth coming. He felt a presence next to him, and he raised his eyes into the deep brown depths that were Felipe's. The boy had a smoking gun in his right hand, and he dropped it on the ground.

Felipe knelt with Diego. He glanced at the bruises and the cuts all over the man that was his father. "Father," he murmured, shaking Diego roughly. "Father…father…"

Diego stirred a little, opening his eyes with difficulty. He saw who was speaking, and his eyes widened. Diego's hand reached out for the teenager's right hand. Diego opened his mouth to say something…and found he couldn't. Alejandro frowned and watched the pair together.

"Father?" Felipe said as he watched with bewilderment. Diego tried again to speak, and his hand went to his throat. Diego waved a hand in some sort of gesture, a frustrated look coming to his eyes. Felipe put an arm around him, and pulled him close.

Wise Eagle had followed and Alejandro glanced at him.

"Why can't he speak?"

"The bruising to the throat area. White Bull is lucky to be alive at all. The airways are swollen and painful, the damage is probably temporary…Take your son home, and protect him. The ringleader is still out there. The danger…"

"The danger is too great for you to share, Wise Eagle. You have done so much for us," Alejandro said with gratefulness.

Wise Eagle nodded and turned and went back into his tent. Alejandro was soon joined by Victoria and Juan. Felipe laid Diego's head in his lap, worried. Diego had passed out again, and was breathing a little painfully.

The Alcalde made his way back to Alejandro as well. "I'll escort you home, Don Alejandro," de Soto said.

"We need protection. I will request some from the governor," Alejandro said with decision.

"It will take a while to organise," the Alcalde said thoughtfully. Alejandro glanced at him with annoyance. Here comes the brilliant plan to save his skin, Alejandro thought. "I can offer you half the garrison for your protection. I myself will be on guard at your hacienda."

Alejandro looked away for a moment. All to save his own skin…

"You hope that this will get back to Spain. How protective and how dedicated you are to the safety of the caballeros in this territory. Especially those related to the Queen."

The Alcalde shifted uneasily. "Mendoza, help Don Alejandro with getting his son into the cart. Organise an escort formation with the men. Any attack will be repelled immediately."

Alejandro snorted. But as long as Diego was safe, what did it matter?