CHAPTER ELEVEN – Haunted Plans

"Sergeant Mendoza, how's your side?" Dr. Barton leaned around the partially open door. "I know it's only been a few days since I last talked with you… Have you had any more pain?" Dr. Barton could hardly wait to talk with Mendoza about Zorro – his real purpose in coming to the alcalde's office.

Mendoza rose to greet him. "Dr. Barton. It's so good to see you! I've not had much pain at all – hardly any. I have tried very hard to cut down on the meats and breads, and it seems to be helping."

"Have you been resting enough, Sergeant? Rest is just as important in getting well as your diet. We want you well so that you can run this charming little pueblo." Dr. Barton walked over to the desk, and sat down in the chair as Mendoza greeted him, and motioned for him to sit.

Mendoza sat in his chair. "I get as much rest as I can, Doctor. It is not easy being the temporary alcalde…much more work than for a sergeant. Do you like it here, Doctor?"

Dr. Barton thought a moment. "I understand you do have some help, don't you Sergeant? And si – I like it here – very much. I hope to stay here a very, very long time."

"Oh that's wonderful, Doctor. And – si – I have help. Don Alejandro is a great help. But part of my duties also includes running the garrison." Mendoza replied.

"Sergeant, have you thought about getting help from your Corporal for the garrison? It might take some of the strain away from trying to do two jobs at once." Dr. Barton's voice was calm and caring.

"Well – there are some things Corporal Sepulveda can help with – and some he can't – without actually being a sergeant." Mendoza seemed to hem and haw about it.

"I would strongly urge you to see what you can do about getting more rest, Sergeant. Make sure you take siesta every day, and if you end your work day an hour earlier, I know you should be able to get the rest you need. Well – enough of that. I have a question for you, Sergeant. May I ask it?"

"Why certainly, Doctor. And – I will get all the rest I can. I promise."

"Good. Good!" Dr. Barton paused a moment, then proceeded. "Here's my question. I'm curious. Sergeant, what do you know about Zorro? You know that he captured the banditos trying to rob the coach I was on when I first arrived."

Mendoza laughed. "I remember. That Zorro – he is really something. But I don't know very much about him, Doctor. No one does. I only know he is my friend. He saved me from a fire."

"What can you tell me about him?"

"Zorro fights for justice. He defends those who can't defend themselves. He captures banditos. He is in love with Senorita Escalante – oh I forgot – they broke up the other day. That was very sad. They've been the romance of the pueblo…everyone was hoping they'd get married – once he removed the mask…and if he was pardoned…"

Jackson rolled his eyes and interjected, "Sergeant – have you ever seen Zorro injured? Do you know of any injuries he may have sustained?"

Mendoza thought a few moments. "Well, soon after we first saw him, we thought he died. We were chasing him, and he fell off his horse into Cayon Perdido. But it turned out he wasn't dead."

Jackson leaned forward with great interest. "Really? Zorro fell off his horse? How far would you say he fell into Cayon Perdido?"

"Oh – probably thirty feet or so. We saw him. He didn't move. Yet – when we left for a while and came back – we thought we saw his body. We even shot it. But when we got down into the cayon, it was only his cape and hat on a tree branch."

Dr. Barton rubbed above his upper lip with his pointer finger. He always did that when he was thinking, processing information. "Very interesting. After he fell, was he seen in the pueblo right away?"

"No. A few days went by. The Alcalde declared him dead – mainly by his absence."

"But you said he wasn't dead?"

"No, he wasn't."

"Sergeant, was anyone else in the pueblo injured around that time – that you know of? Was anyone else 'absent' from the pueblo around that time?"

Mendoza thought a moment. "Well, I heard Don Diego fell from his father's old mare. I heard he had a serious head injury. I don't think I saw him for over a week. He was bedridden."

Dr. Barton nodded and stroked his lip again. "Yes, he would be with a serious head injury. This is very helpful. Can you think of any other times Zorro was injured?"

Again, Mendoza scratched his head. "Well, we were chasing a foreign man the alcalde thought was a spy. During the fight, the alcalde threw his sword at Zorro, and we know it wounded him in the leg – but by the time we saw him again, he was all right."

"Was there any citizen you remember seeing limping around that time – for any reason?" Dr. Barton felt he was closing in on his major suspect.

"No. I don't think so. I didn't see anyone."

"Who were the closest people to this foreign person your alcalde thought was a spy?"

"Don Alejandro and Don Diego de la Vega. They found him close to their property. He stayed with them a few days – until the alcalde heard about it and wanted to arrest him."

"Do you remember any other times Zorro was hurt? I promise – this is my last question."

"When the Emissary was here, one of his royal guardsmen told me he'd shot Zorro in the arm, while he was rescuing his horse Tornado, but I didn't see that. I was trying to help the alcalde."

Dr. Barton smiled to himself and thought, yep, I think so. Zorro falls from a horse. Diego falls from a horse. Zorro's shot in the arm. Diego's arm is 'stabbed.' Really now… The leg – well, it could be that Diego didn't show himself in public until after it had healed. But – if I'm right, there is more to this amateur caballero than meets the eye – and I'll have to keep an eye on him. And yet – I like him. He reminds me of George…and I – would – never hurt – George…

"Muchas gracias Sergeant. You've been very helpful. You take good care of yourself. I would hate to have to do experimental surgery you might not survive. But – don't you worry. You just take good care of yourself. I'll check on you again in a few days."

Jackson smiled to himself. Ohhhhh, this was so much easier than I thought. That has to be more than a coincidence. But – I haven't been here quite long enough yet.

Z

After typesetting the first page of the next issue, Diego locked up and headed towards the tavern. Victoria needs attention, he thought. But I'm afraid she'll confront me about Zorro. I could deny it, but I promised I wouldn't. I don't think I'm ready to talk about it. I just want things to continue on between her and me – without Zorro and the secret, he thought.

As he walked towards the tavern, Diego saw Dr. Barton exit the alcalde's office. Dr. Barton waved and smiled. He motioned Diego to meet him in the tavern. Diego nodded.

They met at the door and walked in together. Victoria saw them enter, and inwardly pouted. I want to see Diego alone, she thought. It's been nearly a week since we've seen each other except in public. Outwardly, she smiled and greeted them, as she took a tray from the counter to a customer's table.

Diego and Jackson sat at Diego's favorite table by the thick pillar. After Victoria dropped off the items from her tray at another table, she came to tend to Diego and Jackson.

"What can I get you gentlemen?" Victoria smiled.

Diego looked at Jackson, who nodded. "Just some lemonade for now, Victoria."

"Be right with you," Victoria held out her hand. Diego took it and kissed the back of it.

"Senorita, you're looking positively stunning today – as always. I pray I may call upon you this Sunday evening – as usual?" Diego smiled his most charming smile.

Victoria was ready to pout right to his face, but she melted at his smile. Later, she thought. I'll let him have it, sometime later.

She watched them talk. It looks like they've each found a friend, she thought.

Z

"Jackson! Jackson! Don't do it! They're not worth it!" Jackson heard the voice of his childhood friend George Roberts in a dream. Jackson was fifteen; George was thirteen at the time of this dream.

"But George! They keep beating us up! Somebody has to do something!"

"But Jackson! It's not right to – to break someone's arm or leg – on purpose – then pretend you didn't do it. Then turn around and help Dr. Jackson set their broken bones and pretend you care – when you don't!"

"But – I do care – for those who are hurting! You know that, George! And you know – I'd do anything – for you!"

Jackson woke up with a start, panting. As he fell asleep again, another nightmare took its place. Voices…voices…voices of people from his past, haunting his dreams – as they had for several years now.

"Jackson Barton! Why did you do that? What did I ever do to you? I'm not one of your guinea pigs, you know!"

"Dr. Barton. We have evidence to suggest that you deliberately, and with premeditation, gave Widow Thompson unwarranted sedation! The investigation of New York Hospital shows that you prolonged her hospital stay just so you could try out a new experimental medication on her. We are going to suspend you for a month! If this happens again, you'll be fired!"

"Dr. Barton. We've made ourselves clear. We don't understand. You're a brilliant doctor. Your patients love you…but these mysterious injuries and deaths your patients have sustained here at Massachusetts General that you can't or won't account for…"

"Dr. Barton – we're sorry, but you are discharged. The death of Mr. Saunders was the last straw. You were warned what would happen if any other unexplained deaths or injuries occurred on your watch here at Massachusetts General took place."

"Jackson…I've tried to help you. I don't understand why you seem to be obsessed with sedations. You know I've tried every way to help you understand… but you've taken the Oath of Hippocrates and you will be subject to it! I would hate for the oath's curse to come upon you, Jackson. You're my namesake. I care for you as if you were my own son. Please Jackson – consider what you're doing, and change your ways. I can only do so much to smooth things over with Massachusetts General…just as I tried with New York Hospital, but I'll try one more time. Just promise me, Jackson…no more…"

"Jackson! Jackson! Don't do it! They're not worth it!" George again.

"George – you know – I'd do – anything – for you!"

Again – Dr. Jackson Barton woke up from his nightmares with a start and sat up in bed. But they don't understand. And they don't appreciate me. They never have, Jackson thought, as he lay back down.

Z

A week later, Jackson started scouring Dr. Hernandez's patient files. He was looking for 'accident-prone' people, anyone over fifty, and anyone under fifteen. They were the most vulnerable. 'Business' has been off lately, not enough sick people, he thought. He was settling in and the people of the pueblo were beginning to take him for granted already.

Hmmm. The dons and vaqueros are always good for farming accidents. Children are good for any kind of accident or illness. The elderly are especially good for chronic illness, he thought. They'll be so grateful I helped them when they're hurt. The people of this pueblo have already told me how much they appreciate me. I'm grateful – to be here. I like it here. This pueblo is big enough to take care of me for the rest of my life…

And as for Diego and Zorro – well there's plenty of time to think of something special, he thought. Maybe something will present itself.

Z

Another week went by.

When Diego walked into the tavern for lunch, he heard everyone talk about Dr. Barton and how he had saved little eight-year-old Paco de Silva from a serious illness. No one seemed to know any details, however.

Victoria came to take Diego's lunch order. She had been busy with the tavern, and Diego had been busy at the ranch and at the newspaper. They hadn't seen much of each other privately, and since Zorro and Victoria broke up, Diego didn't have that particular avenue to see her anymore. They only saw each other formally, on Sunday evenings, when a duena was present.

"Diego, can I see you at siesta today? We've hardly spent any time together in the last few weeks."

He smiled. "There's nothing I'd like better, Victoria. It's branding time at the rancho, and Father needs all the help he can get. But I promise – I can stay a little while."

"Good. I'll be back with your lunch order in a few minutes." She smiled back.

Sergeant Mendoza came in, and spotted Diego. He walked over and greeted the young don. "Don Diego! It's good to see you! How are you, mi amigo? I haven't seen you for a while."

"It's good to see you, Sergeant. We're busy at the ranch, and I'm busy at the newspaper as well. How are you, Sergeant? It's been nearly a month, hasn't it – since you cut down on meat and bread?"

"Si, Don Diego. It's been about four weeks. I'm feeling good. I'm going to celebrate by eating a nice thick, juicy steak for lunch."

"Is that wise, Sergeant? Shouldn't you work your way up to that?" Diego's brow furrowed.

"Oh, I'm fine, Don Diego. Doctor Barton said I could celebrate. I've not had any pain for a long time now."

"Well, if you get indigestion from that steak, don't say I didn't warn you. Have a seat, my friend." Diego looked thoughtful.

Z

As Diego and Mendoza ate lunch, Felipe came running into the tavern, and signed for Diego to follow him outside.

"Pardon me, Sergeant. It looks as though some of our cattle broke through a fence, and Father wants me to help round them up. Victoria!"

Victoria came over to the table from behind the counter. "Si Diego."

"I'll try to be back by siesta, but in case I'm not, can we make it tomorrow?" Diego looked at her with an expression of regret. Felipe looked at him in desperation, and put up his hands and flicked them back and forth for urgency.

Victoria had a hand on one hip as she harrumphed. "Humph! All right, Senor Cow Savior! Here's what you're missing!" She swished her skirts as she sashayed away.

On their way out, Diego turned to Felipe a moment. "An accident?"

TBC