Chapter 13

Jose Ramiro and his men were gone. They left just before sunrise. Alejandro and Victoria had heard them moving around in the other room, but couldn't quite catch what they were saying to each other. Just before they left, Ramiro came into the lean-to, with Pablo and Tomas flanking him.

Victoria watched fearfully as Alejandro pushed himself up off the floor where he'd been sitting by Diego, and interposed himself protectively between the bandits and his son. It was obvious from the glare in Don Alejandro's eye that Ramiro would touch Diego again only over Alejandro's dead body! It really wouldn't have surprised her for Alejandro to take a swing at the bandit leader, even though he was outnumbered three to one, and each of the three was at least 20 years younger than him. She held her breath, praying that he wouldn't do anything to anger Ramiro.

"So. He's still alive, is he? I'm a little surprised at that. He looks a bit the worse for wear, though." Ramiro's arrogant smirk sent chills down Victoria's back, as he turned back to face Don Alejandro. "You can relax, old man. I'm not coming to continue our little discussion. There's been a change of plans.

"I'll have to admit that Don Diego proved to be quite different than your alcalde led me to expect. He said your son was a weakling, a bookworm, hopelessly inept at anything requiring any real ability other than book knowledge. He told me that Don Diego is notorious for disappearing any time there's anything remotely dangerous or physically demanding going on. I fully expected the man to be begging you to tell anything you might know about Zorro, even before we started questioning you.

"De Soto obviously doesn't know your son as well as he bragged that he did, or else he deliberately misled me. Considering what he was wanting from me, I can't see any reason for him to have done that."

There was a grudging respect in Ramiro's voice as he continued, nodding toward Diego. "That one is about as weak and flabby as a blade of Toledo steel! You know my history, de la Vega. I've…ah, shall we say…'entertained' many men over the course of my career, for many reasons." He stared Diego's father straight in the eye as he continued. "I can't think of one who ever withstood the type of beating your son received without at least once begging us to stop, or begging us just to go ahead and kill him and get it over with.

"I've been thinking about this all night. I still don't think you and the lovely senorita were telling the truth when you said you don't know Zorro's identity. But I really don't believe I want my men and me to be here when Zorro comes looking for you. And that could be any time, now. So, old man, when we leave here, you're free."

Victoria was trying to process everything Ramiro was saying, but those last two words shook every other thought away. She and Alejandro exchanged startled glances, suddenly, desperately hopeful despite their lack of trust in the bandit's promises. We're free? He's letting us go? WHY?

Victoria spoke up, asking the question that both she and Don Alejandro were thinking. "Do you expect us to believe you just intend to let us go free to identify you to the alcalde's men? You said you also wanted revenge for your brother's death. Why should we believe you've changed your mind?"

¡Gracias a Dios! It may be a trick, but if it isn't, maybe we'll at least have a chance. One of us can go for help. If only…. She had to make herself concentrate on the rest of what Ramiro was saying, and her heart plummeted.

"Oh, I haven't changed my mind about that." Ramiro's sadistic smile turned full force toward Don Alejandro. "I know what I did to your son, senor. I am amazed he's still alive this morning. He doesn't give up easily, does he? I think that letting the two of you live, knowing that you could have prevented his death simply by giving me El Zorro's identity, will be acceptable as that "payment with interest" we discussed yesterday morning. Don't you?"

As Jose Ramiro turned and strode cockily from the room, not even bothering to latch the door behind him, Victoria watched Don Alejandro de la Vega wilt. That was the only word Victoria could think of to describe the old don's reaction. He had aged at least ten years in the past twenty-four hours. Not for the first time since their ordeal had started, Victoria was as frightened for him as she was for Diego. He looked old. A lot older than he ever had before. Old and defeated.

As they heard the horses canter away, Diego's father dropped back onto his knees beside his son. His head dropped down toward Diego. Gently, he took Diego's hand in his own and just knelt there, holding it against his cheek. The tears running down his face wet both his hand and that of his son.

Victoria stretched over and rested her hand on Alejandro's arm. Her eyes were full of compassion and love for the old don.

"Don't give up, Alejandro. They're gone, hopefully for good, and Diego is still alive. They may think they've killed him, but they haven't. Not yet. And Ramiro was right about one thing. Diego won't give up easily. He'll fight to live. I know he will!"

I've got to believe that! I have to convince Don Alejandro that Diego still has a chance to live. I have to give him some hope. He looks ready to collapse, himself.

"Alejandro?"

Alejandro's gaze left Diego's face. "I want so badly to believe that, Victoria. But I spent too many years as a soldier. I've seen too many good men---trained soldiers---die, even though they fought to live."

He looked straight at Victoria. "We have to face the truth, Victoria. He's hurt too badly. Maybe one man out of ten could survive the injuries Diego has. One out of a hundred might even make a full recovery.

"Ramiro was right about something else, too, though." Alejandro's voice was a mixture of sorrow, pride, and awe. "Very few men could have taken the beating Diego did without begging for it to stop. Diego's will is far stronger than I've ever given him credit for."

He took a deep breath before he continued, his voice cracking. "I don't know how he did it, but for someone as un-athletic as Diego is, he's also extremely muscular. I'm ashamed to say I never even noticed that before last night." Alejandro blinked back more tears as he glanced down at Diego again, and then returned his gaze to Victoria.

"But with all of his injuries, and all of the blood he's lost, and that bullet still in his shoulder….That's the one that's scaring me the most, Victoria. That and those broken ribs. The infection is getting worse all the time, and we have absolutely no way to remove the bullet. His fever's just going to keep getting higher. He's either going to get blood poisoning from the infection, or he'll start tossing and turning again and wind up puncturing a lung."

Alejandro's voice faltered again, and Victoria wasn't sure how to react when the most dignified man she'd ever known suddenly broke down into shoulder-shaking sobs. She couldn't move from her position on the floor, with Diego's head still in her lap; but she put one hand on the old man's shoulder again, and just waited.

When Alejandro finally spoke, his voice was full of shame. "Do you know, Victoria, I once called my son a coward…to his face, no less. I'll never forget the hurt I saw in his eyes when I said that. I would have taken the words back if I could have, but I was too angry and too proud to just apologize."

He looked down Diego again. "I was so wrong, Victoria. So wrong. A coward could not have taken that beating without breaking. A coward wouldn't have been begging me over and over to leave him here and get you away. He'd have been begging for us to do something to make his pain stop. A coward wouldn't have tried to give us an opening to escape, knowing he didn't have a chance of getting away himself."

Alejandro's piercing gaze showed his anguish all too well. "I told Diego I was ashamed of his apathy---that no true de la Vega would sit by and do nothing but 'write a letter to the governor' while innocent people were suffering. Diego may fight his battles with pen and ink instead of with a soldier's weapons, but he's no coward, Victoria. He's no coward!

"He's so much like his mother---much more than he's like me. Yet I keep trying to make him more like me. He's all the things I loved about my Elena. He's gentle. He's patient. He's filled with a love for the arts and for learning." Alejandro gave a twisted, ironic grimace. "All I've ever known is soldiering and ranching. I wanted so much more for him, yet I've made his life miserable ever since he came home from Spain, complaining because he doesn't love the same things I do. And now---now I may never even get a chance to tell him how sorry I am."

O Dios! I have to tell him the truth! They're so much more alike than Alejandro realizes.

How can I tell this man that his son was intentionally hiding so much of himself from us, when I don't really understand it myself, yet? But he needs to know. He needs to know now.

TBC