July 2, 1815

Victoria

She had worried that Senora Sosa would try to talk her out of going to church, but she had only said, "I am sure it will be uncomfortable, but you have been cooped up here for weeks. It will be good for you to get out and see people."

Gilberto had only nodded when she appeared in her good dress that morning. He had started to continue past her, but then turned and leaned down to say softly, "Don't try to kneel. I mean it. It isn't worth getting stuck. Father Benitez will understand." And then he winked at her – patronizingly? She couldn't tell - and moved on briskly, calling for Felipe.

Diego asked her – three times – if she were sure, but he did not openly object.

The carriage ride was the worst of it. The road had been smoothed out a bit after the spring rains, but that had only taken care of the worst of the ruts. Every little rock and bump that made the carriage bounce sent a shock of pain up her side. Victoria leaned into the extra cushions that Diego had set behind her and took slow, small breaths. She was going to do this. She was going to town. She would see people. She would see her tavern.

Her relief at finally arriving at the church was quickly wiped away by concerns about how she would get out of the carriage.

Diego hopped down and turned back, holding out his hands. Victoria hesitated, biting her lip. He would lift her down by her waist, which was still very tender.

"Put your hands on my shoulders and try to hold as much of your weight as you can. Like that. And – Do forgive me - " Swiftly, Diego plucked her up by her hips and swung her lightly from the carriage. Almost before she knew it, she was on the ground, blinking in surprise. It hadn't hurt at all.

"Thank you," she managed. Diego offered her his arm.

Next came the journey up the steps and into the sanctuary. It seemed as though dozens of people materialized and pressed forward, wanting to say hello or see for themselves how she was recovering. Victoria managed to smile and say polite things, but she was tired by the time they reached the de le Vega pew.

Unfortunately, her weariness didn't stop her from spending the actual mass struggling not to be distracted by sinful thoughts. Sitting on the bench, listening to the litany wash over her, her mind kept straying to the feel of Diego's hands on her hips.

They had been face to face, inches apart, so close they could have kissed, and his hands –

No one had ever touched her there before. The outside of her hips, just over the bone. His hands had curved around her, fitting –

The moment had been so brief that the memory kept trying to slip away, leaving only an impression of his steady, gentle grip, so strong….

Which she should absolutely not be thinking about, certainly not in church.

She should be ashamed. Diego was a good man. He wasn't sitting there thinking about touching her. Was he? No. No. Diego was very proper, completely in control. He had been thinking of her comfort, her safety. He probably hadn't even noticed….

Victoria had noticed, and she spent a long hour trying desperately to stop noticing.

The solution to her improper difficulty presented itself in the most unexpected form: on the steps after church, the alcalde swept up, offered her a charming smile, kissed her hand, and said, "Ah, Senorita! How good to see you again. We were all so pleased to hear of your recovery. The pueblo hasn't been the same without you."

He smiled, and for a moment it seemed as though there might be warmth in his eyes, or a least a little honest happiness. Completely surprised by the new tactic – and completely baffled as to its point – Victoria retrieved her hand and answered, "Thank you for your kind concern."

"Nothing is more important than the wellbeing of the people in my care. I do hope you won't hesitate to ask if there is anything you need."

Ask him for help? When hell froze over! But she kept her gaze level and wished him a good day.

As he moved through the crowd – speaking to the deacon, a couple of caballeros, an elderly gentlewoman – Senora Sosa whispered, "What in the world is that about?"

Diego and Gilberto shared a brief frown but said nothing.

Felipe

Sir Edmund closed the tavern and came to the hacienda for Sunday dinner. He talked shop with Victoria for a while (it was clear that Victoria had been charmed into thinking he was a sweet, harmless old man. Felipe knew better; he was as sharp and dangerous as Diego). Then they played the language game. Victoria could sign a little, though she could speak no English at all. She found their antics very funny.

After the meal, though, she went to lie down. She was limping, sort of, and holding her arm close in. Diego looked after her frowning.

Gilberto, of course, had no interest in Victoria. He turned to Sir Edmund as soon as Victoria and Senora Sosa were gone. "Do we need to speak alone?"

He humphed. "I wish we did. Sadly, I have nothing useful to discuss at all."

So they took a walk in the garden and Sir Edmund set Felipe to doing forms while he and the twins had a very quiet conversation about the alcalde.

"Nothing?" Gilberto said, shifting in his seat. Clearly, he wanted to pace. "Nothing unusual at all?"

"Nothing at all, apparently," Sir Edmond answered. Felipe missed what he said next, but Gilberto cursed and then did get up to pace.

"Tell us exactly," Diego said. Felipe gave up on the forms and stood still to watch the conversation.

"He stayed late in his office on Friday. He saw no one. Yesterday, he send a lancer to the tavern to fetch an early lunch…in the afternoon, he had a very long meeting with that sergeant…." He frowned. "And in the evening he brought Mendoza to the tavern and bought dinner for both of them."

"Unusual," Diego said. "Hardly criminal."

Sir Edmond made a face. "He was in an ebullient mood. Mendoza, I mean. The alcalde has given him a raise. And apparently asked his opinion on a great many matters…."

"Odd," Diego said.

"It has been two months! Two months!" Gilberto exploded. "Whatever he is up to, we have no idea!"

"He may be up to nothing," Diego said carefully.

"What shall we bet on that?" he ground out in response. "He must move soon. He may have moved already. And he just sits in his office, and eats in the tavern – you saw him at church! Since when does he waste his pleasant words on the deacon? Or Victoria? And why is he so happy?"

"Which may be his point," Diego answered. "He has reasons to bide his time, and it is driving us mad. Perhaps he trying to provoke a mistake."

"Enough," Sir Edmond said. "Speculation gets us nowhere. Here, come and make Felipe work a bit."

Felipe's lesson was short and grueling (for Felipe), but not nearly enough to cure Gilberto's restlessness, so Sir Edmond removed his jacket and fenced him back and forth across the side yard until he was sweaty and panting. Then it was Diego's turn. And then Felipe's again.

Don Alejandro arrived home just as the afternoon was getting late. If he had arrived any earlier he would have been treated to a display of extraordinary swordsmanship, Zorro at his best and facing the rare opponents who could give him a good match.

Fortunately, Gilberto had been thoroughly tired out and even knocked into the dust a couple of times. As Don Alejandro entered the garden, Felipe took care of Gilberto's exhaustion and whatever distraction that made him glance to the side, and disarmed him.

It had been a lovely strike, and Felipe turned to make sure the others had seen it. He nearly dropped his own sword when he saw Don Alejandro standing by the gate. How much had he seen?

But Don Alejandro only smiled and signed, Nice, before moving to greet his sons and Sir Edmund. "I can't believe how much you've taught Felipe in such a short time…but I can't say I quite approve of lessons on a Sunday."

None of them dared look at one another. Sir Edmund took the responsibility, of course, and what could Don Alejandro say to him? Anyway, he hadn't seen anything too revealing. Getting into a little trouble for breaking the rules wasn't nearly so bad as giving away Zorro's secret.

Felipe hurriedly put aside the sword and ran to the house to get some refreshments: some lemonade and some little cakes and cheese. He returned just as Diego was finishing the report on the ranch.

"Clearly, I'm going to have to do something about Dulcinea," Don Alejandro said.

"For a while, at least," Diego agreed. "Although after this no one but Felix and Juan will go near her anyway. We were lucky this time. It could have been much worse."

Seated off to the side, Gilberto wiped his face with his handkerchief and said, "What about your trip, Father? How was Santa Barbara?"

He shrugged. "Uneventful. The weather was fine. The baby is beautiful. The letters are mailed." He made a face. "Our alcalde never arrived."

"No," Sir Edmund said. "He left on Thursday morning, but then he changed his mind and returned."

"Did you see who else attended that meeting of his?" Diego asked.

"There was no meeting. There were no other visitors to Santa Barbara at all."

"A secret meeting," Sir Edmund said uncertainly.

Don Alejandro laughed at this. "The Santa Barbara presidio is tiny. The 'town' is a trading post and a shabby little tavern. And everyone is a terrible gossip. If there ever was a meeting called there, everyone scheduled to go changed their minds…."

"Odd…." Diego said.

Everyone agreed that it was. No one had any ideas about what to do. Felipe, thinking about it, felt very nervous.

Gilberto

He might be losing his mind.

He told himself – when he searched the alcalde's office on Monday night and again on Tuesday night – that this was only due caution. When, in the wee hours of Wednesday morning, he happened to catch sight of Mendoza returning from the latrine, he told himself it would be silly to waste the opportunity. Bearing the little dagger Diego had given him, he swept the terrified lancer into a shadowed corner and grilled him about the alcalde's plans.

Mendoza had had only confusion to share, although to be fair, he had a great deal of it and he shared it willingly and in detail. The alcalde had not yelled at him in days. He had asked his opinion, and received it without sarcasm. He hadn't ranted about anything. He hadn't assigned anyone a punishment detail. He was in the office early and he stayed late.

He had not met with anyone except Mendoza.

He had not mentioned the annual tax assessment, which was due to start next week.

"He must be up to something," Zorro had protested.

Mendoza sagged. "He is always up to something, Zorro. I swear on my life I don't know what it is."

On Wednesday morning, the alcalde settled himself on the tavern porch with a pot of tea and watched people gather for the market. He smiled at everyone who met his eyes. He pleasantly greeted everyone who passed close to his seat.

When Felipe brought the finished papers out, Ramone actually paid for his. Usually, he just took one as his right (since the government owned the press) and without even bothering to glance at the boy selling them. Today he said absently, "Thank you, my good lad."

Watching all of it from a chair he'd set beside The Guardian doorway, it was all he could do just to resist the urge to go over and demand to know what the hell he thought he was doing. I am losing my mind, he thought. This is obsession.

And yet, he could also not think of a logical reason to let down his guard. For the first few weeks it had been reasonable to think that the alcalde was on his best behavior because he was expecting the territorial commissioner. With the man murdered, though, that explanation no longer held. Considering that Ramone himself might well have arranged his death, it seemed likely that that explanation had never held. Which meant he had not been fearfully trying to 'make good' for a couple of months now.

Gilberto did not have a clue what the villain was doing. He feared it was terrible. He also feared that it was only his own expectations and fears – and exhaustion and frustration - that were causing his worry.

Diego came out of the newspaper and laid a hand on his shoulder.

Gilberto sighed.

Diego smiled. "Let's test his patience, shall we?" And without waiting for a reply, he walked toward the tavern and greeted the alcalde with a hearty "Good morning."

"Why good morning." He lifted the paper he had been looking at. "Don Diego! Let me congratulate you on another exemplarily edition." To Gilberto's knowledge, he had never praised the paper without irony or some backhanded compliment. Today his smile had no edge to it at all.

Diego did not respond to the change. He only said, "Thank you," and asked if they might join him.

"Of course, of course. Do sit down." He leaned toward the door and waved down Pilar. "Lemonade or tea? Senorita, some lemonade please. Now, what can I do for you, gentlemen?"

For a moment it seemed that Diego had not planned quite so far ahead in the conversation. Then he leaned forward and said, "The renovations to the de Silva hacienda are nearly complete. The orphans will be moving in later this week. I wondered if you had some comment for the paper?"

"What is there to say? It was a beautiful gesture on the part of the de Silva beneficiaries. A tangible testament to kindness and mercy." He grew serious. "As the representative of secular authority in the area…perhaps I should inspect the property before they take possession." The thought seemed spontaneous, but it was quite out of character. It could be that this, at last, was a move in his game.

Or perhaps not, because he added, "Of course, you might also want to view the new orphanage. For the newspaper, I mean. Whoever is writing the story should see the place first hand. Hmm. Perhaps we could make an appointment to see it together?"

"An excellent idea," Diego agreed at once. "I'll speak to my father. I'm sure he would like to lead the tour himself."

Surely, now, now, Ramone would show some reaction, some distaste or shame or something! But he only nodded agreeably.

Diego shifted ever so slightly. "I wanted to mention – I was riding out by the west fork last week. The aqueduct is coming along beautifully. I've been meaning to compliment you." He sounded completely earnest, but this, if anything, would provoke Ramone.

But no. Ramone was as good an actor as Diego. He smiled with innocent interest. "Do you think so? You know, I haven't been out there in a while myself. I need to go out and take a look. How much longer do you estimate the project will take?"

Diego blinked. He breathed in slowly, took too long to answer, finally managed to meet this impossibly civil response: "Months, I'm afraid. Six or eight. It depends on the crops and how much manpower you lose to the harvest."

Ramone nodded. "Ah, yes. But you have the same problem with your new house, don't you?"

The conversation ended soon after that. Diego had played his best hands, and lost with every one of them. The alcalde could not be provoked into breaking his façade. Gilberto almost had to admire the performance. He would never have credited Luis Ramone with so much self-control.

Victoria

Little Pepe was forbidden to work in the barn until his bruises were no longer painful. Deprived of his freedom and the manly work of tidying the barn, he sat with Victoria and Maria at the kitchen door, shelling beans. He was explaining that he always liked Wednesdays best – even when he wasn't allowed to go to town – because normally Diego required that he read one page from the translation of the Gospels and two pages from the history book, but on Wednesdays he got to read the newspaper instead. The newspaper was much easier to read than the Gospels, of course, and – he explained at length – more interesting than the histories.

"Except on Sunday. Then I have to read three pages from the Gospels." He frowned. "I don't see why I have to read it: I go to church, don't I? Nobody else reads the Bible at all."

Over her head, Victoria smiled at Maria. For the past two days he had been freed from his bed but confined to the house. His conversation had consisted mainly of harrying and unlikely pirate stories. This new topic was an improvement.

"I have the proof Diego ran yesterday. You don't have to wait until they come home," Victoria offered.

Pepe made a face at her. "I'm not in a hurry," he said.

Maria chuckled. "He does have to wait until we are finished with the beans. Anyway, here come the boys now." She nodded toward the barn.

Everyone was home: Don Alejandro, the twins, Felipe. They were taking the shortcut through the kitchen from the barn. Both of the twins looked distracted, although they stopped to greet Maria, and Diego asked Victoria how she was feeling. Don Alejandro and Pepe were talking about sheep. The boy might not be fond of reading, but he had a talent for animals. After pirates, it seemed to be favorite topic.

The conversation during lunch was … completely like any other day. They talked of the market, newspaper, the cattle, Don Alejandro's mare, repairs on the line shacks, who was getting married. It was completely unremarkable.

And yet.

Diego's eyes were focused far away, even when he was speaking about some technical issue with the paper. Gilbert was unusually mercurial: he alternated between considerate and charming (a sign he was making a special effort) and distracted and irritable (more so than usual). She had no clue what was bothering him. Over the last few days he had grumbled about the alcalde, but he had no reason to take such an emotional interest in the usual government corruption. He was surely hiding some other concern.

And in addition to the individual oddness of each of the twins, some odd energy seemed to tangle between them. It was…worrying. Were they quarreling? Were they hiding something?

Was Diego ill? That was always the real worry, wasn't it? Diego's precarious health…but he seemed to be distracted, not unwell.

They were just leaving the table when Mendoza came to the front door with an envelope to deliver. "I'm sorry," he said. "But could I ask you to read it now? Otherwise I'll have to come back later to get the answer," he winced apologetically, "and there are a lot of invitations to deliver."

"Invitations?" Don Alejandro asked, flipping the envelope open. "Well. That is the last thing I expected." He passed the note to Gilberto.

"He is hosting a party Friday night at the tavern," Gilberto said. "Well. I have to agree, that's unexpected."

Mendoza shrugged helplessly. "Has been very…nice lately. Anyway, he is inviting the leading members of the community to a party on Friday night." He sighed. "Obviously we must hurry to deliver the invitations."

"Quite right. Must gather up all the little rabbits, mustn't we?" Don Alejandro went to the doorway and called for Maria to bring the sergeant some water.

"Rabbit?" Mendoza repeated. "Oh, no. He is serving chicken."

Very extravagant. Beef was easier and cheaper. And he was holding it at the tavern. Oh, dear. "Sergeant, how many people?"

"Oh, about thirty, I think. You never know who has out of town guests." He drained the glass of water Maria brought, smiled his thanks, and asked how many people would be coming. He had a little scrap of paper to mark it down on.

"We'll send a message in later today, Sergeant," Diego said quickly. I'm sure you have more invitations to deliver."

As he hurried out Victoria leaned back in the chair, feeling a bit dizzy. "I have to go home. Thirty people!"

"Victoria," Diego began.

"Don't try to talk me out of it!"

"No. Obviously. But, Victoria…."

"Only to supervise. I'll hire a couple of extra girls. Friday! That isn't nearly enough time. I have to talk to Senor Kendall!" She struggled to her feet.

Diego caught her hand. "We'll send a note asking him to come here. Wearing yourself out traveling back and forth will just be a waste. Actually, given the circumstances, I'd be surprised if he weren't already on his way…."

Gilberto's voice obliterated the rest of what he was going to say. "Yes, obviously you're right! Of course he is still a crocodile!" She had been ignoring the conversation between Gilberto and his father as it gradually grew louder. Now it was impossible to speak over.

"So how can you suggest we just march into his little party like innocent rabbits hopping into the crocodile's mouth? I want no part of it! We know what kind of man he is. And we know this 'party' is not a helpful ride across the river."

Gilberto snorted, but stepped back and lowered his hands. "If we go, we might find out what is going on. Besides, whatever he is up to, he will do it whether we are there or not. Staying home won't stop him."

"So we sit at his table? Drink his wine? No. No. I will not break bread with a man who has had me arrested, had my sons arrested – Diego nearly died in his custody! No - "

Diego quickly left Victoria, took Don Alejandro by the arm, and led him aside, turning away from the parlor to face the huge, open entryway. Frowning, Victoria glanced at Gilberto who had his head in his hands. Felipe was seated by the fireplace. He had his arms folded and his eyes down. The room was very quiet.

Pepe, holding his copy of The Guardian, peeped around the edge of the doorway and then withdrew quickly.

Diego said, "He is the representative of the Government. Unless we are willing to declare open rebellion, we must show proper respect for the office."

Don Alejandro was still not looking at the rest of the room. He said, "It sounds like a personal invitation to me. I have no desire to be his guest, and if the snub offends him, so much the better!"

Gilberto ground his teeth together and turned away. Victoria had to wince at his temper.

"Father," Diego said gently. "'Berto is right. It accomplishes nothing to stay home, and we may learn something if we go. Besides, Victoria will have to be there, to see to the tavern. If there is quarrelling or – or trouble…we should be there."

Don Alejandro returned to his seat and sighed heavily. "Oh, this man! This man. Damn. It is only a dinner invitation. And yet…." He sighed again. "I do wonder….what if he realized he went too far this spring? What if he is in fear for his position? What if he really is trying to behave himself?"

Diego looked surprised. "Do you think that's likely?"

"Of course not. But he has not raised taxes in months. Not called for civil discipline. Not gotten into a quarrel with the mission. Not tried to cheat anyone. Not…anything. And now….Have you talked to him lately?"

Diego did not answer at once. He went to the window and looked out for a moment. Finally, he said, "I have to say that the man I spoke to today…does not seem to be the man I've known for over two years. But what it means….whether he has changed or if he has only come up with some new game to advance himself at the pueblo's expense….I wouldn't have said he was that good an actor. Still."

"Father," Gilberto said quietly. "Let us find out. If you don't want to go to the party, I do understand. If you don't want to publically give your blessing to his…hospitality…."

"If you are going, I am going," he said. He glanced at Victoria. He groaned and waved a helpless hand. "We are going."

~tbc

If you're familiar with the series you've already identified the episode…but you've done the math and you're wondering if perhaps I've made some mistake (the sort that happens in amateur fiction)? And then, there is the inevitable thought that perhaps there is no mistake and I actually mean it.

There is no mistake. As for meaning it, well, I always loathed "Devil's Fortress."