Chapter 21

Note: **dialogue** refers to Felipe's sign language comments.

Hernandez took a deep breath, and paused before answering. "We need to try to get a clean blanket under him to separate him from the dirty floor. I'm sure you need to get out from under his head, and we can elevate his head and shoulders with blankets. Then we work on the bullet."

A look of panic came over Alejandro's and Victoria's faces as they thought of how dangerous it had been just to change places.

"But he can't tolerate even a little movement! Even for us to try to change places has sent him into coughing fits!" Victoria cried hysterically.

Hernandez quietly placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "I know. Hopefully after this we won't have to move him for a while, and he will feel better. But the risk of death from infection is enormous with him lying on the dirt and having these injuries." He paused, knowing the difficulty of the task ahead. "It is not a matter of wanting to. It is that we have to. That could be as vital as removing the bullet itself."

The doctor thought for a moment. Normally he would ask the family to leave; there would be fewer distractions, less hysteria. But this time, he really didn't have the heart to ask them to leave Diego. It was only because of Alejandro and Victoria's team work in the horrible conditions prior to his arrival, that Diego had made it this far. And if he died …. The doctor didn't want to think about it. He felt they could be a help, and it might help them accept his death better if they knew they had done everything possible to save him.

Felipe slowly moved forward from the wall and tapped the doctor on the shoulder, bringing him out of his brief reverie, and began signing slowly. "Yes, Felipe, I will need the supplies brought over here. Normally I would ask everyone to leave, but this once, I may need your help. Victoria, I will understand if you need to leave, and you may; but he does seem calmer with you here, and I do need him still."

The doctor relayed his instructions, giving everyone a job to do to help. The padre then informed the physician of the herbal medicines he had brought. As Diego was log rolled to one side, moaning incoherently, the rolled blanket was laid behind him, and then he was log rolled back and the blanket was then unrolled and smoothed flat. His ragged shirt was cut off.

Alejandro was assisted out from under his head. His stiff legs would not carry him, so Felipe helped him scoot back against the wall to rest and allow the circulation to return to his legs. Large blanket rolls were then put in his place, keeping Diego's head elevated.

Diego tolerated the movement without a major coughing fit this time. His body was now almost completely limp from the exhaustion of the last coughing spasm he'd had. Unsure Diego would hear him, Doctor Hernandez informed him he needed to lie still, and they were going to try to remove the bullet first. To his surprise, Diego responded with a groan and a slight nod.

Victoria ran again to his side, clutched his hand, and spoke softly into his ear. She got a towel and once more gave him squeezes of water from the cloth then wiped his face to cool him.

Dr. Hernandez gave Diego a dose of laudanum for the pain, and then got his instruments and supplies together. Felipe rummaged in the bag he had brought. He found a cloth and a bottle he knew to contain ether, a solution Zorro had used in the past to put some of the soldiers to sleep if needed. He put some of the liquid on the cloth to 'clean' his father's face. He placed his hand on Diego's arm, surreptitiously squeezing it, hoping Diego would understand. They had sometimes communicated that way when Zorro had been hurt badly in the past.

Felipe thought he saw a slight nod before he 'wiped' around his father's face, letting the cloth hover for several seconds near Diego's nose and mouth. He looked up at Victoria, and found her observing him. Her tear-streaked face had silently watched him as he wiped around Diego's dirty face with care. A soft gasp escaped her lips, unnoticed by the others in the room.

Realization dawned on her face as she recognized another of the secrets behind Zorro. Who else would have tended the wounds? How else would Diego have known some of the things that happened in the pueblo? Who else would he have trusted to help him except his silent, best friend …someone no one would suspect?

As their gazes locked, he glanced around with his eyes to see where everyone was, and barely shook his head. He could see in her face that she had figured it out. She nodded, just barely, so only Felipe noticed. There were too many people around them to say or do more now. Outwardly, he was trying hard to be confident, but between the shock of Diego's condition and now the discovery that Victoria knew the secret, he was inwardly reeling.

Doctor Hernandez took his place at Diego's left shoulder and talked to him without really expecting another response, though he thought him to be unconscious, not drugged. Diego probably would have been unconscious, but Felipe wanted to make sure that his father would be in as little pain as possible.

Doctor Hernandez poured whiskey on a clean cloth and wiped around the bullet wound. He then poured the alcohol around the wound itself, trying not to get an excessive amount into the open wound. Patting the excess fluid away, he quickly began to probe for the bullet. He found it with only moderate difficulty and removed it. He assessed the wound; the bullet appeared to only have done minimal muscle damage. He then poured more whiskey around the wound, and then cleaned the wound opening itself with the cloth. Padre Benitez then quickly covered the wound with a poultice of Indian herbs to cleanse the blood and decrease the swelling and fever. With some work, and lots of time, he should have full use of his arm again … assuming he lived long enough for the wound to heal.

The doctor then sat looking at Diego's ribs, deep in thought. How could they keep him immobile enough he would not be allowed to bend his torso, and possibly puncture a lung if this had not been done already? It felt as though most, if not all, of the ribs on Diego's left side had been at least cracked (Dr. Hernandez had not mentioned that little detail in his earlier description of Diego's injuries. He couldn't be sure, and he felt Don Alejandro had enough to handle for the moment). They needed something stiff and snug, formfitting, that would make moving and bending difficult. He spoke his concerns out loud, eliciting suggestions from the rooms' occupants.

Felipe grinned and reached into the bag he had brought from home. He pulled out a man's dress corset. At one time in the not too distant past, they had been considered the height of fashion in the Spanish court. He looked at his grandfather, and approached him with the garment in his hand, touching Alejandro's arm to get his attention.

**I grabbed this from the old chest in the storage room. Diego had shown it to me once when we were looking for something in there. He said it was yours. From the soldiers' description of Diego's injuries, I thought we might have a need for it. I'm sorry, I would have asked before taking it, but ….** (Actually, Diego had used that corset a couple of times in the past when he had needed to hide evidence of cracked or broken ribs from his father … and others, but of course Felipe couldn't tell Alejandro that!)

"It was good thinking. It should work fine, shouldn't it, Doctor? I am certainly not using it now, and really have not used it since we left Spain. It should fit him with no problems."

While Diego was still unconscious, they log rolled him first one way then the other. Once Diego was on his back with the corset flat under him, Dr. Hernandez laced it up as tightly as he could. The doctor then applied a salve to Diego's raw, rope burned wrists.

"Alejandro, you have been under a lot of stress. Let me take a quick look at you to make sure you are OK, as well," the doctor instructed.

"I'm fine, really … just concerned."

"No, I insist. This has been horribly stressful, from what I've been told and have seen so far. A quick exam, that's all," the doctor persisted. "Besides, Diego needs you to be well."

"OK, I'm too tired to argue about it."

Alejandro looked into the chalky face of his son. Even after so little time since the bullet's removal, his color seemed slightly better. Maybe it was wishful thinking. He sent up a prayer that it wasn't. Diego's breathing was shallow, but quiet.

He looked at Victoria, who had resumed her place at his right shoulder, holding his son's hand. He so hoped that Diego survived. It had become clear that they loved each other; now for them to be able to tell each other and be able to hear it. He would love to welcome her into his family. And grandbabies! But first…first…Diego had to get better. They had a long way to go before they could even think of marriage and grandbabies. But at least for now, he was alive.

Doctor Hernandez stood, looking first at Diego and then to the other occupants. A feeling of resolution, a strange peace had come over the room. Together they were trying to save the life of their friend and loved one; one who had selflessly sacrificed so much for them.

"For now, there is nothing more I can do for him. It is up to him now …and to God. I need to tend to the wounded soldiers. Call me if anything changes. He is resting quietly and certainly is not any worse at the present time." He then turned slowly and went through the door and closed it, his head down in quiet thought and prayer.

Padre Benitez took Felipe with him to get fresh water, at which time they were able to discuss ingredients for teas to help Diego heal.

Once more Victoria and Alejandro continued their silent vigil with Diego. But this time they found comfort knowing that their friends were just on the other side of the door.

When they returned with the water, Felipe also brought both Victoria and Alejandro fresh water, bread, cheese and fruit to eat. Neither was aware of how hungry they were, but the food was quickly inhaled.

The de la Vega servants had fixed a light dinner and everyone had been fed and had started to bed down. The soldiers planned to return to the pueblo in the morning, as it was now too late to do so safely.

TBC