This chapter is based on episode 32, The Doctor is a Drunkard. I changed one minor detail in the episode because it made no sense, but I doubt anyone will even notice it.

THE RIGHT TURN OF THE ROAD

Chapter 25

Gabriel had thought he had been in pain when he had gone to bed after working on the fence, but the following morning proved him wrong. That was pain. Just getting up was difficult. The previous night, he had taken some wine to dull the ache so that he could sleep, but he didn't want to make a habit out of it.

He felt a little more awake after he had washed his face. Since there was still nobody else there, he decided to go ahead and take a look at the beginning of the new fence. It was a little clumsy in places and leaned too much to the right at one spot. They had been in a hurry, and not everyone had had the necessary skills for such work. Gabriel didn't care about any of that.

He wondered what the people would say when they came to work that day. Edmundo's words were still clear in his mind, but he wasn't sure what to think. He couldn't imagine that any of these people could look up to him because of what he had done. He hadn't resisted the army because he wanted to be a hero or a rebel – he had just thought that what they were doing was unfair.

I'm nothing like Zorro, he thought with a frown. It was completely different. The people would soon realise that, too, and then they wouldn't be so friendly to him anymore. Maybe they had already come to that realisation overnight.

Gabriel was annoyed to realise that the thought worried him somewhat. For a moment he had felt like he was part of something, and he didn't want to lose it again that fast.

He turned around when he heard footsteps behind him. He wasn't very surprised to see that it was Pablo or that the other man looked like someone had just dragged him from his grave.

"I can't decide if I want to be still dreaming or not. Then I'd at least be in bed, but that nice fence wouldn't be real," Pablo said and rubbed his face. He shook his head at himself. "The mere thought of spending another day and night building it is terrifying."

"You should be showing a better example to the others."

"I think you're doing that for the both of us," Pablo remarked. He went to give the fence a kick to see how sturdy it was. He didn't speak while he worked, but when he stopped, Gabriel could tell that he had something on his mind.

"What?" he asked impatiently.

"I've been thinking about yesterday."

So much had happened the previous day that Gabriel didn't even try to guess what Pablo meant. He waited in silence for him to continue.

"I still can't believe that the army would do something like that. What could the commander be thinking?"

"Why do you ask me?"

"You know him. The people say you used to carry out most of his orders," Pablo said. Gabriel saw the question in his eyes – Pablo was wondering whether he had done something like that, too. If he only knew.

"Nobody knows what goes through Raymond's head. The soldiers are only there to follow orders, not understand or question them."

"From what I've heard, it's normal for the army to lash out against the people in this area."

"It's because of the rebels," Gabriel said swiftly. "The army needs to be harsh in order to make sure the people remember their place and remain loyal to the king." He was a good liar, so he was sure he appeared sincere. Inside, however, he felt a little uncomfortable. Until the previous day, he hadn't realised how frustrating it was to see the army tear apart something dear to him. And that had been just a fence. He hoped he would never have to see someone he cared about be arrested or killed.

"So, do you think yesterday was justified, then?"

"No," Gabriel said, and this time he didn't need to lie.

"I can't imagine that the commander could be that petty without a reason. I've been thinking about what you said. Maybe he really is after the estate."

"It wouldn't be the first time," Gabriel said. He could very well remember the time when Raymond had tried to rob a young heiress of her inheritance.

"I wish Don Augusto were here. Rafael isn't fit to defend the estate," Pablo said.

"Then we'll do it," Gabriel said.

"I was hoping you'd say that, but I wasn't sure. I thought you might not want to become enemies with the army."

"Not with the army," Gabriel said at once. "But Raymond is a different matter.

"If he tries to do something about the estate, we'll find a way to stop him. It's disgraceful how he's abusing his power," Pablo said.

Gabriel didn't bother to correct him about his motivations. If Pablo wanted to believe that he was doing this because of justice, so be it. His real reasons were far more selfish. It might not be the revenge he longed for, but ruining at least one of Raymond's plans would be immensely satisfying.

Secondly, the way the soldiers had treated him the previous day had made him defensive about the estate. If Raymond thought he could make his men march to Gabriel's home and treat him any way they wanted, he was wrong.

Still, there was something about Pablo's tone that he didn't like.

"I'm not sympathetic to the rebels," he said. Even if they, too, wanted to see Raymond fall, he would never see them as allies. If he joined forces with them or even voiced that he agreed with them, it would come dangerously close to companionship with Zorro – and he'd rather die.

"Me neither. You don't have to worry about that. I'm not planning to ask the rebels for help," Pablo said with a chuckle.

Gabriel didn't think there was anything funny about it, but his attention was turned elsewhere before he had the time to comment on it. From the corner of his eye, he saw how the first workers walked in through the main gate. He immediately spotted that there were people missing. If they didn't arrive in a couple of minutes, they'd be late.

Well, he hadn't seen that, he decided. He'd be so busy building the fence the whole day that he'd never notice such things.

The day went on as planned. Gabriel, Pablo and Basilio continued building the fence while the others worked in the fields. Almost all the grapes had been picked, and Pablo estimated that they'd need just three or four days to end the work. After that life at the estate would grow quieter. Gabriel wondered if he'd be out of a job soon since his main responsibility had been looking after the workers.

He had been a little doubtful at first, but all of the workers finally did show up, even if some of them were almost two hours late. Those poor souls had frozen with fright when he had locked eyes with them, but they had relaxed quickly when he hadn't said anything. In fact, one man had had the guts to crack a joke about how he had slept in.

Building the fence eased the ache in his muscles somewhat, and by noon he was in a better mood. One third of the fence was finished, and Gabriel was sure they could build the rest in time.

It was almost time for the workers to have their break when he decided to go and take a look at how they were doing. Gabriel didn't particularly care if they worked slower than usual, but he wanted to know in advance. Since Rafael had refused to share the contents of his father's letter with them, they had no idea when Don Augusto would be coming back to inspect their progress.

Despite their exhaustion, the people seemed to be doing fine. Gabriel didn't notice anything off until he came across a group near the edge of the field. They had picked far less grapes than they were supposed to.

"What's this?" he asked one of the men, Celso. "You're behind schedule."

Celso shifted under his glare. "We're very sorry. But yesterday -"

"If you're so tired that you can't do an even half decent job at your work, maybe you shouldn't have been building the fence in the first place," Gabriel said.

"It's not that. It's because of Edmundo," Celso said at once. The others shot him dirty glares at these words, as if they shared a secret that they didn't want anyone to know.

"I thought he was going to send his son to replace him," Gabriel said.

"He did, but..." Celso said. As he spoke, he turned to look to his left. Gabriel followed his gaze. It was only then that he noticed a little boy crouching between the vines. He was partly hidden by the plants and was glaring at him with frightened but defiant eyes. Gabriel doubted he was older than seven or eight.

"He's too young. He can never keep up with the pace Don Augusto demands," he said.

"But there's nobody else who can take over Edmundo's work"

Gabriel ignored him and walked over to the boy. The frown on the child's face deepened, and he shied away behind the vines.

"Go home," Gabriel said to him.

"No."

Gabriel scowled. He hated rude children. "I told you to go home! You're just in the way here."

"No," the boy said again. "I need to help papa or he'll lose his job. I can do it. I'm almost seven." He puffed out his chest as if this was some sort of accomplishment.

"Nobody is going to fire your father. Just go home," Gabriel said.

"No, you're lying! You're going to fire my father! Everyone says you will!" the boy yelled. His hands were clenched into fists and though he was trembling, he wouldn't turn his eyes away from Gabriel.

"Marco, be quiet!" Celso hissed at the boy. He glanced fearfully at Gabriel as he hurried to the boy's side and put his hands on his shoulders.

"You should teach the boy some manners if you want him to work here," Gabriel said. He tried to appear as if he didn't care one bit about what he had said. After all, he had always known that the people hated him. It was nothing new, and why should it even bother him if they talked about him behind his back?

"I'm really sorry. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again," Celso said. He hesitated for a moment before he continued, "Are you really not going to fire Edmundo?"

"Why would I fire him?" Gabriel asked.

"But Don Augusto said that everyone who can't do their -"

"Don Augusto is not here, so I don't care what he says."

He didn't wait to hear if the others had anything more to say but started marching back towards the fence. He didn't make it very far until he heard Celso call out after him.

"Wait!"

Gabriel turned to look and saw the man hurrying after him.

"What do you want now?" he asked.

"I just wanted to thank you. Edmundo is a good friend of mine, and I appreciate it that you're so understanding. I... I must admit I thought you'd fire him," Celso said.

Gabriel snorted. "Consider it pay-back for his help yesterday," he said. He realised then that the idea of firing anyone made him a little uncomfortable. He didn't much care for these people, but he didn't want to kick anyone out. Being in charge of them reminded him of when he had been leading soldiers.

"And what about Marco?" Celso asked.

"He can go home," Gabriel said.

"I'm afraid the boy's a little too stubborn for his own good, and it's a long way. I'd rather keep him here so that I can take him home later," Celso said.

"Do ash you wish. Just don't let him get in the way."

The rest of the day developed without surprises. Gabriel, Pablo and Basilio were tired but had made good progress with their work.

"Bad news," Pablo said all of a sudden.

"What?" Basilio asked.

"We're running out of nails again. Who wants to go to town to buy more?"

"Not me," Basilio said at once. "It's difficult enough to walk. I don't even want to think about riding."

"I'll do it," Gabriel volunteered.

"Good. In the meantime, we'll get more wood ready," Pablo said.

Gabriel was glad to get away from the estate for a while. He needed a moment alone to sort his thoughts. He had always enjoyed riding, and apart from practising with a sword, he couldn't imagine anything that could have improved his mood more.

He no longer knew what he should have thought. There was the bitter hatred at the world that had taken his career from him and the loathing he felt for the common people he had to mingle with. On the other hand, after everyone had offered their help and said how much they appreciated him resisting the army, he couldn't help but feel like they had something in common. The army had always given him a place where he felt he was part of something. He hadn't even realised how much he had missed that until the people had suddenly been so accepting of him.

And yet he longed for the army and would never stop looking at soldiers with a sense of loss. Maybe he could find a new place for him among these people, but that would make the army his enemy. Gabriel didn't want that, but the only other option was to remain alone, much like until now. He didn't want that either. He wanted respect and a position where others looked up to him.

He was suddenly reminded of what Pablo had said to him when he had been angry at the two lieutenants. The respect of these people... Gabriel had loathed the mere idea, but now, after so little time, he wasn't sure anymore. He wasn't sure of anything anymore. His life had been so simple when he had been a lieutenant and Raymond's lackey.

Gabriel was brought back from his thoughts when he realised that he wasn't alone on the road. There was a little boy walking towards San Tasco. Even from a distance, he could tell that it was Marco.

He told his horse to slow down when he reached the boy.

"What are you doing here? I thought Celso was going to take you home," he said.

"He doesn't let me work. He says I'm in his way." The boy kept his eyes on the road and kicked a small stone as he walked.

"So, now you're going home to sulk," Gabriel said. What a brat, but he wasn't surprised. Children could be so enthusiastic about something and then completely lose interest when they couldn't have their way.

"No, I'm going to visit a doctor and get medicine for papa."

"Does Celso or your parents know what you're doing?" Gabriel asked.

Marco didn't reply, so Gabriel took that as a no. He frowned at the boy's stubbornness and urged his horse to go ahead. The child was an idiot. It would be dark by the time he got to San Tasco. He probably didn't have the money for any medicine.

Gabriel didn't make it long before he stopped his horse and turned to look back. They were going the same way. He might just as well take the boy with him. Edmundo had enough problems already. The last thing he needed was to go out at night and look for his stupid and reckless son.

"You're coming with me," he said when the boy reached him. He dismounted his horse, grabbed Marco by his waist and lifted him on the saddle.

"Hey, let me go!" Marco objected and struggled as much as he could, but his attempts were laughable. Gabriel had no trouble holding him still and mounting his horse again.

"Now listen to me, you brat. You aren't helping anyone by being selfish. You're just getting in everyone's way and causing more trouble," he said harshly.

"I want to help," Marco said. "And you said that I have to come to work because papa is hurt."

"I thought you'd be older."

"I'm old enough."

"No, you're not. And now you're going to shut up," Gabriel said.

"But I don't want to go home! I want to -"

"Who said you're going home? Do you think I'm going to waste my time and take you there? We're going to town," Gabriel said.

"What? Why?" Marco asked.

"Because I can't let you go there alone and I don't have the time to take you back. If my business goes swiftly, we'll see if Dr. Timothy has anything for your father," Gabriel said.

Marco nearly dislocated his head when he turned to look at him. His eyes were wide and full of wonder, like he was sure he had to have imagined what he had heard.

"Really?" he asked. "Are we really going to do it?"

"Yes, and – hey, hold on to the saddle!" Gabriel snapped and caught Marco by the back of his shirt just as he was about to slide off to the side.

"I've never ridden a horse before," Marco said, not at all bothered by that he had nearly fallen off. He still kept trying to turn around to look at Gabriel, but at least now he didn't let go of the saddle.

Gabriel mostly kept his eyes on the road, but whenever his gaze slipped down to the boy, he couldn't help but think that Marco had turned into a different person. He wasn't scowling anymore. His eyes were filled with so much admiration and wonder that it almost made Gabriel uncomfortable. Surely it wasn't that big of a favour that he took him to Dr. Timothy.

Gabriel hoped the doctor would see them. The last time he had spoken with him was when Timothy had told him he couldn't do anything about his shoulder. He gritted his teeth. He wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to think of his shoulder without a sense of bitterness, but Timothy had been right. It wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. The way he had let his anger get the better of him was disgraceful, and he wouldn't have been surprised if Timothy slammed the door shut to his face.

"Can we ride faster?" Marco asked.

"No. You'd fall and break your bones."

"But I'm paying attention now. I want to learn to ride."

"You have to learn the basics first. Otherwise you're just going to get hurt."

Marco said nothing to that, and Gabriel realised that his family probably didn't own a horse. A good horse cost a lot and had to be fed. He couldn't afford one at the moment either. The one he had had in the army had been a good animal. He wondered who was riding it now.

They arrived in San Tasco some time later. Gabriel went to take the horse away and asked where he could find a good blacksmith. Various different people were recommended to him, but oddly enough, Alicia wasn't among them. He wondered if she had moved away or if something had happened to her, but he quickly forgot about her when he and Marco went to buy the nails.

The boy didn't talk much, but he kept following him and was always close by. Even when he saw something interesting on the other side of the street, he wouldn't run off to take a closer look. It was as if he was suddenly afraid that Gabriel was going to go on without him.

"You probably don't have the money to buy medicine," Gabriel remarked.

"No," Marco admitted quietly.

Gabriel shook his head. He supposed he couldn't blame someone who was so young. If Timothy was in a good mood, he'd probably help the boy anyway, or at least agree that his parents could drop by and pay him later.

That reminded him that he had never paid Timothy either. At first he had been so angry and disappointed that he hadn't wanted to, and then he had just forgotten. He didn't have enough money on him to pay him now, but he didn't want to see the doctor completely empty-handed.

"Wait here," he said to Marco and walked to the tavern on the other side of the street.

He bought the best bottle of wine he could afford. It probably wasn't as good as the one Martina had smashed against his head, but it would do for now.

When they arrived at Dr. Timothy's medical office, there was a surprise waiting for them. The door had been blocked with planks, and curtains were drawn before the windows. The whole building looked deserted, and there was nobody in the street.

"What's this?" Gabriel asked in irritation. Something serious had obviously happened, and yet again the news hadn't reached the estate.

"What now?" Marco asked and turned to look up at him with expecting eyes.

"We'll just have to visit the doctor at his home," Gabriel said, but he wasn't sure if they'd find him there. This looked like someone had taken away Timothy's permission to practice medicine. That someone could only be Raymond, and that meant that the doctor had probably been arrested.

Dr. Timothy lived only a few blocks away from his medical office so that he could get there fast in case of an emergency. Just as Gabriel and Marco found the right street, they saw someone exit the building.

Gabriel froze. It was Diego.

For a moment, they stared at each other in complete silence. Gabriel wasn't sure what to say. Now Diego, the only son of a rich and influential landowner, was so much more than him. He could no longer push him around. His stomach clenched at the thought, and he wondered if Diego would laugh at him.

"Oh, hello," Diego finally said. He was smiling just as air-headedly as before, as if nothing had changed. "What a coincidence that we're running into each other. How are you?"

In the past, Gabriel had always dismissed Diego's greetings with an insult or an order to get out of his way. It now took him a moment before he could make himself say anything.

"Fine," he grunted.

"I'm glad to hear that," Diego said. Gabriel couldn't detect any malice in his voice. Diego was pathetic at everything, including lying, so maybe he really was sincere.

"Is Dr. Timothy home? I need medicine for papa," Marco chimed in.

"Oh, that's too bad. Is your father badly hurt?" Diego asked.

Marco nodded. "Something's wrong with his hand. It hurts a lot."

"So, how about you stop wasting our time and let us go in?" Gabriel asked.

"That's probably not a good idea," Diego said with a frown.

"And why not?"

Diego lifted his brows in surprise. "Haven't you heard what happened?" he asked. When Gabriel gave him a negative answer, Diego proceeded to tell him that Timothy had been drunk when operating on someone and that the patient had died. The army had closed down his clinic, and his drinking had turned into a real problem.

"I just found him wandering in the streets and took him home. He's asleep," he finished.

"That's impossible," Gabriel said, dumb-founded. Timothy had always been unconventional and a little unprofessional, but he had done an excellent job as a doctor. His drinking had never been a problem before, and Gabriel was sure he would never operate on anyone if he wasn't in the condition to do it.

"I find it hard to believe, too," Diego said and shook his head.

"But what about papa?" Marco asked in a frightened voice.

"Didn't someone open a hospital outside town some time ago? Maybe you should try there," Gabriel suggested.

"Their help is very expensive. Most people in San Tasco just can't afford to be treated there," Diego said.

Gabriel glanced at the door to Timothy's house. Now that he was out of business, the people had no choice but to find the money for the hospital. When it came to life and death, most of them would be ready to go to desperate measures.

"How convenient for them that Timothy can't treat the people anymore," he mused.

Diego's brows shot up in surprise. "You think so?"

"Any idiot would think that," Gabriel remarked. He frowned as he turned to look at the bottle of wine in his hands. "I'm afraid this gift is a little inconsiderate right now."

"Probably," Diego agreed.

Marco kept glancing between the two of them with a worried look on his face. "But what about papa? What am I going to do now?"

"Don't worry. I'm sure things will work out in no time," Diego said. He bent down to pat the boy on his head, but the gesture did very little to calm him down.

Gabriel snorted. "You're an eternal optimist." He didn't see how it could get at all better. Raymond was probably working together with the owner of the hospital and would get a share of the profits for stopping Timothy from working. It was very unlikely he would back down.

"Based on how things usually turn out, I don't think I'm in the wrong," Diego said. Gabriel thought he could see a sharp, amused glint in the man's eyes, but he was probably imagining it.

"Even Zorro can do nothing this time," he said with disdain.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he could," Diego said. He pondered something for a moment. "And besides, shouldn't you be on his side?"

"What?" Gabriel barked. How outrageous! To think that this pathetic coward dared to say such a thing when he knew what Zorro had done to him. Diego had seen how badly he had been hurt and how weak he had been because of the injury. He had no right to suggest that he would ever side with Zorro!

Diego shrugged. "Well, Zorro is probably going to try to help Dr. Timothy. Would you rather see him fail or succeed at that?"

Gabriel was at a loss for words. Of course he wanted to help Timothy, especially if it meant he could get under Raymond's skin. But on the other hand, having to rely on Zorro was too high of a price to pay. His pride could never take that, and he was frightened of what it could lead to. Being on the same side as Zorro would make the basics of his world crumble.

"Oh, I hope I didn't upset you. That wasn't my intention. But I've got to get going. I hope I'll see you later and that you'll have a nice day," Diego said. He climbed onto his wagon and waved at Gabriel and Marco as he started driving away.

"What now?" Marco asked, but he had to repeat the question and tug at Gabriel's leg before he got his attention. Gabriel had to bite his tongue to keep himself from snapping at the boy. Diego's words had made him lose all the patience he had had with him.

"Does your mother work in town?" he asked.

"Yes, but -"

"Then go to her. I don't have the time to deal with you anymore," Gabriel said.

"But -"

"I said, go to your mother! There's nothing you can do about the medicine now," Gabriel snarled.

A hurt look flashed in the boy's eyes, but he didn't object anymore. He turned on his heels and started running down the street, presumably where his mother was working. Gabriel didn't particularly care.

Diego's words kept haunting him as he walked to his horse. He hated Zorro more than anyone else in the world. The bastard had to suffer for how he had ruined Gabriel's life. And yet Diego had a point – if someone could help Dr. Timothy right now, it was Zorro.

Gabriel was about to mount his horse when his attention was drawn to a conversation some men were having around the corner.

"I'm not one bit surprised that this happened. I always said that it's not right for a doctor to drink that much," the first man said.

"But it was never a problem before. He was mostly sober when taking care of patients," another one said.

"Mostly doesn't cut it! What about the man who died? And his family? For once I think the army should have been harsher and arrested that quack doctor for what he did," the man who had spoken first insisted.

"I agree," a third person added. "Now that we have that new hospital and people like Dr. Bisante and Dr. Luccino, we don't need Timothy anymore."

"Maybe we should drive him out of town. I know I don't want to see that bastard again and -"

Gabriel got on his horse and started riding away, not wanting to hear anymore. The hostility in the men's voices reminded him too much of how people had treated him right after he had been removed from service. He knew the people's hatred for him hadn't disappeared anywhere; it just wasn't a pressing matter in their lives anymore. However, he knew that if he was in such a desperate situation again, the people would rush to enjoy his misery, just like they were doing with Timothy now.

In his case the people at least had a point, but Dr. Timothy had been their friend for years. He had always helped everyone in need even if they couldn't pay him. Though Gabriel was more than familiar with lies and deceit, he found it appalling how quickly everyone had turned their backs on Timothy.

Whether Timothy had actually been drunk during the operation was irrelevant to him. If it was true, it was a terrible mistake to make, but it didn't change the fact that Timothy had saved Gabriel's life. He could have refused to treat him, but he hadn't.

Gabriel got the sudden urge to turn his horse around and return to town. He almost did it, but then he realised how futile it would have been. He needed to take the nails to the estate so that they could continue working on the fence. Besides, Timothy was sleeping his head clear and wouldn't wake up until the morning. It was better to wait.

The work on the fence continued through the day and into the night. Many of the workers stayed to help, but the work was a little slower than on the previous day. Gabriel couldn't blame those who left early or didn't stay at all. He was exhausted, too, and the ache was only getting worse.

Despite all the trouble, they were already over half-finished with the fence. If they could keep up the same pace on the next day, they would finish the work just in time before the army would arrive to cause trouble. Everyone was determined to reach this goal, and they worked in grim silence. The merry atmosphere of the previous night was gone, but Gabriel didn't mind that. Nobody flinched when he spoke to them. And when someone spoke to him, they did it without fear or hesitation, like they were talking to an equal.

He felt so content that he forgot that such behaviour should have angered him. The estate was suddenly a world of its own with no Zorro or Commander Raymond. It was just them working together. That night he felt so connected with the people that he would have gladly risked his life to protect them. He was the foreman in the fields, and for the first time it wasn't something he was ashamed of.

It was already well past midnight by the time the workers left. Gabriel, Pablo and Basilio remained alone by the fence, admiring their work.

"I don't think I can sleep tonight. My back is killing me," Pablo said as he attempted to stretch and banish the ache.

"You're getting old," Basilio said.

"Watch what you're saying. I'm still in my prime," Pablo threw back. "But that reminds me. How are your plans coming along?"

Basilio shifted and turned to look back at the fence so that he could avoid Pablo's eyes. "I haven't had the time to think about them because of all the work."

"Oh, nonsense. I'm sure that's all what you're thinking about. I mean, look, that part you helped to build is leaning to its side like that. Your mind certainly wasn't on your work," Pablo said with a chuckle.

"What plans?" Gabriel asked.

"What, you didn't tell Gabriel?"

"I haven't told anyone! You know only because you're always sticking your nose into other people's business!" Basilio snarled. It was the first time Gabriel saw him grow angry. He was a little taken aback by the venom in Basilio's voice, but he supposed that all the work had taken its toll on him.

"Basilio is going to ask Lupe to marry him!" Pablo announced triumphantly.

"Shut up! You can't tell that to anyone!"

"It's just Gabriel."

"I don't care! I don't want anyone to know before I'm ready. I need time to prepare everything," Basilio said. There was a defensive frown on his face, and he was nearly shaking. Gabriel got the feeling he was more scared than angry.

"What's there to prepare for? Just ask her," Pablo suggested.

"It's not that simple. I have to make it perfect or she'll say no. And what if her parents don't like me? I have to ask her father first. If he says no, that's it," Basilio said, his words turning into a mutter.

"All you have to do is make a good first impression," Gabriel said. He was reminded of the time he had gone to Lolita's parents to ask for her hand in marriage. The whole ordeal had eventually ended in a catastrophe, but he thought he had done quite well in the beginning.

Basilio shook his head. "I'm just a hired worker from Spain. I have no relatives or property in California. Why would they ever give Lupe to me?"

Gabriel didn't think commoners would have such high standards, but he decided not to say that. "Then tell them you have something in Spain. They have no way to find out," he suggested.

"I doubt it's a good idea to lie to your parents-in-law like that," Pablo remarked.

"Then buy them a nice gift. It shows you have something to offer and can take good care of Lupe," Gabriel said. Really, it wasn't that complicated.

"I can't afford anything good enough," Basilio said, his voice rising in panic.

"I think Lupe's parents will care more about that you have work. That's enough to secure a future for you and her," Pablo pointed out.

"Yes, but -"

"Don't argue with me. Let's just go and try to have some sleep before we have to get up again and continue working on this monstrosity," Pablo said, and this time Basilio had no objections.

The next day, Celso told Gabriel that Edmundo's hand wasn't getting any better. Quite the contrary. They were starting to fear that it might have to be cut off or it might get infected and put his life to danger. Celso and some of the others had tried to get together some money so that Edmundo could visit the new hospital, but even their best efforts weren't enough to pay the astronomical prices.

"I don't know what he'll do if he loses his hand. His wife can't provide for the family alone," Celso said.

Gabriel hummed in sympathy. He felt sorry for Edmundo, perhaps because the man's plight reminded him of his own. Though the thought of swords still made his stomach clench, he couldn't deny that he had been lucky with his injury. He could still work, even if it wasn't the kind of work he wanted. If Edmundo lost his hand, he'd be doomed to a life as a cripple.

"I'll go to town and talk to Dr. Timothy. Maybe he can help," he decided.

Celso looked doubtful. "I'm not sure we can trust him. Didn't you hear how he killed that man?" he asked.

"That's nonsense," Gabriel snapped, feeling his anger flare up. "One mistake doesn't change the fact that he's a good doctor. And I have my doubts about the story they're telling us anyway."

"But even then, the army has forbidden him to work," Celso said.

"Then he'll work in secret!"

He told Pablo and Basilio that he was going to town to get Timothy to help Edmundo. They both said it was a great idea and that they'd continue working on the fence without him. They had less than one third of it to finish, so they were sure his absence wasn't going to be a problem.

About two hours later, Gabriel found himself standing before the door to Dr. Timothy's house. It was getting dark, so he hoped that Timothy was still home. He knocked, and the door was opened, but to his surprise it wasn't the doctor who came to open. It was his assistant, Martina.

"You!" she snarled as soon as she saw him, and Gabriel knew that the last time they had met was still fresh in her memory.

"Good evening. Is the doctor home?" he asked, ignoring how she was glaring at him like she wanted to burn him to death with her stare.

"What do you want?" Martina's voice was laced with venom, and she tightened her grip on the door, like she was ready slam it shut at any moment.

"I need to talk to him. It's very important," Gabriel said.

Martina snorted. "After the way you treated him last time? Forget it! He's not going to help you ever again."

"It's not about me! A man at the estate where I work needs help," Gabriel snapped. His patience was growing thin, and he was just about to push the woman aside and enter the house with force, but then he saw how the scowl on her face softened.

"Oh, I had no idea. Please come in," she said at once. As Gabriel stepped inside, she continued, "But I'm not sure if the doctor can do anything to help you."

"Is he drunk?" Gabriel asked. He could relate. He had drunk too much for his own good after being removed from service, and Timothy was no doubt feeling just as terrible about losing the permission to practice medicine.

"No, not today," Martina said with a sad shake of her head.

"Then what is it?"

"Go into his room and see for yourself."

Gabriel opened the door and was about to step in, but he was stopped by an angry snap.

"Martina, I told you to get out!" Timothy snarled. He was sitting with his back towards the door and his feet up on his desk. There was a wine bottle on the floor where he could easily reach it, but it was still more than half full.

"It's me," Gabriel said.

Timothy whirled around so fast that he lost his balance on the chair and crashed down on the floor. The bottle was knocked over, and he hurried to pick it up before all the wine would be lost. Only once the alcohol was in safety did he get up on his feet and turn to face Gabriel.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. The suspicious frown looked alien on his features. Gabriel realised only now that apart from their last meeting, Timothy had always been smiling and joking in his presence. Now he looked miserable; his hair and clothes were unkempt, and there was a tired and angry look in his eyes.

Had he been like that after being removed from service? If yes, he must have been a pathetic sight. He felt a little more gratitude towards Gonzales and regret at that he hadn't had the chance to see the sergeant in a long time.

"I came to ask for your help. There is a man at the estate where I work, and he hurt his hand when -" Gabriel started, but Timothy interrupted him with a dismissive snort. The doctor picked up the fallen chair and resumed his position on it.

"I'm no longer a doctor," he announced.

"That's complete nonsense!"

"Didn't you hear what happened? I killed a man because I'm a pathetic drunkard who can't do his job," Timothy grumbled.

"It's not that simple," Gabriel said, a little unsure of what to say. He didn't know if the accident had been real and if Raymond and Dr. Bisante were just using it to their advantage, or if the whole thing had been arranged from the start.

"Bah! Of course it is! Nobody needs such an incompetent doctor," Timothy said. He reached for the bottle and was about to bring it to his lips, but Gabriel chose that moment to march to him and snatch the bottle from his hand.

"That's enough!" he snapped. "You're being pathetic!"

Timothy turned to glare at him with a surprisingly sharp gleam in his eyes. "Oh, really? That's a lot coming from someone whom I found moping in an alley after losing his job."

"But... but that was different!" Gabriel growled, but he knew it wasn't. It was exactly the same. The way Timothy was talking to him now reminded him so much of how he had treated Gonzales that it was almost like looking into a mirror.

"Delude yourself as much as you want. I'm not budging," Timothy said.

"This is different because my dismissal from service didn't cause trouble to anyone, but the people of this town need you. You can't just sit here and let them suffer!" Gabriel tried to argue. He was about to continue, but Timothy surprised him by starting to laugh.

"Is that Lieutenant Gabriel talking? Since when do you care about such things? Has the life among commoners got to you that fast?" Timothy asked.

"Why, you -" Gabriel snarled, feeling the sudden urge to punch the doctor. All that stopped him from giving the man a piece of his mind or worse was that he knew it was exactly what Timothy wanted. The only purpose of his words was to make him angry so that he'd leave him alone.

"You can't get rid of me that easily," he said and pulled himself a chair so that he could sit down, too.

"Unless you're here to pay me for looking at your shoulder, I have nothing to say to you," Timothy announced.

Gabriel ran his fingers through his hair and tried to think of something productive to say. Though he had more than enough experience with being frustrated and angry himself, he wasn't very good at dealing with those feelings in others. His usual reaction was using his fists instead of words, but that wouldn't work this time.

"The people need you," he tried again.

"The people have deserted me. As soon as I step out, all I can hear are taunts and insults," Timothy said. Gabriel saw him clench his hands as he stared at the wall. "And after everything I've done for them..."

"They're just in shock. Nobody thought this would happen," Gabriel tried to reason, but he was immediately shown that he was only making it worse.

"That's because it didn't! I'm sure I wasn't drunk that night! I have no idea what happened during the operation, but it wasn't my fault!" Timothy said. For a moment, his whole body was tense, but then he relaxed with resignation. He continued, "But what does that change? Nobody is going to believe me anyway."

"Oh, stop that right now! I'm sure there are plenty of people who believe you. Like that stupid Diego. Wasn't he here yesterday?"

Timothy said nothing.

"And your assistant is no doubt on your side, too," Gabriel continued. "And yesterday I was here with a little boy who wants you to help his father."

"That's all meaningless. It doesn't change the fact that the army closed down my medical office. If I work as a doctor, they're going to arrest me. The people can go to the new hospital. They don't need me."

Gabriel gritted his teeth. Self-pity and bitterness weren't becoming of Timothy, and he didn't know what he could say to change the man's mind.

Suddenly, there was the sound of the front door being slammed open, followed by hasty steps.

"I really don't think you should -" Martina said, and then the door to Timothy's room opened.

Nothing in the world could have prepared Gabriel for what happened next. Zorro was standing at the door. His mask was hiding his features, but the look in his eyes mirrored the shock Gabriel was feeling.

"You!" they both said.

Gabriel jumped to his feet, and Zorro's hand immediately flew to the hilt of his sword. Then he seemed to realise that Gabriel was unarmed, and he let his hand drop down, but his pose remained tense.

"What are you doing here?" Zorro demanded to know.

"That's none of your business!" Gabriel snapped.. He hadn't met Zorro since he had saved his life from the angry mob, but it was as if barely more than a day had passed. His hatred for the bandit hadn't faded at all. He was ready to take the first step towards him and attack him with his bare hands.

Zorro noticed it. His hand went back to his sword, but he didn't unsheathe it yet. "I'm warning you," he said in a low tone.

"If you think you can stop me with that sword, you're wrong. I've waited too long for this chance," Gabriel said.

"I don't want to fight you, but it looks like you aren't giving me a choice," Zorro replied. With a swift movement, he pulled his sword half-way out. Gabriel tensed, but he knew he wouldn't back down. Not now when Zorro was right in his grasp.

"Hey!"

Both he and Zorro turned to look at Dr. Timothy who had jumped to his feet and was glaring at the both of them with a displeased frown.

"No fighting in my bedroom!" the doctor snapped at them. He came to stand between them, suddenly full of energy and determination.

"You're right. There's no time to waste," Zorro said. He put his sword back. "Dr. Timothy, I need you to come quickly. Dr. Bisante's son fell off his horse and is badly hurt. He needs to be operated at once or he'll die."

The scowl returned to Timothy's face. "And why can't he get anyone from his hospital to do that?"

"The only one with the skills to lead the operation is Dr. Luccino, but he has been injured himself. You're the only one who can help," Zorro explained.

"Well, I don't care. I already told Gabriel that I'm just an old drunkard who should have never become a doctor in the first place," Timothy said. He crossed his hands on his chest and refused to look at Zorro.

"But, Doctor, you can't do that. You can't let an innocent boy die," Zorro said. All the tension had disappeared, and he was staring at Timothy like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Gabriel was surprised, too. Timothy had always had his flaws, but he had never refused to help anyone.

All Timothy did was take the bottle of wine and fill his glass.

Zorro continued, "I know you're angry because of what Bisante did to you, but this is not the way to make him pay for it. His son had nothing to do with it." A frustrated edge crept into his voice; this was an enemy he couldn't defeat by drawing his sword. "If you let him die, you won't be any better than the people who framed you."

Timothy lifted his glass to his lips. Gabriel knew he was a stubborn old goat, but he hadn't thought he would ever be that determined to have his revenge. He barely recognised him as the man who had told him stupid jokes while changing his bandages. This couldn't be what Timothy wanted. Gabriel was certain that if Timothy let this boy die, the regret and guilt would ruin him.

On a whim, he turned to Zorro. "I already tried to convince him earlier. It's hopeless," he said.

"What?" Zorro asked, baffled that Gabriel would even address him.

"He cares more about his pride than the lives of his patients. Whether he was framed or not doesn't matter. Someone like him shouldn't be a doctor in the first place," Gabriel said with a sorry shake of his head.

For a moment, Zorro only stared at him with an uncertain look in his eyes, but he finally seemed to understand what Gabriel was getting at.

"Maybe you're right," he admitted. "I had better hurry to San Tomas. There's a good doctor there." Zorro turned around and walked to the door with confident steps.

"Wait."

Dr. Timothy put down his glass and glared at the two of them. "That's enough. I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to make me angry so that I'll help that boy just to prove you wrong. Well, you can forget it. I'm not going to help anyone because of tricks like that."

Dammit, Gabriel thought. Timothy was even more bullheaded than he had thought.

"But, Doctor..." Zorro said.

"No, I'm going to help that boy because it's my responsibility as a doctor," Timothy announced. "Martina, bring me the salt water!"

Timothy's assistant rushed into the room, and she already had the water ready, like she had known to expect this. "I knew you wouldn't let that boy die."

"I almost did," Timothy muttered, but Gabriel wasn't sure if anyone else heard it.

"We have no time to lose. Everything is ready at the hospital," Zorro said.

"Right," Timothy said with a nod. Together with Zorro, he hurried to the door, but he stopped for a moment just before stepping out. He turned back to look at Gabriel. A grin slowly spread on his face, and he winked.

"I'm going to take care of your friend as soon as this is over with, alright?" Timothy said.

"Now wait a minute!" Gabriel snapped and hurried outside after the others. Zorro and Timothy were already on horseback and ready to go.

"You can't just leave! You haven't faced me yet!" Gabriel challenged.

"If you're looking for a fight, I'm afraid we're going to have to do it on another day," Zorro told him. Amusement was obvious in his voice. "And thank you for trying to help!"

"Don't you dare thank me, you bastard!" Gabriel yelled at him, but Zorro only turned his horse around and ordered it to gallop to the hospital.

Gabriel gritted his teeth as he watched them disappear into the night. Zorro was just as infuriating as always! His thank-you was nothing but a mockery, his parting words an insult. Zorro knew he could just ride away from him. Gabriel was neither a match for him nor a threat to anyone, and Zorro revelled in rubbing it to his face.

"One day I'll kill you," Gabriel swore. "Even if it's the last thing I ever do, one day I'll watch you die."