AN: Well... If you ask nicely, here is the next chapter :P. Enjoy!
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Señor Gutiérrez was just closing the tavern. Letting out a yawn while scratching the back of his neck, he started putting out the candles lighting the place before he was to join his wife in their matrimonial bed. Only one candle was left burning when he noticed a strange reflection on the wall. Turning around, the man found himself at the end of a Toledo-steel blade held by California's most infamous outlaw.
"Not a sound, Señor," Zorro ordered, "or it might be your last."
The innkeeper shook his head a few times, breathing fast, fearful for his life.
"News has reached me, Gutiérrez, of how you treat your wife and children. You are neither a good husband to poor Rosita, nor a good father to your children. So, I decided they deserve a better life. One in which you'll only be a bad memory… Call it justice for your family." He uttered, pretending he was about to strike. "Say your prayers, Señor, for you are soon to meet your maker."
"No, Señor Zorro! Plea… please, don't kill me!" The older man stuttered. "Who will my family have then?"
"Who do they have now? Your wife has an abusive husband who has her do all the work around the tavern while he sits behind the bar gossiping and cheating clients. And as if that wasn't bad enough, you dare raise your hand on that poor woman! As for your children, they have to wear rags and broken shoes because you refuse to buy them new ones; are forced to work instead of being allowed to enjoy their childhood; and have to witness you mistreat their mother.
"I, thus, argue they'd be much better without you. And I am certain a woman like Rosita will have little trouble finding a better second husband after you're gone. The kind of man who truly deserves her… A man who would protect her, help her around the tavern and with the children, never raise a hand on her, and properly appreciate her for the good woman she is. A better father than you for the children she has endured the pain of childbirth, risking her own life to bring into this world. Five times."
The older man just gazed at him with wide eyes, shaking his head.
"I… I can do that! I will do that! Please, Señor Zorro, I promise to do better from now on if you only let me live! Please!"
"Why should I trust you?"
"Be… Be… Because I… I… I am not a bad person… I don't deserve to die! I can be better… I will be better!"
The masked man stood there, squinting his eyes as he stared at him a while longer, looking as if he was pondering the request.
"No. I don't believe a word you say. You are not a good man, and I don't believe you can change." He uttered as he again prepared to strike.
"No! Please!" The man begged, falling on his knees and raising his hands in a plea. "I promise to become the man they deserve. I swear! May God strike me down if I lie!"
About a minute later, which seemed like an eternity to the scared innkeeper, Zorro lowered his sword. "Very well… I shall spare you… For now. But, from this moment on, you will be the best husband Rosita could ask for. Tomorrow you will wake up before everyone else, feed the animals and make breakfast for the family. Then you will ask for their forgiveness on your knees, admit to all your faults, and promise to turn a new leaf. From now on, you will treat them all with kindness. You will be the most respectful and helpful of husbands and the best father those children can ask for." Zorro listed his conditions and the innkeeper nodded his consent to every one of his words. "I may not be here all the time to make sure you do as I ask, but I will find out if you don't. At the smallest rumor that you're returning to your old ways, I will come back. And when that happens, it will be either your life or your hands you will lose, depending on my mood at the time. Am I making myself clear?"
The man continued to nod trembling, not doubting for a second that the masked outlaw was quite serious about his threat. "Si… Si, Señor Zorro. Very clear!" He said.
"Alright, then. Now that we can say this particular matter is – temporarily, at least – settled, and seeing how I decided to let you live, perhaps you might offer me some information in return for my generosity, Señor."
"Si! Anything! Wha… What information?"
"About a transport of blankets that was delivered recently to the Chumash tribe north of here."
"I know nothing about that, Señor Zorro."
"Perhaps not… But you must know someone who has acquired a large number of blankets not so long ago, don't you?"
"I… I did hear a while back that two vaqueros were buying all the blankets they could find for sale in the market…"
"Who were they working for?"
"Don Samuel. They were two of his vaqueros."
"Don Samuel? Are you certain?"
"Si… Si, I am very certain."
Zorro removed his sword from the man's neck and rested it on his right shoulder. "Don Samuel's hacienda is south of the pueblo. Why would he want the lands up north?"
"I don't know, Señor Zorro! I don't know anything. I swear!"
"I see…" Zorro muttered. "As a gratitude for your information, I will not mark my sign in either your shirt or your skin. But remember our discussion and know that I have eyes everywhere in this territory. You cannot hide from me." He assured him as he slowly turned to head for the door.
"I… I understand, Señor Zorro! I will do better…" The innkeeper said, relieved at seeing that the outlaw was leaving.
Closing the tavern after the masked man left whistling for his black horse, Señor Gutiérrez took a few moments to recover and give thanks to God that Zorro hadn't killed him that night, then headed for his bedroom.
As for the masked rider, he knew a man didn't change overnight, not matter how much he feared repercussions. Yet, he also hoped that a small change might bring about others and, in time, should he see the advantages of such changes, the innkeeper might become at least a slightly better person than he had been thus far.
Returning to his temporarily hideout he unsaddled Luna, took some time to brush her properly as he pondered over the information he had received that evening. When he was done, leaving the young mare with Tornado, he entered the mine and, lying on a blanket, he allowed himself a few hours of rest.
ZZZ
Don Samuel left his room at dawn, letting his wife sleep as he headed outside and to the stables. His men were not awake yet, so it was only him there. With a sigh, he started saddling his horse for their morning ride when he felt a tap on his right shoulder.
Surprised, he turned around to find himself face to face with Zorro.
"Buenos dias, Señor!" The masked man said as the man looked at him open-mouthed.
"Buenos dias!" The haciendado uttered, still dumbfounded. "You are Señor Zorro, aren't you?"
"I most certainly am."
"But I thought you protect Los Angeles. What are you doing here?"
"Crime and injustice are not limited to Los Angeles. I am in Buenaventura because it is here where I am needed this time."
"Oh?" The man asked, glancing around. "Am I in danger, Señor?"
"That depends on the next words that come out your mouth, Don Samuel."
"My words?"
"Tell me, Señor, is it or is it not true that, a couple of weeks back, you have sent your men with blankets to the Chumash tribe up north, near Santa Barbara?" The masked man asked.
"Ah… Si, Señor Zorro. I have heard from Don Rafael de la Vega during a visit of his to Buenaventura that they needed supplies, and I decided to send them blankets."
The next thing he knew, the man found himself grabbed by his collar and pushed against one of the stable's pillars.
"And is it also true that, before sending the tribe those blankets, you had them sprinkled with poison in order to kill those people?" The masked outlaw asked.
"What?" The haciendado's eyes grew wide at the accusation, and the masked man realized he was surprised by that particular piece of information. He, thus, relieved some of his pressure on the man as he awaited his answer. "No! No, Señor! What are you talking about? I don't understand… I would never try to harm innocents…"
"Yet the blankets delivered by your men were all tainted with arsenic. Over twenty people in that tribe have died because of them, including children, and just as many will have their lives shortened even if they do survive! Can you explain that to me?"
"What? No… That was not my doing. I was only trying to help, Señor Zorro." The man said shaking his head. "I didn't want to harm anyone… The blankets were poisoned?"
Zorro looked him straight in the eyes. "You didn't know?"
"No! I swear! I am not one of those men who despise the Indians, Señor! My mother was Mestiza, so I also have their blood. I do not wish to harm them… They have even more right than us to be here…"
"Indeed…" Zorro said, taken aback as he released the older don. "But, then, how do you explain what happened?"
"I don't know… The men I had sent bought blankets from the people selling them in the pueblo. Good, honest people, who would certainly not even consider poisoning the blankets… I don't believe they even know that to be possible. I surely didn't…"
"Who were the men you sent to deliver the blankets? If you know nothing about them being poisoned, perhaps they might…" Zorro inquired.
"Two of my former vaqueros. I had meanwhile fired them after catching them stealing from the hacienda. But they wouldn't poison those people! They, too, are Chumash by birth, raised at the Mission. What reason would they have to harm their own people?"
"I don't know. Not yet. But they must be involved, seeing how the people of the tribe were poisoned by the blankets they delivered there." Zorro replied. "What are their names and where can I find them?"
"Ah… Pedro Cordero and Juan Bautista are their Christian names. They now work for Don Iván Castro."
"Don Iván Castro?"
"Si… He's new in this area. His hacienda is halfway between here and Santa Barbara, some three miles east of the main road. But I heard him say he had sent Pedro and Juan to Santa Barbara yesterday, to buy some new horses." The haciendado told him.
"Santa Barbara?" Zorro asked. After a moment's hesitation he whistled for Tornado, whom he used to ride out that morning, seeing how the other don knew Luna. "Do me a favor, Señor" he told the haciendado as he mounted. "Keep my presence here and the reason behind it just between us for now!"
The don nodded his commitment to obey his request. "Señor Zorro," he uttered just before his mysterious visitor left, "if you're heading for Don Iván's hacienda, I should warn you that he's a dangerous man."
"Really? What makes you say that?"
The Don Samuel hesitated for a few moments. "When he arrived here," he uttered, "Don Iván came to declare his intentions to start courting one of my daughters and to inquire about her dowry. I neither liked his questions nor the man, so I refused to allow the courtship. A few days later, as I was out riding one morning, I met him, and he said… He mentioned that even if I begged him he'd not marry my daughter now that she was 'damaged goods''. I didn't understand it then, but, when I arrived home, I found out that two thugs had tried to rape her that morning, while she was alone in the hacienda. She would have been lost had it not been for my stable hand who heard her scream and managed to save her. I have no proof that it had been Don Iván to have paid those men. The thugs themselves were found dead a few days after they had attacked my daughter. Fallen off some cliffs, apparently, though I don't buy that. Without them, there was no one left to testify against him. But I know. I know he had sent those men. My daughter still has nightmares about them... So be careful, Señor! That sad excuse for a caballero is not to be trifled with."
"Neither am I!" The masked outlaw replied. "Adiós, Don Samuel!" He then uttered before heading away at a gallop.
The haciendado remained scratching his head as he watched him become a small dot on the horizon, then slowly returned to saddling his horse.
ZZZ
Zorro headed straight for the Indian tribe, arriving there during the mid-morning. It was already too late, though, a fact he knew when, nearing the small village, he felt the distinct smell of burned flesh.
The Indians were just finishing burying the bodies of the dead when he stopped and dismounted next to the tribe's chief. "What did you do?" He asked in Chumash, his voice icy, glancing between him and the braves covering the graves.
The man seized him up suspiciously. "What kind of creature are you?" He asked.
"I am Zorro. I have come to find those guilty of what happened to your people and bring them to justice."
"We heard of you, and we are grateful for your intentions. But my people already have justice." The man replied.
"That is not justice!" Zorro said through gritted teeth.
"My people also deserve vengeance." The Chief calmly answered.
"They have neither! Those men, even if they might have been guilty, were most probably working for someone else. Others may still try to chase you from your lands, even by resorting to murder. Had you been wise enough to let them live, they might have confessed who had asked them to do what they did."
"They brought the plague, lied, and deceived us. They denied it until the flames engulfed them, then confessed to their crimes so that the Gods may take their lives faster. Our justice was done." The chief answered before heading away.
Zorro mounted his horse and was about to steer Tornado away when something caught his eye.
"Who was the third?" He asked the chief at noticing the remains of three fires. "Two vaqueros had brought you the blankets. Who was the third man you burned?"
"Lone Wolf. Our medicine man." The tribe's leader answered at turning to face him. "He tried to help them escape and, when he was caught, he confessed to being their accomplice. So he, too, was punished for his deeds."
"They didn't say anything about who they were working for?"
The Indian chief shook his head.
The black-clad man saluted pensively and steered the stallion towards Buenaventura.
Deep in thought, he only noticed the pueblo's alcalde and his men nearing him when it was too late, and he found himself surrounded, eight muskets pointed at him.
Tornado stopped nervously, hesitating where to go, as did his rider. He had just spotted a way out, a dangerous one which could get him killed, when the alcalde signaled for his men not to shoot. "You are the man they call Zorro, aren't you?" The man asked.
"I am." The black-clad outlaw answered, feeling as uneasy as his horse.
The alcalde smiled at hearing his answer and ordered his lancers to put away their muskets. "Then I am honored to meet you, Señor! I heard about your many good deeds and how you recently saved the tax money collected by the former governor. The people of California owe you a debt of gratitude."
"It would have been unjust for the people to pay that money to Governor Frasquez. I only did what needed to be done to avoid such injustice." Zorro answered, somewhat relieved to see there were no more muskets pointed at him and wondering if that was the moment to make his escape. He was too curious to do so, though.
"You are too modest, Señor!" The official remarked. "Others in your place would have kept the money, had they found themselves in possession of such a fortune. What the Los Angelinos say about you must be true. You are as honorable as you are cunning…"
The masked man smiled but that smile was just for show since he never was one to react to flattery.
"If I may be so bold as to ask…" the alcalde continued, "what brings you to Buenaventura?"
"I was informed that a certain matter here required my attention."
"I see…" the man muttered. "Will you allow us to help you then?"
"Help?"
"If you have business in Buenaventura, then we might be of help." The alcalde repeated.
"I appreciate the offer, Señor, but there is a reason why I work alone. The price on my head makes it hard for me to trust strangers, especially those in uniforms."
"I understand… But, I assure you… Fine, I won't insist." The man said as he saw the reluctant face of the masked outlaw. "If you change your mind, though, my offer still stands. And I will make sure my men won't hinder your efforts. In exchange, I'd be grateful if you'd decided to inform me first should you have to take any action against someone in the pueblo."
"I will do as I feel right." Zorro answered, unwilling to commit to anything. "But if you want my trust, Alcalde, you may start earning it by making sure neither you, nor your men tell anyone about our encounter." He said.
The official glanced at his men, then nodded, but the masked outlaw headed away without much faith that they would keep their silence. Since he was determined to get to the bottom of things, however, he knew he should, at least, do all in his power to avoid forewarning the one truly responsible for the tragedy that had befallen the Indian tribe.
Certain that said perpetrator was still alive and free, still able to come up with another plot to harm the Indians, he knew in his heart that he couldn't just leave things as they were. Even if neither proof nor witnesses to the crime existed anymore, he was determined to find a way to bring the evildoer to justice, especially since he had a good idea as to who his main suspect was, for all clues led to only one man.
Arriving at the abandoned mine, Zorro dismounted, unsaddled Tornado, and left him to get some rest while he lay under a tree in the nearby meadow and started devising a plan of action.
ZZZ
It was two days later when Don Iván Castro entered the tavern in Buenaventura and crumbled in a chair. The past two nights he had spent haunted, unable to close an eye because of the voices he kept hearing whenever he was alone. The ghostly voices of the Indians who had perished in the settlement north of his hacienda.
He never saw them, but he heard their cries and they made his hair stand on end. Sometimes, mostly during the day, they simply howled, making it impossible for him to close an eye when he was in the house and determining his servants to run away scared as soon as they had first heard them.
As if that wasn't enough, every night the howling changed into clear voices, who demand that he'd confess to his misdeeds, that he'd tell the alcalde what he had done, and submit to a trial.
He hadn't given in, though. How could he, when the alcalde was one of the Governor's men, and he knew he was not to be trusted?
He, thus, gave them no satisfaction, and he certainly didn't confess. So, the ghosts kept coming and, because of that, he hadn't slept almost at all during the past 48 hours, and was completely exhausted.
In fact, the only reason why he had even come to the tavern was to meet with an exorcist who had offered his services. How the man had heard that he needed to rid himself of ghosts, Don Iván didn't know, though he suspected that his former employees had spread the word that his hacienda was haunted. Neither did he know the man he was due to meet. All he knew was that a lancer from Buenaventura had brought him the man's message and he was more than happy to agree to the meeting due to take place at the tavern that evening.
As he sat down while waiting for the exorcist to arrive, he looked around to see the place filled with dons, lancers, and vaqueros, all of them people he despised. He did, at least, feel lucky to have found a table, the only one available in the taproom.
"Would you like something to eat, Don Iván?" Señora Rosita asked as she came to take his order.
"Eat what? That horrible excuse for food you're serving?" He inquired, noticing that she wore new clothes and looked far more rested and presentable than he had ever seen her.
"I recommend the enchiladas. I used my mother's recipe and they are particularly tasty." She continued, faking not having heard his disparaging questions.
The don perceived a certain nervousness in her words, but attributed it to his intimidating persona.
"All I want is a bottle of tequila. And make sure it has no water in it, or I'll know!" He said.
"Si, Señor!" The woman answered, and headed towards the kitchen.
As she left his table, the tavern's doors suddenly closed shut, and a dense smoke begun filling the room, seeming to come from under the floorboards. Nobody but Don Iván seemed aware of anything strange happening, though, as everyone continued their conversations, granting no attention to the doors or the smoke.
As the don started panicking, he again begun hearing the ghostly voices.
"Murderer! Murderer!" They said and repeated several times. Unlike before, however, when he had only heard the voices of men, this time he could distinctly make out the voices of women and children. "Confess!" The voices ordered, and again repeated a few times.
Looking around at the other people in the room, who continued to seem unaware of the voices and the smoke, the haciendado's glance rested on the windows. Ghostly, transparent faces of painted men, women and children looked at him from the outside darkness, threatening to make their way inside.
"Would you also like a poisoned blanket?" Señora Rosita asked as she brought him the bottle of tequila and a glass.
The terrified man stared at her open-mouthed, then glanced at the blanket she was holding across her arm. Moments later, he stuttered to his feet and hurried towards the door, yet found it impossible to exit as it was locked.
"Let me out! Do you hear me? I demand to be freed!" He shouted, pounding on the doors.
This time the people in the tavern stopped their conversations and stared right at him, following his every move.
"The truth shall set you free!" A ghostly voice said, and he saw the ghosts in the windows echoing those words.
"Shut up! Shut up! Stop torturing me! I can't take it anymore!"
"Admit! Admit!" The ghosts muttered.
The don took a few steps back and fell to his knees in the middle of the tavern, his body half-buried in smoke, then glanced up, towards the windows. "What do you want?" He shouted at the ghostly faces there. "You want me to say that I paid Don Samuel's vaqueros to poison the blankets he had sent to your tribe? Very well, then! I did! It's why I hired those thieves after he fired them: to make sure they'd keep their mouths shut. I also had them make a deal with that medicine man of yours. He was supposed to convince you that the land was cursed and you had to move out. But you were foolish enough to remain, and then that darn alcalde of Santa Barbara instituted the quarantine, forbidding everyone from leaving. Had you left when you were told, most of you would have survived! So this is all your fault, not mine! Yours! Yours and that alcalde's! Haunt him if you must! Just stop haunting me!"
As soon as he said that, the ghosts glanced at each other, then disappeared. Only then did the don notice the people in the tavern looking at him angrily, and the silence that had fallen over the establishment.
"Is that enough for you, Alcalde?" Zorro asked as he made his way out of one of the rooms, a strange, long instrument reminiscent of a trumpet in his left hand. Two of Don Samuel's daughters and the innkeepers' oldest child followed him out.
"It most certainly is, Señor Zorro!" The alcalde said as he ordered his men to arrest the baffled Don Iván. "With so many having witnessed your confession, Señor," he continued, "I fear you will soon become a ghost yourself."
"No! Wait! What's happening?" The baffled don asked as he suddenly found himself restrained and tied up by a couple of lancers. "You can't arrest me! I know the Deputy Governor! He will have your heads should anything happen to me!" He shouted as he was being dragged towards the prison.
"I would normally make sure he gets a fair trial, but I doubt one is needed in this case." The alcalde told the masked outlaw as the rest of the innkeepers' children, as well as several men and women, all with their faces painted and dressed as Indians, entered the taproom, carrying several large pieces of glass and lamps with them. From their faces, one could easily notice that they were more than a little proud of themselves for a job well done, and grateful to the masked outlaw who coopted them into his plan. The people in the tavern clapped at seeing them and invited everyone to join them at the tables the lancers had previously occupied while Señora Rosita started taking their orders.
"A noose around his neck will be an easier death than the one he has inflicted on others… far easier than the one his accomplices suffered." Don Samuel said as he joined the alcalde and the masked man, his eyes still following Don Iván as he was trying in vain to convince the lancers to let him go.
The black-clad outlaw nodded his agreement. "At least he will pay for his deeds and he will no longer pose a danger to the tribe." He muttered. "But, tell me, Alcalde," he continued, addressing the official "aren't you afraid that what he just said is true? That the Deputy Governor might decide to sanction you, should the man prove to be his friend?"
"I take my orders from the Governor, Señor. Besides, unless I am wrong about him, Don Fernando de la Cruz cares about justice. Even if Don Iván proves to be an acquaintance of his, I doubt he would resent me for simply following the law after finding out about the man's public confession."
The masked man nodded, hoping he could trust the alcalde's words, yet decided to stay in Buenaventura a day or two longer to make sure that justice would indeed be done.
"Señor Zorro!" The alcalde called him, turning back from the door as he was about to follow his men towards the cuartel. "I am glad you took me up on my offer! It's been… interesting... and more than a little instructive. For all of us."
The crowd there agreed, cheering his words.
"It most certainly was." The black-clad outlaw answered with a smile as he nodded his goodbye. Glancing around the tavern, his eyes soon rested on the innkeeper.
"I see you have taken my words to heart, Señor," he uttered as he saw the older man sat at a nearby table, helping his youngest son wash the paint off his face.
"Si, Señor Zorro. And you were right. I was not the husband and father I should have been, but I have every intention of becoming that man. I much rather be him than a bad memory in my children's minds…" The man uttered sincerely and still a little afraid of him, as his wife brought him his dinner. The innkeeper looked grateful at her and thanked Rosita with a smile that made her blush.
"That arroz com pollo smells delicious." The masked outlaw remarked, addressing the slightly younger woman.
"It tastes good, too!" She replied proudly. "May I offer you a plate as well, Señor Zorro?"
"No, thank you, Señora. I see you are quite busy. Besides, I should soon be on my way." He answered, and she excused herself to return to the kitchen.
"So… Now that Don Iván is in jail, will you return to Los Angeles, Señor Zorro?" Don Samuel asked curiously.
"Not yet." He replied. "But, yes... Soon."
"Well… If you need a place to stay in the meantime," the don said, trying to seem casual, "there's plenty of room at my hacienda… and I am certain my daughters wouldn't mind your company…"
Zorro glanced at the two señoritas, noticing them whispering to each other while throwing discreet looks in his direction.
"Ah… I appreciate that, Don Samuel, but I already have a place to stay." He answered nervously before taking his goodbye from the people there, and hurrying to make his escape.
"If you change your mind…" the don shouted after him as he hurriedly mounted Tornado and left, "I would not mind someone like you for a son-in-law, Señor Zorro," he then muttered just to himself before sighing and heading for his daughters.
ZZZ
Diego arrived home the evening of the day of Don Iván's execution. The man had tried, till his last moment, to save his life, yet never repented for his actions. With nobody to organize a funeral, he was buried in an unmarked grave, only the padre, the alcalde and a few lancers to attend a brief ceremony organized at the cemetery, while everyone else in Buenaventura did their best to forget he had ever existed.
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PS: Anyone who might be wondering how that ghost trick was done, it's a magician's secret, although no longer so secret. Look it up! It's quite interesting.