"They will be hanged at four o'clock this afternoon. Men prepare the gallows," DeSoto said when the arrived in the plaza. Behind him was the wagon carrying the Lopez gang, the men who had tortured, maimed, and murdered five of Los Angeles' soldiers.
Even Don Alejandro did not speak out in protest. The dead men had family and friends in the area. Zorro almost spoke out for a trail, but he knew it was useless. Besides, there really was no need for one in this case. The men had all been found guilty of hanging offenses months before, but had somehow managed to escape before finding the noose. From what few words had been spoken since their capture last night, Zorro suspected that their last jailer had agreed to a bribe. Not to hang them now was to take a chance of them escaping again.
DeSoto, his arm hanging in a sling, sighed and followed his men into his office. Zorro looked over at the tavern to where Victoria and his father stood. He yearned to go over there, to find comfort in their presence. He wanted to eat and to relax. Last night had been difficult for him. This morning had been even worse. However, someone needed him, and Zorro always tried to answer a call for help, even if the person had not said the words. He walked into the alcalde's office.
DeSoto stood, looking out the window. Zorro could see the bustle of the people in the plaza outside, but he knew DeSoto was not seeing the same image. Instead, his mind was on the men he had lost.
None of the soldiers were in the room. They were all in the jail with the prisoners. They were not taking any chances with the men. Mendoza was there, so Zorro did not have to worry about the lancers abusing Lopez or his men. Even though his own pain would want to take itself out on the men, Mendoza would not touch them in that way. His own conscious would prevent it, and the men's love for their kind sergeant would make sure they obeyed.
"Ignacio, what is wrong?" Zorro winced at his own slip. As Diego, he had grown used to calling him by his name. As Zorro, he should have still referred to him by title. He was too tired. He should have gone to the tavern. He should have gone to the hacienda to sleep. He should have tried to help DeSoto later.
DeSoto apparently was too lost in thought to notice that his enemy was now calling him by name. "I arrested those men four months ago, Zorro."
He nodded, wondering why that was bothering the alcalde. "They should have already been hanged."
DeSoto shook his head. "I was not even thinking about that, Zorro. I did not go out of my way to hunt them because of their crimes, although I guess that did have some--" He sighed, running a shaking hand through his hair. "I went after those men because I wanted that bounty. Bounty, Zorro. Money. And because of my greed, five of my men are dead."
Crossing his arms, Zorro tried to find words to comfort him. "Ignacio," he said, deciding that acting as a friend was more important than worrying about manners. "They did the murdering and the robbing. They broke the law. Your job, and the job of your men, is to stop them. You did. And if your motives were not pure, your actions were still the correct ones."
DeSoto shook his head. "I keep seeing their faces covered in blood--and gold. The gold I got for arresting Lopez the first time."
"You've started to train your men on how to be better soldiers, Ignacio. Are you going to now have them stop arresting the bandits? Should I expect my workload to increase?" Zorro held his breath. Not because he was worried about what he needed to do, but he was proud of what the lancers of Los Angeles were becoming. The pueblo needed the soldiers to be well trained. They should have been taught years ago some of the basics that DeSoto was finally covering.
DeSoto turned away from the window. He snorted and managed to smile. "Worried I'm going to put you to work?" he tried to tease, even though his heart was obviously not in it. "No, Zorro, I'm not going to let this keep my soldiers from doing what they are supposed to do. Even without the gold, my men would have arrested Lopez. I might not have tracked them down so hard, but I would have tracked them down. They were murderers."
"And they murdered Martin, Cortez, Morales, Botto, and Hilaro. Not you," he said.
DeSoto slowly nodded. "Perhaps, you are right Zorro, but I cannot forget my role in their death. I don't think I should."
Zorro remembered the man he had accidentally killed over a year before. A murder who had raided Los Angeles and held the pueblo under siege. Even his own father had not thought the man worthy of mourning, but he could not forget his part in that man's death. He did not think he should allow himself to forget. He nodded, letting DeSoto know that he understood.
DeSoto sat down at his desk. He began rolling up the maps that had been thrown on top of it. The disarray of his desk was a sign of how quickly he had responded and how upset he had been at the news. DeSoto liked things neat. "Will you be here for the execution?"
Without thinking, he shook his head. "No, Alcalde, I won't."
He stopped rolling up his maps. "You agree, Zorro, that they deserve to die. They have been tried in a court of law and found guilty of hanging offenses."
Zorro nodded. "Yes, Alcalde, but I have no desire to see Death win. He is a cruel creature, even to those found guilty of acting worse than animals."
DeSoto shook his head as he filed his papers in a desk drawer. "Try as I might, I don't think I'll ever understand you."
Zorro felt the tiredness sink into his muscles. "What do you mean?"
Leaning back in his chair, DeSoto waved his hand. "You--you are this great mass of contradiction to me, Zorro. You fight every day almost for what you believe, and yet you have no real joy in the fight itself. You like winning, but--" DeSoto again shook his head. "You have the makings of a great soldier, only you would be a very bad one if you understand what I mean."
Zorro smiled, even though his heart skipped a beat in surprise at DeSoto's comments. He had not realized that the man had been studying him so closely. Maybe that was what was behind the change of attitude--a chance to learn his enemy.
"Go home and get some rest, my friend. You deserve it," DeSoto said, returning his attention to the blank pages before him. Zorro knew that the death proclamations would be written there before the hour was gone.
"I can't, Alcalde. There was one member of the gang that escaped. I noticed that his horse had left the camp, but he had not returned. I have to go and find him. Please tell your guards to be on alert for any possible attack, especially during the hanging."
"I had not realized that one was still loose," DeSoto said, dropping his quill. He stood to follow Zorro out the door. "Thank you for letting me know. You had better follow your own advice. You helped us capture that group, even if you did not do the actual arresting. I'm sure they would be happy at your death."
They stopped beside Toronado. "I will, Alcalde." He pulled himself up into the saddle. He nodded his goodbye and turned his horse towards home. A shot rang out through the plaza. Before Zorro could even wonder who was being shot at, he felt the searing pain in his chest. He saw the shock on DeSoto's face as the man reached out to grasp Toronado's reigns. The brilliant stallion, sensing that something was wrong with the man in his saddle, and not trusting the man reaching for him, bolted.
Zorro did not have the energy to guide his horse. He knew that Toronado was heading home, and he hoped that Felipe would be waiting in the cave for their return. If not, Zorro would be in trouble. He would not be able to walk the few feet needed to get help. Zorro grasped the reigns and held on tight. He would not be conscious for much longer.