Chapter 8

They followed the faint signs in the sand and dirt for a few hundred yards before they led the group up away from the beach and into the brush and rocky ledges.

"At least, he's not trying to cover his tracks. I have a feeling, if he were, we'd never see much," Big Jim mused. "There! It continues over there!" He pointed to some disturbed patches of earth and the men beat back the growing underbrush so that the señorita would not have a problem traversing it in her skirt.

It was hot.

The heavy, humid air clung to them as they moved slowly, afraid to miss any signs. Victoria, thankfully used to the heat of the pueblo, was holding up well in the men's eyes. Despite her looks, she was no fragile flower. All of them were impressed with "their" young señorita all the more.

As the group trudged along slowly, they wiped their brows and, at intervals, stopped for a refreshing drink of water from their canteens. As each raised the container of cool water to his lips, each entertained the thought that the one they followed had not had this advantage. As the afternoon wore on, their optimism at finding the man alive wore down too.

Victoria, too, had not missed the looks exchanged by the men. She knew very well what they were thinking and thought defiantly that she also knew one other thing. These men did not track a common man, but Zorro himself. If anyone could survive this, he was the one man who could.

Diego dreamed.

The images flew like butterflies around his mind, flitting in and out, just out of his reach so no single one could be held captive before him for very long.

He saw Victoria setting a full glass of lemonade down just near his hand, his father watering the flowers just outside the door, Felipe seeing to Tornado, filling his food trough and rubbing him down. And there, close by, was the water flowing from the fountain in the pueblo so freely, making such lovely tinkling sounds against the rough surface of the stonework.

At first, he reached for the images, his hand lifting weakly for the spot right in front of him. But at his touch, the pictures dissolved away into wispy air, with only a distant laughter lingering behind them.

There she was again, looking deeply into his eyes, her lips parted, her hand reaching for his cheek. Then laughter intervened once more as her face wavered and floated away from him. Victoria stood in the garden with flowers all around her, sweet-smelling roses and soft raindrops falling at her feet. The image held for a few minutes and he drank it in, licking his lips hungrily before a larger, clearer picture of De Soto came between them. He was tying her hands behind her back and leveling a pistol at his father who stood nearby, looking on helplessly.

His father! He stood there looking so pale, so old, watching it all and then he lifted his hands to reveal that he held in one of them a long white rectangle, a letter.

The letters! No! He had forgotten about the letters. They must not read them! He had to get them back.

"I am not dead!" he cried out, but the words would not come out of his mouth. He struggled to be heard and felt hands holding him back. "No! Don't let him read that! He can't! She can't!

Then it was Victoria who held the letter. "No!" he cried once more. "Don't! I wanted to… I wanted to tell you…I wanted so much…" and his voice died away as his spirit fought to leave him. He could not go on any longer.

It was Pepe that saw the way into the cave. Small for his size, he had wriggled up underneath one of the bushes when he'd seen a semi-circle impression in the sand on the other side of them. Seeing the imprint, he had thought at once that a heel could have made it if someone had turned to look at something. Yes, that could have made such a mark.

When he came out on the other side of the line of bushes, he saw it, the small indention behind a layer of thick vines. It was just enough room —

Then he saw the footprint in the soft sand near a rock and yelled back to his father, "Papa! Papa! Come here! I think there's a place…" His voice became muffled as he slipped through the opening.

"Pepe!" Big Jim looked up to see the blond hair of his son disappear underneath an overgrown outcropping. "Jack, you and Franco climb up there and see what—"

Big Jim had turned as he barked out his orders, intending to reach for the señorita's arm to hold her back until they could check out what Pepe had found, but as he turned, she stepped forward just far enough to be out of his reach.

Then she was gone, running, heedless of the brush, the rocks, and the vines. She made the hidden entrance just seconds after Pepe had moved the vines aside and out of the way. The movement of them had still not settled before her own hand was pushing them away roughly, the only impediment between her and the man she loved.

For there he lay.

"Diego! She screamed the name in an out-rush of breath as she ran forward in the dim light to kneel at his side. Pepe stood back, astonished by the speed at which the señorita had covered the distance and appeared as if out of nowhere.

"Diego, Diego…" She repeated the name over and over, so grateful at last to be able to be saying it to the bearer of the name.

Quickly kneeling, then sitting, at his side, she struggled to turn him onto his back. Grasping his shoulders firmly, she tugged him toward her, rolling his shoulders up and over her knees so that she held him in her lap.

"Diego." She lifted his head gently and cradled it as she stroked his cheeks, his forehead, and his hair. With her other hand, she felt his chest, his arms, his throat and made sure there were no wounds.

She had come to expect his gaunt appearance for days. She thought about it as she had waited for sleep, stood by the railings of the ship, and even while she had cooked for the other men. So his emaciated and heavily bearded look did not shock her, for she had gone over it all in her mind before this moment.

Knowing what to expect had also instilled her with the knowledge she needed now. Water was more important than her love in this moment. A man dying of thirst needed water, but he needed it slowly.

She used both hands to reach around him to take the lid from the canteen she had carried. Pepe watched, expecting her to lift the canteen to the dying man's lips, but instead, he saw her lift it to her own.

After taking a long draught, Victoria held the life-giving water in her mouth. She lowered her head and let her lips touch the dry, parched lips of the man, softly parting his with her own. Then she allowed the cool liquid to trickle into his mouth. When she felt his throat contract slightly as he swallowed the first few drops, she said a prayer of thanks that he was awake enough that he could.

Pepe watched, transfixed, as she continued to slowly, patiently, urge a few more mouthfuls of water into the man. Big Jim and two of the other pirates squeezed into the small cave, shedding more light onto the scene with two torches, newly lit.

"Victoria?" Big Jim said cautiously. When she lifted her head, he could see the smile of relief etched there and he knew the same emotion stole across his own face.

He turned to issue orders to his men to construct a litter with the rope they'd brought with them and the available materials. They propped the torches amid the rocks and left to comply.

Then he led Pepe toward the back of the cave to inspect the pool. Satisfied that all manner of animals had been partaking of the water there, he allowed Pepe to fill his canteen from it as he soaked a bandana in the cool water himself. He brought both items over to hand to the señorita.

"That's good, Victoria," he commended her. "Slowly, that's best." She took the wet cloth from him and began wiping Diego's brow with it.

Victoria was lost in trying to gently cleanse away the dirt and grime from Diego's face and chest and savoring each and every touch. She fed him water at intervals, always careful not to give him too much at any one time.

She took in every detail of him as he lay there.Yes, she had expected him to look much as he did, only she would have preferred to find him awake and aware of her presence. Even though she heard her name in the mostly unintelligible mutterings coming from him, she knew he did not know she was there.

As she wiped his face with the cool damp cloth, she noted the unkempt beard he now had and inwardly smiled at how Diego would be horrified to present such an appearance. He had shed his shirt at some point, probably because of the heat, she guessed. His pants now reached only to above his knees, another concession to the heat, she supposed, and then had the thought it was probably for practicality too. She couldn't even begin to conceive of the life he'd led these past few months. It would make for some nice, long talks in front of a cozy fire for the months to come, she hoped.

She took one of his hands and applied the cloth to it too. His hands were rough and had many cuts here and there. His nails were dirty, and again, she allowed herself to smile as she held back her tears by reaching inside herself and dipping into her deep reserves of strength. Almost all the time she held him, she let one hand rest on his chest, feeling the comforting rise and fall that told her he still breathed.

At the feel of the coolness, Diego stirred slightly, but didn't open his eyes. His lips moved as he tried to choke out something none of them could understand from his dry, rough throat.

"Shh, shh," she tried to quiet him as she wiped the sweat and grime from his face.

Big Jim signaled to Pepe to go wait outside and he started to follow the boy, but then decided that he should stay, lest Diego show signs of fading. The man was alive, but how long he would remain that way, it was hard to say. He'd seen men rally out of conditions such as this after receiving a doctor's care and then die anyway. It was a long way to the doctor in San Pedro

The pirate sat down quietly on a low ledge near the cave entrance and watched the señorita care for the caballero, immensely relieved he was witnessing this type of scene and not a more somber moment.

He never said a word as he watched her intently, carefully. When she began to speak softly to Diego in his delirium, the pirate paid very close attention. His curiosity had been peaked from the beginning when the señorita had been willing to do all that she had done. Things she had said to him during the voyage had raised his suspicions even further. But now, he was sure.

From all he had ever heard or discovered about this lady, one thing had overshadowed everything; she was deeply, passionately in love with the man known as Zorro. And from the depths of his being, Big Jim did not believe it was possible to transfer a love like that to another very easily. If ever he needed any proof, he saw it before him now. Diego de la Vega was Zorro. Big Jim was certain of it.

It took a good bit of time before the men had the litter ready. All the while, Diego was never lucid as he lay there tormented by fevered dreams. Victoria was there. He could feel her, hear her voice. But the gulf was too wide and he could not cross it. There was mist, cool mist now, settling upon his face. That was pleasant and as it cooled him, he became more placid.

The agitation came when the whiteness grew and engulfed him. Then, little by little, the white shrank and was replaced by the dark, black coolness that settled from above him. He was so tired of the white color that lay all about him, so tired of the way it weighed him down, pushed him with harsh hands on his chest.

The white grew smaller and smaller until it formed into a small rectangular cloud that could be held in the hand, Victoria's hand. She was there and she held the envelope before her. "No…don't… you shouldn't …not yet."

"NO!" he cried once more before the black claimed him totally once more.

Victoria tried to soothe him while he mumbled words that made no sense. She finally remembered that Big Jim was there and looked over to him. "He'll revive when he drinks enough water, won't he?" It was a question but he knew the answer she wanted to hear.

"Hopefully. Victoria, this might not be caused by not having enough water, but by drinking bad water. That well he dug…" Big Jim shook his head sadly.

The men entered the cave, saying they were ready.