Chapter 6

Zorro climbed up to Victoria's window that night with all the fervor of someone running away from a wild animal. His whole being was focused on just seeing her, talking to her, and pouring out his troubles to her kind, listening ears.

"Zorro!" She ran to the window and was in his arms the moment he alighted in the room.

"Victoria, how I have missed you! I —" he began, but she interrupted.

"And I you have missed you!" She tilted her chin down and said reproachfully, "It has been so long since I have seen you."

"Well, I —"

"I have wanted to see you so much, but you've been so busy!" Her tone was complaining as she stepped back from him and rested her hands on her hips. "It's those women, isn't it?"

"Victoria, it is —"

"I knew it! They are taking up your time, just like they are with Diego! Oh, I could see this coming." She threw up her hands in disgust.

"Querida, please, it has been necessary to —" An alarming thought occurred to him. "What do you mean, taking up my..." he cleared his throat, "taking up Diego's time?"

"Do you know a group of them came into the tavern today! Yes! Into my tavern! And the way they all but chased after poor Diego! It was enough —"

"Poor Diego?" he repeated hollowly.

"Yes, the man was positively scared to death. Why, he left the tavern right after that! When I think of those brazen, impetuous —"

"Oh, Victoria, they are just young girls. They came here to get married and Diego was the first man they —"

"Oh, you sound just like Diego!"

He looked confused. "Diego didn't say that, did he?" He lifted his right hand to his masked temple and began to rub. His head was starting to throb and he could feel a strange tiredness blanketing all around him.

"What's wrong?" She crossed back over to him and was at once her usual nurturing self. "Do you have a …a headache!" The question came out as a declaration of her own amazement rather than sounding like she really wanted to know.

"Yes, I think I do. Victoria, I am sorry. I should not have come tonight."

Before she could say or do anything, he was gone. The shadows below her window swallowed his form as she peered out into the night.

Closing the curtains, she slowly went back over to her dressing table and sat down, thinking about what had just happened.

"Zorro has a headache?" She shook her head and let out an exasperated sigh. Such a short visit! Her shoulders fell at the thought. Looking up at her reflection in the mirror, she saw her own eyes narrow in concentration.

She leaned closer to the mirror, tilted her head at an angle, and moved the candlestick so she could see her face as clearly as possible.

Yes, there it was! Her first wrinkle! Just there, leading from the corner of her right eye.

"NO!" The word escaped her lips before she clapped her hand over her mouth. Panic spread across her face as she let the hand fall, and her thoughts began chaotically spinning from one fear to the next.

"I'm getting too old!" she whispered to the mirror as she thought about the young señoritas she'd seen that day. She was only twenty-eight years old, but those girls were probably only twenty-two or three — maybe even younger!

Perhaps Zorro is going to visit one of them now! That's why he left. Zorro doesn't have headaches! It was just an excuse.

No, it was her wrinkles. She was too old for his attention now. And those girls! Those young girls! "They are all so beautiful!" she thought. "And every one of them is…a lady."

Something she could never be.

When Zorro jumped back on Tornado, he was feeling very much like his namesake, hunted and alone. He felt like he could use a diversion. One glance down the deserted street convinced him it could be had at the alcalde's office, so that was where he headed.

Soon, he was slowly easing down from above onto a rafter above the alcalde's dressing room. He quietly waited and listened, for the voice of De Soto could be heard as the man paced back and forth in the adjacent bedroom.

"And your beauty is beyond … beyond what? Beyond…beyond … well, it has to be something I can rhyme with… what was it…yes…now…let's see…"

Zorro grinned. The alcalde was trying to write poetry again.

"Dolores…hmm…." Zorro heard a shuffling of papers and then the alcalde said, "Must remember to keep that part different from Silvia's…"

Zorro jumped lightly down to the floor and crossed to the doorway. When De Soto looked up at the slight rustling sound made by the cape, Zorro was casually leaning against the doorframe.

"Hola, Alcalde!" Zorro smiled and gave him a relaxed salute. "Have you had a visit from your muse tonight? Has Euterpe shone her light upon your…poetry at last?"

"Zorro!" The alcalde's voice was a soft, excited whisper as he looked around frantically for his sword and pistol. He spotted the pistol on a low table by the doorway, only inches from Zorro's hand. His sword was across the room, hanging in its scabbard on a peg on the opposite door.

"Dolores? Silvia? Do not tell me that you are seeing not one, but two, of our lovely young señoritas from Spain?"

"That is none of your business!" De Soto bellowed. "How did you get in here?"

"Oh, the usual way." The masked man glanced down to where the alcalde's darting eyes had told him quite clearly his pistol lay. He slowly picked it up and ran a gloved finger along the barrel, knowing full well that De Soto's eyes were glued to the actions. "It would not be advisable to play with the affections of those young señoritas."

"Are you saying that you don't think I should be allowed to court one of these women?" he sputtered. "Why, of all the —"

Zorro laughed. "No, not at all, Alcalde. That is, as long as you do it one at a time and in an honorable fashion. I don't think Don Diego —"

"Don Diego!" De Soto spat out the name. "The rest of us will be lucky if any of us can impress a one of those señoritas because of him!"

"Don Diego?"

"Yes, Don Diego!" De Soto snarled the name. "Oh, Zorro, you have no idea! That man…." De Soto sought for the right explanation. "That man has poisoned the minds of those women against the rest of us. Oh yes! Now none of the rest of us lowly men is good enough!" He laughed harshly and began to mimic in a funny falsetto the high voices of the young señoritas. "'Don Diego writes poetry.' 'Don Diego is so romantic.' 'Don Diego is a true gentleman of the old days of the Spanish court.' 'Don Diego,' 'Don Diego.' Oh, I could scream if I hear his name on their lips one more time!" He finished his tirade and looked over to see a strange look on Zorro's face.

"Zorro?" De Soto queried, and then his mouth fell open in confusion as the outlaw just stood there, his hand stilled upon the barrel of the pistol, his eyes looking straight through him.

Then Zorro shook his head as if clearing away unwelcome thoughts. "Excuse me, Alcalde. I must go."

Zorro threw the loaded pistol neatly into De Soto's hands, turned quickly, and disappeared the way he had come. The alcalde was so surprised that he didn't even chase after the masked man.

The ride back to the hacienda went by slowly as the unwanted thoughts in Zorro's mind vied for his attention.

He had wanted to retreat into Victoria's arms tonight and she had seemed totally focused on his other self. Even holding a loaded pistol while alone with the alcalde in his office had only elicited ranting about Diego. Why were those two acting as if he was inviting the attention of the hundred señoritas?

Tornado snorted.

"Oh, yes, one hundred and twelve now, isn't it?" He patted Tornado's neck and felt the frustration there. Tornado wanted to run, not move slowly along the trail. So he let the horse have free rein, and was home even before the hacienda had quieted down for the night.

After changing clothes, he went through the secret panel underneath the fireplace and was sitting on the sofa, reading a novel, when his father came into the library.

"There you are, Son!"

"Yes, Father?" He looked up to see his father carrying a cloth bag that was filled and bulging. "What is that?"

"For you," Alejandro said with a very satisfied smile, and dumped the bag into his lap. "Tomas, the old man who is acting as caretaker for the new dormitory, he brought this by for you." Alejandro sat down opposite his son, still smiling. "Aren't you going to open it?"

Diego looked suspiciously at his father, but it was clear that there was no way he was going to leave him alone to open the bag. So he pulled at the drawstrings and let the contents spill out in his lap. Dozens of envelopes of all shapes and sizes and colors fell from the bag with some of them landing on the floor at his feet.

"What on earth…" Diego began as he reached for one of the envelopes and looked at the front of it. "To Diego de la Vega…the return address is Conchetta Cordero…this one is from Sofia Velloso…these are from the señoritas!" He sniffed at one and drew back from it quickly. "Perfume?"

Alejandro laughed and slapped his thigh. "At last! Now, my son, you'll have your pick of señoritas! It seems you have managed to impress quite a few of them!"

"Oh, Father, please. This is…this is… it us just that they…"

"It's just that they have read the way you wrote in that pamphlet, and then they saw you in the flesh and they liked what they saw! Diego…Son, this is wonderful!"

"Father, this is terrible!"

"Why so? Don't you want to settle down and get married? Now, what was that you used to say all the time…'who would have me?' Well, there! There are plenty of girls that will have you, and I couldn't be happier about it." He leaned forward in his chair as he saw Diego look down in frustration and puzzlement at the heap of letters. "Now, Son, do not let this go to your head. I don't want you playing with these women's affections. Just let things go along until you find out which one you are attracted to, and then…"

"And then, let me guess, grandbabies?" Diego looked at his father and sighed. "Father, I don't want any of these señoritas—"

"How can you say that! You don't even know them all yet. You couldn't possibly know that one of these young ladies will not be the one you can spend your life with."

"Oh, yes I do!" Diego objected. "And this…this is ridiculous!" He stuffed the letters back into the bag. "Do you not think it is rather forward of these girls to be writing letters to me before I write one to any of them?"

"Well, in this case, I—"

"Well, I do!" Diego stood up muttering, "Of all the… Father, I am going to bed. I am tired." He strode determinedly to the hallway and turned back to say, "Goodnight, Father."

As he watched the retreating form of his son walking down the hall toward his bedroom, Don Alejandro said, "Well, we shall see where this leads, Son. We shall see."