AN: Dear readers, this story is the product of me questioning for quite some time how did Zorro and Ramon Escalante know each other at Devil's Fortress. To be more precise, I wondered how did Ramon meet Zorro.
So I set out to answer that question and I do hope that, with the help of La Cuidadora, who co-authored this story, I did a good enough job at that.
The action of the story takes place just after the events in the NWZ's episode Broken Heart, Broken Mask (Season 2).
Enjoy and let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters of the NWZ pantheon. I do own the OCs in this story and the ideas for the plot. I do not make any money from it, write and publish just for fun, but the partial or complete reproduction of the story is not allowed without my express consent. The use of the OCs can be granted after slight negotiation.
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Despite all the hardship and traumas which had marked his life, Ramon Escalante had always managed to keep his good humor, and had been a pleasant company for all those who met him. He was a kind young man, maybe a bit mischievous, but never ill-intended, always willing to help others and patient in his dealings with them.
However, at that exact moment, the people in the stagecoach he had boarded in San Diego, less than forty hour earlier, could barely stand him.
Shortly after boarding the coach, he began the irritating habit of checking his pocket watch every half hour and afterwards sighing dramatically. He had not shaved in days and his appearance could at best be described as disheveled. Totally out of character, he was short-tempered, responding both curtly and reluctantly to questions. His own questions were mostly limited to how long it would take them to reach Los Angeles.
His entire demeanor made his three fellow passengers consider him a dangerous man, especially when they glimpsed the two pistols he wore, partly hidden under his vest. They felt uncomfortable near him and tried to sit as far away from him as possible, even more so since he hadn't adequately washed in over a week.
He was fidgety throughout the ride, worse when they made their infrequent stops, stayed to himself during their meals and breaks, and was always the first back at the coach, pacing agitatedly near it until the other passengers strolled in. They were sure that if it had been up to him, there would have been no stops until Los Angeles, the physiological needs of both humans and horses be damned.
Ramon had good reasons to be in a hurry, though: his sister had been shot and, as per the letter he had received from his father's friend, Don Alejandro de la Vega, she came close to losing her life. That was why, considering the tone of the letter, which was by no means very encouraging, Ramon took all his savings and boarded the first ship to California. Once in San Diego, which was the ship's last stop before returning south, he had been lucky to get the last seat on the stagecoach for Los Angeles the same day he had arrived in the port.
They were finally nearing the pueblo, only five miles separating them from their destination, when they hit a long and rather deep mud puddle broke a wheel. A lot of luck and the driver's quick thinking barely prevented a serious accident.
The only female passenger, a rather buxom widow, fell towards Ramon as the stagecoach abruptly stopped. Instinctively he reached for her, but soon realized his mistake. The woman was twice his size and the last thing he wanted was for her to end up squashing him, at the same time compromising their modesty if not also their reputations. He inwardly shuddered at the fleeting thought of being forced to marry the huge older woman, who he would have kindly described as homely. Pushing that fear out of his mind, he had only a split second to find the best place to place his hands to prevent her fall. He knew he had to avoid her ample bosoms, so reached for her, keeping his hands in plain sight and grabbing what he hoped were her shoulders. Rather than trying to completely stop her fall, he concentrated on easing her to the floor as gently as he could.
"Are you injured, Señora?" he softly asked, in a concerned tone that none of the passengers expected of him given his behavior.
"No, Señor. Gracias," she gratefully acknowledged his help.
He rapidly checked on the other passengers to be sure they had no serious injuries, then he concentrated on finding the safest way to exit the coach, which was now tilted somewhat on its side after losing part of its front left wheel.
Only moments later, they first heard, then saw four bandits wearing bandanas to cover the lower half of their faces came down from behind the nearby hills, two attacking from the left and two from the right, all pointing their pistols at the coach. Ramon didn't particularly worry about the bandits, having only a small amount of money left on him and little luggage, but he was quite upset with being detained by the men.
Without much consideration for his life, as the Escalante he was, he drew his pistols and exited through the left door of the coach in a hurry, just as a bullet flew by him, barely missing his hip and slightly grazing his sash to plant itself in the stagecoach's door.
Trying to aim accurately from horseback is not an easy feat to achieve. Ramon smiled inwardly.
Pointing one of his guns at the bandit who had taken the shot, he managed to disarm him, the impact from the wound he had caused to his shoulder unsaddling the man who hit the ground hard and remained there. The other gun he then pointed towards one of the three remaining brigands, yet missed.
"My turn!" The thug said, aiming his gun at Ramon's chest.
"I think not!" The bandit heard a confident voice from behind him as a lasso fell around his body and rapidly tightened round his torso, binding his arms and causing him to drop his gun. Black leather gloves pulled him to the ground and tied the end of the rope around a black stallion's saddle horn, as a man dressed all in black, a mask hiding the upper half of his face, jumped down from the horse, taking out his whip in one hand and a Toledo-steel sword in the other.
The two remaining bandits coming down the hill on the right side of the coach still had loaded guns which they rapidly aimed at Zorro. The masked outlaw ducked the first bullet headed his way and disarmed the other bandit with his whip. The first of the two bandits tried to hit him with his already useless gun, but his aim was faulty at best and his throw rather weak. So, instead of hitting his intended target, the gun flew into Zorro's hand as if planned.
"Gracias, Señor, but I don't really have much use for guns!" The masked man uttered just before he threw the pistol back, hitting his wannabe attacker in the face, the strength of the blow unsaddling him.
The last bandit still mounted drew his sword and charged. Zorro ducked and passed under the lasso still attached to Tornado on one end and the bandit on the other, avoiding the obstacle they made. The fourth thug's mount stopped his pursuit abruptly after almost stumbling upon it, causing his rider to unwillingly fly over the horses head as he performed the jump his mount had wisely refused. He landed straight into a nearby boulder, which left him unconscious with a broken arm and a concussion.
As Zorro checked that the man was still alive, the third bandit, who had found the gun which had fallen from the hands of his lassoed compadre, fired at him. Ramon, noticing his intention at the last moment, warned Zorro, who ducked in the nick of time, and the bullet found its resting place in the already-broken arm of the unconscious thug.
Reacting fast, the black-clad man got up and, hurrying towards the shooter, he pulled him up and punched the bandit, who was now frozen in fear, using the hilt of his sword to send him to a peaceful, although, temporary, rest.
"Were you harmed?" He asked Ramon as he turned around towards him.
"No, Señor." He replied checking it was so.
"Well, it seems I now have two Escalates to whom I owe my life." Zorro mentioned with a smile.
"You know who I am?" Ramon questioned.
"I do, indeed." Zorro replied. "Allow me to introduce myself…"
"There's no need, Señor Zorro. My sister always spoke very highly of you in her letters. As for saving your life, I think you've saved mine first, so let's just say we are even."
The black-clad man acknowledged it with a nod.
"Do you have news of Victoria?" Ramon wondered as the masked outlaw started tying up the bandits.
"Victoria woke up a week after she was shot, and her condition has been constantly improving. She is still at the De la Vega hacienda, but intends to return to the tavern within the next few days."
"She's out of danger then? That's a relief, Señor." Ramon uttered as his entire mood suddenly changed.
"Zorro… for friends." He replied with a sly smile.
"Ramon!" The younger man stated, offering his hand, which the taller man shook gladly.
"Would you care to help me with these bandits?" The masked man asked as he started decorating their clothes with his mark.
"Is Los Angeles far from here?" The bulky woman timidly asked from the stagecoach, as her head came into view from the floor where she cowered since the stagecoach had stopped.
"About five miles, Señora." Zorro replied as the driver came down.
"Gracias, Señor Zorro! You saved our lives!" The man said.
"All in a day's work, amigo," The outlaw replied with a grin as he proceeded to mount the bandits on their horses with Ramon's help, "but I doubt you will be continuing the trip very soon." He concluded as he took a look at the wheel and axle, now clearly needing the blacksmith's skills before the stagecoach could be used.
"No… I doubt we will. This wheel needs replacing." The driver agreed, scratching his head, after a thorough examination of the damages.
"I suggest you all wait here until we can warn the garrison in Los Angeles to send a wagon to escort you safely to the pueblo." Zorro told the passengers in the coach and their driver. "Señor, since I might need some help with these men, I'd appreciate it if you'd take one their horses and accompany me." He added, addressing Ramon, as he placed the last bandit on the same horse with one of his cohorts. "Not to mention the Alcalde will be more inclined to listen to your account about what had happened than mine. He's never been very fond of our conversations."
ZZZ
The same morning, Alcalde Luis Ramone was pacing his office while looking over the mail he had just received from Monterey.
"Mendoza!" He yelled after re-reading a letter from the governor.
"Si, mi Alcalde!" The man said as he hurriedly entered the office.
"Do you know what this is?" He demanded as he handed his man the letter.
"It says here that the Governor is sending an investigator to find out more about allegations having been brought against you about encouraging the activity of criminal elements in the pueblo." Mendoza summarized after spending several minutes reading it while the Alcalde kept pacing.
"Congratulations, Mendoza, you can read! But do you actually understand what this means? It means the Governor intends to hold me personally responsible for your failure in capturing Zorro!"
"But, Alcalde, don't you think this might be because of what that gambler, Señor Bishop, told Zorro before he left?"
"Of course not, Sergeant! There was never any proof that I supported Bishop's actions in any way, since, naturally, I never did. Zorro is this pueblo's only and major criminal plague, and the spot on my perfect record of service. From now on, I want you to redouble your efforts to catch him! Starting tomorrow at dawn, you and your men will patrol the countryside and check every hacienda, every farmhouse, every cave and every… foxhole for that masked menace! You have one week to find him or I'll cut all your pay by half!"
"But half my pay is only twenty pesos a month!" Mendoza squealed worriedly. "I will not even be able to afford meals at the tavern anymore!"
"Then I suggest you find Zorro by the end of the week! Am I clear, Mendoza? I want him hanged by the time the Governor's investigator gets here!"
"Si, Alcalde!"