Zorro was active, riding Toronado slowly through freshly fallen snow. It was so very silent, the snow muffling any sound. Toronado snorted, breathing out a puff of steam. Zorro patted the horse on his neck reassuringly.
"We will be home and dry in our warm cave soon enough," he said, keeping his voice as soft as he could. "Just a reconnaissance mission, my friend."
His heart was heavy, more aware than he had been about his father's disdain. It had been a while since it had stung so painfully. The last couple of months had been a slow growing together over shared confusion and grief, and the healing of each other's wounds. They had developed a method of accommodating each other's habits and interests, but all that had vanished in the wake of the arrival of Sebastian and Alonso.
He shook his head. He couldn't be jealous of his own uncle and cousin, that was madness. He needed to get back into the saddle and if the mask was what it took to work with confidence he would have to use it. His activities would distract him long enough to soothe the hurt. He could think about things after the children were safe, and as long as he kept his profile small he could slip into the reality that Zorro was indeed dead. If it was truly necessary. His injuries had shaken him, but perhaps it was temporary.
Zorro rode to a small overhang, and dismounted, leaving the stallion sheltered from the snow. He crept down to where Alonso's camp was, and borrowed his hand held telescope to scan the surroundings. In the dark, it was an almost futile exercise, but the telltale light of fire might give some indication where people were sheltering. Whether it was the children or the bandits it hardly mattered. Either group could be dealt with.
His sharp eyes made out the muted light from a poorly hidden fire several metres up the hillside. With another sweep of the surroundings, he made out the bandits fire. It was badly hidden, worse than the inexperienced children's attempt. The bandits were overconfident. Their inexperience helped give the impression that they relied on an outside ringleader. Interesting.
Killers for hire? Or just muscle for someone who liked to pull the trigger himself? Or herself, he reminded himself. The ladies could be clever, and he had been drawn into deception more than once. What they lacked in the manly accomplishments they made up for with intelligence and surprise.
He hoped it was a man, though. He wanted to have a chance to fight this murderer with his own skills. A warm sense of rage flushed through his body, and his fists clenched as if he wanted to punch someone. He took a deep breath to regain his sense of peace and reason, and the feeling was banished. Settling this problem would come soon enough.
Tonight was a chance to discover where the players were. Not to engage with them. Although the children...if he attempted a rescue, the bandits would be alerted and he couldn't protect the children adequately while fighting several armed men. They would have to wait another day. He sighed, it was a hard decision.
He arrived back at the cave several hours before dawn, confident that he knew the layout and several plans that might work in engaging with the bandits and the children.
He removed the saddle, and began to rub the sweat from his horse. When the sweat had been completely dried, he brushed Toronado into a high shine. Then he placed a thick horse blanket over the stallion, aware that Toronado was colder and more tired than he was. He offered a sugar cube and it was taken immediately. The horse snorted again, as if he was indignant about leaving the warmth of the cave for the wilds of the mountain.
"Sorry boy. Unfortunately you match my outfit," Diego said, as he removed the mask. "And what other horse could have outrun the garrison?"
Diego rubbed Toronado's nose affectionately, before changing back into his normal clothes. The hacienda would be rising soon, the servants before the masters, and he would rather not be seen wandering the halls by either. He grabbed a flagon from his desk and a small pouch, and left the cave silently and swiftly.
He went into Alonso's room first. He poured a dash of liquid from the flagon into the water glass that sat half empty on the bedside table. Then he assisted a half awake Alonso to drink it, and as Alonso started to wake further, applied chloroform. It was easier to half carry the young man to Diego's room than it had been to assist him down the mountain.
He settled Alonso on his own bed, and stood back. He reminded himself that this was a good plan - for both of them. Alonso wasn't fit enough to fight at his best, and Diego knew he could deal with the bandits. He knew the layout of the mountains more than Alonso did, and he had gained whatever knowledge Alonso's scouting had achieved.
Diego returned to Alonso's room, and changed his clothes into Alonso's day clothes. He practiced some mannerisms in the mirror to see if he could perform well enough to fool his father, knowing he was unlikely to fool his uncle for long. He just needed to be mistaken for Alonso until it was too late to switch back. He could prove himself before then, he was sure.
A flicker of sadness flitted through his mind, knowing how easily his father would be fooled in the morning. The potion given to Alonso was harmless, but it would be dramatic enough to compel the doctor to be called, and Alejandro might be persuaded to stay home as well.
If his plan didn't work, he always had the option of the black suit. He kept a spare suit in Esperanza's saddlebags. For emergency use. Alonso's sword and pistol would be helpful as well.