Diego tried to protest but his father put his hand on his arm to silence him. "No, Diego. Carlos is right. You are no coward…" Alejandro knelt in front of his son, "Please forgive us Diego. We have misjudged you terribly."

Diego did not know what to say. For the last several hours he had dreaded this moment. He was certain these men would condemn him. Why would they trust him after he had deceived them? What had he done to earn their trust?

The men seemed to read Diego's thoughts. Don Carlos answered Diego's wordless questions. "You have done more for each of us and the pueblo then we could count. You have always been honorable, a true caballero. Most, if not all the Dons respect you, the peons adore you, and the Indians consider you their friend. You have helped almost everyone in this pueblo at least once. Diego, it doesn't matter if you kept your fighting a secret. We respect your choice. You had no reason to use your sword with Zorro here. You were able do what others couldn't, what Zorro hasn't been able to do. You became friends with the pueblo and its people. You help them with all their problems. Zorro, your father, the other Dons…we are only there when Monastario does something against the people. You are always there to lend a hand. Not many can say that." Don Carlos finished his speech and clasped Diego's shoulder. "We will see you tomorrow," Don Carlos smiled. "You can show us what you can really do with the sword, then we will," he indicated the men around him, "help you, if you wish, decide what to do about Ignacio Fuentes."

The two men who had accompanied Don Carlos stood and each in turn gave Diego a pat on the back. Don Armando smiled at Diego, "Buenos noches, Diego. We shall see you in the morning."

Don Rafael also bid the remaining men goodnight, "Buenos noches, señores." Don Rafael nodded to Fernando and clasped Alejandro's arm and bent close, "We will see you tomorrow. Rest easy, mi amigo. We will help protect Diego." He smiled slightly, the right corner of his mouth rose a little, "Though it seems he doesn't need it."

Alejandro stood and walked the men to the door. Fernando was a step behind them. They both watched as the men retrieved their horses and headed toward their own ranches. It wasn't until they were out of sight that Alejandro realized he should have asked his friends to stay the night. It had grown late, and the moon was only at its quarter, offering little light for the men to see by. Alejandro shrugged. It was for the best. He was certain Diego did not want the men here.

At the thought of Diego, Alejandro turned to face his son. He barely noticed Fernando's absence, but he silently thanked his friend for anticipating his wishes. Alejandro faced his son. Diego once again had his eyes shut. The wooden chest remained open. The sword sat on the chair where Alejandro had set it moments before. He carefully picked it up and set it in the chest. Alejandro shut the lid and turned the key in the lock. He stood and turned toward the library. He was surprised to see Bernardo standing a few feet behind him. Alejandro gestured for Bernardo to set the trunk in the corner.

Alejandro turned back to Diego. He could see Diego was asleep. Alejandro did not blame him. Diego, still recovering from his injuries, had come face to face with the man who was likely responsible for those injuries, and in those few moments the stranger to Los Angeles had turned his son's life upside down.

Alejandro reached over and gently nudged Diego, "Come, mi hijo. We must get you to your room." Alejandro was rewarded with a slight moan and a shake of his son's head. Alejandro prompted his son to wake up again, "Diego, you need to get to your room. Come on, I will help you." This time Alejandro saw Diego open his hazel eyes.

"All right, Father." Diego stood on wobbly legs and took a shaky step toward the stairs. He would have fallen had Alejandro not grabbed his elbow. Diego leaned against his father, and with Alejandro's help, Diego made it to his room. Diego felt so tired that he never even thought to feel ashamed at his weakness. Besides, Alejandro's warm embrace felt soothing. It had been a long time since Diego had felt so close to his father.

Alejandro sat Diego on the bed and headed toward Diego's wardrobe. He pulled out a long night gown and Diego's robe. Alejandro laid the robe on the chair beside Diego's bed and placed the night gown on top of the sheets. He watched as Diego attempted to undo the buttons of his white shirt. Alejandro moved his son's hands away and helped Diego undress.

Alejandro had not done this for Diego since he was little. Diego did not say anything as his father pulled off his boots and helped him slip the night gown over his body. Diego undid the sash and unbuckled his pants and slowly pulled them off. When Diego was safe in his bed Alejandro couldn't resist the urge to place a kiss on his son's forehead. He brushed a stray hair from Diego's face and whispered goodnight to his son, but he could tell that Diego was already asleep. Alejandro quietly left and shut his son's door.

Don Alejandro once again felt overwhelmed. This last month had taken its toll on Alejandro and he felt tired and old. He slowly made his way to his room and changed into his own night gown. Alejandro fell into a deep sleep seconds after his head hit his down pillow. The day had sapped the last of Alejandro's strength.

ZZZ

Ignacio Fuentes stopped his horse in front of a small shack. He tied the animal to the porch rail and entered the dark building. A lamp was mounted on the wall next to the door and Ignacio lit it with a match. The lamp lit most of the small shack. Only the small bedroom remained dark. Moving swiftly, Ignacio lit the lamp in the bedroom then returned to the main room. It wasn't much, but not many people knew about it. Ignacio had been living here for more than a month. It was by sheer luck he had run across the abandoned building. A storm had hit as Ignacio was making his way from Monterey and in the dark he had strayed from the seldom-used path.

The lightning had revealed the tilted shack and Ignacio had sheltered in the dusty room for two days why the storm raged outside. The roof leaked in several spots, but they were near the wall and could be avoided easily. A stove was in one corner, a small round table sat beside it. Another low table was in front of a dusty, worn sofa, and a small wooden rocking chair was near the lone window on the east side of the shack. A bedroom, no more than an extension of the main room, sat near the kitchen. The roof above the bedroom was partially missing, the shingles having fallen off long ago. Ignacio managed to salvage the bed, though the sheets were already damp from the leak in the roof. He also found a few clean sheets that had been stored in a small chest by the bed. He had moved the bed into the main room and used the musty sheets as bed covers.

A thought had occurred to the young man after the rain had cleared and he was about to leave. He had wanted a place he could hide in while he sought out information about Diego, some place that he could remain hidden from most people, only going into a town when he needed supplies or questions answered. The peasants were generous people and many provided useful information about Diego. No one seemed surprised or worried that he had taken in interest in the young man. Many of the peons and dons Ignacio talked to praised Diego and thought of him as a perfect caballero. He was handsome, generous, and mannerly. Strangely though, no one had mentioned Diego's ability with a sword. In fact, many had pointed out that Diego was a pacifist, avoiding most confrontations, and to Ignacio's knowledge he had never handle a sword since his return to Los Angeles. He was almost sure no one knew Diego was a master swordsman.

Even before coming to California, Ignacio had made inquiries about Diego and he had employed several men to find out who Diego's friends were, where they lived, and what Diego's days were like. The hate he felt toward Diego had only swelled over the years. He had practiced with the blade every day for hours until his arms were so tired he could barely lift them, and his leg muscles were taught and strained from the lunges.

Ignacio removed his coat and sat on the cot he had set up in the one corner of the room that did not leak. He traced the scar on his face and his anger was fueled further. In the tavern he had almost gotten through to some but Diego's father and friends had stepped in. They would soon realize what Diego was. He would prove that Diego did not deserve the respect most gave him. He was a murderer and a coward, and he would pay dearly for what he had done.

Ignacio smiled as he thought of one piece of information he had not yet used. Another piece of information kept swimming through the tales he had heard. El Zorro seemed to be on the tip of every tongue in Lower California, and his praises were as prevalent as Diego's. Ignacio smiled. He knew the man behind the mask.

TBC