Chapter 4

Diego jerked awake as Esperanza jumped over a slight dip in the terrain. Unable to immediately understand what was going on, he moved again too quickly and slid right off of the saddle to land rather unceremoniously on the ground. He realized belatedly that he'd been draped across the horse on his stomach.

The kidnapped caballero tried to get up and discovered just how impossible that task was going to be. His shirt had been removed, and his hands were now tied in front of him with a length of rope across his stomach. His elbows were locked in place by a sturdy branch between his arms and his back. He couldn't even reach the knots securing his wrists.

Not even Zorro could maneuver his way out of this one.

Paco had stopped the trio when they heard the thud. Dawn was approaching, informing Diego he'd been unconscious for hours as he watched his captors approach him in the early morning light. He had a slight headache, but his vision was clear. 'At least I don't have a concussion,' Diego thought ruefully.

"You know, if you weren't worth so much money, I'd have considered you not worth the effort a long time ago."

"And here I thought you liked to work for your wages." Diego managed to sit up, grimacing as the deep scratch from the pistol ball made itself known in his side. He was lucky it was just a scratch, and the bullet wasn't embedded in his side. He doubted these banditos would have taken the time to remove it.

Paco simply kicked his shoulder, forcing him back into the dirt. "I could just as easily have dragged you."

"You could just have easily kissed your ransom money goodbye." Diego could feel the bruises forming from the branch and ropes digging into his skin and found the sarcasm a welcome reprieve from the pain.

"I would have thought by now you'd realize that your father not delivering the ransom will mean your death?" Before he could make Diego even more miserable, they all turned at the sound of a horse whinnying in the distance.

Diego felt a wave of relief wash over him when he recognized Mendoza's voice issuing orders to his patrol in the distance. "Sergeant!" he bellowed before Paco cuffed him on his bruised temple, knocking him out again.

Luiz climbed up on top of the rock outcropping they'd stopped by. "It's a patrol!" He whispered fiercely as he scampered back down.

"Help me get him back on his horse! We'll have to tie him down this time! Hurry up!" They hauled Diego up and roughly draped him over the horse. He moaned as his bruised stomach came in contact with the saddle. Paco pulled the bandana from his neck and tied the gag tightly around Diego's mouth before mounting his own horse. "Go!" He called and they broke into a gallop just as Mendoza and his men came around the bend in the trail in search of the voice that had desperately called out his name.

Mendoza's trained eyes recognized the vulnerable form of his good friend Don Diego almost immediately. "Don Diego!" he cried out in utter dismay. Something terrible must have happened. "Vamos muchachos! Adalante!" The patrol immediately took off in pursuit of the banditos. By the time they'd reached the next hill, they'd disappeared and his friend was nowhere in sight. Discouraged, but not willing to give up, Mendoza immediately issued orders. "Sepulveda! You're in charge. Keep tracking them. Mark your trail. I'll ride back to Los Angeles and warn Don Alejandro and get another patrol to join the search."

"Don Diego…" Sepulveda started, not quite sure how to phrase his question. He decided to make a statement instead. "He didn't look…" the thought trailed away like the wind on the prairie. However, finishing the thought was unnecessary since every soldier in the group was thinking exactly the same thing.

"He was unconscious, Corporal, or they would have left him behind, no? Now hurry!" Without waiting for a reply, Mendoza turned his horse around and headed for the pueblo at a gallop.

ZZZ

Alejandro, Felipe, and ten of the De la Vega vaqueros surrounded the campsite Diego and Felipe had chosen near the stream the day before. Alejandro didn't expect them to still be there, but he was confident enough with his own tracking skills and that of his men that they'd be able to pick up a trail quickly.

He glanced over at Felipe, but he'd already dismounted and bolted through the brush. The old Don let out a sigh. His boys would be the death of him yet. By the time he found him standing next to the long ago burned out fire, the young man was frozen in place and staring at a white piece of cloth on the ground. He watched Felipe kneel down and gently pick it up. Only when Felipe turned to him with fresh tears in his eyes did he realize what it was.

Diego's shirt, torn, bloodied, and covered in dirt with what was obviously a bullet hole on one side lay shredded in the boy's hands.

Felipe, who was moving rapidly from guilt to intense anger, threw the shirt in the fire pit and stalked to his horse. For whatever reason, Diego hadn't been able to get away. And, Felipe concluded with complete and utter dismay, Diego had to have been hurt badly if he let them cut his shirt off. He rubbed his neck in frustration, a nervous gesture he hadn't used in quite some time. The tracks were headed east. Felipe hastily decided to head towards the ravine in that direction. It'd be a good place for the kidnappers to hide and as good a place as any to start looking for Diego. They should have set out sooner, although deep down he knew the banditos had left the campsite with Diego as soon as he'd ridden out of site on his way to the hacienda.

Felipe didn't wait for Don Alejandro or the rest of the vaqueros before mounting Emilio and setting off for the ravine at a gallop. He realized his anger with the elder Don was amplified by Diego's anger and frustration from yesterday, but he didn't care. Despite Don Alejandro's assurances to the contrary, Felipe believed this whole mess was entirely his fault. If he'd been better able to help Diego to fight off the banditos in the first place none of this ever would have happened.

He'd find him and bring him home…If it was the last thing he ever did.