Diego decided to change into vaquero clothing and join the stage coach as an out-rider for the day. He left a note for his father to let him know he would be gone for several weeks, but not detailing his plans.
Jack's rough clothing were warmer and stronger than his caballero suit, which he tucked into his suitcase with Zorro's costume and sabre. He paid for his luggage and a little extra for the driver to not mention the extra case. He assured the driver of his abilities with the rifle and the handguns that hung in his belt. The promise of a few pesos for his help amused Diego, but he nodded and shook hands on the agreement as was expected.
He had taken one of the plainest and dullest of the de la Vega horses, but the brown gelding was fast and surefooted as were all the de la Vega stock.
He helped the coach driver harness the horses, and was thanked. The driver passed him a mug of steaming coffee, which he accepted with gratitude. He had left before breakfast, and it was still bitterly cold in the early mornings.
"You're a hard worker, lad. Get that in ya. Warm your innards, boy."
"Merci," Diego said, stooping a little, to reduce his extraordinary height. He was conscious of Victoria being so close. He didn't want to adjust his plans, and he certainly didn't want to have a scene in the middle of the plaza in front of all the gossips. It would be much better to travel as a vaquero than himself at least for this stage of the journey.
He could hear the booming voice of his father. Alejandro's voice drifted on the early morning air. He ducked his head as if to adjust his boot laces.
"Victoria, at least reconsider this. Diego has been invited to the wedding. You could travel together and share expenses. You're a business woman, Victoria, surely you can see the sense in that… I can even allow the use of the buggy."
"Don Alejandro, I appreciate your advice, as I always have. If Diego was here, pleading his cause, perhaps I would consider the idea. Where is he? If he loves me as he says he does, where is he?"
Alejandro sighed. "Here…" Victoria took the note and read it. Then she threw it at Alejandro in frustration.
"Such a coward…" she murmured, struggling to lift her bag.
"Allow me, Senorita," Diego said in a perfect French accent. She didn't look at him, but Alejandro startled and stared hard at him.
"I'll get the other bag, Victoria," Alejandro said, taking the other bag to position with the rest of the luggage.
"I thought I recognised those bags," Alejandro said softly. "Jack?"
Diego met his eyes and saluted a little.
Alejandro sighed, and shook his head a little.
"I don't know if I'll ever understand you," Alejandro said softly. "Take care of yourself. Take care of Victoria. No drinking – keep my son safe," he added with a serious tone. He touched Diego's arm gently. He glanced at the firearms in Diego's belt, and nodded.
"I'm prepared for many eventualities, Senor. Don't worry about your friends. Your son is in good hands," Diego assured him.
Alejandro gave him a pat on the shoulder and walked back to the tavern, where Isabella was waiting for him. He had to force himself not to look back. He couldn't draw attention to his son in the vaquero clothes.
Zzz
Diego rode close enough to catch a glimpse of Victoria as she rode in the back of the coach. She was glancing back towards the town, towards the pueblo she had always known. Several tears had traced their way down her face, but she hadn't wiped them away.
"Oh, Diego," she sighed, loud enough for him to hear. "How will I bear it?" She shook herself, and wiped her face with her hands, and frowned deeply.
She sat straighter in the seat, and her face became a mask of calm and seriousness. She looked a lot older than she was, and Diego dropped back a little.
Guilt shivered through him, and he sighed. It was his fault she was in tears. It was his fault she had left the pueblo intending never to return. He had to make a stand, and convince her to return with him after the wedding.
He rode up to the driver and asked in his French accent how the trip was going. He was worried that they might be attacked in known trouble spots, and wanted to be prepared for anything. His pistols were loaded, and ready to fire, and he had two for a very good reason. Victoria was handy with a pistol in an emergency, and she could reload and fire it again if necessary. A rifle sat in amongst the saddle bags in case of need.
The coach driver assured him that the trip was going smoothly, and that he didn't expect any issues on this leg of the journey.
"You see, lad, the bandit known as Zorro patrols out here better than the military. He's saved me more than once. Rumour has it he's moved on – where who knows, but the robbers around here don't know that yet, eh? Well, I hope he's alright, and it's just woman trouble or whatever. Heaven help us if he's dead…"
"Is he that much of a hero? Or is he a waste of time?" Diego said, being careful to keep to his French accent.
"You've never seen him in action, lad? Well, he is amazing. I've never seen anyone take on the bandits like he does."
"Zorro is a hero to the people, Senor. You mustn't have been in Los Angeles long?"
"I'm a vaquero, a cowboy, working where I can, Mademoiselle. I seek my fortune as I travel," Diego said softly, trying to hide his voice a little more. Victoria had become curious and that was a bothersome thing right now.
"You're French?"
"My parents were French," Diego lied. "I was born out here, with my brothers and sisters."
She considered him a little, and he ducked his eyes. The grime and the style of his clothes threw her perception, and her eyes didn't see him for what he was. He didn't know why he was worried. He had hidden behind a piece of black silk for too many years without her once guessing who he really was. If she was suspicious, it would be different. She didn't seem too suspicious just now, Diego realised with relief.
"I've spoken French from the cradle, Mademoiselle, but English and Spanish I had to learn to get along with the world, if you understand my meaning," Diego said, clumsily.
She nodded, with a little smile. "You are very clever to learn all three languages, Senor. I barely know two. Perhaps you could teach me some songs in French. Maybe I could be a school teacher somewhere. I do know a lot of things, and children are such dears….and such demons."
She laughed a little, although it didn't sound like a true laugh.
"I can do what I can Mademoiselle, but I am not the best teacher in the world."
"No, I suppose you are not," Victoria said thoughtfully, as if she was aware of another teacher much more suitable.
Diego turned his head, as if scanning the countryside for threats, and hung back. The conversation was getting a little too close for comfort, and he needed to back away from her.
He remembered her English lessons. He had patiently taught her over many weeks, and they had laughed and grown closer over the time spent in one another's company. He had brought out the Shakespeare plays and sonnets that he enjoyed so much, and read some classic lines of the Bard, as an excuse to read romantic poetry to her. She enjoyed poems of love and courage, and so he kept it adventurous and serious. She had listened to his voice, with her eyes closed. It had been so tempting to kiss her unawares and to take her in his arms and hold her. He had never succumbed to the temptation. It would have betrayed her trust and their friendship.
Over the years he had coached her with her accounts, but left those lessons when he went to University. She seemed to be excellent with her books now. He couldn't help but be proud of her achievements. All she had needed was a bit of confidence with the numbers, and he had watched her blossom under his guidance.
Now she had unknowingly asked him to teach her again. This time French, and he was needing to be just about perfect. With a woman as smart as Victoria, one slip, one mistake, would bring the masquerade crashing to the ground. He dreaded to think of her reaction. She was never meant to speak to him, let alone seek an acquaintance.
Diego sighed. Was he once again diving into a mess of his own making and getting in too deep before he knew where he was? He hoped not.