Chapter 23: The Wolf's return
The fall was rougher than he thought. In his memories, there weren't so many stones at this place. Was he wrong? Two of his men had followed him in escape. Finally, at the bottom after what seemed to be an eternity, he tried to stand up to take flight. But a sharp pain along his left side and in his leg obliged him to stay on place. It was so acute that he was short of breath. He stayed here a moment, despondent... Then the pain lessened.
On his right was lying the lifeless body of one of the two other bandits. This latter hit a rock with his head and he finished his fall like a common rag doll. On his left, he heard a clatter...
When he managed to get up, he moved forward without thinking, abandoning his friend without a look... All because of a man... who must be in the same state as him.
At the cabin, the lancers didn't discover him. How did he go unnoticed? Who had hidden him? Don Hernando? Who had the impudence to warn him? Señora De la Cruz? Who by crying had worried him and made drop his guard, permitting him to strike. Did he know her so well? And Señorita De Castillos? Impossible; sweet Salena was unconscious... Because of him and always him. It was because she intervened that the shot hit her and not... HIM!
His face covered with soil and blood, and with a lame walk, he progressed in the rain with only one idea in mind... Take revenge on Zorro forever…
He didn't know his identity, but a man wounded in the back on the same day... After all, it would have been a great coincidence. Lightning struck and the thunder rumbled while a devilish smile appeared on his face contorted with hatred and pain. But how to be informed? Going to the pueblo at this time would have been utter madness. Undoubtedly, the lancers must be on their guards.
While looking for a shelter, Don Sebastián considered the morning's events. Who had he not seen to the pueblo? Officials were there without possible mistake. Same for Señores Torres and Esperon... Among the caballeros were people of limited means... Menservants, vaqueros... On the contrary... De la Vega wasn't there. Not Don Alejandro, the old man was there, at the side of Doña Salena, but... Don Diego...
Puzzled, Señor De Otsoa stopped.
A mere coincidence without a doubt. He thought.
Yet, this ridiculous thought didn't stop pestering him. On one side, he badly imagined this whippersnapper with a weapon in hand. And on the other side, he remembered the exchange between El Chivo and Yago. The clumsiest swordsman of the pueblo taught you a lesson with a poker... And when he had interrogated Yago about this topic, this latter stammered the name of Diego De la Vega... Yet Yago was not a bad fencer, far from that... What excuse had the young don used to be absent to this meeting, he who always was tired... from doing nothing.
Don Sebastián managed to find a shelter and took a look at his wounds. His hands were in a piteous state, not certain he could hold a blade before a certain time, at least without pain. As for his gun, the question was left unanswered. He had some scratches here and there but what preoccupied him was the wound on his left side and the state of his left knee... He tore the bottom of his pants and used it as a bandage, at least for his leg...
When he looked outside the sun was back... Tired, he let himself slip on the ground and closed his eyes.
He woke up a good time later, startled; at horizon the sun was quite low. But was it the same day? He stood up grumbling against pain, complaining about the man responsible, spurring even more his vengeance. He went out of the shelter and took a look at the surroundings where he had walked. A mischievous smile could be guessed on his face. He wasn't far from his cabin, of his hideout. He took back his trail and headed there with a sprightly tread although still unsteady. Driven by desire of revenge, the distance seemed to be short in spite of that the sun disappeared from the sky since a good while ago.
When he entered in the cabin, a weight vanished from his shoulders. He knew he was sheltered. Nobody would think to come back and look for him here on this late hour. The moon, well round, lit up the inside of the cabin, avoiding him to light his oil lamp to see clearly.
He opened the lonely closet of the cabin and found a change of clothes and reloads for his firearm, which was lying in the middle of the room. Next to his clothes were linens. He didn't have water and opened with regrets a bottle of wine from Cadiz. He knew that if he didn't do anything, the infection will get him in the end. Getting a grip on himself and focusing his rage on his enemy, he soaked a linen with the alcohol and used it to clean the various wounds.
A loud cry tore the silent night.
Sweating from the effort, he took another linen and used it as a compress. He went closer to the bed, tore the bottom of the sheet and used it like a bandage to cover the whole wound on his left side and then he changed the one he got earlier on his left knee.
At last, he let himself fall on the bed after having gulped down a swig of the drink and fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.
Although it was agitated, the night was beneficial. Save for various pain, he was feeling invigorated. The first thing he did after waking was to change the bandage from his wounded side. He winced when he saw the state of the wound. He had to be treated correctly, but to the Pueblo of Los Angeles... out of the question! In another pueblo? He would lose precious time and the Fox would have all the leisure to make convalescence. No! His revenge should be immediate... But where to look except at the pueblo? Finally, it was the one place that he should avoid that would be his next stop. But in this case, he had to choose for cunning and carefulness. After all, to be another one could only be a child's game. He looked in his closet for what he could use judiciously and got out a pilgrim monk dress.
Before slipping it on, he checked that his firearm was loaded and hanged it to his belt. Only then he put on the pilgrim monk dress... As for his blade, it would have been difficult hiding it... All set, he went outside the cabin and after having pulled down the hood of the dress on his face, he hobbled along towards the Pueblo of Los Angeles. Although he met numerous lancers, none talked to him and let him pass without a word.
It was then quietly that he arrived to the Pueblo of Los Angeles. But as soon as he was on place, he was taken aside by Padre Felipe who saw him wobbling.
"Brother, what is happening to you?" This one asked.
"Need help." Sebastián whispered in a voice he didn't know he had.
"Come with me, I will take you to Doctor Avila."
"No, chapel." He said puzzling Felipe.
"If you prefer?"
"Gracias, brother."
Felipe led then the pilgrim monk to the chapel, nonetheless suspicious after his reaction. Then, he installed him in a room which window overlooked the plaza. Tired and slightly feverish, the monk didn't notice that detail.
"Stay here a moment, brother, I'll come back."
"Padre... One wrong step and I won't hesitate to shoot in God's house." Suddenly said the pilgrim monk by taking out his firearm.
"Santa Maria y madre de Dios."
"Come, come, Padre, you're blaspheming. It's not good... I let you three minutes to go and seek Doctor Avila, not one more... Yet, if you're not back in time, I will shoot the first one which will come across this doorstep. If I hear one lancer getting closer, it will be the same. Comprende?"
"Si." Felipe asserted by nodding feverishly.
"Then hurry up, Padre."
Felipe left in a hurry, but soon cooled down his pace so as not to draw attention. He didn't see his face, but the man didn't joke; and he didn't want that blood flowing unnecessarily. When he arrived to the office of Doctor Avila, this one was departing.
"Buenos días, Padre."
"Buenos días, Doctor Avila... Could you come to the chapel? I need you in emergency and can't tell you more here."
Avila frowned. It was not in the habit of the padre to talk like that.
"I come with you although I would have preferred to go and see Don Diego."
"What does he got?" The padre inquired while the doctor took back his bag from the carriage.
"You're not aware?" Avila exclaimed surprised as he headed to the chapel.
"No... I didn't see him since yesterday morning." The padre whispered discreetly.
"He was stabbed in the back... On the back of his right shoulder."
"Dios! Do you know more?"
"Yes." The doctor asserted by arriving in front of the chapel.
"You'll tell me later, I doubt that this story interests the one who sent me."
A door squeaked heavily, steps resounded and stopped near.
"Padre, I dare to hope that it is you behind that door, or else I will open fire like promised."
"Señor, don't shoot. I'm Doctor Avila, I came along with the padre." The doctor explained by looking at Felipe with astonishment.
"Then the padre comes in first."
Obeying the man, Felipe entered and put him in first line. As he did so, he noticed that the man had taken off the dress but conserved the hood on his head to mask his identity. His opened shirt indicated to him that he was feverish... And at the sight of the bandage on his side, he understood the origin.
Then, Doctor Avila entered at his turn. At first sight he remarked the stranger's wound.
"Now, Doctor, no dirty tricks... Treat me quickly so that I can set off again."
"Even treated correctly, you risk losing your life." Avila pleaded.
"Not before he loses his." The bandit retorted.
"My child, revenge won't lead you anywhere."
"Padre, mind your own business! I don't need your sermons." The man hissed.
"How did you hurt yourself?" Avila asked.
"I made a bad fall." The man answered before clenching his teeth.
The doctor frowned again; bad falls were becoming frequent in Los Angeles. Without other questions in order not to arouse suspicion, because he had an idea about the bandit's identity, he took care of the man's wounds.
…
"Good." He said when the last bandage was in place. "Now you have to rest, Señor. As for me, I'll come to see you as soon as I'll be back."
"No, Doctor. I won't be here when you come back and, by the way, both of you will wait here very quietly."
"Padre Felipe, Padre Felipe." A manservant called before entering in the room. "Padre Felipe, Oh... Doctor Avila, Benito is looking for you. Señor De la Vega makes a request of you. Don..." The manservant stopped suddenly in front of the face and the movement of the padre. Without knowing why, Pablo got the feeling to have said too much.
"Keep on talking." The interested bandit said, startling him.
He didn't notice him when entering in the room. Pablo turned slowly and remained petrified.
"Keep on talking or I shoot down the padre." The bandit vociferated by raising his weapon toward Felipe to prove his words.
"... Don... Doña Salena De Castillos is feverish." Pablo stammered, disguising somehow the truth.
"Señor, I absolutely have to go. If the señorita is not treated correctly and quickly, she risks dying."
"I will go with you... As for you, Padre, and your manservant, you're going to gag each other. And then Doctor Avila will bind you so you won't give any alarm."
Willy-nilly, the three men obeyed under the threat of the strange firearm. Once they were tied up, the man put on again the pilgrim monk dress correctly, permitting the padre to then catch a glimpse of his face.
Don Sebastián! ... Let's hope that all will be all right. I'm certain that Pablo didn't want to talk about Doña Salena. The padre thought.
"Doctor Avila, I think it is useless to warn you once again, comprende?"
"Si."
"Very well." The man said with a Machiavellian smile.
As soon as they were out of the room, the bandit closed the door with the key, which was on the lock, and then he took it out to better throw it in the corridor.
"Now, Doctor Avila, stay natural."
