Happy Sunday, all! I hope you're all in the mood for a little bit more of Sergeant Garcia. He and Corporal Reyes were the most fun to write during all of this. Perhaps we can learn a little bit about the New Comandante while we're at it. ;)
Enjoy!
Linny
Chapter Six
"Lancers! All together, now! Uno, dos, tres, cuatro...Uno, dos, tres, cuatro..."
The next morning brought with it beautifully sunny and warm weather. It was a day most would be able to enjoy, but for the soldiers in the garrison, it was just another day.
Within the cuartel gates, Sergeant Garcia ran drills with the Lancers as they waited for the Capitán to deliver the orders of the day. "Company, halt!"
"Sergeant Garcia!" Lieutenant Allende called to him from the steps of the barracks, a wooden tray covered with a napkin cradled in his arms.
"Sí, Lieutenant?" Garcia turned to address the higher-ranked officer.
"The Comandante requested that his breakfast be served to him before inspection. Make certain it is done."
"Of course. Corporal Reyes, deliver the Capitán's breakfast," the Sergeant ordered.
The Corporal reluctantly took a step forward, his shoulders drooping with exasperation.
"No, you idiot!" Allende growled from his place on the steps. "You! I want you to deliver the Capitán's breakfast."
"Me, Lieutenant? But, I am drilling the Lancers. Surely, Corporal Reyes is just as-"
"Silence, baboso! I am your Lieutenant and I am giving you an order. If it is one that is too difficult for you, I can arrange for someone else to take your place. Permanently." The officer's intent was perfectly clear.
Sighing dejectedly, Garcia relented. "Sí, Lieutenant. Lancers, to your posts!" he dismissed the men before trudging up to the other man.
Lieutenant Allende harshly shoved the tray into Garcia's hands, his good eye narrowed in a warning glare. "And try not to eat it all on the way, el gordito."
"Sí, Lieutenant." It was different being the low man on the totem pole, once again, the Sergeant thought to himself as he slogged his way toward his former office. He knew his position as acting Comandante wouldn't last forever, yet he still hadn't prepared himself enough for the sudden change.
Sighing again, he knocked on the door. "Buenos días, Capitán. It is Sergeant Garcia." He tried to sound as cheerful as possible, yet he could still feel the Lieutenant's judging gaze boring into the back of his head from the other side of the cuartel. "I have brought you your breakfast."
He waited for an answer but received none. Puzzled, he knocked again.
"I will bring it in to you if you would only open the door." Still, there was no response. "Please?"
Waiting another moment while he contemplated what he should do, he finally took it upon himself to unlatch the door and peer inside. "Comandante?" he asked, in case his superior hadn't heard him from the first two times he'd knocked. Of course, they had probably heard his loud baritone as far as the posada.
Opening the door a bit more, Garcia found no one. Odd; he'd been up early enough to have seen if the younger man had gone out. Besides that, official papers still lay scattered about the desk, along with four of the five knives the Lancers had collected. Surely, the Capitán would not have left his desk in such a state before going to bed, the Sergeant concluded.
That was when he noticed the chair wedged against the door leading to the Comandante's quarters. That certainly didn't belong there. Suddenly, frantic, the Sergeant hurriedly put down the tray of food and rushed to remove the blockage.
The door immediately swung open and the Capitán stood there, freshly dressed for the day with a wry grin on his lips. "Buenos días, Sergeant."
Garcia could tell that the Capitán was irritated and swallowed thickly as he anticipated the tirade that was about to happen. "Buenos días, Comandante," he tentatively responded.
"Your mornings in Los Angeles are quite beautiful," Ramon commented offhandedly as he pushed himself from the doorframe.
"Erm... gracias, Capitán." Surprised by the lack of a loud outburst, Garcia stepped back to give the officer some room. "Forgive me for asking, Comandante, but... Uhm... how were you able to lock yourself in your room and put the chair against the door?" He knew the question sounded stupid as soon as it left his mouth, but the Sergeant was just so confused.
Ramon found it quite amusing, however, and broke into a fit of laughter. "That is a story for another time, my Sergeant. Now, I understand that you have brought me my breakfast?"
"Sí, Comandante." Garcia was beginning to worry about the younger man's sanity. He could understand how an attack on one's life could affect a man.
"Good. Are the men ready for inspection as well?"
"Sí, Comandante."
"Perfecto. I shall eat quickly and give out the orders of the day. Then, Sergeant, would you join me for a drink at the tavern? Seeing as how you were the commanding officer for quite some time, there are a few things I would like to discuss with you."
"Oh, gracias, Comandante!" the large man crowed with delight. Perhaps the man wasn't as crazy as he'd first believed. He saluted his superior gratefully.
"Wonderful. Tell the men that inspection is in fifteen minutes."
Clicking his heels together, Garcia saluted again. "Sí, mi Capitán," he said before exiting the office and walking back out into the cuartel with more of a spring in his step than there had been earlier.
The pueblo was much quieter this morning, Diego thought to himself as he climbed down from his horse. It wasn't completely deserted, yet there were certainly fewer people hanging about than usual. The Lancers were out, patrolling the entire city, keeping an eye out for more trouble.
"It looks like yesterday's incident really startled our new Comandante, Bernardo," he told the mute as they tied up their mounts. They watched as a patrol passed by. Even the soldiers acted like they had been shaken by it as well.
Bernardo's hands flew into motion as he mimed the lack of people.
"Sí. It looks like the people have chosen to stay indoors as well. Perhaps that is for the better just in case another attempt is made on the Capitán's life." Diego's hand ran down the muzzle of his mare as he remembered the impostor from the day before.
The way the man in black moved with such sure-footing and grace and the way he'd thrown his knives with such accuracy made him think. Countless strangers were passing through Los Angeles lately and it was difficult to imagine the sort of man who would risk his life for another he knew nothing about.
Still, there was one thing he was certain about, the impostor was no amateur. These were skills that were only mastered with experience. But, why come to this pueblo in particular?
Diego was certain there was much more to this than he knew and fitting all of the pieces together was going to be much of a challenge. He wondered if the Capitán had learned anything new since the night before.
Bernardo's insistent tap on his shoulder pulled him away from his thoughts. Clearly, his mozo was unable to follow his silent train of thought.
"I was just thinking, Bernardo. I want to speak to the Comandante again to see if, perhaps, their prisoner has decided to talk." From where he stood, Diego had a clear view of the cells within the garrison walls. The assassin was still in his cell, but only until they erected the gallows to put him to death. Hopefully, Capitán Estevez would have everything out of him before then.
Bernardo motioned toward the cuartel, asking if Diego wanted to go.
The caballero shook his head. "Not yet. It is already quite warm and I can do with a break from the heat. Come, let us get a drink first."
The mute nodded in agreement before railing after his master toward the posada. When they entered, neither of them was surprised to find Sergeant Garcia, but they were surprised by his company.
"Buenos días, Don Diego!" the Sergeant greeted them in his usual jovial manner when he had a cup of wine in his hand.
"Buenos días, Sergeant. Capitán." Diego grinned in what he hoped looked like a warm welcome. Even after Zorro met with him the night before, he still didn't completely trust the officer. How fortuitous was it that they would find both men in the tavern at this hour? Garcia had been a given, of course, but the Capitán had certainly been a surprise. Surely, he had a great deal of work to do on his first, official day in the garrison. May I join the both of you?" He motioned to the empty chair beside the Comandante.
"Certainly, de la Vega," the Capitán responded cordially. "We were just discussing the bandit Zorro. I am interested in what you have to say on the subject."
Diego paused momentarily as he pulled out the chair and began to sit. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the concern written on Bernardo's face. "Me?"
The officer nodded as he drank from his cup. It was much smaller in size compared to the one Garcia held. "Sí. Being a member of a well-regarded family, I would like your opinion."
"Well, alright. What would you like to know?" Relieved for the moment that it didn't seem like he was seen as a suspect, Diego relaxed in his seat and ordered a glass of chilled wine as Maria passed by them. He caught sight of Bernardo at his usual place at the bar and noticed that he relaxed as well. He stood at his usual spot at the bar; the perfect place for him to overhear whatever gossip was passing through the townsfolk about yesterday's incident.
"I was awake half of the night going over the notes of my predecessors. From what I can gather, Zorro first appeared around three years ago. Am I correct?"
"Yes, that certainly sounds right." Diego couldn't help but wonder how far into those notes the Comandante had gotten before his visit from the Fox. He could only suspect that the notes of the former Capitán Monastario were littered with implications that Don Diego de la Vega and Zorro were one and the same.
"Ha! That was about the same time that you had returned from Spain, Don Diego," Garcia interjected, his lips loosened by drink.
Diego's glare was cold as he aimed it at his fat friend. If Capitán Estevez hadn't already suspected him, the stupid Sergeant could have just planted the idea. "Was it, Sergeant?" he asked while maintaining his calm façade.
"Sí, don't you remember? Capitán Monastario was practically convinced that you were Zorro."
Oh, how Diego wished he could kick the fat Sergeant in the head for saying that. But, he didn't know why he was so surprised. Once Garcia got a bit of wine in him, that was when it was best for Diego to ask questions. The wine was very capable of loosening the larger man's lips. Now, if only he could find a way to silence him.
"Of course. How could I forget?"
Capitán Estevez chuckled softly as he took another sip from his glass. "Yes, I have access to all of the writings of every former commander and I do recall reading of that very instance. If I remember correctly, he tried to prove it in front of the Viceroy." He chuckled again. "But, let me reassure you, señor, you have nothing to fear from me. Monastario was so obsessed with proving your guilt that by that particular day, he'd practically gone mad. I admit I couldn't even finish reading his ramblings."
"Yes, well, I am sure he had his reasons," Diego tried to play it off that he hadn't been worried. He hoped his act was convincing.
"You were clearly not his favorite person."
"Then, I suppose at least we had that in common. He wasn't my favorite person, either." Allowing himself to completely relax—for he hadn't realized that he wasn't—Diego sipped at the drink that Maria had placed in front of him. The cool liquid was refreshing as it ran down his parched throat.
"As for Zorro, I admit that I am not that interested in finding out his identity."
"You're not?" Stunned, Diego wasn't certain what to think of this development.
"No. At least for the time being. I spoke to the Governor before taking up my post here. He warned me about the outlaw, but said that if I ran Los Angeles with peace and integrity that the two of us should never have to cross paths."
"What does that mean, then? For Zorro?" The young Don was eager to know. Did this mean he would have nothing to fear from the soldiers when he rode as Zorro?
"I am afraid that nothing with change for him. Despite all of the good he might have done and will probably do in the future, he is still acting outside of the law. Eventually, he will still have to be brought to justice."
Diego should have known the answer he would get, yet he couldn't help but hold out hope. "What a shame. The man risks his life for the people of this pueblo and, meanwhile, what does it get him? The threat of the noose." He didn't fear the outcome, though, as he knew he should. The Fox would always ride for those in need of him and if he were to go out, it would only be on his own terms.
"I completely agree that it isn't fair," Capitán Estevez lamented as he poured himself a fresh glass of wine. "That being said, he did visit me last night while I was at my desk."
"He did, Comandante?" Why Garcia sounded so shocked, Diego didn't know. Zorro could come and go from the garrison with ease. It wasn't much of a secret. Then, it was like a bolt of lightning struck the fat Sergeant as an idea came to him. "Is that how you got locked inside your quarters?" The question was asked a bit too loud and drew the attention of a few of the surrounding patrons.
It was a glance that only lasted a few seconds, but seemed a great deal longer.
"Sí, Sergeant." the Capitán growled slightly under his breath. "But, must you announce it to the entire pueblo?"
"A thousand apologies, Comandante. Would you prefer I go back to the cuartel?" The expression in Garcia's eyes was almost pleading to remain in the tavern. His appearance was of a puppy that had just been kicked.
Estevez rolled his eyes at his Sergeant. "Nonsense, Garcia. You may remain here, but keep the details of how you found me this morning to yourself. I beg of you."
"Sí, Comandante." Garcia lowered his gaze into his cup, watching the rose-colored liquid as it lapped against the metal sides of the mug. The sight seemed to make him feel much better.
"Zorro locked you inside your quarters, Capitán?" Diego pretended to sound scandalized. "But, how did he get into your office?"
"Probably like he always does," Garcia murmured into his drink. "Over the wall. It is always over the wall and yet, we can never seem to catch him."
"Yes, well, that explains how he got into the cuartel, but not how he got into your office, Capitán. I thought the Comandante's quarters' window was barred up after Zorro got in through it the last time."
The Capitán cleared his throat awkwardly. "I admit, I was distracted by yesterday's incident that I let my guard down. As one usually would when surrounded by a garrison of Lancers. Had I been informed that Zorro was able to come and go from the cuartel with such ease, I would have been more on alert."
"Well, the fact that he visited you must mean something." This was what Diego had been hoping for. The Capitán was willing to talk and he was willing to listen.
"Most likely, Don Diego. He informed me that he was not the man in the plaza yesterday."
Garcia sputtered into his mug. "But, we all saw him, Comandante. He was all dressed in black."
"Yes, but could it not also have been someone else dressed up as Zorro?" Diego questioned. "You have to admit, Sergeant, that he was dressed quite differently."
Still admiring the swirling liquid in his mug, the Sergeant looked up, confused. "He was?"
The young Don had to resist rolling his eyes at his old friend. Sergeant Garcia had a good heart, yes, but he was not the best soldier. "From what I understand, Zorro wears a cape, yes?" He allowed the other man to nod his affirming answer. "And his mask, it covers the top half of his face?"
"That is correct, Don Diego." The larger man seemed to lose himself in thought as he mentally compared the image of the man from yesterday and the man he knew as Zorro. "But, if it wasn't Zorro, then who was he?"
"That is the real question, my Sergeant," Capitán Estevez said, leaning back in his seat, contemplating just what kind of place he'd come to.
"Has your prisoner said anything? Perhaps this new man in black has beaten him before? Or, perhaps, they could be working together," Diego wondered aloud.
"Not a word. He refuses to speak about his actions. He is clearly a man who is willing to die for his cause."
"Whatever his cause may be..." Diego trailed off in thought. There was only one conclusion he could draw as to the reason why anyone would want the Captain dead. And that would be to put their own man into power. He'd seen it before with the Eagle when he'd tried to take control of California. Perhaps, this was history trying to repeat itself and a new organization was fighting to take control. Unfortunately, it seemed like all Diego could do was sit back and wait for them to make their next move. Of course, by then, it could be too late.
"Good morning, señores," a soft, melodic voice spoke, drawing the three men away from their thoughts.