Happy Sunday, all! And happy almost 4th of July! Do you think you know the person under the hood? You might be surprised. It's going to get a whole lot more interesting.

Anyway, please enjoy!

Linny

Chapter Sixteen

Diego redressed himself after returning to the hacienda and trudged his way through the secret passage and up the stairs. A woman. He had been fighting a woman. It almost didn't seem real. Women didn't fight. Women didn't fence. Women didn't do any of the things he'd seen the rider in black do. At least, none of the ones he knew.

But, this one did. And with a skill that had almost matched his own. He hadn't even fought against many men with such skills, but she had been practically an expert. She probably could have even bested him if she hadn't been going up against the soldiers first.

But, what was he to do, now that he had this knowledge?

He passed by his father's study and saw a faint, glowing light coming from a crack in the secret doorway. Strange. The hour was late. His father would usually be in bed.

Peeking through the peephole, he saw that his elder and Bernardo were sharing a poorly-played game of chess and some wine. Neither seemed to be paying attention to the moves they made, their attention drawn elsewhere.

Curious, he thought to himself before pushing through the secret door.

Both men looked up as he entered and both looking relieved to see him.

"Why aren't you asleep?" he asked.

"We were hoping to hear the outcome of what happened," Don Alejandro replied, though he seemed to notice the confusion his son was feeling, yet mistaking it for something else. "What happened, Diego? Is the Capitán..."

"He is fine," Diego responded as Bernardo poured him a glass of wine. He was thankful for the weight of it in his palm as it was passed to him. "Gracias." He drank deeply from the cup and fell into the closest chair with a sigh. Even such a good vintage could not fortify him.

"Well, what happened?" His father's impatience made him smile, but it was short-lived.

"From what I understand, Gilberto was caught trying to escape and Lieutenant Allende shot him. He's dead." That was the story that would be circulating throughout the entire pueblo in the morning, he was certain.

"You don't believe it?"

Diego shrugged and drank a bit more. Unfortunately, instead of helping to clear his mind, it was only muddling it up even more than it already was. "I don't really know what to believe, right now."

Bernardo motioned that he had an idea. Rising from his seat, he mimed someone opening a door. He then walked out of the imaginary door like he was being set free. He returned to being the first man who now held a gun and fired.

Alejandro looked at his son who seemed to agree with the manservant by the expression on his face. "Do you think Allende would do that in a garrison full of soldiers?"

"But, it wasn't a garrison full of soldiers, Father. Remember, Capitán Estevez allowed the men not on duty to attend our party. There were only a handful of soldiers in the cuartel when Zorro arrived. Sergeant Garcia and the rest only appeared after Gilberto was dead." He drained his glass and stared into its emptiness. His thoughts were still consumed by the hooded woman and what was to be done about her.

She hadn't killed the Lieutenant; only injured him. The angle of the blade when it cut into his skin had made it clear that the wound was only supposed to be a warning. She knew who he was and what he had done and she would be coming for him.

Bernardo began signing again that the soldiers were probably working for Allende; or more like, he was paying them for their loyalty.

"That could be true, also. Allende might have won those who were there over to his side and would most likely corroborate his story. Unfortunately, the only ones who know for certain are those who were on duty tonight."

"So, what do we do?" He could see his father's blood pressure rising at the injustice that been brought upon their home, once again.

"What can we do? We can't prove anything either way."

"So, we should just give up? Bah!" Don Alejandro began to pace like he always did when he was incensed like this.

"I didn't say that. For now, we have no evidence and to come out outright and accuse the Lieutenant could put a bullseye on our backs. We won't let him get away with this, but it may take some time."

"So, we should let others die at his hands until then?" His father was still agitated. "When I was your age, we handled these sorts of things like men. Quickly and with a sword."

"Things aren't quite the same nowadays. And with Gilberto having been killed inside of the cuartel while the Lieutenant was in charge, there will be an ever-watchful eye on this matter." Diego was trying to stay calm and, maybe, he was trying to convince himself as much as his father. They'd dealt with mean like Allende before and Zorro had taken them down. This one would not be any different. It was just going to take some time for him to find a solution.

"So, what did the Comandante have to say about any of this?" Don Alejandro had calmed slightly at his son's convincing, but he still vibrated with pent-up anger. Still, it was better than him shouting.

"We didn't exactly have the chance to discuss it. Zorro's impostor led us straight to the cuartel as if knowing what was going to take place." He set his glass down onto the abandoned game of chess and steepled his fingers together as he continued to think about the events of the evening.

"Perhaps we were right when we thought that he was involved in some way."

"Or was trying to prevent it. Gilberto was the only one we knew that was involved in the attempt on the Capitán's life." Bernardo had been trying to gather information ever since the day it had happened, but his leads had come up empty. If only Don Alfonso had known any of Gilberto's companions, they might have had an idea of where to start. But, even the building where the group had last met hadn't been used again. There were no traces of them at all.

Which meant, the last thread of their lead had just unraveled like an old, tattered garment. There was now only one thing that held it together and it was that masked woman.

"Speaking of which, we have another problem with the impostor. I followed her as she was making her escape from the pueblo. And I fought her."

Don Alejandro and Bernardo shared the same confused look. "Her?" the older man asked.

With a heavy sigh, Diego poured himself a bit more wine and sipped at the fruitful liquid, while he fought to gather his thoughts. "Yes. It seems the other man in black is, in fact, a woman. And, not only that but quite skilled with a sword. If it hadn't been for the soldiers coming after us, she might have bested me." And still, that wasn't the most concerning thought racing through his mind.

"A woman? Bah! Impossible!"

"It's true. I didn't want to believe it, myself. At first, I thought it was a boy, but I was wrong."

"What kind of red-blooded Spanish woman would do such a thing? It's practically indecent." His father was having even more trouble wrapping his head around this development more than Diego was.

"Yes, but, what kind of red-blooded Spanish gentleman dresses up all in black to fight against tyranny and bring hope back to the people of his home?" he countered.

His father rolled his eyes at him. "That is different."

"Is it, though?"

"You are a man. You have been trained."

"And so has she. When I said that she was skilled, I wasn't joking. What I witnessed her do could not have been attempted by an amateur."

"So, then who is this woman?"

Who, indeed? It could be any number of women from Los Angeles. Even a peón who had been wronged in some way and was trying to bring justice to her family. "I don't know," Diego admitted.

Bernardo signaled that he had an idea. Signing a curvy figure in the air, he then acted like he was mounting and riding a horse.

Don Alejandro clearly didn't understand by his look of confusion, but Diego only rolled his eyes. "Bernardo, we have been over this already. I merely meant it as a joke. Besides, Señorita Walker was with me when the impostor attacked." It hadn't been her and his mozo was grasping at straws.

"Sí, that is true. But, what of her servant? The deaf one?" his father questioned now that he understood where their servant's thoughts were going. "Could she not be the one in black?"

Diego slammed his now empty cup of wine back onto the chessboard, scattering the pieces onto the floor. "I can't believe the two of you are even entertaining this thought."

"Think about it, my son. Both are strangers to our land and the fact that they both show up at the same time as this mysterious figure in black. It is more than mere coincidence."

Curse his father for making such a valid point. But, what would either Olivia or her servant have to gain from any of it? "Yes, but-" he fished around for a better counterpoint, but he had to agree that his elder's words were sound. Their appearance was far too convenient for his liking, as well. He just didn't want to believe it. The feelings he was beginning to feel for her stirring up inside of him couldn't allow him to believe it. "I suppose you might have a valid point." He would entertain this theory for the moment. "But, what do you suppose we do about it?"

"Incidentally, how did you know that she was a woman?" his father wondered.

"While we were dueling, I cut her arm," he made a slice over his left forearm with his finger to demonstrate where he'd cut her flesh. "It caused her to cry out."

"Did you cut her deeply?"

"Deep enough for there to be blood." Just where was his father going with this line of questioning?

"Well, why don't we settle things once and for all, then?" There was a mischievous glint in his father's eyes that surprised Diego.

"How do you mean, Father?"

"I have an idea, but we are going to need Bernardo's assistance."

It had been a long night. Ramon was exhausted, but there was still a great deal of work to be done. Yawning so hard that he could hear his jaw cracking, he rubbed his hands over his tired face.

There was one more man that he needed to speak to, yet he knew that he would say the same thing that all of the others had. He had had each man write statements of what they had witnessed when Gilberto had escaped. He had almost a half-dozen papers sitting in front of him and each man had recounted the story with just enough detail of what had transpired.

Something wasn't sitting right with him, though, as he read through them once again. All of them were nearly identical. Surely, every single one of them hadn't seen it happen. Had none of them been at their posts?

So, what had really happened in his cuartel before he and Zorro had arrived? And what did the other rider in black know of it?

He picked up the statement of the last man he'd spoken to and read it over once again. Of course, they weren't perfect copies of one another. Some had offered a few more details than others, yet each man had said that Gilberto had attacked the jailer. Which was what led to Lieutenant Allende shooting him in the back as he fled.

"Shooting him in the back..." he repeated the words aloud as if giving them voice would grant him the answers he sought.

Surely, Gilberto would know that it would be a fool's effort to try to flee with armed lancers standing guard. The man had almost succeeded in assassinating him and had even refused to give away the name of the man who had charged him to do it. No. He hadn't been a fool.

Last night had only been one more thing to add to the list of headaches he'd been collecting ever since arriving in Los Angeles. Assassination attempts. Outlaws. Impostors of outlaws. His second-in-command being severely wounded. And now the death of the man who had started the entire thing.

It was all very suspicious.

A knock at the door paused his thoughts. Stifling another yawn, he rubbed at his eyes and responded. "Enter."

Corporal Reyes entered, carrying a tray with a pot and a mug. "I brought you some fresh coffee, Capitán."

"Gracias, Corporal. Please, set it on my desk."

"Sí, Comandante." The Corporal did as he was directed, sweeping away the tray of the last batch of coffee that had been drained hours ago.

"Corporal, I have a question." Reyes was a simple man, yet Ramon felt as though he could be trusted. As far as he could tell, Reyes and Garcia were the only two he could trust at the moment.

"Sí, Comandante?"

"Why would a man who had nearly pulled off an assassination attempt try to escape the cuartel by simply running away through a garrison of armed guards?"

"Perhaps he thought he could outrun their bullets? I have a cousin who tried that once."

Ramon was afraid to ask, but he just had to know. "And what happened to him?"

"Oh, he got shot in the leg."

He chuckled at Reyes's response. The lancer was almost like a child in some ways, yet it seemed as if that was a trait that ran in his family. "Gracias, Corporal. Will you send in the Lieutenant on your way out?"

"Sí, Comandante."

It was a few minutes before there was a knock on the door, which allowed Ramon to skim over a few other other statements one more time. "Enter!"

The door opened and the officer stuck his head inside. He looked just as tired as Ramon felt and also to be in a great deal of pain. "You asked to see me, Capitán?"

"Yes. Come in, Lieutenant," he waved his second-in-command into his office. Finally, after a very long night and a frustrating amount of similar stories, he was going to receive a statement from the horse's mouth. Ramon had a great deal of questions on his mind about what had happened the night before and the Lieutenant was the only one who could answer them. Luckily, he would still get the chance after the man in the hood had decided to not kill him. "Take a seat."

Allende didn't seem very concerned about the serious nature of this meeting. He didn't even look bothered that he'd taken a man's life mere hours ago. He stood as unyielding and stern as he always did, despite wearing a bandage on his neck that was slowly being painted pink. The blade had not gone in too deeply and Dr. Avila had been able to stitch him back up, yet the wound still bled slightly. Still, Allende acted as stoic as he always did with neither a hair out of place nor a wrinkle in his uniform. "I told you all I knew about last night, Capitán."

"I know. Seeing as though you have refused my offer of bed rest, I only have a few more questions to ask of you."

"Bed rest will not get these outlaws under control, Capitán. I will answer whatever questions you may have, then I will begin my search of the hills to locate both the man in the hood and Zorro."

Ramon didn't understand why Allende would not allow himself to show weakness. It wouldn't make him any less of a man—or less of a soldier—if he did so. "Very well," he capitulated. "There are a few things that still don't quite make sense to me." He head was down as if he was reading his paperwork, but he peered at his guest out of the top rims of his eyes. Still as unflappable as always.

The Lieutenant walked smoothly toward the offered chair and settled in, though there was the hint of a wince when he did. "I'll help in away way that I can."

Ramon set down his papers and now looked at him full on. "Good. First off, remind me again. Where were you when Gilberto escaped?"

He watched as the officer brushed a bit of lint off of his jacket. "I was checking in with the guard in the gatehouse."

"And when did you notice that the jailer had been attacked?"

"Gilberto had already gotten the door opened and was making his way toward the gate."

"Did you try to stop him?"

There was the glimpse of displeasure at that question in his good eye as if it was stupid to ask a question like that. "Of course. I held him back for as long as I could while the others moved in. He tried to grab for my pistol, but I got to it first. That was when he ran again and I shot him."

Ramon had been taking notes as the Lieutenant gave his testimony. He wrote down only the words he spoke, but the comments his mind was making tried to overtake him. Something's off. That's not the whole truth. I don't believe you.

"And what about the man in black? When did he appear?"

Allende shifted in his chair as he moved to cross his legs. It wasn't an uncomfortable motion, but it was too smooth. Almost as if it was practiced. "Not long before you returned. The bastard was trying to help Gilberto escape."

Ramon stopped writing and looked at him again. "And how did he do that? I thought Gilberto escaped on his own." Had he tripped him up?

He gave no indicatias he continued on without missing a beat. "He distracted my men while Gilberto tried to scale the wall onto the stable roof. I chased after him and that was when we struggled and he went to grab my pistol."

Damn! Ramon had thought he'd gotten him to slip up. Of course, it could only be because he wanted him to, not because he had anything to hide. He leaned back in his high-backed chair and sighed in exasperation. "And what about our hooded friend? What do you know about him?"

Finally, he was blessed with a reaction as he saw Allende clench one of his fists in frustration, while the other lifted to tenderly touch his bandage. The sneer that graced the officer's face was also very telling. "Not as much as I would like to."

What did he know about the impostor? Absolutely nothing! He had been hunted by him for nearly two years. Every corner he turned, every move he made; there he was. He had even lost his damned eye because of him!

Things had been business as usually. He'd bribed his way into the Governor's party where he and his companions had been trying to convince the more elite party-goers that their power could only be maintained if they joined their cause. They had swayed more than a handful that night, but their prized bull would have been the Governor, himself. The fool was as saintly as Estevez and refused what was being offered to him; a chance at greatness.

That was the first time he had seen the man in the hood. Silent as the night and quick with a blade, he'd managed to subdue his comrade, but Allende had managed to escape.

They would meet many times afterward. One such encounter would be the one when he had lost his eye.

Allende cursed under his breath as he stalked toward his horse. What was he doing in California, of all places? It couldn't be coincidence that he and Olivia Walker were in the same place.

Hmm. Olivia Walker. If he remembered correctly, her eldest brother William had been a member of the US Marshal Service. He had crossed paths with him once or twice as well. Could he be the man under the hood? Or perhaps the other one? The one that was a lawyer?

Each thought brought on more questions, but it didn't matter. All he was certain of was that Borromeo's time was up. If Olivia Walker was a part of this, then he would make sure that she was never heard from again.