Happy Sunday, all! Just to give a warning, this chapter will mark a change in tone. things are about to get a bit darker.

Hope you enjoy!

Linny

Chapter Twenty

Where was Bernardo? Diego asked himself that question as he searched the dark, empty plaza. They had arrived together a few hours before, but while they were in the tavern, he'd simply disappeared. Their horses were still tied up at the hitching post, so he hadn't ridden off. But, then where had he gone?

Perhaps he had overheard something while they were having a drink and had gotten into some trouble. It wouldn't be the first time.

It wouldn't hurt to look again. With a sigh, he trudged back toward the tavern. He could hear Sergeant Garcia's booming bravado through the walls as he approached the door. He and a small group of soldiers were gathered around a table with large goblets in their hands. One man played the guitar while the Sergeant sang about how hard it was to be a soldier. The long days. The lonely nights. And never with enough wine.

Diego scanned the tables, looking for the familiar face of his servant, but he wasn't there. He was now starting to get worried. Still, there was one other place he hadn't checked. He crossed through the room of singing soldiers and drunken vaqueros. He passed through the back door and approached the outside patio.

His steps faltered as he rounded the corner. In truth, he'd been expecting to find it empty. But, no. It held a single occupant and his heart gave a little jolt of excitement at the sight of her. Olivia was sitting at a corner table with her back to him, a single lantern highlighting her slight form. Her feet were propped up on the edge of a second chair, a large book resting on her bent knees. Her eyes flickered from between the page in front of her to the empty plaza in front of her. A drawing pencil was clutched in her fingers as an image was meticulously being formed.

He remembered her mentioning in an earlier conversation how she enjoyed drawing. Peering over her shoulder, he saw that she certainly had a talent for it. Before his very eyes, he saw the plaza's well being formed, along with a few stalls that had sat there during the day.

"Your talent is amazing, Olivia."

She jumped at the sound of his voice. Eyes wide, she frantically searched for the origin of the voice. "Oh, Diego, you startled me."

"Forgive me. I thought you heard me approaching."

"I am afraid that I usually get so lost in my work that the rest of the world fades away."

"Clearly."

Her wrap had slipped and she adjusted it so that it wrapped around her shoulders. "It's quite late. What brings you into the pueblo at such an hour?"

"Bernardo and I came into town to have a drink, but I seem to have lost track of him. You haven't seen him, have you?"

She shook her head. "I'm afraid not."

He sighed in resignation. Bernardo could handle himself, of course, so he knew he shouldn't worry so much. "He probably just lost track of the hour." He shrugged. "Do you mind if I join you while I wait on him?"

"Of course not. Please sit." She began to lower her book and return to a proper seated position, but he stopped her as he pulled up a seat beside her.

"No. Please continue. I never had much of a proclivity for art, myself. It is fascinating to see how you capture the world."

She did as he requested, the two falling into a companionable silence as she continued to capture the pueblo in such detail.

But, while she was taking in the world around her, Diego took the opportunity to take her in. How long had it been since he'd set eyes on her? Days? A week? Whatever amount of time, it had been too long. She had been busy jetting around the town, separating as many landowners from their money as possible. From what he'd heard, not only had Don Francisco made a deal with her but also Dons Herrera and Silvera. The two men were usually very harsh in their dealings.

Meanwhile, while she had been getting closer and closer to being able to return home, he had been out riding almost every night. Don Alfonso's descriptions of the men Gilberto had introduced him to had given the soldiers leads. And Zorro had decided to ride close behind just in case the military was unable to apprehend them. Three more men were now behind bars, but none of them had yet to say a word, according to Sergeant Garcia. Diego feared that those men would meet the same fate Gilberto had.

"What do you think?" He'd been so completely lost in his thoughts, that he'd forgotten where he was for a moment. Olivia had finished a rough idea of her drawing and had turned it so he could see it. "I've been trying to describe your pueblo to my brothers, but I haven't been able to find the correct words. I figured that I would try this."

He examined the picture and there was only one thought that formed in his mind. "It makes me think of Los Angeles."

She smiled at his response as if it was the greatest praise she could receive. "Good."

"I would love to see more if you wouldn't mind."

"Oh?" She seemed surprised by his request but agreed. Setting down her pencil, she flipped her portfolio to the first page.

The first image was of a large ship with high, wide sails. Diego could almost smell the salty sea air and feel the wind in his hair just by looking at it. There was a name scrawled on the side of the ship: Algeciras.

"I suppose this is the ship that brought you to California?" She nodded but made no other comment. "It's beautiful."

"The ship may be beautiful, but the trip certainly wasn't."

He watched her shudder at the memory, which made him stifle a chuckle. He understood too well her dislike for sailing. It was always a long and arduous journey, even when the waters were calm. "All the more reason for you to stay, then. To avoid the turmoil of another trip, that is."

He could tell that she was fighting the urge to roll her eyes at him and only barely succeeded. Needing to change the subject, she did not comment. Only turned the page. There, she'd drawn people. Husbands and wives. Mothers and daughters. Fathers and sons. She'd captured their images with the utmost precision, but the way she drew told him so much more about these very people. It was as if she'd told him all about them without ever having to say a word.

"Tell me about them," he requested, pointing to a man and a woman she'd drawn in the bottom left corner. They looked like they were standing on the top deck, hugging one another as tightly as they could.

A soft smile met her lips. "At night, the crew would play music and sing for some of the passengers. They were the only two to get up and dance this one evening when the moon was so full that we didn't even need lanterns to see them. It was magical."

There was a hint of sadness to her tone, which made Diego curious. "It sounds like a lovely image."

"Unfortunately, the drawing doesn't do the scene justice. It was just something you had to be there to see."

"Your drawing makes me feel like I am there, witnessing it at this very moment."

She blushed at his comment. "You are just being kind."

"I mean it, Olivia. Please, show me more?"

She studied him as if trying to determine just how much he was patronizing her. She relented though when she didn't seem to find enough of an example. He wasn't just placating her, though. She had a talent that Diego could never possess, that was for certain.

On the next page, he recognized the port of Santa Barbara and the town surrounding it. After that was a page that was filled with different drawings of horses. Most were drawn from the neck up, but there were a few attempts made of the bodies as well.

"Horses are the most difficult animal to draw. They never stay still long enough for you to capture them just right."

The images weren't perfect, but they were just as beautiful as everything else he had seen so far. "A valiant effort, I would say."

Page after page was filled with more drawings of the people and places she had seen while in California. Diego didn't even realize that a few of the images were set in Los Angeles until he got to a page that was filled with familiar faces. Sergeant Garcia as he led a patrol. Señor Pachaco serving wine to his customers. And then there was... Diego, himself?

The book was quickly snatched out of his sightline as she pressed it to her chest to hide it from him. He frowned in confusion because one of those faces had clearly been of him. "What's the matter?"

"I'm not finished with this page, is all." She looked almost embarrassed that he'd seen.

"Can't I at least see what you've done so far? I promise to only give my honest opinion."

"I would prefer you didn't until it's complete. I hope you understand." She closed the portfolio as if that would prevent him from seeing it. She knew that he could just take it from her and look for himself, but she also knew that he would never do that.

He leveled his gaze at her as she peered at him over the binding of the book. He made certain to look unimposing as he looked into the depths of her eyes. He smiled at her and was happy that she returned it with one of his own. "Of course, but you will have to show me eventually."

Bernardo lingered in a small alcove near the kitchen as he waited for the Sergeant and his comrades to leave the tavern after Señor Pacheco had closed up for the night. He'd been hiding just out of sight so that he wouldn't be caught and continued to wait until the last table was wiped down and the last tankard was washed and dried.

The Sergeant had continued to sing as his group crossed through the dark, empty plaza to return to the cuartel. His loud voice became quieter the farther they moved away from the tavern. Now, all he had to do was wait for the innkeeper to retire to his room.

Waiting for absolute silence to reach his ears, he then crept out of his hiding place and made his way to their stairs. He avoided the creaky floorboard on the fourth step by stepping over it. It was kept that way so the innkeeper could be alerted in the middle of the night if thieves tried to break in.

Careful not to make any noise, he moved quickly. The upper floor was deserted and quiet, except for the snores coming from a room down the hall. On light feet, he moved toward the corner suite.

Don Diego would be livid if he knew what he was doing. While his master had drawn the issue to a close, something still didn't feel right about Señorita Walker. He knew the only way to find some peace was to do this, he only hoped his friend would forgive him in the end.

He knew the señorita had been sitting out on the patio for most of the night. He hadn't seen her return to her room, either, so that meant that she was still out there. Her maid, however, Bernardo had not seen once. Of course, she might have been given a bed in the small section of servants' quarters the innkeeper had just had built. But, if she was waiting for her mistress to return, she was just a factor he would have to deal with.

He wasn't surprised to find the door locked. It would be foolish to believe that she was naive enough to leave it open to thieves and curious servants. That was why he'd come prepared.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he produced two small thin objects. One was straight, while the other was bent at an angle at the end. It was something he'd been practicing with lately.

Kneeling to be eye-level with the lock, he inserted the two metal pieces into the keyhole. It was only a few seconds before he heard the click of the lock release.

Turning the knob, he gave a slight push. The door obeyed, opening a mere crack. From what he could see, the room was dark and silent.

He quickly put his tools away and entered. Shutting the door behind him, he turned to face the blackness of the room. No candle was lit and the doors leading to the balcony had been shut tight. There was just enough light bleeding through from the sky outside for him to make out the silhouettes of the furniture.

Reaching for the candle and flint that sat on the tall dresser beside him, he quickly ignited the wick.

Now it was time to get to work. If his suspicions were true, he was sure to find the evidence to prove it in that room.

He glanced through the drawers of the dresser and her travel cases that rested beside it. He peered through the wardrobe that was situated against the adjoining wall and even checked underneath the pillows and mattress.

Nothing.

Perhaps Don Diego had been correct, after all. Perhaps Señorita Walker was everything that she pretended to be.

But, something still felt off about her to Bernardo. His gut was telling him that she was hiding something.

He crossed the room, intent on searching the bedside table when he banged his little toe on something very hard sitting in front of the bed. He almost dropped the candle as a sharp pain shot through his foot. He hopped up and down, screaming internally and cursing the world for nearly a minute.

When the pain faded enough for him to come to his senses, he discovered the large, rectangular chest that had been covered with an extra shawl that had been carelessly draped over the top of it.

Kneeling, he reached for the latch. Surely it would be locked. But, as he reached for the latch, he found it open. Lifting the lid, he was careful not to disturb its contents too much. Mostly it was papers and books, along with a few women's unmentionable garments.

Another dead end, it seemed.

He was about to close the lid and give up when something caught his eye. A hint of metal glistened in the candlelight. He looked at it more closely.

To the untrained eye, it didn't look like much; an adornment or some such. But, Bernardo knew what it really was.

Closing the lid, he grasped the hinged lock and gave it a twist. There was the sound of something falling into place. Opening the lid once again, Bernardo was greeted with a surprising sight.

He grasped the candle tighter for a better look.

A dozen crude-looking, handmade daggers lined the lid of the trunk. And each had been affixed with its own leather strap. A sheathed sword was strapped diagonally across over them. He was very impressed by the creativity of this secret compartment. Mentally, he was taking notes.

Inside the tray that had dropped into place, lay a familiar outfit. A black hood and mask rested on top.

He had been right after all.

He picked up the mask and hood and held them out in front of him. He couldn't believe he'd been right. She was La Sombra!

He had to tell Don Diego.

Shutting the trunk lid, he slipped the mask into his pocket and got to his feet. He turned toward the door and was met with the barrel of a pistol aimed directly at his face. His eyes ran up the cool metal to meet a pair of very blue and very angry eyes.

"That doesn't belong to you."