Hello all! So, this chapter put me in a real pickle over the last week and a half. There was just something about it that didn't work for me so I decided to sit down and rewrite it. I'm sorry for the delay, but I hope that it was worth it. I am happier with it and I hope that you enjoy reading it.

Enjoy!

Linny

Chapter Thirty-Three

Something had changed. They could all feel it building in the air. Over the last week, more visitors than normal had been coming into the pueblo. California was steadily growing as a new home to many. More and more people were coming to settle there every day. The types that were coming in these days, however, were less than savory.

The soldiers were constantly out on patrol and were being kept quite busy. New arrivals meant new faces and new challenges. Numerous brawls had broken out in the tavern and even in the middle of the streets. Houses had been broken into and stores had been robbed. Various women had been harassed and attacked. One man had even been found dead inside his home. The story was that he had been trying to defend his family against these invaders.

Ramon was slowly being pulled to the end of his rope as he fought with all of his might to restore order. Unfortunately, that wasn't an easy task. Not when the majority of his garrison would no longer follow his orders and Lieutenant Allende hadn't been seen in nearly a week. None of the men seemed to know where he had wandered off to either.

There were only a few that the Capitán seemed to be able to rely on. He had less than a handful of soldiers who were still loyal to him and two outlaws that had become invaluable by coming to his aide each night. Still, all of their efforts just weren't going to be enough.

At the first hint of this growing unrest, William had returned to Santa Barbara where he had a team of Marshals waiting for word from him. Not believing that a courier could be trusted, he'd decided to rally them in person. He'd even left in the middle of the night to escape the draw of suspicion. They could only hope that he hadn't been followed.

Diego, Olivia, and Don Alejandro began spending most of the time that they weren't rounding up unruly bandits to devise a plan for whatever might be unfolding. Don Alejandro wanted to enlist the aid of the Dons—just like they had with The Eagle. But Diego feared that they would end up putting far too many lives at risk if they did so. Far too many arguments had ended with neither father nor son speaking to one another for a few hours. Until the next argument unfolded, that is.

Olivia knew she didn't have much say in the matter, because she couldn't speak for the Dons, themselves. But, she did feel that Don Alejandro had a point. The Dons could end up being the tipping point they needed.

While they continued to debate, Bernardo had been spending most of his time in the tavern. That was the main place this disorderly group of delinquents liked to frequent. There, with enough drink to loosen their tongues, he would be able to listen in on whatever conversations could help them.

Emily spent most of her days usually in the plaza. People were more likely to speak more freely out in the open when they thought they couldn't be spied on. She had gathered that they were not the only ones to notice the paradigm shift. Most of the peóns were on edge. There were murmurs all around about a man named El Camaleón and how he was willing to handsomely pay any man who joined his cause. There was also talk about a looming attack on the cuartel, but neither she nor Bernardo had been able to discover when it might take place.

On Wednesday, Bernardo took his usual place at the bar. He ordered a drink but barely touched it. When he'd first walked in, he noticed a few more unfamiliar faces. There had to be at least a dozen more since the day before. Sipping from his glass—to fortify his nerves, he told himself—he took it with him as he began to wander through the room. He played his part as he wound his way through the tables. They all believed him to be a simpleton, which he took advantage of. Some might smile menacingly at him, while others would send a sneer his way. Most would just wave him away like they were swatting at a fly.

He would do this same thing multiple times during his time there and would leave when he felt someone might have gotten suspicious of him.

This day seemed a bit different, however. The men gathered there were all surprisingly at ease and even a bit quieter than usual. Of course, there were still the usual boisterous conversations by a group or two who were playing cards. A group in the corner had a guitar and a drum and they would play to entertain the rest of the room. Quite a few were very popular with the barmaids as they whispered sweet words or adoration to them and smoothly swept them into a tittering mess of giggles.

In truth, it was calmer than most days. It was as if they were waiting for something. Or someone.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he made his way back toward the bar. Could today be the day they attacked, he wondered to himself.

Anxiety roiled in his gut as he imagined just what these men were planning. If he did the math correctly, this was not simply a small group of insurrectionists. This was an army. And it only seemed to be growing by the day.

There was very little hope that the cuartel would be able to defend itself from this group. Especially when they suspected that more than half of the soldiers were involved in this plot. They feared to wonder just how far the influence of it all had spread.

Settling back down at the bar, he choked down his fear and drank deeply from his glass to wet his suddenly dry throat. He ordered another as two men also approached the bar, Each of them ordered a drink from Señor Pacheco and continued to stand there, nursing their glasses. Bernardo recognized one of them as a ranch hand of Don Luiz, but the other man was a stranger.

The newcomer glanced over at him. Playing his part once again, Bernardo smiled and waved. He received a sneer in response as the stranger reached toward his belt where he had a knife with a large blade tucked in.

"Do not worry about him. He is deaf and dumb," his companion informed him.

As if that explained everything, that seemed to reassure the other man. His hand returned to the bartop, yet he never acknowledged Bernardo again. "When do we act?" They had been speaking before entering the tavern and Bernardo was lucky enough to catch the tail end of their conversation. This was what he had been waiting for.

"El Camaleón said that he would inform us once he is certain that every last man has arrived."

"And how is he supposed to do that?"

"There will be a lantern hanging up outside of the cuartel gates. When it is spotted, that means that he has taken control of the garrison and we are to join him. When the sun goes down, we will strike and we will finally have control over Los Angeles."

Bernardo took his time finishing his glass before setting his sombrero on his head. Continuing with his act, he smiled at each man he passed until he was out the door.

If what he'd just heard was true, then the attack would most likely happen in the next few days, he surmised. He needed to inform Don Diego of what he had discovered.

As he was approaching his horse, he heard an argument ensuing at the other end of the plaza. A woman began screaming and there was a loud crash as something was broken. People began rushing toward him in a panic to get away from the chaos.

"Alright, break it up!" he could hear Sergeant Garcia getting involved in yet another fight. Was it the fourth or fifth this week? He had lost count. He only knew that it was becoming worse with every day that passed.

Untying his horse from the post, he climbed up into the saddle. From what he could see of the Sergeant from his perch, he looked weary. These last few days hadn't been easy for him. Each day the jail cells were being filled to the breaking point with offenders.

The entire pueblo was like a powder keg on the verge of explosion. They would all need to keep their wits about them in the coming days.

Glancing toward Emily as he slowly rode by, he noticed the worried expression on her face. She met his gaze and frowned. She had seen how the argument had started and it had made her wary.

There was one thing he decided as he rode out of town.

They should all be wary.

Ramon stood at his office window and looked out over the yard of the garrison. He was at an absolute loss and didn't know what to do. Chaos was brewing on the horizon and it was as if he was standing as the Captain of a sinking ship. His men defied him and his prisoners laughed at him. His people were terrified and for the first time in his career as a soldier, he didn't know what to do.

His second-in-command had been missing for over a week. At least it had felt that way. Ramon couldn't even remember what day of the week it was seeing as though one day just seemed to blend into another. He glanced at the journal he had opened on his desktop. It was Friday, it reminded him.

On those pages, he had been writing about the tension that surrounded him. His people were under attack from an unknown source. He was a smart man, though. He could wager a guess as to who was the cause of such mayhem.

Lieutenant Allende had disappeared the same day Ramon had received his visit from Deputy Marshal William Walker. The warrant his visitor had brought with him gave him all of the information he needed to know that not only was Allende not who he said he was, but that he was a fugitive with a penchant for assassination.

He was certain that if he did enough digging that he would discover that his former Lieutenant and Gilberto—the man who he had claimed had tried to escape and subsequently shot in the back while doing so—were connected in some way. Perhaps they had even been in Spain at the same time.

In the end, Zorro had been correct to be wary of him.

Which made Ramon nothing more than a fool for not believing him.

A ruckus outside of his office drew his attention. The men in the cells seemed to suddenly come alive with excitement. He continued to watch as the soldiers in the barracks began spilling out into the yard in full dress. Each man stood at attention as they saluted someone.

Peering in the direction of the gate, he could see that a man was walking into the cuartel, dressed flawlessly in the uniform of a proud Spanish soldier. His chest was adorned with countless medals—most likely stolen from those who had actually earned them. It disgusted Ramon to see it.

The commotion grew louder as Allende paused in the middle of the yard, taking in all that he had accomplished. Straight-backed and proud, he relished in the cheers and applause of the men around him. All while the setting sun caught itself on his dead, white eye.

A chill as icy as the sea in winter settled along Ramon's spine. He was about to see what Fate held in store for him. Pulling in a deep breath, he readied himself for battle. Taking his time, he prepared his pistol and armed himself with his saber. He was a soldier and he would die in the line of duty while fighting with every last breath in his chest.

Not willing to be taken by surprise, Ramon was going to be the man who decided his own fate. Steeling himself, he stormed to the main door of his office and tore it open. The fracas died down as he stepped out. His legs gave pause at the top of the steps, but after a beat, he was able to make them move again. This time, he didn't stop until he was face-to-face with his adversary.

Every single soldier was now in the yard. Each one was immaculately dressed like they would be welcoming The King, himself. But they had all gathered for this very moment as he and El Camaleón stood merely yards apart.

"So, you've finally come," Ramon addressed his former second-in-command. There was no need for pretense. They both knew what was about to happen.

"I have." Allende sneered at him with just a bit too much pleasure in his gaze. He had always seemed to find Ramon lacking in some way, but the Captain had chosen to ignore it because he had heard of the officer's immaculate record.

He had inquired more about El Camaleón to whichever government would answer. The responses had arrived in droves with literal packets of incidences that had involved the man. They also included the trail of mayhem he usually left in his wake. More than a dozen incidences. And he was wanted for treason in at least three countries.

Ramon now knew what he was up against. And he was practically alone. Still, he wouldn't allow the fear to settle in his gut. It was time he showed everyone why he had risen to Captain at such a young age. Even if he died trying.

"And as you can see, I am not alone." Allende spread his arms wide and almost every man around him laughed in response.

Over El Camaleón's shoulder, Ramon spotted Reyes. He was being held by two others with a pistol at his temple. He looked to be in pain and had a few visible cuts on his face and hands. They had most likely roughed him up when he refused to comply.

There were others with him. Lugo. Ribera. Delgado. There was one who was noticeably absent, though. Garcia. What had they done with him, he wondered?

The state of his men made him angry. Quickly, he drew his saber. "So, that is how it is going to be then?"

"Yeah, something like that." With his sneer still in place, El Camaleón's fingers began to deftly work on unbuttoning his uniform jacket. He tugged each arm free and tossed it into the dirt at his feet. He then stomped on it with his boot to add to the insult.

"Then you know that I will not go down without a fight." His conviction wouldn't waiver. If this was where he was meant to die, then so be it.

El Camaleón chuckled as he unsheathed his sword as well. His good eye suddenly filled with what looked like glee. "Oh, I'm hoping for it."

Bernardo would follow the same routine as each day before. He and Emily would ride together until they entered the city limits before they would part ways. She would spend her time out among the people and he would go into the tavern.

Everyone had been made aware of what Bernardo had learned two days prior and they knew what to be on the lookout for. The thought of it just left a heavy lump in all of their stomachs as they dreaded what was to come.

Over those days, the Lieutenant still hadn't made an appearance. From what he had been able to gather from some of the soldiers drinking at the tavern, they speculated that he was either hiding away or dead at the hands of El Camaleón.

Seeing at the two were one and the same, that theory was highly unlikely.

He nodded his thanks to Señor Pacheco for the drink he had just sat down in front of him and handed over a peso as payment. He didn't even get the chance to drink from it as Emily came rushing into the tavern to find him. She hadn't done that before and he had to wonder what she had found.

"It's time," she whispered to him and sent a bright smile Señor Pacheco's way. He smiled in return before serving more of his guests.

Bernardo waited for her gaze to return to him before he gave an imperceptible nod toward the door. She understood his silent indication and began walking to the door. He followed.

The two of them casually walked to the door to not arouse suspicion, but as soon as they were outside, she grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him toward the cuartel. They paused far enough away that they could see it, but they could not be seen by the guard at the gate.

Just as he'd overheard, a wooden post had been hammered into the ground just a few yards away from the gate and a simple lantern had been hung on it. It blazed brightly in the shadows of dusk.

Bernardo knew what had to be done. He urged Emily to get on her horse and ride back to the hacienda to alert Don Diego and Señorita Olivia. She nodded at him but paused before she turned to leave. Taking hold of his hand, she gave it a firm squeeze. "Be careful, my friend," she whispered before placing a gentle kiss of luck on his cheek.

He waited for her to ride away before he took his next step. Pulling in a deep, steadying breath, he smoothed his hands down the lapels of his jacket. This was it; what they had been planning for. Letting out the breath slowly, he walked toward the cuartel. With a smile, he waved to the guard.

"Away with you!" the soldier ordered.

Taking off his hat, Bernardo revealed a letter from inside before signaling to the other man that it was for the Capitán.

"I said: Away with you!" Using his musket, the soldier shoved him back to the point that he fell over.

"What do you think you are doing?" Sergeant Garcia roared at the Lancer as he hurried to assist Bernardo back to his feet. "Here, little one. Let me help you up." Once Bernardo was back on solid ground, he bent over to pick up the servant's hat and dusted it off before handing it back to him. "Baboso! This is the servant of Don Diego! How dare you assault him!"

"The Lieutenant has given orders that no one is to set foot inside the cuartel tonight, Sergeant." The Lancer sneered as he addressed the larger man. It was clear in his gaze that he found Garcia lacking when it came to his rank.

Garcia glared back at him as if that would make him comply. Bernardo took in the state of the portly man. He looked worse than the last time he had seen him. His uniform looked like it was hanging much looser on him and he hadn't shaved in days. His eyes carried dark circles underneath them and his uniform jacket looked to be covered in filth. He had to wonder when the poor man had last gotten some rest.

Still playing his part, Bernardo frowned in confusion as he showed Garcia the letter and signaled to him, now, that it was for the Captain. His heart thundered in his chest as their worst fears were coming true. Allende had returned and it seemed that he had already taken control of the garrison now that his entire army had been assembled. He tried not to show that he knew anything about what might be happening within those walls as he continued on as planned.

Garcia read to whom the note was addressed. "A letter for the Capitán, eh?" He motioned for the mozo to follow him. "Come with me."

"The lieutenant said..." the guard began to argue.

Garcia was having none of it. After the long and tiring week he had had, he was obviously at his wits' end. "The last time I checked, I was a Sergeant and you were a Private. Now, back to your post, Lancer!" he commanded before pounding on the gate for it to be opened up. It did open and Garcia was able to lead Bernardo to the Comandante's office.

The large man hadn't seemed to notice the scowl aimed at him from the guard or the dozens of other stares from a garrison full of men. More soldiers than Bernardo had ever seen were gathered in the yard. He hadn't even known that they had this many soldiers posted in their garrison.

The jail was packed full of the men they had arrested, but none of them seemed to be worse for wear. It looked like that was exactly where they wanted to be. A chill ran down Bernardo's spine as he feared what that might mean.

Garcia didn't pay them any mind as he knocked on the door to the Captain's office. He kept his gaze on the name scribbled on the front of the letter and probably recognized Don Diego's handwriting.

"Who is it?" Estevez called out.

Bernardo frowned at the sound of his voice. It didn't sound exactly right. Unfortunately, he was the only one to notice.

"It is Sergeant Garcia, mi Capitán. The de la Vega servant has a message for you."

"Come in, Sergeant."

Garcia opened the door, leading Bernardo inside, only to stop in his tracks when he spotted the Captain. He was tied to the chair behind his desk with the Lieutenant pointing a sword at his heart.

Garcia cried out in surprise and reached for his saber.

"Not so fast el gordo. Draw that sword and the Comandante will breathe his last breath."

"Sergeant, don't li-" Ramon tried to warn him, but the sharp tip of El Camaleón's blade pierced his flesh and made him stop. The blade didn't go deep, but it did break the skin. He gasped in pain but made no other sound. It looked like they had been torturing him as he had a multitude of other cuts across his body that looked similar.

"Now, take off your sword and pass it carefully over to me." While the Sergeant did as he was commanded, Bernardo tried to back out of the door. He was stopped from doing so when his back came into contact with the soldier behind him. "Bring him in as well, Paulo. Let us see what kind of message was so important for the Capitán."

The Lancer snatched the letter from the servant and pushed him off to the side with the Sergeant. He handed it over to the Lieutenant who quickly tore it open. "Tie them up."

Quickly, Bernardo and Sergeant Garcia were bound and gagged. Neither one tried to fight. It would do neither of them any good.

Meanwhile, Allende read over the page in his hand and chuckled. "It is a pity that you will not be able to respond to this dinner invitation. I suppose that I will have to go in your place and offer your regards to de la Vega and his little perra."

Bernardo saw the flicker of something in Estevez's eyes at the not-so-veiled threat in Allende's tone. He wished he could tell him to keep his response to himself, but it was too late. "You lay one hand on either of them and I-" He was silenced with a backhanded slap. The sight almost made tears spring to Bernardo's eyes. Don Diego considered the Captain a friend and he hated to watch his friend get attacked in such a way.

"You'll what?" El Camaleón chuckled as he grabbed Estevez by the hair and made him stare into his good eye. Pleased that Ramon wasn't foolish enough to comment again, he let go of his hair.

Bernardo wasn't exactly filled with relief as he watched Ramon shake the pain of the slap away and focus on the man looming over him. "You won't win, Jorge. Or is it James? Perhaps Iosif? You are known by so many names, after all." He looked far too confident for where he was situated in this predicament. Bernardo continued to watch on with pride as the Captain groaned as he shifted in his chair against his bonds and spit at the blood pooling in his mouth. His gaze was triumphant when it landed on the perfectly polished boots of The Chameleon. "I suppose your name doesn't really matter, though. Does it? Because the way I see it, where there are men who are only in search of power, then there will always be men to stop them."

"And who is going to stop me? You?" The way this man laughed made the room fall instantly cold.

"Maybe not," Ramon still wouldn't give up. Bernardo wished he would just be quiet if it meant saving himself from another injury. "But, Los Angeles is strong and her people will not stand by and allow this to happen."

This time, it was a fist that flew toward Ramon's face, hitting him in the cheek just below his right eye. El Camaleón gave his hand a shake and rubbed at the pain in his knuckles. "Gag him!" he ordered. "I can't stand to listen to any more of his saccharine sentiments."

One of his men was quick to comply and the Capitán was instantly silenced. The eye that had just been punched was quickly swelling shut. Bernardo wouldn't be surprised if the bone wasn't broken.

"What about these two, El Camaleón?" They weren't even addressing him as Lieutenant anymore. They knew who he was and what he had come to achieve. That was a very dangerous prospect.

"Put them with the others." He motioned toward the room that contained Ramon's quarters with a tilt of his chin.

The Lancer dug the butt of his musket into the backs of each man, in turn, to get them to move. He let them over to the Comandante's quarters where another man stood guard. He unlocked the door and pushed it open. Bernardo glanced inside. A handful of other soldiers were already within—Reyes and Lugo among them.

Ropes were bound around Garcia's feet right before he was shoved inside. He landed with a thud just inside the doorway. Bernardo landed on top of him when they did the same to him. The door clicked shut once they were inside and he could hear a key being put in the lock. When it snapped into place, it was with a click of finality.

But, among the group of struggling soldiers in that room, Bernardo could still hear bits and pieces of what was happening on the other side of the door, though the words were faint.

"Let the men out of the cells and arm them accordingly. Then, open the gates and lead the charge. If all goes according to plan, Los Angeles will be ours before midnight."

"What about him?" the Lancer could only be talking about Estevez.

A cold sweat formed on Bernardo's brow as he heard the menacing joy in El Camaleón's tone. "Leave him to me."