You know, three holidays in a two-month span is just way too much.

Hello all! Happy Monday! As you can probably tell, the holidays completely destroyed me so I decided that another break was in order. Sorry if I left you all chomping at the bit for more. So, I hope everyone had a great Christmas/Holiday and I hope the New Year is happy and prosperous for us all.

That being said, let's get into it.

Enjoy!

Linny

Chapter Forty

"There's someone still inside!" one of the vaqueros called out as they continued to douse the fire. The flames were slowly dispersing, but the smoke was still billowing out in thick, dark waves. It was still far too dangerous for anyone to step inside.

By this time, the fire had already been noticed by the neighboring households and men had come in droves to help snuff it out. Representatives from both the Torres and the Bolasco haciendas had come armed with barrels of water and the men to help extinguish the fire.

His father was off speaking to one of the Dons while the rest of their servants made themselves available to help and give the de la Vega servants the time to rest.

Diego looked down at Olivia as she was still being tended to. Sometime during her rescue, someone had been thoughtful enough to give her a blanket to help keep her warm. It was also useful to shield her away from prying eyes as her skirt was lifted for Emily to be able to see to her wound without hindrance. She was deftly stitching her mistress back up, making certain to keep her stitches still neat and tidy, although she was still angry.

Diego had offered to leave to give them some privacy, but Olivia had instantly refused the offer. He was thankful for that. He hadn't actually wanted to leave her side, but for propriety's sake, he would have.

"Propriety be damned," she told him before she urged him to take a seat beside her in the grass.

He settled down next to her, his eyes immediately going to the smoldering mess that used to be his home. "What happened in there?"

"I did what was necessary." She seemed a bit angry as she spoke those words.

Diego had the feeling that she was angry more at herself than the man who had been trying to kill her. It confused him, but he didn't dare ask any more questions. He only sat there beside her, taking in the sight before them and offering whatever quiet comfort he could give her.

She was far too quiet for his liking, though. Her external injuries were minor. The only fresh injuries she'd sustained were merely a few bruises, a scrape or two, and a few superficial burns. He was amazed that she'd come out virtually unscathed. But, he wondered about the deeper wounds of her mind and soul.

The anger in her eyes told him that she internally berating herself for what she had done. He didn't like that, but he couldn't find the words to tell her so.

"Will you tell your father that I am sorry for what happened here?"

"No," he shook his head. His response surprised her and she looked hurt because of it. "You have nothing to apologize for, Olivia." He couldn't believe that had been one of the first things to come out of her mouth. She could have lost her life and all she could think to do was apologize for the damage? He took hold of her hand and held it in his own. "Besides, it is more important that you are safe." He allowed his fingers to gently stroke hers as images of the horrible things he had been imagining were happening to her in that room flashed through his mind. "It killed me inside when I couldn't find a way to get to you."

"You got the rest of the house to safety." She reached up and brushed a bit of soot from his cheek. "That was just as important."

"I know that you are more than capable of taking care of yourself. Every day we have been together, I find myself more in amazement of you than I was the day before. I just... I wish I could have helped you."

"I don't need you to rescue me, Diego," she reminded him with a tone of chastisement. It was instantly softer with her next words. "But, thank you for doing so." With her hand still on his cheek, she urged him closer. He did as she requested until she was able to brush her lips against the spot she had just cleaned off.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and held her close. A small smile graced his lips as he felt her lean into him and her head found its way to his shoulder.

This truly was a momentous occasion. For weeks she had been telling him that she didn't need his help or that she didn't need him to save her. But, just knowing that she appreciated him for going against her wishes made him realize that he had finally broken through that hard shell she had enveloped herself in.

It was progress.

Now, hopefully, that could help them move forward.

Finally, the fire had been relegated to merely smoking embers and the vaqueros had been able to get inside and retrieve the lifeless body of the person still trapped inside. Diego already knew what to expect, but he found he couldn't look away as three of the larger men began to carry out the heavy, limp body of The Chameleon and pass right by him. They set him on the ground a few yards away from where he and Olivia were resting.

He caught a quick look at him as he was brought passed them. The man's visible flesh was charred black, his clothes covered in soot, ash, and adobe. The part of his body that had been buried had become mangled by the amount of rubble that had fallen upon him. Still, that white eye was all Diego needed to know that it was him.

As he was laid on the ground, Diego noticed how the front of his shirt was covered with just about as much blood as Olivia's was. There was just one difference between the two. Something was sticking out of his chest.

A few of the female servants recoiled at the sight and had to shield their eyes away from the sight. Only one of the male servants was brave enough to approach. He leaned down to check on him and sighed before making the sign of the cross over himself. "He's dead."

There was a murmur that passed through all of the people gathered in that field. Most of them only knew him as Lieutenant Allende, not El Camaleón. There was bound to be a great deal of confusion among them all.

With a bit of a struggle and an aggravated tut from Emily, Olivia began to stand. Watching her flounder around for her footing, Diego joined her and allowed her to use him as a crutch. He made certain her blanket was situated properly around her shoulders before they approached the lifeless form together.

What remained of his flesh was pale from the lack of blood and his one good eye was lifeless as it stared, unseeing, up into the sky. Diego didn't want to look at the man's face—or what was left of it—so instead, he focused on the object sticking out of his chest. It was a letter opener.

"How did he escape?" he wondered. Zorro had been sure that he was in irons before leaving the pueblo. He had been under heavy guard. It was impossible that he had been able to get himself free.

"He wouldn't give me a straight answer," she told him as they watched him become covered with a white sheet one of the servants had run into the house to fetch. "We should send someone to alert the Marshals."

Diego nodded, but he didn't immediately move to do so. Instead, he looked at her in a new light. She had done the one thing she had told him she didn't want to do. That couldn't have been easy. "You killed him?"

The anger on her face returned. He could feel her body tense up as she continued to stare at the body with disgust. "I had used the fire poker to defend myself. He managed to get it away from me. He had it on my neck and I wasn't strong enough to push him off of me. So, I searched for another weapon."

Her eyes were aimed at the same spot, but Diego had the feeling that she wasn't seeing him anymore. She was seeing the memory of what had happened.

"It was merely luck that the letter opener had fallen within my reach. But when I had it in my hand, I did the only thing I could think of. It was either him or me." Her chin began to quiver and her voice broke at her words.

At first, Diego believed that it was because she was regretting her actions. After all, she wasn't a killer and she never would have stooped to his level unless it was necessary. But, as he watched the emotions play over her features, he not felt that there was more to it than that.

"You did the right thing."

"He deserved to die at the hands of the hangman," she argued, coldly. She was beginning to fall back into the dark depths of her mind.

He couldn't allow that to happen. "Do you really think he would have allowed that as an option? He was ruthless. He would kill anyone in his way as long as that meant he got to succeed. That includes you."

"I know that."

He didn't believe her. "Do you?" he fired back, now feeling his own anger rise to match hers. "He could have killed you. This was a fight to the death. You have just done this world a favor and helped rid it of a disease that there is, regrettably, only one cure for. He got what he deserved."

He wasn't trying to devalue her feelings. Whatever had happened in that room would most likely haunt her for some time, but she had to understand that she had survived. She had faced her greatest enemy and survived. That should at least give her some solace. But instead, all it was doing was weighing her down with grief.

"Do you actually believe that?" Her eyes finally shifted back to him, but they were still unfocused.

He nodded as he gently brushed his thumb against the softness of her jawline. "I do. And I cannot tell you how proud I am that you managed to survive against that monster. I only wish that you could feel the same way." He cupped her face in his palm and allowed his thumb to draw tiny, soft circles on her skin. He hoped that his touch could help ease her distress, but it only seemed to do the opposite.

Life returned to her eyes as she finally looked at him. "That's just it, Diego. I do feel it. It felt good to defeat him once and for all."

"So, then why are you so upset?"

"Because it feels too good. Like I enjoyed it." One tear slipped down her cheek. It would soon be followed by another and another. "If that's the case, then that doesn't make me much better than him. What kind of monster does that make me?"

"Oh, mi alma," he tried to soothe her in his embrace. "I don't think that at all."

She struggled out of his arms and wrapped her own around her torso in a self-soothing gesture. He reached out toward her again, but she wouldn't allow him to touch her. "But, I do."

"Listen to me," he urged as he took the risk to grab hold of her shoulders. He knew he could continue when her gaze didn't threaten him with any bodily harm. "You are not a monster. You did what was necessary to survive. Is it always easy? No. But, every day, we must do whatever we can to meet the next sunrise."

He wasn't certain that he had broken through her torment at first. Tears continued to stream down her cheeks and the sight made him well up with emotion as well. He hated the fact that he couldn't see to help her. If he had been in her place, he didn't know what he would be thinking. It had to be so overwhelming for her and he wished he knew what he could do to help her through it. Instead, he did the only thing he could think of.

With a sigh, he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. She melted into his chest and held onto him for support. He continued to hold her as she tried to process her feelings. He only hoped that his words had been enough to help her.

"Diego," his father approached them. He looked as weary and exhausted as they all must be feeling.

With their emotions still raw, he and Olivia eased away from one another and allowed Don Alejandro to hug each one of them as tight as they could each bear. Diego hadn't known it, but he had desperately needed his father's supporting embrace at that very moment.

"I am so glad that the two of you are safe," relief was clear in Don Alejandro's voice as he told them that. "But, who is the man the vaqueros pulled out of the rubble?"

"The Chameleon," she informed him. Using the blanket, she wiped away the moisture from her cheeks. Her tears had begun to cease and the light was slowly returning to her eyes. She wasn't completely back to herself, yet, but she was getting there.

"Lieutenant Allende," Diego reminded him when he noticed the confused expression on his father's features.

Don Alejandro frowned at that revelation. "But, I thought he was being held under heavy guard. How did he escape?"

"That is what we must find out." Reaching out to a passing servant, Diego caught the man's attention. "Armand, you and another man ride into the pueblo and find Sergeant Garcia. Tell him what happened here and to come immediately."

"Sí, patron." Armand bowed to him in response before rushing off to do what was asked of him.

William was exhausted. Traveling to Santa Barbara and back had taken longer than anticipated, which regrettably, had caused him to lose sleep. Not that he had been sleeping much since Olivia had told him that she had discovered that The Chameleon was in the vicinity. Or that Los Angeles was his current target.

And seeing as though getting any sort of sleep was off the menu, he had used his extra time wisely.

He'd had to make certain that his men were all prepared for the journey. He hadn't been certain what they would be riding into once they'd reached Los Angeles, but he'd wanted every man to be prepared for the worst.

During his time as a Marshal, he had made certain to surround himself with the best men that he could find. Brave and dependable, these were all men that he was certain would always have his back. They had followed him into dark situations before, but this was possibly the darkest. They all knew the stakes and were aware that they may not make it out unscathed.

He had even offered them an out. He had given them all the option to remain behind because he knew he couldn't just ask them to risk their lives to protect this one small city. But they had reminded him that they had all previously bore witness to what The Chameleon was capable of. They knew he had to be stopped and that they would ride beside William until the end.

So, once they had all gathered together and prepared for their journey, he had begun to send them off in small groups toward Los Angeles. They were supposed to not draw attention to themselves and even blend in with either the locals or with the men now crowding into the pueblo.

He had been a part of the last group to leave. It had been a treacherous journey as The Chameleon's men were coming in from all over the territory. Forced to dodge other riders on the highway, they had decided that it was best to travel once the sun went down. There, cloaked in the shadows, they'd found it much safer to move.

He wasn't certain how long they had been riding when Emily happened upon them; the days had all begun to blend together. Coming in contact with her, told him that they were closer to Los Angeles than he'd realized. But, with her arrival also came a cold chill running down his spine. She wouldn't have been out on the road unless something had happened.

Lucky for him, his sister had been looking out for him. She had sent Emily with the hopes that she would find him so he would have fair warning of what to expect when they arrived in Los Angeles. Her note had even told him how to breach the cuartel and take the Chameleon and his men by surprise.

Thankfully, he hadn't lost many men, though he grieved for those he had lost. Still, without Olivia's warning, the number of casualties could have been much higher.

With the help of the Dons and Zorro, they had been able to stop this tragedy with minimal losses on their side.

But that didn't mean he didn't still have a lot of work to do.

First, there was simply not enough room for all of the men they'd captured. A temporary holding cell would need to be constructed in the morning. He would need to draw up plans and arrange the execution of its construction before even considering going to sleep.

On top of that, he also needed to finish making arrangements for The Chameleon's transport back to the States and he would need to confer with the local authorities about what to do with all of the other men in their custody.

At least there was one worry he didn't have weighing on his shoulders. His sister was alive and in a place they both considered a safe place for her. De la Vega and his father had taken care of her for this long, so it only made sense that she remain there until they returned home.

He rode into the pueblo, fighting back a yawn. The plaza was now empty, despite the lingering effects of the night remaining behind. There was a lot of cleaning up to be done, but that would be part of the healing process for the people. He would be honored to help them in any way he could, though.

He hadn't been in Los Angeles for very long, but from what he had gathered, they were good people. They were close-knit and kind to one another for the most part. He could see that they would rally together to help repair not only the physical damage around them but the emotional as well. All it was going to take was time.

He paused outside the garrison and frowned when two of his men had come running at the sight of him. The gate was left slightly ajar in their wake and they looked shaken up.

"What is the matter?" His frown only increased when he saw who was approaching him. "Jameson, Carlton, what are the two of you doing on duty? I sent Milton and Williams to relieve you hours ago."

Jameson was a young man in his early twenties with a slender frame and hair that he just couldn't tame. He had joined William's band a year or two previously when his father had been killed by marauders. The boy had been so obsessed with revenge that William just had to take him under his wing and show him that there were other ways of getting even.

His father had always repeated a phrase to him when he was a boy with far too much anger and hatred at the world around him: "An eye-for-eye and tooth-for-tooth would lead to a world of the blind and toothless" (1). As a boy, he didn't completely understand it. But as a man who had grown up to see some of the darkest atrocities he could ever imagine, it was a philosophy he had also adopted. Revenge, simply, is never the answer.

"Something has happened, sir," Jameson told him.

William felt ice settle into the base of his spine as dread instantly filled him. What had happened while he was away? "Show me," he told them before quickly dismounting and passing the reins of his horse over to Carlton.

He was a few years older than William and a widower. He had lost his wife of nearly two years after she'd fallen ill with a fever. With no other purpose in his life, he had joined the Marshal service and had never looked back. He was usually quiet and kept to himself, but he was fiercely loyal. He was a good man for William to have on his side.

He didn't know what to expect to see once he passed through the gates. Finding dozens of his men laying sprawled on the ground while groaning in agony, was not it. There were a few others still on their feet and they looked to be tirelessly working, along with Don Tomas, to get the sickly men to drink as much water as they could handle.

"Oh, thank goodness," he heard someone mutter from the vicinity of the Captain's office. Sergeant Garcia stomped down the stairs and hurried toward William, looking frantic. "Señor Walker, thank the saints you have finally returned."

"Sergeant, what happened while I was absent? What has happened to all of my men?"

"They have been poisoned."

William could only stare incredulously at the soldier. Poisoned? "How is that possible?"

"I have worse news, Señor Walker." The sergeant tried to look as small as possible as he brought up the subject. He wasn't doing a very good job of it.

He scoffed at the Sergeant's statement. "What could be worse than that?"

"The Chameleon has also escaped."

"What?!" William roared. "Sergeant, I left you alone for a couple of hours. How could this have all happened?"

"It was not the Sergeant's fault, señor." It was Don Tomas who spoke up now. He passed the jug of water he was holding off to another man and approached William. Previously, the man had been quite joyous. Not so much anymore. "It was mine. She took us by surprise. I didn't figure it out until it was too late."

William felt a headache coming on as his eyes bounced from one man to the other. "Who took you by surprise?"

"My wife."

This had to be some kind of sick joke, William tried to tell himself. Nothing about what he was being told made any sense to him. What did Don Tomas's wife have to do with his men being poisoned? And what did that have to do with The Chameleon escaping custody? "I don't understand," he shook his head, hoping one of them might take pity on him.

"We have her in custody," the Sergeant chimed in when Don Tomas became too overwhelmed with emotion to speak any more about it. "I have been trying to interrogate her, but she refuses to speak to me."

So it wasn't a joke, William realized. That fact only made his head pound harder. "Take me to her, Sergeant."

"Sí." Garcia led the way back to the office and knocked on the door. "It is Sergeant Garcia. Señor Walker has arrived."

The door swung open to reveal a guard armed with a musket. He allowed The Sergeant and William to pass through and closed the door behind them. Two other men stood guard inside the room as well. Both were also armed with muskets. It was unusual to have this many men guarding one woman.

At first, William didn't even see their prisoner. She had tucked herself into the corner of the room. She was huddled up on the floor with her face pressed against the wall.

"She hasn't moved from that spot since we brought her in here," one of the guards told him.

William was careful as he approached her. His first instinct was to not frighten her. Squatting down beside her, he noticed how the irons around her ankles were far too large for her slender form. She could easily slip out of them without even trying. But he was certain that there was more to this story and he hoped that she would share it with him.

Carefully reaching out toward her, he gently let his hand rest upon her upper back. She didn't recoil at his touch, which made him feel reassured that she wasn't scared of him. "Señora?" he questioned softly. "There are a few questions I would like to ask you."

She muttered a single phrase in response, but it had been too muffled for any of them to hear.

Confident that she wouldn't shy away from him, William gave her shoulder a tender squeeze like he would have done with Olivia at the times when she had needed comfort. "Forgive me. I didn't quite catch that."

"I said: 'Go to hell'!" she screeched right before she turned around and lunged at him. Her slender hands tried to wrap around his neck, but they couldn't gain any purchase as she was quickly pulled off of him and held in place against the wall.

William scrambled away from her and stared at her in disbelief. She continued to fight against the hold of her guards and scream at an ungodly loud pitch. It was as if she had gone completely mad.

As he got back to his feet, all he could think was that it was going to be yet another long day.

(1) Exodus [21:24]