Chapter 80 – The power of the mind

"Madre de Dios!" Mendoza cried when that man fired from above, barely missing him. The bullet ricocheted close to his head, rather too close for comfort. He realized that, on that path, with nowhere to hide, the only thing he could do to avoid the bullets was to keep moving, as fast as he could. As Zorro did, dodging the lancer's bullets every time the alcalde ordered them to open fire against him at will, and they never hit him because he moved too fast. The faster the target, the more difficult it would be hitting it.

With renewed energy, Mendoza carried on climbing, not giving in to fatigue. From time to time, Domingo kept shooting, after reloading, but all the bullets missed the determined sergeant.

Mendoza was amazed with himself. His former self would never, ever, in a million years do that, exposing himself like that. But the new Mendoza, helped by the mysterious white powder, was something else.

That morning, at the hacienda, Felipe had approached him with a little box. For his gestures, the sergeant understood Don Diego took this medicine to give him a boost, to increase his strength, alertness and stamina, which made sense to enhance his physical and mental qualities every time he dressed as Zorro. For what Felipe said, it worked better if he sniffed the powder. And the youngster was right: every time he sniffed it, that white powder gave him a confidence boost. Mendoza felt full of energy and optimism, feeling almost indestructible, with a clarity of mind he never had before. And he loved it.

When he was close to the top, he waited with his gun ready. The moment Domingo leaned over the edge, aiming with his rifle, he fired first. That man got hit, losing his balance, and he fell off the edge, tumbling down a long way, until he got stuck, hitting a rock. He looked dead.

Mendoza wasn't proud of killing a man, but he wasn't too sad either at that moment, because that man was trying to kill him, and he meant it. He would probably feel some remorse later, but right then, he was relieved. He carried on to the top, to make sure Domingo was alone, and then ran back down to join the others. When he got to the bottom he stopped, leaning forward, resting his hands on his knees, out of breath.

"Sergeant! If I wasn't here to see this with my own eyes, I would never believe it!" Don Alejandro said, amazed. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. Just… give me… a minute," Mendoza said, gasping for air, thinking he should get in shape if he wanted to keep doing this kind of brave stuff in style. "How's Sepúlveda?"

"He'll live. It's only a through-hole. He's trying to use the leg already, look," Don Alejandro said. Pablo was helping to support the corporal's weight while he hopped on his good leg, tentatively using the injured one.

"Alright. It is time to go to the hacienda now," Mendoza said.

"I'll go with you."

"No, Don Alejandro. Take no offense, but you should rest after that beating you received. You will not be of much help. Besides, all the horses have escaped, and you don't have one," Mendoza said, glad to see the corporal back on his feet, approaching them again after that short, practice walk. "We left our horses over there, tied to a tree. Sepúlveda, you stay here with Don Alejandro, tying up and guarding the horse thieves until the lancers arrive to take them to the pueblo. Pablo, you'll come with me."

The three men looked at the sergeant, amazed by the way he gave orders now, with authority, like a true commander, not hesitating. It was an unbelievable transformation.

"All right. Go, then, but be careful," Don Alejandro said, so impressed by the new sergeant, he didn't complain about staying behind. Besides, Mendoza was right: after that trashing, he wasn't feeling his best to be of much help at the hacienda, and he would only hold the sergeant up on the journey back. He had to admit that, although Pablo was also tired and aching, he was a much better option to help Diego under those circumstances than himself.

"Don't worry, Don Alejandro," Mendoza said. "They won't touch your son, or anybody else, for that matter. We'll show them what we are made of!"

"Steel, no less," Don Alejandro said, winking.

"Precisely!"

Sepúlveda and Don Alejandro looked at the pair galloping away on the military horses, still flabbergasted by the turn of events.

"I just can't believe this. Am I dreaming?" Don Alejandro said, shaking his head.

"No, you are awake. Unbelievable, ah?" Sepúlveda said, turning around, hopping carefully on his injured leg. "Come on, let's tie these men before they wake up, and then we'll sit down and rest a bit. I don't know about your face, but this leg really hurts."

ZZZ

On the way to the hacienda, Mendoza got a small box from his pocket, took a pinch of the white powder, and sniffed it quickly. He had no idea what that powder was, exactly, but Felipe said it would help him, and hell, yes, it did. Every time he took a bit, he felt invigorated and indestructible, helping with this new concept of himself: a man of steel.

"What's that?" Pablo said, quite happy to be cantering comfortably now, sitting on a saddle, rather that bouncing over Toronado's bare back.

"Nothing."

"Nothing? Why are you sniffing it then?"

"Well, if you must know, this is a medicine Don Diego gave me. He used it when he rode as Zorro, to keep him strong and well alert. Do you want to try it?"

"No, thank you. Maybe later."

"It's good stuff. Muy bueno. Come on, try it."

"All right, I'll try it. I'm having a quite rough day today. I could use all the help I can get."

"You have to put a bit on your nostril and sniff it fast and deep."

While his horse carried on cantering, Pablo took a little bit of the powder from the box in his nail, and he did as the sergeant said. Other than a very itchy nose and the urge of sneezing, he didn't feel anything special.

"Do you feel it, ah? Feel the power? It's great, isn't it?"

Pablo sneezed then, rubbing his nose, and passed the box back to Mendoza.

"Well, no, not really. I don't feel anything."

"That's because you sneezed. Come on, take some more."

"No, it doesn't matter, don't worry. Besides, we are getting close to the hacienda now. What's the plan?"

"Plan? Well… let's see... We get in, whack the bad guys, and save the day. What else?"

"Oh, yeah, good plan, good plan…" Pablo said, sarcastic, nodding, but Mendoza didn't seem to notice, chuffed with his so called "plan". "Do you care to elaborate that a little bit more, Sergeant? I'm a bit worried that plan may not work too well if we don't put more attention to the details," he added, as Mendoza didn't say anything else.

"Well, don't do that. Don't worry. You know, worrying is like sitting on a rocking chair, Pablo. It gives you something to do, but it doesn't get you anywhere."

Pablo looked at him, incredulous, with great wonder in his eyes.

Oh my God, now he has turned into a philosopher! What the hell happened to this man since yesterday?

ZZZ

"How are you feeling, Diego?" Victoria said, checking on him after lunch. He had hardly touched his food, and he was lying on the pillows with his forearm covering his eyes. "Any better?"

"No. Still dizzy. My head hurts, and my eyes keep rolling. But at least I can hear well with my good ear now. After this, I can truly imagine how hard life must be for deaf people."

Felipe, sitting on a chair at the other side of the bed, nodded in agreement.

"I thought you would feel better after eating a bit, but you didn't eat much. Am I losing the touch?"

"No, querida. Your food is as delicious as always, but I feel quite nauseous. I'll try again later. How's Pedro?"

"I think he is a bit better. He's asleep now, finally resting, and the fever has come down, but it's still high. Doctor Hernández is back, by the way. He's checking on him now. He'll be with you soon."

"That's good news. Pedro has to make it. He has too."

"Yes, that's what we all hope. All right, I'll take this back to the kitchen then, if you are not going to eat it," she said, taking the dish. "I'll be back soon. Behave."

"Always," he said, with his most innocent smile.

Diego watched her go, and then talked in a low voice.

"Felipe, I wonder if I should take some of the coca leaves powder. What do you think? Would it make any difference to my condition?" Diego said after she left.

"I don't know, but I hope it is making a difference on Mendoza by now," the youngster signed, chuckling.

"You didn't give him the real thing, did you?"

"No. I gave him the talcum powder, flour and sugar mix, as you said."

"Good. I hope it works. The power of the mind is amazing. Mendoza convinced himself he could be very strong with that useless potion from Dr. Wayne, when he lifted the counter at the tavern, remember? I hope it gives him a boost, and he shows some needed bravery, because I couldn't risk giving him the real mix. I do not wish those cravings and dependency on anybody."

"He looked different even before I gave him the box. More confident."

"Yes, my father said that. That's promising. Now, go to the cave and bring me some. I'll be careful this time, I won't over do it."

"No, because I won't let you. I'll bring just enough to test if it helps," Felipe signed while displaying his cheeky smile. Then he left the bedroom, heading for the library.

ZZZ

"Where is the sergeant? It is well over noon now," Corporal Márquez said at their meeting point.

"He went to el Cañón Perdido," Private Ramírez said, checking the list Mendoza made him write to keep record of all the places the lancers went. "Paired with Corporal Sepúlveda."

"And what do we do now? Go there?" said another lancer, not very keen.

"That's far away, I know, and the horses are tired," Márquez said. "I'm tired too, all morning riding for nothing, but I guess that's what we have to do, in case they got in trouble."

"I think they just got lost. It wouldn't be the first time Sepúlveda gets lost, would it?" said another lancer, and they all laughed.

"Well, if they are lost, they still need our help to find their way back. Come on, let's go. The sooner we get there, the sooner we'll be back for siesta," Márquez said. They all agreed with him on that, and went back to their horses, reluctantly.

On the way to the canyon, they spotted two horses on the loose coming their way, one of them black and without tack.

"Is that Toronado?" Ramírez said.

"I don't know. But, if it is, what the hell is he doing here? Zorro left the territory a while ago," Márquez said. "Did he turn him loose?"

"The other horse has got a saddle on."

When the horses got closer, they recognized the mare.

"That's Dulcinea, Don Alejandro's mare," Ramírez said.

"And that's definitely Toronado. How odd. But, where is Don Alejandro?"

The black stallion approached the group, with a display of rearing, neighing and stumping, as he had done so many times that day to gain the humans' attention.

"I think he wants us to follow him," Ramírez said.

"Yes, it looks like it," Márquez said. As the highest ranked lancer now, he took command of the group. "All right, we have to split. You, follow that horse," he said, pointing at a group of five lancers. "The rest, we'll continue to the Lost Canyon. Vamos."

Dulcinea seemed to hesitate for a little while, looking at Toronado and the five lancers leave, heading for the hacienda, but in the end, she turned around and headed back to the canyon, loyal to her master.

ZZZ

"Diego, how do you feel?" Doctor Hernández said, coming into his bedroom. "Any better?"

"Still very dizzy. My head hurts. And my ear canal also hurts, inside."

"I'm sorry, but I don't know how to help you, or how to alleviate the symptoms. It's time what you need. Time and rest," the doctor said, having a quick look at the graze on his head, under the blood-stained bandage, before he replaced it.

"Yes, I know, but it's so difficult. Well, I think that—"

Diego got interrupted by a distressed, piercing scream, that was followed by menacing, masculine voices in the parlour.

"Victoria!"

Diego got out of bed quickly, but he only managed three short steps before he swayed and fell to the floor, unable to keep his balance. Before the doctor could help him, someone kicked the door down, entering the bedroom.

"Here you are, Diego de la Vega," a man said, stopping by the door. Then he laughed. "What the hell are you doing down there? Looking for something? Can I help you?"

Diego looked up, and his eyes met with the ones of the man hiding behind a colourful bandana. The eyes of the man that had shot him the day before without mercy. And once again, that man was aiming his gun at him.

ZZZZZ