Chapter 84 – A true hero

Doctor Hernández managed to slow down the haemorrhage, although not completely, and then they moved Pedro back to his room. With a sharp, stab wound piercing the lung, always worse than a gunshot wound, there wasn't much he could do for his patient now, other than trying to stabilize him and hope he would be able to carry on breathing and pull through somehow after the blood loss, if infection didn't set in. However, Pedro was already fighting for his life with his perforated stomach. The doctor had never seen anybody surviving these two very serious injuries concurrently, and he didn't have much hope this would be a first. But Pedro was a fighter, he had to give him that, and, if nothing else, there was something positive about the new injury: while he was unconscious, he wasn't suffering from the excruciating and debilitating pain caused by the peritonitis, giving his body a better chance to heal.

Besides Pedro, the doctor had to attend all the other injured men, one with a gunshot wound, and all the others with different degrees of head trauma, ranging from skull fractures to mild concussions, and whenever the soldiers would bring him back from the Lost Canyon, he would have a look at Sepúlveda's wound, because Mendoza told him he had got shot in the leg. At least, all the ranch hands and vaqueros had return safely to the hacienda unscathed, and they were now helping on cleaning up the mess at the property and bringing the horses back to the stables.

And then… there was Victoria.

Doctor Hernández wanted to examine her, but nobody had been able to get her an inch away from Diego, as if she was glued to him, no matter how much they tried with gentle words and a very soft touch. Every time anybody else but Diego touched her, including other women, she flinched and moved away from that hand as if it burned.

After nearly half an hour, Diego had not been able to calm her down, and the doctor knew that trying to examine her while she wasn't ready would only serve to make her relive the trauma of feeling unwelcome hands touching her body, so he left her alone.

"Victoria, please, why don't you let Pablo carry you to my room?" Diego tried one more time.

"Can't you carry me?" she said to his chest. At least she had answered now, and that was a great improvement from the previous attempts, when she didn't seem to be listening, when she was hysterical and in shock.

"Well, querida, I don't feel so dizzy now, and my eyes are not rolling anymore, but to be honest, I don't think I can lift you from this position and carry you all the way there safely. Besides, I've got too stiff now after sitting here for so long, and I think I will need help myself to stand up and walk to my room. I'm sorry, but I can't carry you, mi amor. Pablo could, though."

Diego nodded to Pablo, who was patiently waiting close by, but the moment he touched her shoulders, trying to get her away from Diego, she screamed and held onto him as if her life depended on it.

It pained Diego so much seeing her like this, so traumatized, so out of her mind, but there was nothing he could do other that keep trying to make her see reason, with a softly-softly approach.

"Felipe, can you prepare a warm bath for Victoria, please?" Diego asked the youngster, who nodded immediately, also eager to help. "I think she would like to get rid of any trace of the smell of these men and feel clean again. Don't you, my dear?"

He continued cradling her, caressing her head gently. She didn't answer, so he tried again to convince her, because he really needed to get off the floor, as one of his legs was starting to get numbed.

"Victoria, would you like to take a nice, warm bath? I'll be with you and I'll help you with the sponge. It will make you some good to feel clean, I promise. Come on, but you must let Pablo take you there. Or maybe you can walk on your own. Should we get María to walk with you?"

She finally lifted her head off his chest to look at him, in slow motion. He had not seen her whole face since she had dropped into his arms in a state, and his heart sank when he saw her. Her left cheek was bruised and swollen, with a dark tinge extending to her eye, that was also puffed and inflamed, already semi-closed, and it would only get worse before it would get better. And that was on top of the bruise she got on her forehead the day before, when the other bandits also tried to rape her at the tavern. A new surge of anger went through his whole body and mind then. She saw the sudden rage distorting his face, hardening his eyes, and she started crying again, frightened, burying her face in his nightgown one more time.

"Are you angry at me because I don't want to leave your side?" she said, trembling again. "Am I such a nuisance to you?"

"No, don't be silly, mi amor, of course not! How could I be angry at you? I hate the son of a bitch that did this to you. That's who I'm angry at, not you!"

"Take me to your room. I want to take that bath, please."

"I told you I can't take you there myself, sorry. Please, let Pablo take you. You shouldn't be afraid of him, he won't hurt you. Come on, let him do it, please."

She finally calmed down enough to allow Pablo to lift her in his arms, still wrapped in that thick curtain.

"Vamos, Señorita, don't be afraid. You are safe now," Pablo said as he got her away from Diego. "He'll follow us in a moment, don't worry."

With most of the fabric trailing along the floor, he had to be careful not to trod on it on the way to Diego's room. Once there, Pablo left the delicate package gently on the bed. Victoria stayed there, quiet, curled up in a ball under the fabric while Felipe prepared the bath, bringing hot water from the kitchen in a big jar several times.

Mendoza and another soldier helped Diego up, to walk him to his room. Diego was bruised and tired, but at least the dizzy spell was momentarily over, and his eyes could focus nicely now, rather than rotating non-stop. It made a huge difference to his sense of balance.

"Are you hurt, Don Diego?" Mendoza said, worried by the blood stain at the front of his nightgown, over his legs.

He looked down while shaking his head, and then he clenched his fists when he saw that red mark.

"That's not mine. It must be…" he paused to swallow hard then, not finishing the sentence. He would need the doctor to have a look at Victoria at some point, even if he had to pin her down for that.

Mendoza nodded, understanding, also devastated. Then, they headed for Diego's room, with the sergeant and the other soldier holding onto his arms for support, just in case.

On the way to his bedroom, Diego spotted Tomás tied up on the floor, sitting among the other bandits, at the other end of the library, waiting to be transported to jail. When he walked by, Tomás looked at him with a taunting smile on those demented eyes that reached his sore lips. An uncontrollable rage washed over Diego again when he saw that despicable man, and he went mental. He shook off the friendly hands that were helping him to stand straight, and he attacked that man furiously.

"Maldito hijo de puta!" he cried while hitting him, punching his ugly face a few times, totally out of his mind.

"Jesus!" Mendoza cried, grabbing Diego's right arm to stop him. "Leave him, please, stop! This won't help. He's not worth it!" Mendoza said, pushing Diego away from that man.

Despite the shower of blows he had received when he couldn't use his hands to cover himself, Tomás laughed out loud when the soldiers restrained Diego.

"Too late for that, don't you think, coward?" he said with a despicable smirk of broken, bleeding teeth.

"Shut up, you monster, or I'll kick your mouth again!" Mendoza cried. "Thank God you'll hang at the gallows soon! Come on, Don Diego, ignore him, please."

Mendoza pulled from his friend's arm to carry on, but after a couple of steps away from Tomás, he talked again, using vile, venomous words.

"I enjoyed that little bitch so much, you know?"

Diego struggled with the soldiers again, getting free from their restraining arms, and with an angry growl that became a roaring scream, he punched Tomás's face so hard he broke his nose, that sank in, and left him knocked out and bleeding on the floor.

"Don Diego, what the hell…?" the other soldier said, puzzled by Diego's attitude, who carried on walking on his own, unsteadily, using the walls for support, not looking back. Then, the bandit's words sank in: "I enjoyed that little bitch so much."

"Oh, no. Damn, Sergeant, did that man…? Did he… Did he do… that, to señorita Victoria?"

"I'm afraid so," Mendoza said with a tiny voice, too distressed and embarrassed to get into the details, or even say the word.

The lancer looked at the man sprawled on the floor, regretting he couldn't whack him as well. Then, he realized Tomás had his eyes open, looking at the ceiling, with his face covered in blood, that was pooling at his side. He crouched by him and placed a hand on his neck, trying to feel his pulse.

"Shit. I think this man is dead!"

"Madre de Dios!" Mendoza said, making the sign of the cross on himself.

ZZZ

Diego sank his right hand in the warm water. After delivering that blow his whole hand hurt, and it was becoming swollen. Maybe he had damaged some bones, but he didn't care. It had been totally worth it. How did that maggot, that excuse for a human being, dare taunting him like that? Him, the mighty Zorro… He should have whacked that piece of shit even harder!

"Is the temperature all right?" Felipe signed, after pouring the last jar of hot water in the huge bathing tub Diego had in his room. It was a large, polished metal bath, that he had to order specially made for him, because he could hardly fit in the standard-size, smaller ones. His father thought that owning such a piece, and placing it in his bedroom, was one of Diego's oddities, but the truth was, he really needed to clean himself quite often after his escapades as Zorro. One of the things that helped him most when he was bruised, tired and sweaty after a hard, long day or night, it was taking a nice, relaxing bath. Thanks to that, Felipe had a lot of practice preparing the water quickly.

"Yes, it's perfect, thank you. Pass me the salts, please."

Diego poured some aromatic salts in the water, and left his hand submerged in there for a bit longer.

"I'll go now. Should I put the "do not disturb" sign up?"

"Yes, please, do that. Thank you, Felipe."

"Is she going to be alright?" the youngster signed then with a sad face, looking at the bulky curtain resting on Diego's bed.

"I hope so. But it's going to take a while."

After Felipe left, Diego approached Victoria, and convinced her to let him take her to the water. He peeled off the curtain, uncovering her naked body, that was covered in bruises, and carried her in his arms the sort distance to the bath.

Once she was in the water, he started to rub her back gently with the soapy sponge, also pouring water over her head. She looked absent-minded, unresponsive, lost in that huge bath that was too large for her petite body; almost like bathing a child in a pond. That gorgeous body was now covered in bruises, besides the battered, swollen face and the red marks on her neck and legs, where the thugs had grabbed her, a sight that made Diego mad again.

When he moved the sponge over other parts of her body, she rejected it, bending her knees with her arms around them, in a protective way. Diego sighed. It was going to be difficult to have a look at her injuries if she didn't let anybody get near her intimate areas. He carried on rubbing only the parts she let him reach, mainly her back, arms and lower legs, and washed her hair, leaving the rest to just soak in the aromatic, soapy water. That would do to get rid of the smell of those men, at least, and would help her to relax and unwind her tense muscles.

She didn't say a word during the whole bathing process. After a while, he got her out of the water, wrapped her in a large towel, and then patiently and gently combed her hair, untangling all those knots. She still didn't say or do anything, lost in her inner world, as long as he didn't get near her erogenous zones, because that freaked her out, every time. When she was dry, Diego helped her into her night gown. Finally, she drank some water, rejecting the food Felipe brought for her before, and lay on the bed. Diego lay with her, spooning, with a protective arm over her body, an arm she got hold of anxiously, grabbing his hand in hers for comfort.

"Gracias, Diego. I feel better now."

"I love you, Victoria. You'll never know how sorry I am about this whole thing," he said, kissing her head.

"Me too."

She was silent for a while, and then she asked, with a shaky, hesitant voice:

"Diego, what will happen if I got pregnant?"

"That's not going to happen," he said, categorically.

"How do you know?"

"Well, he didn't have time to… or did he?"

"I don't know."

She started crying again, and Diego tried to comfort her, but it was pointless. She was too worried to calm down.

Damn. That bastard could have ejaculated on her, and after the bath, there would be no trace of sperm to check, even if she let him near enough to have a look at her laceration. She wasn't bleeding anymore, and for the way she held her legs firmly closed, she wasn't going to let him look. But, would it make any difference if she was really pregnant, or about to be?

"I'll talk to my father and Padre Benítez. We'll get married officially as soon as possible."

"But, if I'm pregnant…"

"You are not pregnant, but even if you are, don't worry. I'll love that child the same, only because she will be yours. And now, please, stop crying. And stop worrying about that."

In the end, she cried herself to sleep while holding his hand, feeling safe in his arms.

ZZZ

After she fell asleep, Diego left her side and used the same water, now only tepid, to have a quick bath himself. His body was sore, aching all over, and he welcomed the contact with the aromatic, soapy water. He closed his eyes and sat there slouching for a couple of minutes, keeping his head dry above the water, resting it over the bath's rim with the bandage still around his wound, until a disturbing mental picture of that repulsive man's sperm floating in that water made him sit up straight. Angry again, he hit the water with his fists, with a big splash.

Damn you, maldito cabrón!

He got out of the bath quickly then. Fed up of that nightgown, that was now stained with Victoria's blood, he donned a clean shirt and a pair of trousers and, sending a last, sad look at the sleeping Victoria, he got out of the room to find out if his father had returned home safely.

"Diego! Are you alright? I was so worry about you!" Don Alejandro cried, rushing to meet his son when he waked into the dining room, where he was having dinner. "I was afraid they would kill you!"

"I was so worried about you too," Diego said, hugging his father with great relief. "What happened to you? Are you all right? Pablo said you got a good thrashing." His father really looked worn out, with a few bruises and contusions on his face, with black eyes nearly as swollen as Victoria's.

"Yes, yes, I may have a couple of bruised ribs, but I'm alright, Son, don't worry. Doctor Hernández had a look at me already. Are you still dizzy? You are walking better, and your eyes aren't rolling anymore."

"Yes, I feel better now, but it comes and goes. My eyes may start rolling again in a minute. How is Pedro? Do you know?"

"Not looking good, but still alive. The doctor is with him. He'll stay the night."

Diego sat down at the table and served himself some food on a plate, suddenly feeling hungry, with his nausea gone.

"Father, I need to ask you something. Can you talk to Padre Benítez, please? I want to get married to Victoria as soon as possible."

"Do you think that's wise, Diego? I thought you were waiting for a full romance to develop in the eyes of the citizens of this pueblo, so nobody would suspect you had anything to do with Zorro."

"After what happened today, that's no longer important. Has anybody tell you what happened?"

Don Alejandro swallowed hard, and nodded, uncomfortable.

"Pablo did. I am so shocked, and so sorry. Is she alright?"

"No, she is not. Far from it. And she is terrified this could result in an unwanted pregnancy. I must marry her now, Father, before that becomes apparent, if it is the unfortunate case. If she really gets pregnant with that vermin's seed, at least we could pretend the child is mine. Otherwise, you'll have a bastard grandchild that no one will accept in society."

"I see what you mean, and I think you are right. Any gentleman with an ounce of honour would marry his fiancé under the circumstances."

"I should have killed that son of a bitch the moment he laid a hand on her!" Diego cried. "I want to see him dead!"

"Well… there is something you should know," Don Alejandro said, looking at his son with great concern and sadness. "Your wish got granted. That man is dead."

Diego looked back at him, perplexed.

"What do you mean? How?"

"You killed him. Mendoza said you hit that man so hard he died from that blow."

If Don Alejandro expected some kind of reaction from his son, he didn't get any. Diego stared at him with his eyes not showing any emotion, unmoved, with a deadpan expression on his face.

"He deserved it," he finally said, after a while, narrowing his blue eyes to a slit, hardening his expression. "I hope that maldito cabrón burns in hell!"

"Diego! Don't say that. How can you…" Don Alejandro started, surprised by his son's uncharacteristic and unchristian, heart of stone, but Diego interrupted him.

"No, Father, you were not there to see what happened, and believe me, that was a blessing. That man was pure evil, and he deserved to join his creator in hell. I don't regret killing him; if anything, I'm glad I did. But tell Mendoza that, if he feels he should arrest me, or whatever he needs to do while the magistrate from Monterey comes to deal with a jail full of thugs, I won't complain. Tell him to come and get me, I won't resist."

"Diego, why would Mendoza arrest you? That was self-defence."

"Not really. When I hit him, that man had his hands bonded at his back, so he couldn't defend himself. Some could consider that murder, or at least, taking justice in my own hands."

"I can't believe this… And anyway, I don't think Mendoza has any intention of arresting you."

Diego looked at the albóndiga he had in the fork he held with his swollen, aching right hand. His appetite had suddenly disappeared, upset by the news. However, Sergeant Mendoza returned to the hacienda then, and it didn't go to waste.

"Don Diego, how are you? How is señorita Victoria? Has she calmed down now?"

"Yes, she's asleep, thank you."

"I have to tell you something," Mendoza said, hesitating. "You see, the man that… I mean, the one you hit… well, he…"

"Don't worry, Sergeant, I already told him that man is dead," Don Alejandro said.

"You can arrest me if you must," Diego said.

"Arrest you? No way! That scumbag was heading for the gallows, anyway. I'm not taking any action in this matter. If the Judge from Monterey has anything to say about it, we'll see, but don't worry for now. Personally, I think you made the world a favor."

"How's Corporal Sepúlveda?" Don Alejandro said.

"Fine, fine, he's resting at the infirmary. The doctor said he should heal alright, because nothing was really damaged there; it was only a through-hole."

"Good," Diego said. "Sergeant, would you like a plate of albóndigas? I seem to have lost my appetite." He had only eaten a couple.

"Albóndigas? Thank you, Don Diego. You see, I'm so hungry now," he said, with a hand rubbing his stomach, taking a seat at the table. "It's been a long, hard day."

"I'm very grateful for everything you have done today, gracias," Diego said, passing him the plate. Pablo had told Diego everything that happened at the Lost Canyon, when the sergeant rescued his father, and he was very impressed. Mendoza took the plate and tucked in immediately, as if he had not eaten in a month.

"Don Diego, thank you for that magical powder. It really helped me. I would not have made it without it," he said after swallowing the first two mouthfuls.

"Of course you would, Sergeant. You didn't need that powder at all. What you needed was all in here," Diego said, touching Mendoza's chest, over his heart, with his index finger.

"What do you mean?"

"Sergeant, that powder didn't make you any braver. It was a mix of flour and talcum powder with a little bit of sugar. Hardly a magical concoction with mystical powers, was it?"

"But… I don't understand. Felipe said you used that stuff as Zorro to give you a boost!"

"No, not that one. There is a medicine I used, for example after you shot me, but I didn't want to give it to you because it has some side effects I didn't want you to suffer. What you did, all of it, you did it by yourself. You are a real hero, Jaime, and you should be proud of yourself. And please, keep up the good job from now on. You have to keep this pueblo safe."

Mendoza smiled then broadly. Don Diego, the mighty Zorro, had called him a hero. But most importantly, he had done so while using his first name, like a true friend.

ZZZZZ