Author's note: And here is the end of another story. I hope you enjoyed it with your readers, and that although it began darkly, its finale brought you joy. A big thank you to the readers and commenters, and especially a huge thank you to Janek and Cris - for their friendship, encouragement to tell more, for the translation and valuable comments in the course.
EPILOGUE
The Alcalde ofLos Angeles, Don Alejandro de la Vega, smiled with satisfaction as a bearded man in a military jacket fell from the saddle with a strangled scream and landed on the ground. El desperado, perhaps a former deserter from the Spanish army leaving California, rolled in the sand. Before he got up, the butt of a musket landed on his head. Immediately, two privates grabbed the stunned opponent by the arms, and dragged him towards the gate of the garrison and the cell visible from there.
The other bandits greeted their comrade's fall with curses, but none of them tried to save him. They didn't have time for that anymore. The gang that had been spreading terror for the last few weeks, breaking into banks, pueblo after pueblo, finally fell into a trap in Los Angeles. As they entered the square, shouting and firing, the soldiers, instead of scattering like a fistful of startled chickens, faced them. Unexpectedly, the desperados found themselves dragged to the ground by the soldiers, and those of them who jumped down to attack the defenders of the pueblo found that their opponents knew what fencing was.
Moreover, they were able to work together, and several of the bandits found that, when they attacked one soldier, his colleagues would use less obvious weapons to tip the scales in the duel.
The frightened horse threw off the last of the bandits. The man managed to get to his feet and ran like a hare chased by a pack of dogs towards the nearest alley. Mendoza, who had kept his distance until then, blocked his path, and don Alejandro, who had only been watching the clash from one of the porches, pistol in hand, felt a pang of unease. The sergeant, despite Diego's best efforts, was still bad with swords. Something about his good nature made him unable to strike or kill an opponent. Now too, attacked by the desperado, he only defended himself instead of attacking.
The elder de la Vega raised his gun and took careful aim. The two combatants were spinning in circles. He didn't want to risk missing, because the bullet could have hit some bystander, but if he didn't do something…
Before he squeezed the trigger, there was an oddly dull crack from the side of the combatants. The bandit dropped the cutlass from his hand and froze, the blade of Mendoza's sword slid softly to reveal two soldiers standing behind him. One of them dropped a solid stick from his hand. Together they captured the desperado and dragged him to the rest of the captured men.
For a moment, there was an almost perfect silence in the pueblo, broken only by the snorting of nervous horses, but when the last of the prisoners disappeared through the gates of the garrison, Los Angeles was shaken by an ovation. The people who had fled the attackers into the alleys returned to the square, cheering in honor of the soldiers.
Diego stood next to his father.
"I guess that should put your heart at ease," he remarked.
Don Alejandro just nodded. Both the defense of the pueblo and Diego's six months of hard work training the soldiers to fight effectively had been tested in that attack. Now he saw that even what he had initially rejected now came in handy. His son had taught the men more than just fencing. The way Sepulveda pulled the desperado attacking him off the saddlewas one of Zorro's tricks. Same for the idea of using whatever else came in handy to defeatign the bandits: baskets, buckets, sticks or boards broken off from stalls. The elder de la Vega had once feared that these skills might one day backfire on his son, but he had just seen that, without them, the soldiers would face a far more difficult situation on the battlefield.
The second idea that don Alejandro had once protested was Zorro's constant presence in the Los Angeles area. He remembered all too well Risendo's warning that one acquittal could not mean complete impunity for the outlaw. But then, too, Diego considered his options, and when a month after the envoy's departure, two bandits robbed and badly injured a wandering merchant, the rider in black once again set out on the trail. He found the attackers, captured them, and dropped them off at the garrison gate. Then, again, for several weeks no one saw him. But when one clever desperado managed to avoid being tracked down by the soldiers, Zorro appeared and delivered him to Mendoza.
Of course, there had been gossip about him in the inn ever since Colonel Risendo's visit. Many people thought that the outlaw preferred not to get in the way of don Diego, or perhaps doña Victoria, whom he had so disappointed at the time. Others argued that since Los Angeles finally had an honest alcalde, there was no need for the black-clad rider to appear except when his help was truly necessary. Many whispered that don Diego was Zorro after all, no matter what the king's envoy had decreed, but no one had the courage to directly ask the young de la Vega about it. Meanwhile, Diego was hiding Tornado in one of the more remote pastures, hoping that he and Felipe would come up with a way to effectively disguise the distinctive stallion.
The cheers died down, and the people in the square began busying themselves with cleaning up the damage caused during the clash between the lancers and the gang. Don Alejandro slapped his son on the back, gesturing to him that he was right. The soldiers defended Los Angeles, and its inhabitants took it for granted. It was a good omen for the turbulent times ahead. It was said more and more loudly that Mexico had gained independence and that California was, in fact, no longer a subject of the Spanish Crown. No matter what this change was going to mean for the scarcely populated territory, of one thing the elder de la Vega was sure: that there would be many more turbulences and attacks like the one they had just suffered.
Thus far, they have repelled the invasion, and without any wounded or dead. On the porch of the inn, Diego just embraced his wife, reassuring her that nothing had happened to anyone. Victoria still looked thin, but don Alejandro knew that soon all his friends would be congratulating him on his grandson.
He smiled once more. He and his talented son would keep Los Angeles safe, even in times of turbulence.
THE END
