Disclaimer: ZPI owns anything and everything to do with Zorro.  Thank goodness for Johnston McCulley’s original creation of Zorro.  If not for him, I would never have any fun.

                                                Dirty Deeds

                                               By Linda Bindner

         “You’re mine, Zorro!”

        The gloating cry gave Zorro plenty of warning.  He turned aside a split second before the predicted bullet exploded on the rocks behind him.

        “Careful, amigo,” Zorro said as he regrouped, ready to lash out with his whip.  “I’m not sure you can handle that much trouble.”  As if to prove his point, he flicked his wrist and the black leather whip easily wrapped around the outlaw’s neck.  Zorro quickly gave a mighty yank.  The bandit floundered, and Toronado took the opportunity to shove him into the nearby creek.

Zorro grinned.  “Toronado must think you need a bath.”

Now for the other three members of this outlaw gang.  Zorro swivelled just in time to meet the lunging sword of the man’s cohort.  Matching his swordplay to that of this bandit, Zorro performed a relatively slow riposte.  They traded a few more blows, Zorro leading him to dance all around their valley campsite, eventually encouraging the man to halt beside the stream now harboring his dripping friend.  He eyed the outlaw, eyed the creek, then couldn’t resist.  “Come to think of it, you could also do with a bath.”  He performed a complicated disarming pattern the outlaw had no hope of matching, and the next moment saw his sword flying as he joined his friend in the creek.

“Two down, two to go.”  Zorro pointed to the gang’s third member.  He felt confident Toronado would keep the two outlaws already in the creek from escaping, so was more than happy to give this grubby stranger his undivided attention.  “Your turn.”

This outlaw gave an obscene laugh, showing off his rotting yellow teeth.  “You’ll find I’m not so easy to get rid of, Zorro!”

“I hope not.”

The man attacked with a vicious downward swing, then changed the angle of his swing at the last second.  The clash of sword blades echoed in the small valley as Zorro met the attack.

“I’ll carve you into tiny little pieces!” the man threatened next.

“I’ve heard that before.”  Seeing the outlaw’s eyes drift to something over his right shoulder, Zorro swivelled again just in time to parry a swing from behind him.  He pushed hard on this fourth outlaw’s sword blade, turning him so the man’s back was to him.  He pulled him tight against his chest and grabbed the wrist of this fourth outlaw, making his sword meet the following swing from the third man.

They battled back and forth for several more minutes, swords slashing ever closer to the man held before Zorro, who finally yelled, “I give up, just stop!”

“As you wish.”  Zorro stuck out his foot to trip this fourth gang member so he joined his companions in the creek.  “You three are giving communal baths a whole new meaning.”

He again swivelled to face the last man still standing, swishing his sword through the air as he did.  “I’m waiting.”

But by now, the third outlaw was rethinking his strategy.  He eyed Zorro, eyed the creek, eyed Zorro again.  Then he dropped his sword to clatter on the rocks surrounding the camp and flopped into the creek on his own.

Almost sorry he’d chosen to take the fun out of this particular round-up, Zorro soothingly patted Toronado on the neck to tell him his job of corralling the outlaws had at last come to an end.  “Well done, my friend.”

He pulled a length of rope from one of his saddlebags as the fourth man spluttered incomprehensibly.  Zorro threw the rope over him first.  “You call yourselves The Dirty Q Gang.”  He couldn’t suppress his grin.  “I call you all washed up.”

Wondering what had happened recently to prompt outlaw gangs to name themselves, Zorro hauled the four men from the creek, tying them together into one large group to drip on the rocks peppering the ground.  Soon the rocks were as wet as they were.

Zorro climbed aboard Toronado, pulling the rope taut, making all four men yelp.

The masked man looked back at the four struggling men.  “I agree,” he said to his horse.  “They smell better already.”

So he wouldn’t tire out his four prisoners too much, he walked Toronado the two miles to the pueblo.  The four men had to jog anyway to keep up with Toronado’s powerful strides.  “Too bad your horses ran off,” Zorro said to the men.  “I bet that sun makes walking awfully hot.  You’ll have to take another bath.”  What he thought was a sob burst out of one of the men.  “If I smelled like you do all the time, I’d cry too.”

At long last the pueblo came into view.  “Ah, home sweet home,” Zorro said when he caught sight of the cuartel.  He let Toronado break into a trot, the men running to keep up.  “Sergeant Mendoza!” Zorro yelled when they reached the tavern.  “I have something for you.”

Mendoza popped out of the tavern, followed by what looked to be the inn’s entire clientele as well as Victoria, the ubiquitous tray in hand.

Conscious of the three lancers who had come out with the Sergeant, Zorro handed the rope to Mendoza.  “I tried to wash them off before the trip to the pueblo, but Toronado decided we were too slow.”  He shrugged in the direction of the four outlaw prisoners.  “He couldn’t help a little horsing around.”

“Zorro, de nada,” Mendoza said.  “We’ve been looking for these men for weeks.  Where did you find them?”

“Scratching in the dirt of a small valley this side of the Serez Canyon.”

Mendoza squinted, considering.  “Serez Canyon?  But that’s miles from here!”

“Yes.”  Zorro gave an apologetic look.  “Sorry for the smell.”

“MENDOZA!”

Uh-oh.

Everyone gathered on the tavern’s porch turned to take in the fuming de Soto as he stormed across the sunwashed plaza towards them.

“Si, Alcalde?” Mendoza asked, only a small quaver in his voice.

“Did I just hear you right?” he huffed, gesturing at Zorro.  “Did you actually thank this…”  He was so beside himself that he couldn’t even finish his sentence.

Mendoza grinned, showing how he didn’t understand the amount of trouble he was in.  “Oh, si, mi Alcalde.  We’ve been looking for --”

“I know what you’ve been looking for!” de Soto yelled.  “I’m the one who sent you out on patrol!  This only proves that as a fellow outlaw, Zorro knew ahead of time where to look, so I hardly think it’s necessary to --”

Perhaps unwisely, Victoria chose that moment to intervene.  “Don’t be ridiculous!  Zorro was just trying to help.”

“Yes,” Don Alejandro agreed.  “He was doing your job for you, as usual.”

The Alcalde turned red in apoplectic rage.  “As usual?  I’ve had enough of this.  Lancers, take these men as well as Don Alejandro to the jail to --”

That’s when Toronado shuffled and shied to the side, showering the Alcalde and anyone standing near him with a cloud of dust.

Spitting dirt, the Alcalde glared silently at Zorro.  Mendoza used his red-checked tavern napkin in an attempt to wipe him off.  De Soto grabbed the napkin and flung it into the dirt.  Pointing a finger shaking with rage at Zorro, he said, “I want this man arrested and that horse impounded!”

Toronado sent another shower of dirt over de Soto in unmistakable commentary.

Zorro laughed with the gathered crowd.  Turning to the outlaws bound together, he said, “Toronado just inducted a new member into your gang.”

One of the outlaw prisoners wriggled against the rope binding him.  “I don’t care what that maniac animal does!  You’ll pay for this, Zorro!”

Looking like he’d heard this so often that it bored him, Zorro wheeled Toronado to head out of town.  “I’d be careful if I were you,” he said before he went.  “If you think Toronado’s bad, the Alcalde is the dirtiest you’ll ever meet.”  Then he reached for Victoria’s hand.  “Señorita, a pleasure, as always.”

She grinned as he gallantly kissed her hand, then a movement caught her eye and she yelled, “Look out!”

In one smooth motion, Zorro drew his sword and slapped away the knife the Alcalde had thrown, sending it flying into the plaza where it couldn’t hurt anybody.  He glared at the Alcalde, then turned to the prisoners.  “See what I mean?  Dirty to the core!”  He re-sheathed his sword and lifted his hand in farewell.  “Till next time!”  With a third spray of dust, he galloped out of the pueblo.

Don Alejandro nodded to Victoria and Mendoza.  “Time for a clean-up, I’d say.”  They all looked at the spluttering Alcalde and laughed.

The End