Chapter 10

        Felipe climbed up beside Diego, but before he could turn to face forward, his gaze roved over the supplies still stashed in the wagon bed.

        Diego’s gaze followed his.  “I don’t think there’s anything we can do about all of this except take it back home.  Even if we left the wagon here for Gray Wing, we’d have to take the horses; it would take us all day to walk back otherwise.  And they can’t take the wagon without having the horses to pull it.”  His gaze landed on the young man.  “We’d better just go.”

        Felipe gave a reluctant nod before sliding down to sit next to Diego.

        Diego flicked the reins to start the horses on their way back.  They broke into a swift jog, happy to be heading home to the hay and grain awaiting them.

        As the wagon rattled over clods of dirt and ruts in the road, Diego absently suggested, “We can give the supplies to the poor in the pueblo.”  He cast a sly glance towards Felipe.  “Perhaps Zorro has an idea of who we should give it to first.”

        Felipe responded with a bashful smile, confirming the idea with a nod.

        “Well then,” Diego began, a hint of paternal pride coloring his voice, “let’s get started on a list of the needy poor.”

        By the time they reached home, they had decided to restrict their handout to the ten poorest families in the Los Angeles area.  “This is only the beginning,” Diego reminded Felipe as the hacienda came into sight.  “Let’s plan to do the same thing next month, and the month after that.”

         His face alight with ideas, Felipe gestured that they should include several of the area dons in their scheme.  He resorted to the same unfamiliar wriggling of his fingers at that point.

        Diego shot him a confused look.  “That’s the second time you’ve used new signs I don’t know.  What are you doing?”

        Felipe gave a start, then gestured rapidly, ending with a much more familiar sign.

        “You mean that you’re spelling?”  Felipe nodded.  “Words?”  Felipe rolled his eyes as if to ask what else he would be spelling, but Diego interrupted, “Spelling out difficult words would make you so much easier to understand.  What a great idea!  I wonder why I didn’t think of doing that.”

        Again Felipe made the familiar sign, nodding his head with a sharp tap to his temple.

        Diego understood then.  “Of course.  You and Victoria made up these signs.”  He gushed a sigh of agreement.  “And you’re right; she’s certainly smart enough to create something like this, even when she’s sick.”  Felipe waved another comment, and Diego blushed.  “I wish I’d known about her headaches; I could have given her some cactus tea to help dull the pain.”

        Felipe pantomimed sleep and shook his head.

        “True, the tea would have made her more sleepy than she already was.”

        Felipe told Diego how making up spelling gestures had helped keep her mind off her headaches.

        “At least that’s something,” Diego admitted.  “Trust the two of you to come up with this behind my back.”  His grin belied his words, and he playfully shouldered Felipe.  “You’ll have to  teach me these new finger spellings.  I have to know if you’re flirting with my wife, after all.”

        Felipe’s second bashful grin brightened his face as they rattled their way into the hacienda’s stable yard.  They climbed down together, Diego extolling Miguel the vaquero to leave the supplies in the wagon for distribution to the poor, crediting the idea to Felipe.  He immediately jogged back to the house, urgent to tell Victoria the news he’d learned from his visit with the Indians.

        “Victoria!  Guess what?” he yelled the moment he opened the front door, turning to enter the library without thinking about his destination.  But a large gathering of house servants blocked his way.  Maria stared at him with sad eyes, as if she was scared he might combust.  The housemaid Teresa openly cried, but as she was often given to hysterics, Diego didn’t pay much attention to this.  It was cheerful Little Lupè’s grim features that made him grind to a halt in inexplicable terror.

“Diego…” Don Alejandro hesitated.

“Father!” Diego burst out as his gaze finally settled on the aged don’s unhappy expression.  “What’s wrong?”

        “She’s not here, son,” Alejandro said.

        It was then he noticed that Victoria was missing.  The look on his father’s face indicated that this was not simply the time for her afternoon nap, either.  “Where is she?”

        Alejandro placed both hands on Diego’s shoulders, leading him to the loveseat where he pushed him down.  “I’d better start at the beginning.”

        Diego’s face flushed in uncharacteristic anger.  “No, you’d better tell me where my wife is!”

        Alejandro glanced at the crying Teresa.  “Uh…”

        Suddenly Diego paled.  What he’d been ridiculously afraid of all along had actually come to pass.  “Madre de Dios, she’s dead.”

        “No, no, of course not,” Alejandro soothed.  “But Dr. Hernandez is.”

        “What?”  Unable to take in that information, Diego stupidly blinked, dizzy and reeling.

        Alejandro gave a comforting squeeze to Diego’s shoulders.  “Dr. Hernandez was attacked by bandits on his way home last night from delivering Doña Esmerelda’s baby.  Mendoza came by to tell you, but you’d already left this morning.”

        “Oh,” Diego intoned, slow to wrap his mind around this latest disaster.  ”I had news for Dr…”  His voice trailed off before he could mention the deceased doctor’s name.

Dead.  Dr. Hernandez was dead.

But Diego couldn’t take it in.

It was impossible.  Dr. Hernandez was his partner in finding a cure for Victoria.  He always had new ideas as to Victoria’s disease, another direction to explore, more knowledge, more…

Then it truly hit Diego.  Dr. Hernandez had been one of the few who believed that Victoria wasn’t loco, who truly believed she really was sick, who didn’t think her faith in Diego was completely misplaced, who wasn’t sure she deserved this as some kind of retribution for loving a bandit.  Above all, he’d always had hope.

And now he was gone.  And Victoria no longer wanted to look for a cure, meaning that she would most likely be gone soon, too.  Leaving Diego all alone.

Diego felt as if he’d been alone all his life, ever since his mother had died when he was 12, leaving him alone… with his father… with…

Suddenly recalling his urgency, Diego looked at Alejandro.  “Father.  I met the Indian Gray Wing at the camp this morning.  Their healer…doctor… whatever… was with him.  He knew of Victoria’s illness.  He’d seen it once before, just like…”  But Hernandez’s death, no matter how tragic, did nothing to change the facts.  “Finally, someone knows we’re not just making this up.  I have to tell Victoria.”  He surged to his feet.

        Alejandro stopped him with a hand on his chest.  “She’s not here.”

        Diego’s brow wrinkled in confusion.  “What do you mean, she’s not here?”

        “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, son.”  Alejandro’s hand dropped to his side now that he had Diego’s undivided attention.  “Mendoza must have mentioned you were gone, because de Soto arrived about an hour ago to arrest Victoria.”

        “What?”  Diego’s frown deepened.  “On what charges?”

Here, Alejandro rolled his eyes to show a shred of his typical sense of irritation and annoyance.  “On aiding and abetting Zorro, of course.”

        “Zorro!” Diego choked.  “But he hasn’t been seen in months!”  The minute the protest left his mouth, he silently acknowledged it wasn’t precisely true.  He glanced once in Feliipe’s direction to note the look of guilt and culpability on his face.  Zorro hadn’t returned, not exactly, but as the masked bandit, Felipe had…

        This isn’t your fault! Diego instantly wanted to shout, but managed to swallow his cry at the last minute, thus keeping Zorro’s identity a secret for now.  Yet that did nothing to alter the current situation.  “Victoria has nothing to do with Zorro anymore,” Diego finally said.  “Didn’t the Alcalde ask her about that?”

        His father heaved a frustrated sigh.  “I don’t think de Soto cared.  He just saw the bandits Zorro supposedly left in his garrison, and jumped to the conclusion that Victoria was somehow involved.”

“How can she be?  She’s too sick to travel very far from here,” Diego uselessly potested.  “He knows how sick she is.  He himself witnessed our wedding!”

“I know.”  Alejandro’s hand returned to Diego’s sleeve for another comforting squeeze.  “But in his mind, Victoria is forever linked to Zorro.  I don’t think he ever considered your marriage to her as anything but in name only.”

        “Yes,” Diego sarcastically said.  “A fool like Diego de la Vega can’t possibly hold a candle to the hero of the pueblo.”

        “Don’t say that, son!” Alejandro expostulated.  “I admit I was dubious about your marriage at first, but I’ve seen you do amazing things for Victoria ever since.”

        “I haven’t found a cure,” Diego reminded, his voice heavy.

        “I meant that you’ve done great things for her confidence, her attitude, her sense of self,” Alejandro said.  “You’ve always treated her like she matters.”

        “Of course she matters!”

        “Many think that now she’s sick, she’s more of a bother than anything.”

        Anger again crowded through Diego’s eyes.  “Well, she matters to me.”  He rose and stepped with determination towards the front door.

        Alejandro threw out his arm to stop him.  “Where are you going?”

        Diego threw his father’s arm aside.  “I’m going to talk to Ignacio.”

        “And when that doesn’t work?”

Diego shook his head as he opened the front door.  “I don’t know.  I’m making this up as I go along.”  He hurried through, calling, “Saddle Esperanza!  I’m going to bring my wife home, or I’m going to die trying.”  The door slammed shut behind him.