Chapter 9

        Liver eating thankfully done for another year, Diego turned to heeding Victoria’s advice about Felipe.  He followed the young man into the library as soon as he could politely leave the dining room, touching his sleeve to fake getting a deaf man’s attention.  “Felipe, I was thinking…  I’m taking supplies to the Indian camp this morning.  Would you like to come with me?”

        The delight blazing through Felipe’s eyes instantly illustrated that Victoria’s observations were right on.  Diego wondered how he could have missed noticing something so obvious.  Felipe gave an enthusiastic nod as Diego silently kicked himself.

An hour later, Diego steered the wagon carrying himself, Felipe, and a plethora of blankets, tools and baskets out of the hacienda grounds.  His thoughts on Victoria and the morning they’d spent together, he couldn’t help smiling in spite of his current misgivings about Felipe.  They had barely cleared the hacienda’s outer wall before the young man remarked about the grin permanently etched on Diego’s face.

        “Victoria and I…” Diego started to say under the rattles of the wagon, but his growing grin stopped him from saying anything more.

        Felipe’s own grin blossomed in an expression that was much more like Lupè’s from a few moments before than Diego’s.

        “Oh, stop!”  Diego tried to look fierce but failed.

        Felipe batted his eyes and shouldered Diego in response.

        “All right, all right, no need to gloat,” Diego said at last, giving in to Felipe’s gentle teasing with as much dignity as he could muster.

        Felipe‘s smile was still teasing, and knowing, and…

“I said all right,” Diego expostulated, embarrassed.  “There’s no need to go on about it.”

Felipe shrugged, but his smile remained.

To change the subject, Diego said, “I haven’t been very attentive to you lately, and for that I apologize.  I know you’ve spent these last months taking care of Toronado.  Thank you.”

Felipe waved his hand dismissively through the air.

“Of course it’s something,” Diego argued.  “I’ve been so focused on Victoria and finding a cure that I--”

Again Felipe waved away his protests.

But Diego would have none of Felipe’s tendency for humility.  “I know I haven’t been a good hero lately, to you or anybody else, and I…”  The lump of guilt in his throat choked him.

Felipe immediately insisted he’d been a fine hero, just centered on Victoria for a change.

But Diego was insistent as well.  “Zorro should be concerned about everyone, not just Victoria.”

Felipe suddenly looked guilty as well.

Instantly noticing the young man’s expression, Diego suspiciously asked,  “What is it?”

Felipe ran a hand through his hair, a sure sign of agitated confliction.  A few silent moments went by before he more fully explained, ending his hand waving with the unmistakable sign of a Z.

“You what?” Diego asked, stunned.

Again Felipe pointed to himself, then slashed a Z in the air.

“That’s what I thought you said.”  The horses plodded on as Diego’s thoughts raced.  “Pretending to be Zorro is dangerous.  You know that.”

The murderous look Felipe shot Diego was surprising.  He energetically slashed the air, held up five fingers, then pantomimed being behind bars.

Diego was incredulous now.  “You’ve caught five bandits already?”  Felipe grinned and gave an embarrassed shrug.  Diego couldn’t hide the pride he felt.  “Well done!”

Felipe waved again.

“Of course it was something.  But how did you manage all that without speaking?”

Felipe rolled his eyes a bit, indicating with his hands that the five bandits had been asleep at the time, making their capture rather easy.

Diego huffed in disbelief.  “There’s no such thing as an easy capture.  Don’t forget who you’re talking to.”

Felipe next gave his sign for money, then ‘the poor.’

Diego’s forehead gave a perplexed crinkle.  “I’m glad you gave the reward money to the poor, but didn’t Padre Benites see you putting money into the poor box?”

Felipe drew a box in the air, shaking his head.

“You gave it to the poor yourself?” Diego then guessed.  At Felipe’s nod, he added, “How did you know who needed money the most?”

Felipe gave the sign for town and pointed to his ear.

“But you can’t overhear what people don’t say,” Diego protested.  “And I know they don’t talk in the plaza.  I’ve tried discovering things that way myself.”

Felipe’s smile turned knowing again.  He brushed his hands down his shoulders.

Diego smiled.  “True, Sergeant Mendoza does know who needs what and when they need it.”

Felipe signed again.

“And Padre Benites knows what the sergeant doesn’t,” Diego conceded.  At Felipe’s nod, he added a heartfelt, “Congratulations.”

Grinning, Felipe looked to his left, his expression once again embarrassed, but proud nonetheless.

They rode on in friendly companionship for several moments, only the screech of birds and the crunch of grass under the wagon wheels breaking the silence.

“Victoria doesn’t want to look for a cure anymore,” Diego suddenly announced.

Felipe froze, his pride from a moment before evaporating, replaced by widened eyes, his mouth a perfect oval.  He couldn’t have shown his astonishment more if he could speak.

“She said so this morning.”

        Felipe pointed to Diego, his finger shaking.

        Diego winced.  “I haven’t decided yet.  I may have no choice.  If she finds out someday that I haven’t stopped looking for a cure even though she has, I don’t know what she’ll do.”

        Felipe pointed to them both, then the wagon, and the direction they were heading.

        “Victoria thinks I’m just delivering supplies to the Indians today,” Diego softly admitted.  “She has no idea I plan to ask them about her illness.”

Felipe shot a glance at him, at the back of the wagon, then at Diego again.  He gestured towards the packed wagon bed, but shook his head.

  “No, these supplies are for the Indians if they want them.  But the main reason for today’s outing is so I can speak to their healer… doctor… medicine man.”  Diego gave a grimace.  “I don’t know what to call him.  But I bet you understand.”  A troubled gust of air illustrated his sudden misgivings.  “However, I’m not sure about leaving Victoria alone for the day.”

Felipe gave a shrug to indicate that Victoria would be fine.

Diego hesitantly admitted, “She insists she’ll be fine if I leave, and… I suppose she will.”  He gave another grimace as he spoke.  “I just can’t help it, Felipe!  I know that if I don’t find some kind of treatment, and fast, Victoria is going to…”  A sigh of frustrated guilt and anger split the morning air.  “Watching her go through this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

        Felipe could only sit for the moment, clearly too numb to say anything.  At last, he tentatively drew a Z in the air.

        Diego shook his head.  “Zorro is about justice.  There is no justice in this… thing,” he ended lamely.

        A pall settled on them both, then Diego vigorously kicked the dashboard.  “There’s nothing I can do.  There’s nothing Zorro can do.  There’s nothing…”  He gave a helpless groan.  “I’m sorry, Felipe.  I don’t know what’s come over me.  I shouldn’t be taking my frustrations out on you.”

        Felipe brushed Diego’s arm in comfort and shook his denial.

        Diego almost smiled.  “That’s very kind of you, Felipe, but Father did warn me.”  He turned saddened eyes on his companion.  “Thank you for sticking with me through this, though I certainly don’t deserve it.”

        Felipe put his hands together in a praying gesture, then pointed towards the camp once again.

        Diego gave an involuntary shudder.  “I hope you’re right.  It’ll be a miracle if the Indians know what I’m talking about.”  His sorrowful gaze washed over Felipe.  “Even if they’re not Victoria’s last hope, I guess they’re mine.”

                                                        Z Z Z

        The wagon jounced over rocks and washed out gullies to the area that had been previously set aside for the Indians, but the deserted aspect of the entire field showed it hadn’t been in use for some time.

        Diego gazed in forlorn despair at the permanently flattened grasses and dirt trails surrounding the empty space.  “I was sure the Indians had come back this year!”  He turned burning eyes on Felipe.  “Have you heard anything about the Indians staying away?”

        Felipe was so busy looking in stunned disbelief at all that emptiness that several moments passed before he answered with a bewildered shake of his head.

        They stared at the stillness.  Diego softly wondered, “If I can’t even find them to ask about Victoria’s illness..?”

        That was when his gaze snagged on the one home left standing.  He pointed it out to Felipe.  “Look at the side of that rock pile.  Is that a…?”

Felipe shaded his eyes, squinting, then gave a hesitant nod.

Moments passed, and the only sound was the screech of birds and the sigh of the wind.  Their coming had hardly been quiet, but no one appeared to check out the newcomers.  “Do you suppose there’s anybody there?” Diego asked in a hushed voice.

Felipe’s shrug was lost as a disembodied hand abruptly thrust a skin aside on the hut to reveal a hidden hole.  Dim firelight leaked through the opening, but still no one appeared.  Their eyes were riveted to the beckoning darkness when suddenly Diego became aware that someone stood beside the wagon.

His gaze slowly focused on the person.  Recognition came a little faster.  “Gray Wing!”

“Don Diego.”  The Indian nodded once in solemn acknowledgment.

“I haven’t seen you since we tracked Zorro together with the Alcalde.”

“Yes,” Gray Wing impassively said in his flat tones, though the warmth of his greeting shone in his eyes.  “I heard of the troubles that have befallen your woman.”

“Uh…”  Diego grunted his sour amusement at anyone calling Victoria ‘his woman’ but chose to change the subject, gesturing at the surrounding emptiness.  “The last time I was here, this was a bustling camp.  Where is everybody?”

“Where your kind cannot find us,” Gray Wing replied.

Diego furrowed his brows.  “If you don’t want to be found, why are you here?”

Gray Wing said, “I have White Feather with me, our spirit man, like your… what is the word?”

“Doctor?” Diego guessed.

“Yes.”  Gray Wing gestured to the aging, wrinkled man suddenly beside him.  “He has seen much, cured much, treated what he cannot cure.  We have waited many of our days for you to come.”
        “I wish I’d known you were here.  I would have come much sooner.”  Diego jumped down from the wagon, joined shortly by Felipe.  “I’m glad you knew what I needed even when I didn’t.”  He was open minded enough to realize the Indians had many amazing remedies for many maladies, and slightly stunned at himself for not considering asking the Indians for help sooner than this.  It galled him that he’d been thinking like a white man since his wedding.

Without further encouragement, Gray Wing gestured to White Feather, then stepped back, as if turning the proceedings over to the other man.

The gesture was invitation enough for Diego to explain, “Victoria’s illness is so rare that no healer has been able to do anything for her.”

“Victoria… the woman from the inn?” Gray Wing interrupted with a start, recognition lighting his enigmatic eyes.  “I was told she was for Zorro.”

“Yes, well…”  Diego gave an uncomfortable fidget.  He knew Gray Wing suspected he was Zorro, and had suspected for years.  A wisp of unease clouded his eyes.

But Gray Wing was more perceptive than Diego gave him credit for.  “No matter,” he said.

“What are her…?”  White Feather looked at Gray Wing and said something in their language that Diego couldn’t interpret.

Gray Wing translated, “Her symptoms.”

So Diego told them of Victoria’s pale skin, her shortness of breath, how she ate very little, was often tired, how he had tried to find a cure, but had been stymied again and again and again.  He left nothing out, even if it seemed insignificant.

Before White Feather could comment, Felipe touched Diego’s shoulder and gestured.  When Diego gave him a puzzled look, Felipe ran his hand up and down his body, scowling heavily.

Diego shook his head to show his further lack of understanding, so Felipe made other gestures with his fingers that were unfamiliar.

With a matching scowl, Diego again shook his head; he thought he knew all of Felipe’s signs.  “I’m sorry, I still don’t understand.”

The young man gushed a frustrated sigh, then brightened and knelt down.  His finger scratched the words for ‘bad mood’ into the dirt at their feet.

“Victoria has bad moods?” Diego asked, incredulous.  “She seems perfectly fine to me.”

Felipe pointed to his head, scowling even more, but was once again met with a mystified Diego.  At last he smoothed away the words written in the dirt, writing instead the word, ‘headaches.’

Diego’s eyes widened.  “If she has headaches, she hides them well.”  It made him fidget again to realize that jealousy spiked through him when he wondered why Felipe knew these things about Victoria when he didn’t.  Then waves of guilt crashed through him; he should never think of Victoria’s illness as his special domain, no matter the circumstances.  Felipe rose now that he’d been understood.

“She sleeps, but gets no rest,” White Feather thoughtfully predicted, staring at a space over Diego’s shoulder as if he was in a trance.  “She eats, but it is like… air.”

“Yes,” Diego softly said.

“Headaches,” recited the old man.  “Badness of mood.  No breath.  Pale…”  His voice trailed into silence.

After several moments, Gray Wing announced, “White Feather is unsure.  It would be better if she were here.”

Diego tried not to feel bad about this.  “She could never make the journey, either by horse or wagon, or even in our most luxurious buggy.  The jouncing would… I don’t know what it would do, but it wouldn’t be good.”

“The cure… you have tried many things already?” Gray Wing asked.

Diego nodded.  “Everything.  Dr. Hernandez thinks she’ll die.”

“But you do not.”

Diego faced Gray Wing.  “I certainly hope not.  But nobody has even heard of such an illness before, to say nothing of–”

“I have seen this,” White Feather interrupted.

Diego’s head shot around.  “What?”  He hardly dared believe it.  He had gotten so used to being humored or even ignored when describing Victoria’s illness that he didn’t know how to take such a positive reaction except to be immediately skeptical.  “But how can you be sure when she   isn’t here?”

White Feather trained his gaze on Diego.  “I see.  When I was a small boy, with my father, at another village, far from here.”

“You’re sure it was the same thing?”
        “This man…”  White Feather paused, as if searching for the correct word.  “He was…”  And he gestured.

Felipe’s face lit up.  He signed to Diego just as Gray Wing translated.

“See-through,” the Indian guide said.  “Ghostly.  As if he would fade away.”

        Felipe repeated his gesture, then pointed at Gray Wing, nodding.

        Diego could have no doubt now, but was so numb with astonishment, he could barely answer.   “You saw this once yourself.  You believe me.”

        White Feather said, “Yes.”

        The man’s flat tone was at odds with Diego’s mounting excitement.  “Then you know what to do!”

        But White Feather shook his head.  “That night, we return to our village.  I never see man again.”

        “Oh.”  Diego’s joy sputtered out.  “So you don’t know what happened.”

        White Feather gave one shake of his head, making his hair dance like Don Alejandro’s.

        “Then… I still don’t know how to help Victoria.”

        “I am sorry, Don Diego.”  Gray Wing’s voice brought Diego back to himself.

        Diego cleared his throat.  “Don’t be.  In fact.”  Against all odds, a smile blossomed.  “You believe me.  The only person other than you who thinks I’m not making this up is Dr. Hernandez from the pueblo.  In fact, this is wonderful news!”  The smile blazed across his face.  “Wait till I  tell him!”  He grabbed White Feather’s hand to give it a hardy shake.  “Gracias!”

        White Feather appeared not to know what to do with this overt display of emotion.  The minute Diego released his hand, he solemnly flung out his arm in a sudden gesture, accompanied by a word and a grunt, then returned to his hut.

        “He is pleased you are pleased,” Gray Wing said.  “I wish we could be more help.”   He moved to follow White Feather.

        “You’ve been a great help already,” Diego insisted.

        Gray Wing turned and held out his hand in farewell.  “You will not see us again.”

“Thank you, and goodbye!”

Gray Wing bowed his head.  “I wish you great fortune.”  He disappeared into the hut, pulling the skin behind him, leaving Diego and Felipe alone.

The wind gusted and a bird cried.  The space seemed so empty without the two Indians, but Diego felt so full.  “At least we know we’re not dreaming!” Diego said as he and Felipe returned to the wagon.  Diego climbed back into the driver’s seat with much more of a bounce than he’d shown moments before.  “I’ll ride out to see Dr. Hernandez with this news this afternoon.  He’ll surely be as amazed as I am!”