The Truth About Victoria Escalante

                                (as seen by most everyone in the pueblo)

           by Linda Bindner

        Victoria wrapped a clean rag around the glass in her hands and swiftly wiped it back and forth.  “What’s Don Alejandro doing today?” she asked Diego across the tavern’s green countertop bar.

        Diego took a quick drink of his water to hide a grin.  “His favorite mare is foaling soon, so he’s spending more and more time in the stables; he doesn’t want to miss the birth in case she needs help.”

Victoria shrewdly eyed her friend.  “Is he helping or getting in the way?”

        Diego casually said, “It depends who you ask.”

        She gazed at him pointedly.  “I’m asking you.”

        “I say he should let the vaqueros do their job - that’s why he hired them.”

        “And what does he say?”

        “You know Father,” he sardonically said.  “I bet you can guess.”

        Victoria barked a short laugh.  “You have to give Don Alejandro credit; not many caballeros bother themselves with things like foaling mares and typical ranch life.”

        Diego nodded his head to indicate she had a point.  “Just this morning Miguel asked if I could find an excuse to keep my father out of the stables until it’s over.”

        “That would make your vaqueros’ lives so much easier.”  Victoria carefully set the glass in her hands on the counter and picked up another one.  “Maybe you could make Don Alejandro read your new poems.”

        “I’m not currently writing any poems,” Diego said.  “I started a story just yesterday.”

        “A story?  I didn’t know you wrote stories.”

        “This is my first.  Since people write stories all the time, I thought I’d give it a try.  It can’t be so very different from writing poetry.”  He pensively studied the last swallow of water in his glass.  “But I’m already having trouble with it.  The main character isn’t behaving.”

        “You sound as if you’re not the one in control of this main character.”

        “It may sound strange, but I’m not.”

        Victoria smiled slyly.  “Perhaps this character needs a friend… like Don Alejandro.  Or better yet,” and her smile grew even more sly.  “You could paint your father’s portrait.”  She held up the glass to inspect her handiwork.  “An intimate portrait of Don Alejandro, proud owner of hacienda de la Vega.  You could hang it over the library fireplace.”

        Diego grimaced.  “But he would have to pose for hours for a portrait.”

        “Si… much to the joy of your vaqueros.”

        Diego straightened as a matching smile blossomed slowly across his face.  “Victoria Escalante - I never knew you could be so devious.”

        Victoria’s smile turned innocent.  “Why Diego de la Vega, whatever do you mean?”

        Diego laughed.  “I won’t tell Father if you don’t.”  He set his glass on the counter and placed a peso beside it.

        Victoria glared at the money.  “Diego, you don’t have to pay for water.”

        “It’s not for the water, it’s for the idea,” he said and turned to go.  “I have work to do - adios.”

        “Adios,” she called after him.  Diego walked through the open doors and disappeared into the sunshine.

        Victoria built a small pyramid with the glasses she had polished, then grabbed her serving tray and hurried into the kitchen.  The tavern was quickly filling up with lunch customers and she needed to get busy.

        Fortunately, the enchilada sauce she had prepared earlier that day bubbled nicely in a large kettle, and the three lunch specials already sat warming by the fire.  All she had to do was add water to the sauce, stir the beef and chicken, add cheese to both, and chop some vegetables.  “Hmmmm.  There are plenty of tortillas and bread for lunch, but not enough of either for supper,” she mumbled to herself, then decisively said, “Alicia, you help me with serving and Maria, you make more bread and tortillas, por favor.”

        “Si,” both women chorused and hastened to their assigned tasks.

Satisfied that things were under control for the moment, Victoria thrust the kitchen curtains aside to head back into the barroom.

        “Señorita,” called a hungry customer.  “An order of carne asada, por favor.”

        “I’ll have the same,” his friend said from across his table.

        “Si, right away,” Victoria responded, and vanished into the kitchen to fill the orders.  She came back minutes later with both meals, plus bread and drinks.  “And for you, Lancer Parez?” she asked the soldier standing at a nearby table.

        He placed his hat on the bench beside him and sat.  “Champagne.”

        Victoria’s brows rose.  “Champagne?  But I know it’s not payday.”

        “Si.  I bet Sergeant Mendoza that we wouldn’t capture Zorro last night, and we didn’t, so he’s buying lunch.”  Perez grinned.  “Champagne and enchiladas, por favor.”

“Aaaah,” Victoria smiled back knowingly.  Just then, the Sergeant slipped through the door, smoothing down his sweaty hair.  “And here’s Mendoza now.  What can I get you, Sergeant?”

Mendoza sank down across from Perez with a beleaguered sigh.  “Just some tamales.  I have the feeling that’s all I can afford.”

Victoria gave a commiserating laugh.  “Coming right up.”  The curtains hadn’t stopped swaying before she was back again with the ordered meals.  “Here you go.”  She set the plates full of food carefully in front of her customers, gave water to Mendoza, and set a glass and a bottle in front of Perez.  “Some champagne to take away the heat of the day.  Enjoy.”  She turned away, then turned back to confide,  “Oh, and try not to drink it all at once.  I don’t have any more.”

“Señorita!”

“Coming!”  Victoria allowed one gusty breath to slip out before answering the call of yet another lunch patron.

Several minutes later, the Monterey coach pulled up to the tavern.  Victoria hurried onto the porch to meet it.  She was just in time to see a caballero emerge from the coach, then help a well dressed woman step onto the dusty plaza.  She smiled warmly at both of them.  “Welcome to my tavern.”

The woman fussily brushed imaginary dust from her clothes.  She peered first at the customers, mostly peons, eating at the shaded tables on the porch, then squinted into the darker tavern with a wrinkled nose.  “Ricardo,” she loudly whispered to her companion, “do you think it’s safe?”

“Of course it is, my dear,” Ricardo replied in a much more confident tone.

The woman’s gaze slid over Victoria.  “I’ve never heard of a woman tavern owner,” she said aloud to Ricardo as if Victoria wasn’t standing close enough to hear every word.  “I don’t know about this.”

Victoria was used to hearing such hesitance from her wealthier patrons.  Pretending she hadn’t heard a word, she asked, “Do you require a room?”

“Si.”  Ricardo nodded while the woman simultaneously said, “No, I don’t think it will be appropriate.  We’ll stay somewhere less…” the woman’s nose wrinkled again, “aromatic.”

Victoria’s smile only faltered a bit.  “Unfortunately, this is Los Angeles and not Madrid.  There is nowhere else to stay.”  She turned.  “Right this way.”

“Madrid!” the woman incredulously exclaimed as Victoria led them to the bar and the rental keys she kept behind it.  “This isn’t even Monterey!”

The man looked apologetic while again Victoria pretended not to hear a word the woman said.  She found the key she desired, then led the two up the stairs to her best room, the woman holding her skirts away from the walls as if afraid she might sully her clothes.

Victoria returned to the barroom in time to hear another customer call her.  “Señorita!”

Minutes later, the couple from the coach braved the crowd to find an empty table.  The woman brushed her seat and tabletop with a snowy white handkerchief before sitting.  Victoria wanted to assure her that everything in her tavern was spotlessly clean, but she held herself in check, knowing that personal commentary wouldn’t help.  “Can I get you anything?” she politely asked instead.

Ricardo ordered carne asada, but the woman eyed Victoria.  “You’re dressed like a peon, but behave like the owner.  I don’t understand.”

Victoria’s anger rose like the sunrise.  Strangling the emotion, she explained, “My parents left the tavern to me when they died.  What can I get you for lunch?”

The woman ignored the inquiry, her forehead wrinkled.  “But how does that work?  Women aren’t smart enough to run a business.”

Victoria almost choked.  Sometimes it was so difficult to be polite!  “Women can do many things,” she said through clenched teeth.  “What can I bring you?”

The woman looked beyond Victoria, then all over the room.  “But where’s your husband?  A tavern’s so rough.  Surely you have a man to help you.”

Victoria growled low in her throat.  “Just me,” she said with a forced smile.  “Now Señora, what..?”

The woman curled her lip.  “Nothing for me.  I’ll eat when we get to Mexico City.”

Victoria laughed.  “Then you’ll be hungry for a long time, Señora.  The coach to Mexico City doesn’t leave until tomorrow morning, and it’s at least a 2 day journey.”

The woman’s expression fell to open astonishment.  “2 days!”

Before either Victoria or Ricardo had time to formulate an answer, Alcalde de Soto appeared at the table, beaming in delight.  “Adelina!  Ricardo!  Welcome to Los Angeles!”

Victoria’s eyes grew wide in polite surprise.  “Such a warm reception, Alcalde.  You know these people?”

The Alcalde wheezed a laugh.  “Know them?!  Why, Adelina and I have known each other since childhood, and I’ve known Ricardo for years since they married.  We have much in common!”

Victoria allowed a tiny amount of sarcasm to slip through her benign expression, thinking of the woman’s recent behavior.  “Yes, I can see that.”

The Alcalde gestured that the couple remain seated while joining them.  “You’ve already ordered lunch - excellent!  Señorita, I’ll have your special for the day.”

Victoria righted her tray.  “That would be enchiladas.”

“I’ll have the same,” Adelina said, seeming quite content now that her childhood friend had appeared.

“Un momento.”  Victoria vanished into the kitchen where Maria was bent almost double over the counter, industriously making tortillas.  The second the curtains swayed shut behind her, Victoria said, “In case I forget, Maria, remind me never to name a child Adelina.”

Maria jerked upright to stare at her employer.  “Why’s that?  I think it’s a pretty name.  Don’t you like it?”

Victoria dished up the ordered meals.  “Adelina is a friend of the Alcalde,” she said, as if that explained everything.

“Ah, I understand now.”  Maria’s smile sounded loud in her voice.  “Neither you nor Zorro can support anything linked to the Alcalde.”  She again bent over the tortillas.

“This Adelina actually thinks that women aren’t smart enough to run a business,” Victoria huffed as she arranged the dishes on her serving tray.  “It’s no wonder she’s the Alcalde’s friend.”

“The Alcalde does hold plenty of old world ideas,” Maria agreed absentmindedly, counting the number of tortillas she’d made.  “An even 50.  Yes, that’s enough.”

“For today,” Victoria added with a grin.  She whisked through the curtain before Maria could say anything more.

Victoria delivered the meals without comment, adding only, “Let me know if you need anything.”  Fortunately, another patron called for her attention.  She whirled towards the call, thinking that this was turning out to be one of those days.  She immediately headed to the small table in the back near the fireplace, grateful to escape so easily.  “Si?” she said to the caballero seated there.

“I would like some bread, por favor.”

“Si, Don Jocinto.  We just baked some fresh.  I will see if it’s ready.”  Smiling, she vanished once again through the kitchen curtains.  “Maria, is the bread..?”

Maria used a towel to hand her a steaming loaf.  “Si, it’s still hot, so be careful.”

“Gracias.”  Victoria took the offering and retraced her steps.  “I must warn you, Don Jocinto, it’s hot.”  She placed the towel and bread on the table and prepared to turn away when Don Jocinto’s voice stopped her.

“Señorita, I have another question.”

Victoria turned back, her brows raised.  “Si?”

Don Jocinto gave a confident smile.  “I’ve lived in Los Angeles for several years.”

“Si.  You’ve become one of my favorite customers.”  Victoria smiled back at him.  “You’re so polite.”

Don Jocinto beamed.  “It gratifies me that you think so, because I want to request that as soon as you’re finished with Don Diego, I wonder if –”

“Just a minute.”  She gave a short laugh of incomprehension.  “What do you mean ‘finished with Don Diego?’”

Don Jocinto looked at her in unabashed confusion.  “I mean finished… done… your relationship ended.”

Victoria laughed once again, now showing her own confusion.  “Our relationship ended?  I hope to never lose Don Diego’s friendship.”

Don Jocinto huffed a breath in evident frustration.  “I don’t mean friendship.  It’s obvious that you’re his courtesan.  I’m asking if you’re willing to be mine after –”

Victoria’s gaping mouth put a halt to his query.  Her mind screamed, Don Diego’s what?” but her shock was so great, she couldn’t utter a sound.

Don Jocinto reared back at her expression.  “Uhm… his courtesan,” he repeated, obviously taking her silence as a comprehension problem.  “You must not know what that means,” he said, then brightened.  “His mistress then.  I bet you’re more familiar with –”

Victoria’s expression was growing more horrified the more he talked.

Undeterred, Don Jocinto continued in a hopeful tone, “You spend a lot of time with Don Diego.  I’ve heard that you’re often invited to the de la Vega hacienda, sometimes overnight.  We thought you must be Diego’s courtesan… I mean mistress… and –”

Victoria was finally able to gurgle low in her throat.

“No?”

In that second, Victoria’s shock fully gave way to an anger so ferocious, she shook.  “No!”  Her voice cracked through the room, bringing the many lunchtime conversations to an abrupt halt.  Every patron in the tavern turned to stare at them.  With a monumental effort, she managed not to scream.  “I don’t know where you got that idea, and I hope Don Diego never hears of this.”  She glared at him, as if seeing him clearly for the first time.  “You’re not as polite as I thought.  Get out.  Don’t come back.”  She strode angrily away, dodging peons and caballeros alike, and energetically threw the curtains aside to vanish into the kitchen.

                                        ***

“Maria, see to the customers!” Victoria tersely ordered the moment she entered the kitchen.

Maria took one look at her employer’s severe expression, grabbed a serving tray and beat a hasty retreat through the curtains without uttering a word.

Victoria leaned into the side of the counter in the center of the kitchen.  The nerve of that…!  How can he think…?  And of Diego!   Does he think Diego would…?  She couldn’t even finish the thought, it was so heinous.

Victoria forced herself to take a deep breath, trying in vain to bring her fury under control.  She instantly started pacing back and forth instead.

After a minute of pacing and pounding, pounding and pacing, she vigorously shook her head to clear it.  What was wrong with her?  Why was she so angry?  This wasn’t the first time she had been propositioned like this.  It was often assumed that she and her staff were willing to fill every service available in most taverns in the Spanish Empire, including those of the typical brothel.  And it wasn’t as if she herself wasn’t propositioned just like this every week or two.  The only thing different about Don Jocinto’s query was the courtesan angle.

Though, now that she was thinking more clearly, she realized that wasn’t the only thing that was different.  Customers often assumed that she was a loose woman.  But Diego, on the other hand, was always what he appeared to be; a kind, honorable caballero.  He cared about everybody equally, whether they were rich or poor, male or female, Spanish born or not.

That was it, she decided.  She was angry not because Don Jocinto claimed she was basically a prostitute.  It was because he had assumed she was Diego’s prostitute… courtesan… mistress… whatever one called it.  She assumed that Don Diego was above that kind of behavior.  The fact that Don Jocinto clearly assumed otherwise was what bothered her.

That was when she remembered that Don Jocinto had said we think during his request rather than I think.  Victoria gasped a breath.  Who was we?

                                        ***

Even though Victoria now knew the specific reason for her temper during lunch, she still felt so angry that she stayed out of sight (and out of trouble) in the kitchen for the rest of the afternoon, pondering the we in Don Jocinto’s request.  Maybe he meant his two brothers?  Their personal friends?  Everyone at their ranchero?

Maria and Alicia served the customers while Victoria used her angry energy to make bread dough for the next day, tortillas for the next several days, and prepare so many dishes in advance that none of them would have to do more than cook and serve for many meals hereafter.

Once the lunch rush slowed and siesta approached, Maria entered the kitchen to gaze in open awe at Victoria’s afternoon handiwork.  “There’s so much food here…. you must have used every vegetable in the tavern.”

“I think I did,” Victoria said.  “I’m just so angry!  It was either use all that energy for preparing food, or hurt somebody, and I had already thrown out Don Jocinto.”

“Perhaps you should get angry like this more often,” Maria suggested.  “Though I don’t know what Don Jocinto said to make you so angry.”  She regarded her employer.  “What happened?”

“I know what happened,” said a male voice that resounded softly throughout the kitchen.  Both women turned to see Diego de la Vega come quietly through the back door, shutting it firmly behind him.

“Diego!” Victoria uttered, surprised, but not so surprised that she didn’t think to keep her voice down.  If it got out now that Don Diego had visited her tavern twice in one day, it would only add fuel to Don Jocinto’s speculations.  Diego didn’t need that kind of gossip.  “I thought you were busy painting a portrait of your father.”

Diego nodded briefly.  “I worked on a portrait sketch all through lunch, but then Felipe came back from the tavern with news… about what happened with Don Jocinto.”

Victoria gaped again.  “How did Felipe find out?”

Diego looked slightly abashed.  “He was…erm… sitting right behind you and saw the whole thing.”

Her face fell into lines of skepticism.  “Don’t tell me he heard us!”

Diego shook his head.  “Felipe may not be able to hear, but he can still read lips. “  A smile crossed Diego’s eyes.  “He saw what Don Jocinto said to you.  He didn’t have to see your reaction to guess what would happen next.”

Another wave of fury accosted Victoria at the reminder.  “Don Jocinto got what he deserved!  How could he think that way?”

But as it turned out, what Don Jocinto thought was the least of Diego’s concerns.  “So you’ve finally heard the rumors about us.”

“Rumors?” Victoria incredulously exclaimed, as if calling them rumors was being too nice.

Maria glanced between Diego and Victoria.  “Rumors about what?”

Neither of them explained, and finally Diego said, “Maria, will you let me speak with Victoria for a moment, por favor?”

Maria’s brows rose at the request.  “But Don Diego,” she said, her confusion showing plainly in her face, “you rarely asked for anything.”

Diego gave a short, apologetic nod.  “But this time I must insist.  Por favor.”

Eyes now wide and without a single word, Maria grabbed a pitcher of water and again retreated through the kitchen curtains like the devil was after her.

Victoria continued to gape at Diego as the curtains fluttered shut.  “You weren’t supposed to find out!” she hissed next.  “Felipe should never have –”

“It doesn’t matter.  I’ve known about it for months.”  Diego winced just slightly.  “I was hoping you wouldn’t find out.”

Amazed, Victoria blurted, “How can you be so calm?”

Diego picked up a pepper slice from a nearby counter and ate it slowly, as if giving himself time to think.  “There’s no reason to see this as a commentary on you.”

Victoria was back to gaping at him.  “I see this as commentary on you.”

“Oh.”  Diego looked stunned for a moment, then smiled just slightly.  “That’s why you’re so angry?”

“Absolutely!”  Victoria grew indignant once more.  “I can see why somebody would think that way about me, or anyone who works in a tavern… though I don’t dress the part, which should have been his first clue that I’m not your…”  She swelled with rage again.  “But to assume that you… you would never…!”

Diego appeared pleased she had that view of him.  “I never saw it like that.”

“You should!  As should anybody who knows you!”

Diego grunted, his lips curving up in a wry smile.  “I’m not sure most in the upper class really know me at all.”  His gaze met Victoria’s.  “That’s the problem.”

Confusion burned away her renewed anger.  “Huh?”

Diego’s lips curved up once more.  “I keep forgetting you don’t belong to the upper class.  I think of you as classless.”

Victoria barked a laugh.  “Nobody who’s upper class would work in a tavern.”

“You’re right,” Diego said in sad defeat, as if he thought it would be of immense benefit if his entire class had to spend time working in a tavern.  “I shouldn’t assume that the others… in my class, I mean… think of you as I do.”

Her brow wrinkled.  “How do those in the upper class think of me?”

Diego groaned.  “I don’t know if they think about you at all.”

“I don’t think I wanted to know that.”  Then Victoria’s brow puckered in sudden comprehension.  “But that does explain why Don Jocinto did what he did.”

Diego groaned again.  “You shouldn’t blame Don Jocinto for any of that.  He can’t help thinking that way.”
        Anger surged in Victoria once more.  “He can certainly help what he does about it!”

Diego gave a resigned sigh.  “He only did what he was expected to do.”

She scathingly said, “So what you’re saying is because he was expected to think poorly, it’s all right, and –”

“No,” Diego said, cutting short her anger.  “I’m not saying that, and I’m not excusing his actions.  I am saying that I’m not certain he thought at all.”

Victoria crossed her arms in an unforgiving stance.  “That’s obvious!”

A pained look shot across Diego’s face.  “”No, you don’t understand.”

“Then help me to understand.”

Diego took a pensive turn around the kitchen.  “Let me ask you a question: if you suddenly inherited a huge sum of money, how would you react?”

“That’s easy: I’d pay everybody’s taxes for a year… or maybe two years, or three.”

A smile flared through Diego’s resignation.  “Then you’re a rare one.  Very few of the wealthy even think about taxes.”  He thought for another moment, then added, “Let’s say taxes aren’t an issue.  What would you do then?”

Victoria pondered the situation.  “I guess I’d buy a house.  Living by myself at the tavern isn’t as wonderful as I always thought it would be.”

“All right.  Let’s say you buy a house in the pueblo, but still have so much money left over, you don’t know what to do with it.  Would you continue to work at the tavern?”

Victoria considered.  “I would have to,” she slowly said.  “At least while I decided what to do next.  I’ve worked at the tavern so long, I wouldn’t know what else to do.”

“Exactly.”  Diego immediately straightened, as if she’d proven his point.  “You don’t know anything else.  Neither does Don Jocinto.”

Victoria’s forehead wrinkled.  “You mean he always does what’s expected?”

Diego considered.  “Yes, for the most part.”

“And wanting a courtesan is…?”

Diego appeared grateful for the leading question.  “He’s simply doing what unmarried wealthy men do when they reach a certain age.”

Victoria balked.  “But you’re from a wealthy family, you’re older than Don Jocinto, and you don’t think that way.”

Diego shot her a patient look.  “My family is different.  Father is different.”

Her sharp, incredulous laugh stopped him.  “But your father is so respected!  By everyone!”

“Yes, he is.  Good point, but bad example.”  Diego turned pensive once more.  “Here’s another thought: at the supper parties among the caballeros, we discuss Zorro a lot.”

“That makes sense.”  Victoria smiled at the mention of her hero.  “Everybody discusses Zorro a lot, especially his identity.”

Diego smiled as well, but didn’t get pulled into a discussion about Zorro’s identity, instead saying, “Nobody at these parties thinks Zorro can possibly be a caballero.”

Victoria’s disbelieving laugh sounded again in the kitchen.  “Of course he is!  How else can he afford all those tricks and chemicals he uses?  And he knows how to fence and how to fight and how to track… he’s clearly had some training, and only the rich can afford that.”

Diego’s brows rose.  “Soldiers get training.  What if he’s a soldier?”

“Then the Alcalde’s in more trouble than he thinks!”

Again the smile erupted on Diego’s face.  “Very true.”

“But why do none of the upper class think that Zorro can be a caballero?”

Diego shrugged.  “They can’t imagine a wealthy don giving up such an easy existence to ride around picking sword fights and defending the poor.”

Indignation rose in Victoria again.  “Don’t they care what happens to the poor?”

Diego grimaced.  “Not really, no.”

Anger once again roared through Victoria.  She crossed her arms tightly on her chest and took another breath to respond.

Diego cut her off.  “No, I should say that of course they care about the poor, but not so badly that they want to ride around day and night, fighting the Alcalde.”

Victoria scathingly said, “Though they’re happy to sit here all day drinking my wine!”

Diego gave a chuckle.  “I suppose they are good at that.”

“The wealthy of the pueblo are nothing like you,” she said wonderingly.  “Are these people really your friends?”

Diego shrugged again.  “I count some of them as friends, like I’m friends with you.  But you can see why I claim they don’t know me very well.”

Victoria smiled in sympathy.  “Yes, I doubt there are many wealthy people who are consumed by experiments and writing poems like you are.”  Diego smiled in agreement as Victoria frowned.  “But what does any of this have to do with what Don Jocinto said today?”

“Just that he wasn’t insulting you or me.  In a strange way, he was paying you in particular a compliment.”

Victoria tightened her arms still crossed on her chest.  “Then he has a strange way of making compliments.  To say nothing of what he thought you’re capable of.”

“He simply views me as any other young caballero with a beautiful woman –”

“... a woman who doesn’t belong to his upper class.”

“... and who is therefore ineligible for marriage, according to social custom, even if her company is desirable.”

The minute those words registered, Victoria grew stricken.  She felt a thunderous frown  cross her face.  “If Zorro is a caballero, and he’s expected to follow social customs, how can he marry me?  Even though he promised.”  She gazed at Diego with troubled eyes.  “I’m from the wrong class.”

Diego smiled gently.  “I doubt class is something that Zorro ever worries about.  Why would he help the poor so much if it was?”

Relief flooded Victoria at his words, and she relaxed her tight stance.  “True.  But then, maybe he’s not a caballero?”

Diego shrugged.  “Who knows.  But you said it yourself: he has to be a caballero to afford all that he affords.  Just taking care of Toronado must cost him a considerable amount.”

“Maybe I should take up a collection,” Victoria muttered to herself.

Diego grinned.  “I doubt that’s necessary.  He’s done fine with Toronado all these years, after all.”

Victoria turned pensive again.  “Isn’t it interesting that my relationship with Zorro didn’t play a part in Don Jocinto’s… invitation?”

Again Diego winced.  “No.  Those in the upper class… they don’t think your relationship is real.”

“Not real?”  Another burst of temper suffused Victoria.

Diego quickly added, “More ‘put on for show’ than ‘not real.’”

Hands on hips in indignation, she expostulated, “Then it’s been showing for many years!”  She huffed a deep breath.  “It’s certainly real enough to me.”

“And to him, if his public regard for you is anything to go by,” Diego added.

Victoria gave another wry smile.  “It’s certainly real to the Alcalde.”  Diego gave a laugh of agreement as she lowered her brows.  “So why not to them?”

Diego grimaced.  “I’m not sure many of the upper class think the Alcalde’s judgement is terribly sound.   It’s no wonder they don’t always believe him… much to his distress.”

Victoria grunted a sardonic laugh.  “He does seem to be overly worried about what the caballeros think.”  Her hands fell from her hips and she asked.  “Diego, what did you mean when you said I’m classless?”

Diego grabbed another pepper slice from the counter and munched as he considered.  “I meant that you can mix with any class, that you can talk with anyone.  I don’t know if that comes from spending your life around the tavern, but you always know everyone… rich, poor, wealthy, military, government official…everyone.  You attend Father’s parties, but you’re just as comfortable with the poor from the mission.”

Victoria shrugged off Diego’s compliment.  “Any one of those people might be a customer, and I don’t see the point of ignoring any of my clientele.”

“Give yourself some credit, Victoria,” Diego gently said.  “Some of those people are more than just customers.”

“They just like my cooking,” she added disparagingly.

“Yes, that,” Diego considered, “but they also just like you.  Plus, you make sure the tavern is a safe place for everyone in a territory where it’s easy to cater to disrespectful people, who are certainly more than plentiful.”

A wry smile again lifted the corners of Victoria’s lips.  “Maybe they come just to see me slap someone who makes a bad remark… like I’m the territory’s best entertainment.”

Diego laughed.  “Then you and Zorro make quite a pair: you’re both fairly entertaining… in your own way.”

Victoria’s smile grew rueful.  “I prefer not to be considered a courtesan, though, as entertaining as that is.”

Diego’s answering smile was just a touch mischievous.  “Better a courtesan than a tavern wench.”

Feeling better now that Diego had explained things, Victoria became just as mischievous.  “Ah, señor, only if I can be your tavern wench.”

“Careful,” Diego chuckled in mock warning.  “Don’t let Zorro hear you say that.”

                                        ***

Lunch the next day turned out to be the same and just as busy as the day before… with one small addition.

Victoria carefully set the half empty jug of orange juice on the bar; she didn’t understand why the Alcalde suddenly wanted orange juice with the pollo con queso he was having for his lunch shared with Ricardo and Adelina.  Personally, the combination roiled her stomach, but she knew enough not to question the order.  She had just serviced him and returned the carafe to the bar when it happened.

“What?” Adelina cried in shock as she jumped up from their table near the door.

Her hands now free, Victoria turned at the noise to see Adelina stare in mounting terror at something.  Like everyone in the tavern, she whipped around to peer into the darkened corners of the tavern balcony.

Like a big black shadow, Zorro climbed over the balcony railing, launched himself smoothly into the air to grab the edge of the chandelier, and soared over the crowd to land gracefully beside de Soto.

The Alcalde gasped, “Zorro!  You aren’t…!  You can’t just…!”  He wildly spun back around to face the tavern’s open doors.  “Lancers!”

Zorro grinned at the now spluttering de Soto.  “Alcalde, you should be well aware that your lancers are exactly where you sent them this morning - on training maneuvers, miles from the pueblo.  You have me all to yourself.”

“Prepare to die, Zorro!” roared de Soto.  He moved to jump up, but Zorro’s gloved hand landed heavily on his shoulder, keeping him seated.

“Relax, Alcalde, I bring news,” Zorro said.  “The cattle rustlers that have hounded the pueblo for weeks are in the cuartel.”  He grinned his cocky grin again.  “Since no one is about, I took the liberty of showing them to your jail cells.”

De Soto spluttered once more.  “You can’t…!  We’re not…!   You…!”

“Speechless, I see.  As always, I’m glad to do your job for you.”  Zorro gazed at the dishes on the table.  “I wouldn’t want to disturb your lunch, after all.”

The Alcalde glared.  “The only thing you’ll disturb is the hangman’s noose!”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Alcalde,” Zorro calmly said, his gaze roving over the crowd.  “As much as I look forward to tweaking that prodigious ego of yours, I came to see Victoria.”

Victoria blinked her astonishment.  Zorro frequently came to see her, but it had always been in secret lest he be captured.  This was the first time he’d specifically sought her out in public… at least, when there wasn’t a crisis in the pueblo.

“Si,” she answered, fighting to sound like this was a normal occurrence.  Her voice sounded airy and squeaky instead.  She cleared her throat and more forcefully repeated, “Si, Zorro.”

He turned to regard her, his smile lighting up his blue eyes.  In one smooth gesture, he flicked his hand off the Alcalde’s shoulder and moved towards her, his grin one of complete enjoyment now.  “Ah, there you are.”

Not knowing what else to do, she smiled back at him and did one of the dumbest things she’d ever done by simply saying, “Si, here I am.”

He reached out his left hand to administer his customary kiss to her knuckles while simultaneously using his right to lift her serving tray off the green counter top bar.  “May I?”

“Of course,” she said, not comprehending what he could possibly want with her serving tray.

In the next second, Zorro pushed her aside with his left hand while snapping the serving tray up just in time to meet the Alcalde’s forward lunge.  De Soto’s sword embedded itself far enough into the wooden tray for Zorro to whip the tray aside and neatly disarm the Alcalde.  He shoved the tray, sword and all, straight into the Alcalde’s stomach, momentarily stunning the military man long enough to finish his kiss to Victoria’s hand.  “Excuse me for a moment.”

Victoria barely had time to nod before Zorro ripped the sword from her serving tray and dropped it to the floor with a clatter of metal on tile.  The Alcalde reached for the discarded sword, but Zorro took the opportunity to club him over the head with the flat of the tray.  He set the tray back on the counter as the Alcalde slumped to the floor.

Zorro grinned at Victoria.  “Alone at last.

Victoria eyed the 30 customers currently in the tavern, all of them gazing at them with voyeuristic avidity.  She wondered with slight hysteria what constituted as alone to Zorro.  “Um,” she hesitantly began in hushed tones, “why are you here?”

As if the 30 customers watching them were invisible, he took both her hands in his gloved ones, his previous amusement morphing into a besotted smile.  “My Victoria,” he said, his eyes sparkling in spite of obvious regret.  “You’ve been jailed, kidnapped, restrained against your will, used as bait more times than I can count, robbed, taken prisoner, attacked, and propositioned as recently as yesterday.”

“You heard about that?” she weakly asked.

His smile turned amused again.  “I hear everything.”

Her expression soured.  “In this one case, I wish you didn’t.”

He quirked his lips and said,  “It’s clear that my silence no longer keeps you safe, if it ever did.”

Uncomprehending, Victoria could only stare at him, her forehead creased in wrinkles.  “That’s true, but… silence about what?”  Was there a point to his speech that she was too slow to grasp?  Unable to help herself, her gaze darted to the many customers watching them as if she and Zorro were on a stage, the center of everyone’s attention.  She turned back and gave a small jump of surprise; Zorro’s expression now bespoke a tenderness that he had only ever expressed in private.  Had their private encounters suddenly become public?  “It’s nothing many others haven’t gone through as well,” she blurted, downplaying her role in the pueblo’s recent affairs.  “How is all this important?”

The tender smile on Zorro’s face softened even more.  “It means that no matter what I do, you will always be in danger.  Just being linked to me in any way sets you up as a target for every outlaw in the territory.”

This at least she understood.  “It’s a danger I gladly go through in the name of justice.  But you know that.  What are you saying?”

He gently squeezed her hands.  “What I’m saying is it doesn’t matter what I do, or what you do, or what the Alcalde does; the threat of injustice will always be there.  If we wait for every outlaw to disappear, I fear we’ll wait forever.”

In that second, a small explosion of dawning discernment shifted her brain, making her  really look at him.  The normal disarming grin adorned his unmasked face, but his blue eyes were soft and warm and loving, brimming with emotion he’d only ever aimed at her.

        A thrill of stunned surprise shot through her as Victoria hissed in a sharp breath.  “Zorro, are you..?”  She had waited for years for him to publicly express any sign of affection for her more than the odd kiss to her hand, though she understood that a toxic fear of competing with his unmasked self had always held him back.  But now she saw his eyes spark in a turn around that was completely unexpected.

But even now, she had to be fair to him.  “What about your mission?”

Zorro took on a thoughtful look that was no less tender.  “It’s true that my mission to protect the people goes on, but it would all be meaningless action if not for you.  I know I’ve already asked, and you’ve already answered, but I should ask again in front of witnesses this time.  Sweet Victoria, will you –”

“Yes!” she reflexively cried.

Zorro’s smile became one of more genuine good humor.  “How do you know what I was going to ask?”

“I just know,” she lamely said.

        Instead of showing frustration at her ridiculous reply, he simply smiled.  “Then you ask.”

        “All right.”  She swallowed loudly, but gamely looked right into his blue eyes ringed by the mask and said, “Zorro, will –”

Sergeant Mendoza charged into the tavern.  “Alcalde, you wanted me to report –”  He stopped as his gaze landed on his superior.  “Mi Alcalde, what are you doing on the floor?”  A second later, his eyes centered on the man in black.  “Zorro!  What…?”

Zorro issued a beleaguered sigh.  “Your timing hasn’t improved much, Sergeant.”

Mendoza’s gaze fell to the way Zorro was holding Victoria’s hands in his own, and an expression of dawning comprehension suddenly lit his face.  “Zorro, Señorita, don’t let me interrupt.”  And he backed in apologetic subservience to the door.

Zorro’s attention trained once again on Victoria.  “You were saying?”

Victoria couldn’t keep her grin inside this time, and said, “Zorro –”

An influx of lancers streamed suddenly through the tavern’s open doors, flowing around Mendoza.  The first soldier clearly saw the masked bandit, drawing his military issue sword from its sheath with a twang.  More soldiers quickly followed suit, and soon the tavern was full of sweating soldiers and singing blades.

Zorro sighed again and reluctantly drew his sword.  “It appears we have uninvited guests.”

Victoria also sighed in equal frustration, but there was nothing she could do to stop the charging lancers before the first one was abruptly there.

Zorro met the lancer by sidestepping his blade, thrusting it aside and pushing the lancer’s head straight into the bar.  The soldier had barely landed beside the Alcalde when the second lancer’s sword cracked against Zorro’s with a clang of metal on metal.  Zorro stepped away from the bar, leading the fight into more open ground away from Victoria.  He thrust his sword to the side, disarming the lancer, followed with a clip to the jaw.  Another lancer went down.

Left behind by the bar, Victoria noticed the Alcalde stirring from his position on the floor, and reached without thought to the first thing that came to hand.  Liquid arced through the air as the carafe half full of orange juice made a satisfying bonk when it struck his head.  Sticky orange juice slid through the Alcalde’s white hair as he slumped anew next to the fallen soldier.  Desperate to stop the fight that had interrupted what was sure to be the only public show of affection she would ever get, she called, “Mendoza, do something!”

The Sergeant caught another lancer that landed in his arms.  “I’m trying to, Señorita, but what can I do?”  He had to drop the soldier to the floor as he reached to catch another one.

Meanwhile, Zorro thrust another sword aside, then twirled the soldier around to direct his sword at his fellow lancers.  A twist, a lunge, a redoublement, and he smoothly shoved the soldier forward into three other lancers. All of them pitched back to land spread eagled between the gathered crowd, Mendoza, and the bar.

Zorro carved his signature Z on the lancers’ coats, then swiftly met another sword thrust in Victoria’s direction.  Her breath of relief mixed with a hard flick of his sword as he directed the weapon straight up.  The lancers’ sword went flying above the crowd to land crosswise on the swaying chandelier.  Victoria finished off the lancer by smashing a wine bottle directly onto his head.  He fell in an unmoving heap at her feet.

“Excellent shot!” Zorro beamed at her, then turned in time to meet another thrust from another sword belonging to another lancer as the fight wore on.

Two more soldiers landed beside their Alcalde in the next minute, thanks in part to Zorro’s penchant for knocking his opponents unconscious, and Victoria’s skill with her wine bottles.  Another blade impaled the tavern’s ceiling, a sword joined its fellow on the chandelier, and several littered the tile floor before the final lancer decided on the spur of the moment that his wisest move was to simply drop his sword and throw himself on top of the pile of soldiers beside the bar.  Zorro carved a Z in his tunic as Victoria shattered another wine bottle on the final soldiers’ head.

Zorro sheathed his sword and turned to Victoria, taking her hands in his.  “Marry me, and I guarantee your life will never be dull.”

“You’re right, of course,” Victoria instantly said.   “We don’t do ‘normal.’”

“We wouldn’t know how,” he agreed.  “What do you say?”

“I say yes!” she succinctly replied.

Zorro laughed with her answer.  “I’d better get you to the altar before someone else thinks you’re available.”

“Or before the Alcalde makes it illegal to marry you,” Victoria added.

Zorro burst out laughing.  “Don’t give him any ideas.”

That’s when what they had done truly hit Victoria.  “All these people just witnessed this, Zorro.  There’s no out for you this time.”
        Zorro grinned.  “Gracias a Dios.”  He kissed her quickly on the lips and declared, “I must go before the Alcalde wakes to make a bigger hash of this than I already have.”  He tenderly caressed her cheek with his glove.  “Till next time, mi prometida.”  Zorro disappeared through the curtains into the kitchen for the first time as a publicly engaged man, leaving Victoria standing beside the bar, orange juice oozing steadily across the tavern’s clean tile floor, a hole right in the middle of her serving tray resting on the counter top, and a heart pounding in stunned elation.

Victoria was suddenly aware of clapping and cheers as an impromptu celebration burst around her.  She hardly noticed.  She saw Adelina and Ricardo tending to the Alcalde, who was already regaining consciousness as Maria lifted the serving tray from the bar to examine it.  “I suppose we can get Taldo the cabinet maker to make us another tray that doesn’t have a hole in it.”

Victoria grabbed the tray, cradling it close.  “Not on your life!” she exclaimed to a startled Maria.  “This is proof I wasn’t dreaming this time!”  She stuck her finger in the hole and wriggled it around.  She still couldn’t wear the ring Zorro had given her when he’d first proposed; he’d said it was his mother’s, and it was a good bet his father was still alive to recognize it.  Or maybe he had a brother or sister who would.  In any case, to wear it meant putting Zorro’s identity in jeopardy, and she had too much to lose to risk that now.

But that holey old serving tray that had survived countless decades… “I wouldn’t part with this for anything!” Victoria exclaimed.

Maria looked at it dubiously.  “It’ll make a very awkward engagement ring.”

Victoria burst out laughing.  “Yes, it will.  I’ll keep it anyway.”

And that’s how the serving tray at Tavern Victoria reached a status so high, only Toronado came close to it.

THE END