Zorro’s Justice

                                          by Linda Bindner

Diego de la Vega wrapped Esperanza’s reins around the hitching rail outside the tavern and gave them a final tug.  Satisfied that his horse wasn’t going to suddenly wander out of town, he followed Felipe and his father up the one step from the dusty plaza to the porch, blinking at the sudden darkness as they entered the busy establishment.

The bright noon sunlight continued to warm his overheated back while he forced his eyes to adjust as quickly as possible to the abrupt change in lighting.  Quickly getting used to darker buildings and caves might someday mean Zorro’s life, and as he was Zorro, remarkably fast sensory adjustment was almost second nature to him by now.  Thus he was able to make out the form of Sergeant Mendoza a full 3 seconds before his father did.

“Sergeant?”  Diego crossed to the uniformed man slouching at the table nearest the tavern’s green countertop bar.  “You look like someone ate your pet dog.  Is something wrong?”  He sat on an empty bench across from Mendoza before pouring himself a glass of tepid water from the pitcher on the table.

“It’s nothing, Don Diego,” Mendoza said as he watched his friend.  “I was just talking to the Alcalde.”

Diego had to stop himself from saying ‘I’m sorry’ and instead more politely inquired, “And what did our esteemed Alcalde say?”

“Yes,” Don Alejandro interjected as he sat next to the Sergeant.  “He must have said something bad.  I haven’t seen you look this dejected since…”  He paused to gaze thoughtfully at Mendoza.  “Ever.”  He gestured at the spoon resting not in the man’s stew, but at his temple.  “You’re not even eating.”

As if realizing what it meant for him to be thinking rather than eating, Mendoza smiled wanly at Alejandro and returned his wooden spoon to the table beside his bowl of stew.  “We were just talking about Zorro,” he said, as if that was enough to explain his pensive mood.

“Oh, him,” Diego dismissively said and took a sip of water to avoid meeting the Sergeant’s eyes.

Mendoza’s hand gravitated back to his temple.  “The Alcalde says Zorro is a menace and an outlaw and needs to be defeated and hung.”

“He would say that.”  Diego’s tone was dismissive again even as he and Felipe shared a secret knowing smile.

“What do you think, Sergeant?” Alejandro asked as he also poured himself a glass of water and took a drink.

Mendoza gave a half-hearted shrug.  “There’s something I don’t understand.”

“What’s that?”

“If Zorro’s an outlaw, like the Alcalde says, then why hasn’t he ever killed anybody?”  Alejandro and Felipe gaped at Mendoza as if this thought had never occurred to either of them.  “Isn’t that what outlaws do?” the Sergeant asked.

“In the same vein,” Alejandro thoughtfully added, “why hasn’t he ever stolen something valuable from anybody?”

The sergeant gave another shrug.  “All he ever does is punch the Alcalde and cut those pretty Zs in our uniforms.”

Felipe signed a punch to his jaw, then raised his hands in a questioning gesture.

Alejandro chuckled.  “Felipe’s right; maybe that’s why the Alcalde calls him an outlaw.”  Felipe waved at Alejandro and nodded his agreement.

Frowning abruptly, Diego questioned, “But how do we know Zorro hasn’t stolen something valuable?”  His father, Felipe and Sergeant Mendoza all turned their astonished, gaping expressions on him.  Diego gave a nonchalant shrug.  “After all, he did steal the money from the bank a few years ago.”

“That wasn’t him,” Alejandro immediately dismissed, then conceded, “Well, all right, it was him, but… it wasn’t.”

Felipe also gave his head an emphatic shake.

“Some say he was mesmerized,” Mendoza said.

“Or changed into something dark and… not him,” Alejandro added.

“Si, I heard Señorita Victoria say something like that,” Mendoza helpfully claimed.  “But, if it’s true… maybe he really is an outlaw?”

“But didn’t he give all the money back to the bank?” Alejandro wanted to know.  At the Sergeant’s nod, he said, “That’s hardly the behavior of an outlaw.”

A quiet moment went by as they all thought about this, then Felipe jerked upright to rub his fingers back and forth, as if fondling a coin, then patted his head.

“Si,” Mendoza agreed again.  “An outlaw does have a price on his head, and so does Zorro, so I guess the 6000 peso bounty really does make him an outlaw.”
        Alejandro shook his head.  “I don’t believe it.  How does a 6000 peso reward automatically make him equal to… say…”

“Someone who attacks the innocent for personal gain?” Diego interjected.

His father shot him an approving look.  “Or a thief who robs the Monterey coach?”

“Or the military payroll?” Mendoza added.

Felipe waved a sign into the air, and before Diego could explain, his father interpreted, “Or who robs the tavern?”

“So…” Mendoza slowly intoned, as if it was hard to make his brain work during this hottest part of the day.  “The Alcalde’s wrong.”  He looked at them quizzically.  “How can the Alcalde be wrong?”

        “I imagine he’s used to it by now,” Diego flippantly said, and they all laughed.

        “MENDOZA!”

        “Uh-oh,” Alejandro said with eyebrows raised in sudden concern at De Soto’s yell.

        Diego said under his breath, “It’s almost as if he can hear all the way across the plaza,”

        “Eeeeeew! Coming, Alcalde!”  Sergeant Mendoza grabbed his hat from the bench beside him and ran for the door, knocking his uneaten bowl of stew askew in his haste.

        Felipe caught the stew bowl before it could tip over and make a mess.  His eyes lighting up, he pulled Mendoza’s spoon over and instantly began devouring the Sergeant’s lunch.

        “There’s nothing like free food,” Diego balefully said, grinning in amusement at Felipe’s seemingly unending appetite.

        The teenaged Felipe grinned back, then shoveled another bite of stew into his mouth.

        “But now that Sergeant Mendoza’s brought up the subject of Zorro…” Don Alejandro said, his voice trailing off to be swallowed by the noise of the tavern lunch time crowd.

        Taken aback, Diego stared at his father.  “Is there something more?”

        “I’ve always wondered… what…” stuttered Alejandro.

“Yes?”

Alejandro drew a deep breath, as if girding up his courage, sounding like the words were being dragged from him.  “I’ve always wondered… how does Zorro do it?”

“Do what?”

“Believe in justice.”

Silence blanketed all three of them, punctuated by laughter from the other patrons in the tavern.

“That doesn’t clear things up,” Diego said at last, confused.  “What do you mean, how does he believe in justice?  Zorro is all about justice.”

“But that’s just it,” Alejandro argued.  “How can the man fight so consistently for something he rarely sees?”

A disbelieving laugh burst from Diego.  “He sees it all the time.”

Alejandro looked questioningly at his companions.  “Does he?”

“Of course he does!” declared Diego.

Alejandro held up his hand.  “Bear with me, son.  Here’s a scenario: Zorro catches three bandits.  He brings them to the cuartel, hands them over to the Sergeant, and rides away.  The Sergeant then hands them over to the Alcalde, who puts the three bandits in jail… but at least half the time, those same bandits end up escaping, or even sometimes are set free on technicalities… or are just set free.”  He was clearly referring to the time that Antonio Villero was mysteriously freed from the jail and ended up killing his wife rather than his intended target, Alejandro himself.

“Yes but…” Diego began, hoping to contradict his father.

“You have to admit you’ve seen the same thing yourself,” Alejandro interrupted.

“Yes but…”

“And it happens over and over again.”

“But…”

“How does Zorro deal with the knowledge that he might be catching bandits and outlaws only to have to capture them again a month later when they inevitably escape justice?”

Diego’s mind seemed to explode at this thought.  As long as he’d been Zorro, not once had he questioned Zorro’s limitless faith in justice for everyone, and that everyone except Ignacio de Soto shared it.  “Well…”  Unable to put voice to the chaos that Alejandro’s words had caused, Diego at last simply shrugged.  “He just does.”

“But where’s the justice in that?” Alejandro asked with raised hands.  “There’s often no trial for people who are captured, whether they’re outlaws or not.  Even if there’s a trial, the outcome sometimes depends on who can hire a lawyer and who can’t, what mood the judge is in at the time, or even if there is a judge!  We’ve seen the Alcalde act as judge and jury often enough.  I ask again, where’s the justice in that?”  He shook his head in disgust.  “I must be getting cynical in my old age; sometimes I think the Spanish justice system is not about justice, but who can hire the most expensive lawyer with the best argument.”

Diego looked amazed.  “Justice has to do with more than just who can hire the most expensive lawyer and who’s the judge of the day!  Justice moves slowly so that these things can’t happen.”

“That’s small comfort to the bandit who is set to hang at dawn without a trial,” Alejandro stated.  “Take Zorro for instance.”  His index finger rose as if an invisible spot on the ceiling could prove his point, but Felipe waved a hand between the two men to abruptly halt the conversation.

The young man began gesturing so wildly that the empty lunch bowl rattled ominously several times, almost tipping over twice.  But all his hand waving didn’t bring any clarity to his words.

“I’m afraid I didn’t catch that, Felipe,” Alejandro declared.  “Diego?”

But Diego shook his head.  “Once again, Felipe.”

Felipe gamely repeated himself.

Alejandro’s gaze met Diego’s, but neither showed a spark of understanding.

“Once more, slowly,” Diego said, eyes trained on the teen.

Felipe’s hand waving had a definite bite of aggravation to it this time.  In spite of signing so slowly, his audience of two still didn’t understand.  He gushed a frustrated breath when even Diego’s eyes showed incomprehension.

Alejandro swivelled on his seat to find the tavern owner right behind him, obviously eavesdropping.  “Victoria, you’re already here.  Good.”

Victoria’s face reddened.  “I couldn’t help listening - we don’t usually get such interesting conversations about Zorro.”

Alejandro smiled.  “It makes sense you’re interested in Zorro.  I’d eavesdrop too if I were you.  But for now, por favor, can you supply us with pen and ink and paper?  Felipe has too many ideas for us poor caballeros to understand.”

Smiling, Victoria winked once at Felipe in solidarity, then abandoned her eavesdropping to deliver the required objects.  As she handed them to Felipe, she said, “This is the first time I’ve seen Don Diego not understand something Felipe says.”

Diego rolled his eyes at her comment.  “Believe me, this happens so often, Felipe must be used to it by now.”

Felipe grinned a wicked grin as he started to write so fast that droplets of ink spattered the paper like smears of blood.  Ten minutes passed while Felipe wrote and Victoria slipped away to wait on an impatient customer.  By the time she returned, Felipe had proofread what he’d scribbled on the paper and was scratching his nose with the quill, smearing ink all over his cheek.  Satisfied, he handed the paper to Alejandro.

“Madre de Dios, Felipe, you’ve written a book,” Alejandro exclaimed as he took the offering.  He spread the paper out on the table and read aloud.

Zorro isn’t about justice… or, he is, but not JUST about the kind of justice that Don Alejandro is talking about.  That’s the big kind of justice, the kind with courts and judges and lawyers.  Zorro is about that… but also about small justice too… the kind of justice that no one ever sees, that has nothing to do with courts and lawyers and money and things.  This justice is so fast, it’s almost invisible.  No one sees it or even knows about it except for Zorro and the poor farmer he helps to put out a fire near the barn.  Maybe someone set it in the first place, and he catches the bandits who do it - and then it’s the big kind of justice when he hands them over to the Sergeant or Alcalde - but maybe there are no bandits to trail but just the sun on a really hot and dry day that caused it.  Or maybe Zorro helps keep some stage from being robbed.  Or some stage driver from being killed.  Now THAT is a dangerous job!  You wouldn’t get me driving a stage, no way!  I don’t want a knife in the back!  But Zorro jumps right into it.  He thinks about the passengers, not himself.  Why does the Alcalde want to stop someone who does that?  But that’s the little kind of justice that we all have to do, not just Zorro.  Or we have to be like Zorro, not so worried about getting a reward but helping with that fire, or that stage or that stage driver.  It’s the most important thing about Zorro - that he CAN steal all our money, but then that he gives all that money back at the first chance he gets.  He’s helped more people in Los Angeles than admit it.  And he doesn’t care if they admit it,.  He does it because someone needs to.  If he doesn’t do it, then it gets undone because we’re all too lazy to do it for him.  We all need to be more like Zorro, look out for others not because they pay us to or there’s a reward, but because we just should.  Then maybe Zorro wouldn’t have to work so hard when it’s hot out or when it’s cold out or when it’s raining and all the time in between.  Maybe then he can retire with a clear conscience, knowing that we’re all Zorros.  Wouldn’t that be nice?  A world… a California… a Los Angeles full of Zorros.  Wouldn’t that REALLY make the Alcalde mad!

The last line made everyone laugh.

Diego’s mind was spinning even as he laughed.  It’s so interesting to know what Felipe truly thinks of Zorro.  It amazed him that he’d never thought to ask him about this before now.

But Alejandro clearly had pinpointed at least one of the things that Felipe had said.  “Do you truly think we’re all lazy?”

Felipe grimaced, then grabbed the paper, once more writing feverishly.  By lazy I mean that we… that most of us do very little about injustice or don’t do anything at all because it’s easier to just let it happen than to get involved in something that might get us hurt.  Even if it means helping someone.

A guilty look crossed Alejandro’s eyes.  “You mean that most of us have gotten used to just sitting back and letting Zorro take care of the unpleasant things?”  At Felipe’s reluctant nod, his expression of guilt deepened.

But before he could say anything, Diego argued, “That’s not quite fair, Felipe.  Not everyone can fight injustice.  What about the person who can’t because of… I don’t know… a business needs that person in particular so he or she can help many people, not just one.  Or if that person gets arrested, it might hurt a loved one who needs him.  Nobody can do much from behind bars.”

But Felipe pointed at him, indicated the paper on the table, shook his hands as if he was holding onto bars, and then shook his head.

Diego smiled and took a fast drink to hide the rising color in his warming cheeks.  “True, I do run the newspaper, I do believe in justice, and the paper does lean more towards justice for all.  But that’s not the same thing.”

Felipe’s face darkened in disagreement.  He made a sign that no one but Diego understood.

“I do not show bravery,” Diego said in disagreement.  “I’m not likely to be held accountable for reporting some piece of news that happens to disagree with what the Alcalde says.  That’s not bravery, it’s just reporting the facts.”

But Felipe quickly wrote Sometimes reporting facts that make the Alcalde look foolish is like dealing with justice… you can still go to jail on the whim of the Alcalde.

Diego gave a wan smile.  “I can’t argue with that.  I guess I have spent my fair share of time in jail because of printing something the Alcalde didn’t like.  But I never thought of that as fighting for justice, simply as personal payment for reporting an unpopular viewpoint.”

Don Alejandro gave a perplexed expression that made Diego’s heart flutter in sudden fear.  “You seem to have given this matter as much thought as I have, son.”

Diego inwardly flinched, but gamely replied, “Of course I have.  Zorro has always interested me, for Victoria’s sake if nothing else.”   His eyes rested on her for a second.  “After all, she’s certainly involved in Zorro’s fight for justice if anybody is, and I would be a poor friend   not to care about what happens to her because of it.”

The others were instantly distracted by his mention of Victoria, and Diego gave a quiet sigh of relief.  His father’s intense scrutiny was now on Victoria rather than on him.  “If anybody has a right to an opinion about Zorro, you do,” Alejandro lightly commented to Victoria.  “What do you think?”

Victoria tilted her head.  “I didn’t hear your entire conversation, only what Felipe said, but…”  Then she grinned.  “I think it’s amazing I found someone who cares about justice as much as I do.  And Zorro can do so much more about it than I can.”  Her eyes shining, she added, “I’d do more to help him if I could.”

Diego smiled benignly and took a drink to cover a second surge of fear.  “Then you would get arrested even more often.  I doubt Zorro would appreciate that.”

“That’s true, Don Diego,” Victoria said, laughing.  “Perhaps you and I should go to jail together and just save the Alcalde a lot of time.”

Inwardly, Diego cringed at the very thought, but outwardly he laughed along with the others.  “Let’s not give the Alcalde any ideas.”

“Zorro would just have to rescue both of us!” Victoria insisted.

“I’d rather you didn’t need rescuing at all.”

Felipe pointed at Diego and raised his brows as he pantomimed being behind bars.

“Me?” Diego questioned.  “Felipe, you know very well that I get the best sleep while in the Alcalde’s jail.  If Zorro needs to rescue anyone, it should be Victoria.”

Felipe pointed at Diego again and closed his eyes, pretending to snore.

Diego laughed.  “Yes!  He can just let me sleep.”

Alejandro suggested, “I can imagine the newspaper’s next story about justice… or injustice.”  Then he leaned towards Diego and loudly whispered, “Just be sure to humiliate the Alcalde, son.”

Diego laughed.  “You know I will if I can.”

Alejandro added, “It’s like you’re the unofficial Hero of the Pueblo.”

Victoria laughed.  “It’s like you’re Zorro.”

Felipe grimaced, then wrote Yes but… Toronado is the REAL hero!

        THE END