Chapter Text
Rain had a habit of washing away things, especially at night.
The day, the heat, or, in the newly settled California, the drudgery of a territory in pain.
Everyone knew it, from the young children, to the oldest frailes, and even the natives that earned most of the ire from El Alcalde, that this was a place of suffering—of rot.
And yet, as the rain pattered against the road outside of the hacienda, the soldiers around you acted as if nothing was happening at all.
"More wine, my dears?" Sgt. Gonzalez was putting on quite the show tonight, as you lounged in the corner with your best friend, Lolita Pulido, who turns her nose up at his approach. "I will not, thank you." She says.
You sigh, reaching across to take the offered wine glass. As much as you were not a drinker, trying to anger the soldiers of the local government was not on your itinerary today.
"Gracias, Gonzalez." You say, as the military man before you lets out a hearty laugh, drinking even more of his wine.
"Any more and he will float out of here with the rain," Lolita whispers in your ear, as you both snicker.
"But of course, that is our dear Señor Gonzales's favorite." Called Lady Winnifred from her corner, where she sat with Lady River and Lady Bathsheba. All three had come from America, and while most said that they were Yankees, they seemed to settle in well.
"Other than boasting." Lady River chuckles. The landlord seems to nod in agreement. "Or, even in the nearby haciendas, the tales of Zorro," he says. Gonzalez snorts.
"He's a highwayman. A common brigand who scares women and robs a few places. Pah! He hasn't come here yet, so maybe he's scared of me." Gonzalez says, as Lady Bathsheba laughs.
"They call him the Curse of the Capistrano, don't you know? I don't think a man like that would be scared of you, Gonzalez." She adds, as you and Lolita giggle behind your hands.
"Hah! I dare him to show his face here, if he has the guts for it." Gonzalez sneers as the door slams open, the rain and wind whipping through.
"Such a racket, an'… oh, honey, come in, you both will catch a chill!" Lady Winnifred called as two young men hurried in through the rain.
One seemed quite lethargic, his gaze glancing around this way and that, the rain dripping off his hair. The other seemed to hover behind him, as if he were hoping for the listless man to protect him from some unseen threat.
"Ah! Ladies, you may laugh, but these fine gentlemen are my friends!" Gonzalez hurries to greet them, and you recognize the one hovering behind the other man as Don Hector Ernesto De La Vega, the first cousin to the De La Vegas, and brought into fabulous wealth because of it.
"How was your ride, Don Diego?" Lady River calls, as you bite back a groan. Don Diego De La Vega was a De La Vega, but you'd heard from the other ladies in the area that both were quite… lifeless.
"I do not normally ride up and down these hills if I do not need to." Don Diego mutters, his voice reedy, weak. It was as if the effort to talk after riding here was tiring him. "But Hector wanted to see if the rumors were true, that Señor Zorro was nearby."
"Uh… si. We heard that Gonzalez over here wanted to cross swords with him, and you said you'd tell us if you got him. Right…?" Don Hector asked, his gaze flitting to Gonzalez.
You wince at Don Hector's phrasing. Sure, Gonzalez wanted to cross swords, but coming from two of the most effete men of Los Angeles? It was unheard of.
How did they know about Zorro, anyway?
"I really wonder what they're doing here." You mutter to Lolita, who shakes her head. "I just heard they returned from Spain, though they're looking for wives. Get this, I overheard them talking to Papa about asking us to marry them." She says, as you snort.
It wasn't an unkind gesture, and sure, Don Diego and Don Hector were wealthy, and had they been more… lively, you'd be inclined to agree. But them?
They looked like they'd faint if they asked you.
"I would like to see them try." You manage instead, as Lolita flagged the landlord down for more wine. "And at least we'll have a show out of it." She mused.
The conversation between Don Diego, Don Hector, and Gonzalez seemed to be getting heated, as Don Diego said something that made the big man growl out, "Are you insulting me, Señor ? Am I not your friend? I will cross swords with you if you doubt me like that, Don Diego."
Both men raised their hands in surrender as Don Hector let out a sheepish laugh. "I think what my cousin wanted to say is, when you do capture Señor Zorro, don't spare out on the details, right? We all want to know how it goes down, right, ladies?"
"Oh, go easy on them, Gonzalez, they've been on enough of a ride already." Lady Winnifred agrees, as Lady Bathsheba nods. "Are you two going to stay with us tonight?"
"Oh no, but thank you, Lady Bathsheba, we must retire for the night." Don Diego says, as Don Hector stifles a yawn. "All of this riding around makes us… quite tired, you must understand."
"Come see us soon, then?" You call, feeling a brief stir of pity for them. Perhaps they had some condition that made them so tired?
Don Hector raises an eyebrow at your call, though for once, you can see a brief flicker of a smile on his face.
"Maybe we will, Señorita." He whispers as both of them depart into the night.
Perhaps there's more life to them than I thought?
As the wind whipped louder around you all, howling against the roof, Lolita leaned against your shoulder as you watched more of the garrison soldiers come and go, with Gonzalez getting drunker by the moment.
"Do you think Papa will entertain them more?" Lolita asks, as you glance towards her. "Maybe? I don't think it'd hurt to at least entertain Don Hector." You muse, as Lolita chuckles. "And we'll see if they follow through."
The door bangs open then, a figure darting in with the rain sliding off of them in rivulets. "Who…?" Gonzalez mutters, as you and Lolita gasp.
For the man standing before you was the very man who rode through California, Zorro himself.
"Is that…?" Lolita gasps as Gonzalez frowns. "And-" The realization hits him, his eyes bulging. "Zorro?"
"You catch on quick! Señor Zorro, at your service." The highwayman sweeps into a courtly bow, sombrero off his head.
The reports, the gossip, all of it was true! He was cloaked in all black, apart from the purple cloak wrapped around his shoulders like you'd seen many military men wear, though most alarmingly of all, his entire face was obscured, apart from a pair of dark eyes that glittered under the cloth.
"Hah! You walked right to me, eh? You here to surrender?" Gonzalez snorts as he gets up, swaying.
"I wouldn't-" Lolita calls, as Gonzalez whirls on you both, glaring. "You're telling me what to do, Lolita?"
"Señor!" The highwayman bellowed, as he—wait, what was he doing? He strode forward, planting himself between Gonzalez and you both, one arm outstretched in front of you. "Your fight is with me, and you'd dare insult the ladies here? I am on business, and I am here to punish you." He declared.
"Isn't he an outlaw?" Someone else whispered as Lady Winnifred leaned over. "He is a caballero, through and through—you think he'd let Gonzalez insult Lolita and Miss Cari slide?"
…Is that why you felt safer with the known outlaw than the soldier?
"Punish me?" Gonzalez snorted, as you squirm in your seat. You had a feeling why Señor Zorro was here; you'd heard Gonzalez bragging about beating a Native four days ago, and word had gotten around California that the highwayman had ways of knowing these things.
"Indeed! Not only do you brutally beat innocent Natives, but you also insult the ladies who had the graciousness to put up with you?" Señor Zorro sneers as Gonzalez scoffs. "He was in my way, just like you are, highwayman!"
The soldier lashed out, slamming his saber into Señor Zorro's, as you all scamper backwards, pressing yourselves into the corner. "Apologies, Señoras, but I am afraid that I must conduct this business with you all present," Zorro called over his shoulder, as his eyes glittered with malice towards Gonzalez.
"Come here, dears." Lady River motions to you both, as you and Lolita oblige, pressing next to her and Lady Winnifred, while Lady Bathsheba tsks under her breath. "I swear, men."
"Wait until Papa hears about this!" Lolita whispers to you, as you both watch Señor Zorro and Gonzalez go at it, the highwayman not moving an inch.
"Which part, the fact that Señor Zorro is here, or that we're watching this?" You ask, as Zorro snickers at Gonzalez's attempts to move him. "You won't be able to move me, Señor , not like that." He said, as you all watch them go back and forth with ease.
However, it would not last long. Bangs and shouts sounded from nearby, as Gonzalez's lips curled into a smirk. "Well, now you're in for it, Señor Zorro, they're here!" He crowed.
The highwayman's smile did not waver as he simply darted backwards. "As much as I enjoy playing with you, it's time for the punishment." He said, sword darting out as quick as a snake.
A 'Z' was torn into Gonzalez's jacket, as Zorro's hand deftly threw his sword into the other palm, slamming the hilt into his face. "That for the man that mistreats the Natives and Señoritas!" He snaps as Gonzalez yelps at being struck.
And if you weren't huddled against the wall with Lolita and the ladies, you'd certainly applaud Zorro.
But with another mocking bow, the highwayman leaps out of the door as the soldiers try charging in, his cloak whipping past their faces, making them cry out in frustration—and Zorro was gone.
"Did… that just happen?" Lolita whispered as you nodded slowly. And for once, excitement stirs in your chest.
Perhaps life here would not be as forsaken as you'd mourned it to be?
Elsewhere near the gathered haciendas, travelers were a rarity these days. Most were put off by the stories of corruption or the ever-present fact that the peons of the area were either robbed or deprived of their land.
If they weren't being jailed for crimes they did not commit, that is.
And yet, an unfamiliar carriage arrived despite the driving rain, the horses flicking away the deluge with their ears.
"Are you here to stay… sirs?" A guard asked, holding his lance close to his chest. Their carriage was subtle, though most of it was decorated in baubles and gold—these gentlemen had the money to burn.
At once, a shorter man, face and build firmly stout, poked his head out of the carriage. "Hm? Oh yes, we are here for the long haul." He says, as the guard's expression tightens. More rabble?
"Did you see her yet, though, David?" A voice calls from in back of the carriage, as the man called David shakes his head. "Not yet, Franklin—but we will."
…Just who were they looking for?