Young Zorro (12 page)

A
S THEY ROUNDED THE
point above San Pedro, they saw the slave ship's boats rowing out to rejoin the dark ship. The boats were filled with men.

“Telescope?” Scar asked.

Stackpole handed it over, and Scar rose beside the mast. He took his time and focused, watched, then said, “Southern vaqueros, gauchos from the grasslands, by their hats and gear. We won't see them in the pueblo again.”

“Gracias a Dios,”
Diego said. “God be thanked.”

“Once they're gone, we can't prove who gave them their orders,” Don Alejandro said.

“But
Papá
, we have the brands; we have the confessions of the slavers on the island!”

Don Alejandro watched the boats as they neared the slave ship. “We can't connect the slavers or these men directly to Moncada. Now Moncada will find it easy to say that the brands were changed by the men who are leaving. That the hides on the island were stolen. It will be easy to place the blame on those who are gone.”

“But how can Don Moncada deny that they were riding Moncada horses?”

“He will say they were stolen horses.” Don Alejandro sighed.

“But you can't believe that he is innocent!”

“Don Moncada is our villain, boys, but he has covered his tracks shrewdly. We will confront him with what we have, but remember what I told you about justice: a moving star, boys. Elusive, sometimes unreachable.”

 

This was a more serious kind of riding.

They had saddled the horses left in San Pedro and were covering the road to the pueblo. They would send back horses for the freed prisoners, carts for the weak. But the real purpose of this ride was more sinister.

The don rode ahead of the column, Scar just behind him. His old soldiers rode in twos behind, then the vaqueros. The boys trailed them. This was a troop of
soldiers, riding grimly on a mission, unspeaking and angry.

They thundered into the pueblo, slowing their horses to a walk. As Don Alejandro swung down from his mount, Padre Mendoza walked across the plaza, his old, tanned face worried. Before they left for the island, the don had told him there was to be a battle. He was searching Don Alejandro's face for some hint of the outcome.

Diego watched his father lean against his mount. His eyes were closed. He looked exhausted. In that moment the boy realized how much energy the don had given to protect the pueblo. He had been at it for years. Making Pueblo de los Angeles a fit place to live had taken so long, with so many battles. When would it end? Who would take over the task when the don grew older?

“Alejandro?” the padre asked.

The don nodded and opened his eyes. “We have them all. They are all safe. They wait for some horses and carts in San Pedro. We should tell their families.”

The padre shared the don's weariness. So much struggle. But the lost had been found. His lined face split into a smile of gladness. “Yes, their families. And I will prepare a mass of thanksgiving for their return.”

“And a fiesta, Padre. My men deserve a bit of fun for the night's work. But first I must deal with Miguel Moncada.”

“You're certain he's behind all this?”

“
Sí
. No other.”

“You have proof?”

“Every string in this web loops toward Moncada.”

“Proof?”

The don shook his head. “No. We know he changed the brands of mission cattle, de la Vega cattle, probably the cattle of other ranchos. We found bales of hides and a hundred bags of tallow on the island. But no, we have not seen the don with his hand on a branding iron. All we have for his reasons are a few unguarded words by Rafael Moncada. It's possible that Señor Moncada's ambition is so overblown that he wants his own colony, somewhere across the sea. This is why our men were stolen. But no one has seen him take a man prisoner. No one but the foreign cowboys can connect him to the kidnappings. Now they are gone. We saw them board the slave ship as we sailed down the channel.”

Bernardo touched Don Alejandro on the shoulder. He beckoned to the men to follow him.

The events of the night, the evil of the slavers, and the violence of the assault had sickened Bernardo. He
had wanted nothing more than to be alone for a time. He had walked off the plaza and past the lines of pueblo houses, out toward the plain. He had found a strange thing there.

He stood with Diego and the men before a prickly pear cactus behind Porcana's pottery. Mounted on a prickly pear's oval branches were three hats, each stuck to the cactus with a knife.

“Gaucho hats,” Scar said.

“What does this mean?” the padre asked.

Diego stepped up and fingered one of the hat brims. “These are the hats of the men who killed Señor Porcana. They are dead. You will never find them.”

“Who has done this thing?”

“El Chollo,” Diego replied.

They gazed at the hats. “Leave them there until they rot,” Don Alejandro said. “Now for Moncada.” He turned and strode toward the plaza.

The padre shook his head and called after him, “Alejandro, I fear that he has outmaneuvered you this time.”

Don Alejandro turned. Diego and Bernardo couldn't believe what the padre was saying. Could Moncada escape justice? Was the star of justice this elusive?

“Yes,” the padre went on. “He arrived at the pueblo
this afternoon. He says he has discovered that foreign villains have been changing brands, capturing men, and deceiving all of us.”

Don Alejandro kicked a stone that rattled against a wall. It was a rare show of temper.

“What is his proof?” the don said after a time.

“A dead vaquero over a saddle. He says the man confessed everything before he died. He accused a cowboy named Diablura and a slaver captain named Pew. Moncada insists that these are the guilty men.”

“Do you believe him?” Don Alejandro asked.

“I examined the dead vaquero. I can't prove it, but I believe he was strangled before he was shot. He was the scapegoat. They needed someone.”

The don looked out over the plain. “Well, old friend, we have played chess enough to recognize that some games must be stalemates.”

“We can't let him get away with this!” Diego blurted. Bernardo moved up close beside him.

Don Alejandro smiled without humor. “He has saved his skin. For now. But we know that he is a danger to this pueblo. To all of us.” A remarkable change came over the don. “Come. Let us congratulate Don Miguel Moncada for solving this mystery.”

Scar spat.

 

“Wine! Wine for our brave captain!” Moncada called. He was seated at a table beneath the inn's trellis. “I am told you have beaten the slavers and rescued all of our pueblo's men!”

“All but one. Señor Porcana. A brave little man who fought and showed us the way.”

“You are the soul of courage. The blood of El Cid, that great warrior hero, runs in your Spanish blood, Don Alejandro. We have so much to thank you for.”

The boys couldn't believe their ears. The don bowed deeply in appreciation of these compliments, sat, and accepted the glass of wine. How could he bear to sit with this vile man?

“The credit goes to my vaqueros and to my old soldiers, Don Miguel. I am certain you will want to reward them in some splendid way for returning the pueblo to rights.”

With only a heartbeat of pause, Moncada cried, “Of course! I will shower them with gold and horses! And you,
Capitán
?”

“My reward is your good opinion of me, Don Miguel. I am content.”

“But name anything! What can I do for you?”

“There is one small thing, señor. Your brand, the iron
poppy. So beautiful, yet we have seen it is easy to change. Perhaps a simpler, less changeable brand?”

“I will have the blacksmith at work in the morning on a new brand for the Moncada cattle and horses!”

“Admirable speed, but anytime soon would be wise. And practical. If our vaqueros saw more changed brands, tempers might grow thin in the pueblo. A simple brand shouldn't set us apart. Are we not all settlers in this new land together?”

“All of us together, here on the edge of the Spanish world!” Moncada lifted his glass.

“Spanish? Yes, it is our heritage. But, my dear don, we are really
Californios
. This is a new land. Rougher, stronger. The delicate judgments of the Spanish courts are far away. Here, the distinctions between right and wrong aren't made in the courts, but in the saddle. Scheming men would do well to consider our rough justice.”

A moment of doubt flickered across Moncada's face. To hide it, he set his face in a mask of righteous anger. “I have such a man on a packhorse outside. He was part of the band of villains who deceived all of us.”

“Was he, then?
Está bien
. It's good that evil men have been exposed,” Don Alejandro said. He lifted his glass to Moncada and looked him in the eye for so long that
Moncada's gaze faltered, his eyes shifted away. Don Alejandro touched the rim of Moncada's glass, forcing his eyes back. “I think we understand each other, Don Miguel.
Salud
.”

They drank the pueblo's wine. Moncada looked away again. Bernardo touched Diego's back. Diego nodded. They had just heard Don Alejandro make a dangerous challenge, voiced in the elaborate politeness of hidalgo courtesy.

 

“Come, my boys. We have someone to thank.”

“Who,
Papá
?”

“Señora Porcana, for the courage of her husband. Then we have a long ride to the de la Vega hacienda. Estafina will get there before we do. She'll have a good dinner waiting.”

They walked along the streets of their pueblo.

“
Papá
…,” Diego began, then faltered. He was so frustrated he couldn't speak. Right and wrong were slipping away! Evil was going unpunished! The weak of the pueblo had been the prey of the powerful. Was there no way to make it right?

Bernardo was just as upset in his own way. He withdrew even more into himself.

“I'll try to say this plainly,” Don Alejandro said,
measuring his words. “A part of me—the young blade who is still inside every old soldier—wants to walk back to the inn and skewer Moncada on my sword. I despise the man and his schemes. I despise him for a bigot and a cheat. He deserves the point of my sword.”

They walked on for a time as he gathered his thoughts. “But the pueblo and my family deserve more than that. If I took it on myself to judge and execute Miguel Moncada, I would rob all of us of what is most precious: justice. We need justice by law. It must be justice not of men's passions, but of their minds, justice that is logical and civilized.”

He bent to pluck one of the golden poppies from a patch of shaded grass. “So the old soldier in me quiets that young blade. The old soldier tells him that we have fought and worked these many years for a reason.” He held the poppy up. “The California poppy, so bright and hopeful. This is a new land, boys. This is what we've fought for. We need courts and judges and juries—real law. Right now we have corrupt soldiers and at least one thieving hidalgo. But the land grows strong, and real justice will come. We can't shame California by going back to the old rule of might and revenge, not even if we must let someone like Moncada escape punishment.”

The don could see that the boys were close to frustrated tears. He put his arms around their shoulders. “Let it go, my sons. Let it go. Satisfy yourselves with this one thing: you did your very best. You were brave and intelligent and you sought justice. Today that is enough. Tomorrow you will be men, and you can seek further justice. Now, this day, I am proud of you both.”

T
HE
T
WO
B
ROTHERS
HAD ARRIVED
. It was docked by the
Santa Inés
, a packet schooner headed for Panama.

Don Alejandro had decided to ship his hides and tallow from the docks in the daylight. He would openly defy the laws against trading through foreign vessels. If Mexico City wanted to enforce the laws, let them send regular ships. He would not allow the pueblo to suffer for Spanish neglect.

So Stackpole was stumping about, overseeing the loading of hide stacks and tallow bags. He and Captain Carter barked happily back and forth in their odd Boston English.

The boys were so fascinated by the process of hoisting and stowing that they were trying to help, mostly
getting in the way.

Captain Carter was not a patient soul. He loosed a stream of English at Stackpole that sounded blasphemous and was certainly directed at the boys.

Stackpole translated, probably with less than absolute accuracy. “The captain suggests that you have inspected the hold of his vessel, his crew's abilities, and most of the deck equipment. He asks if you would care to inspect the upper rigging, as a change.”

It sounded like a wonderful idea. A few minutes later, the boys were perched near the top of the mainmast with a thrilling view. Naturally they had brought a few oranges—some to eat and some to drop on the heads of crew members foolish enough to stand in one place for any length of time. So far the crew had moved about steadily, but they had hopes that one tired-looking sailor would soon take a rest.

Bernardo pointed down the beach. Montez and one of the padre's carpenters were rebuilding Trinidad's shack into something more substantial and weatherproof. Regina and Trinidad were wrestling a chest of drawers through the front door. Just starting down the beach toward them, Estafina was almost hidden from above by a hide-covered chair carried on her head.

“The Trinidad Somoza hacienda,” Diego said.

Bernardo made the sign for tea.

“My, yes. It's an elegant mansion. I doubt if we're fancy enough to be invited for tea. With molasses.”

Regina and Trinidad came out and sat on the new front porch, waiting for Estafina and the chair.

“Look at them, chatting like magpies.”

Bernardo frowned, then looked at Diego with a question in his brows.

“I'm afraid so,” Diego replied. “Apparently we have a sister.”

Diego wondered how Esmeralda and Trinidad would react to each other. They seemed so different, but he had been wrong about Trinidad and Regina, hadn't he?

Bernardo pointed to a trail of dust along the road to the pueblo.

“I suppose that will be King Pompous and Prince Dandy.” Diego felt the Moncadas deserved royal titles if they were planning to have their own kingdom. A cart had arrived earlier with two dozen pieces of Rafael Moncada's baggage. He was leaving for Barcelona and the university.

Bernardo signed to Diego: Maybe he will throw up on the ship.

“Good thought! We can hope he is seasick all the
way to Barcelona. He might even catch some grim fever in Panama. That would save the university the trouble of trying to push lessons into his thick head.”

They watched the Moncadas ride up to the dock. Father and son were dressed in white brocade with blue sashes. Silver glinted from their saddles.

“Very showy. A lot of extra weight for the horses to carry.”

Bernardo nodded.

“We should make our good-byes.”

The boys forgot their hopes of orange dropping and climbed down to the deck. They walked back along the dock to the
Santa Inés
.

Rafael's baggage was stowed. The last of the water barrels had been rolled aboard the schooner's deck. Miguel Moncada, who would accompany his son to Panama, was speaking with the schooner's captain in his cabin.

“What schemes does King Pompous have in Panama? I can't believe he's making the trip just because he loves Prince Dandy. Well, I suppose even skunks love their babies,” Diego conceded.

Don Moncada came on deck and stood at the stern. He waved with charming guile to the boys and they waved back. Beside him, the captain gave orders to cast
off the schooner's lines and make sail.

Rafael came up a ladder onto the deck. He saw Diego and Bernardo standing on the dock and swaggered over to the rail in his white finery.

“So you've come to see me off to Barcelona, little boys. I'm off to the university and the fencing schools.”

Diego bowed. “We've come to wish you a happy arrival in Barcelona. We hope you will be very content there.”

“Insincere wishes from half-breeds do not interest me,” Rafael said.

“But we're sincere in these wishes, Rafael,” Diego assured him. “We hope you delight in Barcelona's many beauties. We trust you will like it so much that you will make your home there. Consider that California is dirty and not at all elegant. It's not a proper place for you. We think you should stay in Spain. I can just see you reveling in the wealth of your aunt Eulalia, making friends with the courtiers. Can't you see him there, Bernardo? Your style should fit perfectly. I should think you'd find our humble pueblo terribly boring after life in that lively city. It would be more pleasant and perhaps even healthier for you.”

“Do you dare to threaten a Moncada?”

“That would be clumsy and impolite. No, let us
simply say that we know.”

“Know what?”

Diego nodded to Bernardo, who threw something across the widening gap between the dock and the schooner's deck. Rafael picked it up.

“A hat with a hole and a scrap of hide. What foolishness is this?”

“The hat belonged to a bandit vaquero from the south, a slaver in your father's pay. He kidnapped men from the pueblo as slaves for the strange fantasy of a Moncada kingdom. The caballero who wore the hat is, alas, deceased. We found it pinned to a cactus with a dagger.”

Moncada's mouth opened and closed. He was not a skillful liar and no good at hiding his surprise. His reaction told the boys that Rafael shared his father's secrets.

“The hide has a brand. You see? It was the brand of the iron poppy. But that is being changed to a simpler brand. The reason? Because your foreign cowboys changed other ranchos' brands and even the mission's brand to the iron poppy. Why? To finance your ridiculous Moncada colony. Yes, we know, Rafael.”

“If I were on that dock I'd—” Rafael puffed himself up, trying to look threatening.

“You would do nothing. Not without a gang of
toughs around you. Stay in Spain, Rafael. We hear it's a lovely place. If you return, you will not prosper. You will have too many enemies.”

“You, de la Vega, and you, you Indian idiot,” Rafael spluttered, “you have made a powerful enemy. I will not rest until I destroy you.
¡Contra viento y marea!
” Come wind or water! He stood clutching the hat and hide, then stumbled as the sails took the wind and the schooner heeled.
“¡Hasta luego!”
he shouted. Until we meet again.

The distance between them widened. Rafael was so angry his family's secrets had been so thoroughly exposed that he couldn't say another word. He clutched the schooner's rail and stared at them in fury like a trapped coyote.

Diego and Bernardo waved politely to Rafael Moncada and then to his father. They turned and walked toward the
Two Brothers
.

“That was a strange good-bye,” Stackpole said. “I doubt that young Moncada will send you sweet notes from Barcelona.” He grinned and returned to his shouting and swearing direction of the loading.

“Diego! Bernie! You've got to see my house! It's spectacular. I have a bed and a bureau and a chair and a mirror. A big mirror. I look great in that mirror!
Montez and Chulio are putting in a window, with real glass! I have a porch and a bench to watch the sunset. You've got to see it!”

Regina caught up with her. “We have much to do before we invite visitors, little sister. Perhaps the boys can inspect it later. But now,
hijos
, the don needs your help. A rider has come. There is some strange business at the tar pits. Your father asks that you look into it.”

“
Sí
,
Mamá
. We are at his service and on our way.
Con su permiso
, señora, señorita.” With your permission, madam, miss. They bowed and backed away a few steps. Then they turned and ran to their tethered horses.

They saddled up as carefully as Scar had taught them, mounted up, and rode inland. They didn't even look back to watch the schooner's sails grow smaller. They were eager to put Rafael and his father behind them. Some new adventure was waiting for them at the tar pits. What mystery did those sticky, smelly, mysterious black pits offer today?

They rode together in the sun. Before them rolled the foothills and beyond them the mountains. The wind was behind them carrying the scent of new blooms. Why would anyone live anyplace but the golden hills of California?