Zorro and the Little Devil

by Peter David

  “Shall we turn around?” said Alejandro. “Or send one of the servants to — ”

  “It is my mistake, father, and I am not about to put anyone else out because of it. I shall take one of the horses and ride back immediately.”

  Don Alejandro smiled slightly. Naturally he knew exactly what Diego was about to do, but he was hardly about to call him out on it in front of the servants. “Go, then,” said Alejandro. “We shall meet up with you at your home.”

  “Absolutely, father,” he said.

  Diego and his father had been riding a pair of stallions, and Diego now turned his mount around to take him back in the direction whence he had come. But his destination was not the hacienda; at least not directly.

  The hacienda sat atop a promontory with a seemingly nasty drop beneath it. Diego, though, knew of a different path to take, wide enough for a single man on horseback. It ran down alongside the cliff face and at the end of it was what seemed to be a mass of brush and brambles. It was not, as it so happened, at all what it appeared to be. It was actually a covering for an entrance to a cave: a cave that was a haven for Zorro the Fox.

  It was through that secret entrance that Don Diego de la Vega now went into the hidden cave. His costume was secure in a closet over to the side, and he quickly switched into it now.

  His horse, the magnificent Tornado, was standing securely in his stable. He whinnied in appreciation of his master’s appearance. Diego had a feeling the horse always knew great adventures were just around the corner whenever his master arrived and changed into that black outfit of his.

  Zorro strapped his sword around his waist, and even as he suited up he wondered exactly what approach he would take. There were hidden stairways that would enable him to go straight up into the house. But if Zorro magically appeared in the middle of the hacienda — that might lead someone to start asking unwanted questions. No, it made more sense for him to skulk around the outside of the home. The shadows were already sufficiently long that they would provide all the protection he required. When it was dark enough outside, the cloaked Zorro could never be easily spotted unless someone threw a torch in his direction.

  He stabled the horse he had ridden into the cave and drew Tornado forth. Then Senor Zorro leaped onto the back of his mount and carefully guided it out of the cave. The entrance was on such a precipice that it was most unlikely his entrances and exits would be observed. He urged Tornado forward and the horse stepped out onto the narrow precipice with steady, measured tread. Zorro sometimes could not help but speculate that his horse was part mountain goat.

  Shortly Tornado stepped from the narrow trail onto firm, flat ground and Zorro sped his horse forward.

  Then he heard something from behind him. It was a man’s voice and it was moaning and groaning and asking for forgiveness. Senor Zorro couldn’t believe it, for it was a voice he recognized.

  Curious to see how in the world his old acquaintance could possibly have come into this situation, Zorro hied himself off to the bushes so he could observe whoever was coming without revealing his own presence.

  It took a while, but eventually Senor Zorro heard the steady clopping of horses’ hooves and the grinding turn of wheels. Someone was being dragged forward on some manner of flat bedded cart, and within minutes he was able to discern exactly who it was. The voice had not misled him.

  It was Miguel.

  There were two men with him: One was holding the reins of the horses and the other seemed to be there mostly to snarl invectives at Miguel. Zorro listened carefully to the exchanges.

  “Why can’t you let me go?” Miguel wailed in a tremulous voice. “I bet he doesn’t even remember me!”

  “Oh, he remembers you all too well,” said the passenger sitting next to the man guiding the horses. “No one steals from the Little Devil and is ever forgotten.”

  “I can repay him!”

  “You have no money on you, fool!”

  “I did. But I gave it away to churches. I am trying to turn my life around.”

  Senor Zorro could scarcely believe it. Granted, that was what Miguel had sworn he would do back when Zorro had stopped him from robbing Fray Felipe. But Zorro had been severely skeptical the robber was going to keep his word. Yet apparently he had! It buoyed Zorro’s heart and almost gave him reason to think that humanity as a whole was salvageable. If such a low rent individual as Miguel was capable of changing his ways, then certainly anything was possible.

  But here was what was not possible: Zorro wasn’t about to allow these pirates to return Miguel to the man he feared most in the world.

  So it was that the men froze as Zorro stepped directly into their path. He was cradling his gun in his right hand and kept it aimed squarely at the horses’ driver, whose eyes widened as he saw the masked man with a weapon pointed right at him.

  “Buenos noches, gentlemen,” said Zorro quite cheerfully. “You are transporting a package that is of great interest to me.”

  He could now clearly see Miguel who was very thoroughly tied up in the back of the cart. He was propped up and his eyes widened when he saw who had interrupted the cart’s progress.

  “Who are you, thief?” demanded the driver.

  Zorro bowed slightly and doffed his hat. “Senor Zorro, at your service.”

  “Never heard of you. And I think I would have heard of a man who points a gun at unarmed people.”

  “Unarmed? That bulge under your shirt would seem to tell a different story. Divest yourself of it, if you wouldn’t mind.” He gestured with his pistol. “Otherwise I will have to do it myself. You as well, Senor,” and he spoke to the passenger.

  Slowly and clearly very irritated, the men removed their pistols and dropped them to the ground.

  Zorro indicated Miguel. “Remove his bonds immediately. Do so gently. We wouldn’t want anything harmful to occur, would we.”

  The driver did as instructed and hastily untied the rope, freeing Miguel of its bonds. Meanwhile Zorro released the horse from the harnesses that bound it to the wagon. The horse took several steps away, then remained there patiently looking at Zorro as if it was expecting instructions.

  Miguel clambered down from the wagon. “I … I don’t know how to thank you,” he began.

  Senor Zorro raised a hand, which immediately quieted him. “Your thanks can be doing everything I tell you to do.”

  “Absolutely!” Miguel saluted Zorro as if he were his commanding officer. “Whatever you desire!”

  “First: tie them up. And you gentlemen,” Zorro once more waved his pistol in their direction. “You will do nothing to resist.”

  The two men nodded mutely. It was clear they were not going to offer any trouble.

  Miguel approached them with the rope that had previously enveloped him now hanging from his hands. Zorro pulled out his sword and sliced the rope in half, effectively doubling the amount Miguel had available to bind the two men. He set about his work quickly and efficiently, and while he did, Zorro started questioning them. “Who are you? And how many of you?”

  The men glanced at each other and their lips became tightly sealed. It was obvious that they were not about to say a word.

  But Miguel had no such hesitations. “There are about a dozen of them,” he said as he lashed their hands together. “They are all converging on the hacienda up there.”

  “The de la Vega hacienda?”

  Miguel’s head bobbled. “Yes. That is the name of the place.”

  “Why are they going there?”

  “They are meeting up with the captain. With Diabolito.”

  Senor Zorro had already pretty much figured out the answer to his next question, but he asked it nonetheless: “Is Diabolito already there?”

  “Yes. He is — “

  “Shut up, Miguel,” the driver snarled at him. It was clear that if his hands were free, they would be wrapped around Miguel’s throat.

  Miguel happily ignored him. “Yes, he is. These two were talking about it while they were haul
ing me up there. They kept speculating about how much delight the captain would have in seeing me captured by these two.”

  “What does the captain look like?” asked Zorro.

  Miguel described him in quick strokes, and with every word it filled in an image in Zorro’s mind that he had suspected: the supposed Spanish officer del Riego was actually the formidable pirate, the Little Devil.

  “Is he alone?” said Zorro.

  “They said he had his woman with him.”

  “His woman? He is married to her?”

  Miguel shrugged at that. Clearly he didn’t know.

  Zorro turned to the two men who were tied up on the ground nearby. He withdrew his sword from its scabbard and pointed it directly at the right eye of the driver. “Are they married?” he asked.

  Apparently the driver decided this was not a matter over which he wanted to risk having an eye put out. “They have never bothered with a ceremony, but they are as man and wife in every other respect.”

  “And this woman … ” He paused a moment and then gave a reasonably accurate description of Maria. When he finished, the driver nodded.

  So Maria is the Little Devil’s. And considering that the Devil wanted to get to the hacienda, her presence is most definitely not chance. She and the Devil must have put together this entire plan, which means the man who assaulted her in the town square must have been part of the crew. Now it all makes sense.

  Don Diego de la Vega may have been hidden behind the mask of Senor Zorro, but the young man’s mind was still within, and it mourned the effect that this news would have on his father. Don Alejandro may have been many things to many people, but first and foremost he was a man, the same as any other man. Zorro knew that his father had been incredibly flattered by the attention the charming young woman had paid him, even if he had not allowed it to proceed further because he was too much of a gentleman. The knowledge that his triumph over a thieving felon and the subsequent interest displayed by a grateful woman had all been a sham, a game … Zorro hated the knowledge that such a thing could occur. That it was indeed likely inevitable.

  But that was a problem for a later time. There was still one thing Zorro didn’t understand.

  “Why? Why did they want the de la Vega hacienda?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” said Miguel. “What do pirates ever want? Treasure.”

  Zorro shook his head. “But there’s no treasure in the hacienda.”

  He was stunned when Miguel, quite to the contrary, nodded. “There was not always a hacienda there, Senor. Once upon a time it was just a flat plateau where wild animals grazed. At least that’s how it was many decades ago when a pirate named John Rackham, otherwise know as Calico Jack, was plying his trade on the seas. Apparently Diabolito came into the acquisition of a treasure map that was designed by Calico Jack himself. Jack hid his treasure there, not wanting it on his ship should he wind up being captured and boarded. He described the chest’s contents as ‘his greatest treasure in the world.’ Unfortunately, he was captured in Jamaica and executed while still a young man. However before that happened, he conceived a child with Anne Bonny. She wound up acquiring the map while Rackham was executed. It remained in her family and she passed it on to Rackham’s daughter who never evinced any interest in tracking it down. She eventually married and had a son and passed the map on to her son. Foolish lad decided to go in search of it.”

  “Why foolish?” asked Zorro.

  “Because he endeavored to employ Diabolito to aid him.”

  Zorro nodded, understanding. “And Diabolito killed the lad and took the map.”

  “Exactly right,” said Miguel.

  “And now Diabolito is in the hacienda, endeavoring to dig down to where he thinks the treasure lies.”

  “Yes, Senor. At least that’s my understanding from what I’ve heard.”

  Zorro considered his options. He actually was not enthused by any of them. He was outnumbered twelve to one, and his assets were one gun, one whip and one sword. Two, three, four opposing swords, he was confident that he could overcome. An out and out brawl against at least a dozen men, however, did not exactly thrill him.

  It wasn’t as if he had an army with him …

  That was when Senor Zorro’s mind began to race. The fact in front of him was that a pirate had broken into his house and was attempting to steal a treasure on de la Vega property. Whether the de la Vegas owned the land when the treasure was first placed there was of no consequence; it belonged to them now. A crime was being committed on their land, in their house, and that was certainly something the army should be attending to. Especially considering that Quintero had taken the Little Devil’s word for his identity without taking any other steps to determine the verity of his assertions. So really, this was Quintero’s fault.

  So let him fix it. He has an army.

  Zorro took the reins of the horse that had been pulling the cart. The animal seemed in relatively good shape and could certainly cover the miles from here to the pueblo where Quintero and his men resided. “Here is the last thing I am going to ask you to do. It is very important. Do you understand?”

  “Absolutely, Senor.”

  “I need you to ride back to the pueblo and alert Captain Quintero what is happening here. You need not identify yourself as a former pirate. Indeed, it would be better that you do not.”

  “Then how will I tell him that I came upon this knowledge? Should I say that you told me?”

  “Definitely not,” said Zorro. “There is no love lost between myself and the dear Captain. Tell him … ” His mind raced. “Tell him that you were sleeping behind some bushes and you overheard the pirates talking with each other. And you are undertaking the job of a law-abiding citizen by alerting him. Can you do this, Miguel?”

  “I absolutely can. And I will. Count on me, Senor Zorro. Oh, Senor,” he added as a thought occurred to him. “Can I offer you a piece of advice?”

  “Of course.”

  “Do not engage Diabolito in a sword battle. He is the deadliest blade in the Seven Seas. It will not end well for you if you allow that to happen.”

  Zorro smiled slightly. “I appreciate your words, but I am not concerned. I am somewhat formidable with a blade myself.”

  Slowly Miguel shook his head. “No, Senor. It doesn’t matter what experiences or practice you have undertaken. You hide behind a mask, so you can go about your normal life whenever you do not wish to be Zorro. Diabolito does not have that option. He is always what he is, even when he is assuming someone else’s identity. He lives for battle, and he does not lose. You are a good man. I would hate to see you die at his sword.”

  “Then I shall have to be sure that doesn’t happen,” said Zorro. He spoke with the utter conviction of a man who knew precisely how skilled he was with a sword and was not the least bit concerned over the prospect of crossing swords with the pirate captain.

  He certainly was familiar enough with the type. Pirates never took the time to learn the finesse of actual dueling. They typically preferred cutlasses, trying to hack and slash at their victims and overwhelm through fear and their sheer physicality.

  He had no reason to think that Diabolito would be a different type of pirate. Still, it was nice that Miguel cared enough to warn him.

  “Get going,” said Zorro briskly.

  Miguel clambered onto the back of the horse that had formerly been pulling the wagon. The horse bore no saddle, but he seemed perfectly comfortable perched atop the beast. “I will not let you down, Senor,” he said firmly. He tossed off another salute. The horse seemed startled by the sensation, but obediently leaped forward into a gallop.

  Zorro was now left alone on the road save for the two pirates who were securely tied to each other.

  He sheathed his sword, bent over, and grabbed the both of them by the collars of their short jackets. As they shouted in protest, he dragged them behind an array of bushes and deposited them there so no passerby could possibly spot them. Then he stripped off a pie
ce of cloth from his cape and fashioned it into two gags that he secured around their mouths. The only sounds they could produce were low grunts that couldn’t be heard from more than a foot or so away.

  Now that the two pirates were helpless, Zorro had to determine what to do next.

  The answer was obvious: he had to dispose of the wagon the pirates had been driving. It wouldn’t help for oncoming pirates to find an empty wagon with no sign of its horse or drivers.

  Fortunately getting rid of the wagon took no time at all. Zorro simply pushed it over toward the nearby precipice and shoved. The wagon wheeled forward and then seconds later plummeted off the cliff. Zorro nodded approvingly.

  The next thing he could come up with was to spy on them from inside the house. Keep an eye on them, make sure they didn’t steal anything while they looked for a treasure that Zorro was reasonably sure did not exist. The obvious answer was to do what he had previously considered but brushed off: utilize a labyrinth of tunnels that led from his cave up to the hacienda; tunnels the pirates very likely did not know existed.

  He vaulted onto Tornado’s back and galloped to the cave. He dismounted and slapped Tornado on the rump. “Go off and keep yourself amused for a while, Tornado. I will meet up with you later.”

  The horse nodded its large head as if it understood every word from its master’s mouth … which, for all Diego knew, Tornado did. The horse quickly, efficiently made its way up the narrow pathway and galloped away. For his part, Zorro had entered the cave. Within minutes he had made his way up to the hacienda. He swung shut the empty wall he had used to enter the house and listened carefully.

  He heard the sounds of digging almost immediately. The Little Devil and his associate were not making the slightest attempt to silence themselves. Why should they? They correctly assumed there were no neighbors to hear the noise they were making.

  Fortunately Senor Zorro knew every square inch of the hacienda and was confident he could keep himself obscured in shadow so that he would remain unnoticed. Granted, if someone spotted him, he would be in a fight. But he had survived enough of such encounters to be sure that he would survive. And he might even take down a few pirates in the meantime until Quintero showed up with his troops.