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Marie clung to her horse as though her life depended on it. The pounding hooves thundered down the highway. She maintained her seat as only an expert rider could. The dark nighttime made it impossible to see. She didn't dare slow down. Crossing herself, she whispered a prayer that her horse would hold out just a little longer, she had to get to safety. She thought she almost heard the hoofbeats of her pursuers. Digging her heels into the sides of her mount she urged the beast on faster. "Don't fail me now, we need you more than ever!"
Ahead in the darkness she could just make out the shape of a structure of some sort, a house maybe, or a barn where she could take refuge from her assailants. Urging her horse forward she made toward the building hoping that it would bring her some sanctuary at long last. Nearing the building she didn't even bother reigning her horse to a full stop before she slipped off it's back. Stumbling as she hit the ground she staggered forward to the door in the wall. Her legs felt numb and her body was fueled by adrenaline.
Reaching the door she attempted to knock but merely succeeded in swinging it ajar to reveal a quiet tiled patio and a tidy two story adobe house. Marie clung to the door for support looking around wildly. "Help!" she called to the silent house, "Please, I need help!"
A second later she heard movement and doors on the second floor mezzanine opened. She began to sway on her feet as she heard a flurry of confused voices. Two candles had been lit and she could see two men descending the stairs from the mezzanine. "Please, sirs, I need help." The last three words seemed to sap Marie of all her energy and suddenly clinging to the door wasn't enough. The noise receded from her ears with a rushing sound and blackness overtook her vision.
Marie woke to find herself laying on a soft bed. The room was dimly lit with candles and she could hear the hushed voices of at least three people in the room. She felt incredibly weak and almost closed her eyes again before she remembered why she had come all this way.
Bolting upright in bed she looked around the room for the people talking. The three men who had been standing near the doorway saw her and immediately all of them rushed to her side. “Please,” she begged, looking from the two older men to the younger one, “I need help, my husband has been attacked by highwaymen, he’s in danger.”
The men exchanged confused glances, then the younger one leaned forward and said, “Señora, I’m sorry, but we do not understand English.”
Marie looked at the man blankly for a long moment before she realized what the problem was. Switching to Spanish she said, “Señores, I need help, my husband was attacked on the road. I got away but I don't think he did. Please help me before it's too late!"
One of the older men looked at the younger one and the younger one nodded before quickly leaving the room. The older man turned back to her. "Señora, we will do everything we can to find and help your husband. In the meantime you are safe here. My name is Alejandro de la Vega and my son who just left is named Diego." Gesturing to the man next to him Alejandro continued, "This is our physician, Señor Avila. May I ask what your name is?"
Marie took a breath and finally relaxed a little. "My name is Marie, Marie Cartwright."
Ben lay on his stomach bound hand and foot. He and Marie had been set upon by three highwaymen and when he had been fighting with the attackers Marie had outmaneuvered them and ridden away, hopefully to somewhere safe. He was worried about her. She was several months pregnant now and he was afraid this stress would cause harm to her or the baby. Mentally he berated himself for even bringing her along, how could he have been so stupid? He would never forgive himself if something happened to her.
One of the kidnappers strode over to where he lay in the dirt, kicking him in the leg rather sharply. "Americano, where is your money? How much did you have?"
Ben hesitated, his Spanish was rough on a good day. "I no money." Internally he cringed, this was why he had brought Marie, she knew French, Spanish and a smattering of other languages. He hoped his meaning was clear enough.
The outlaw kicked him again. "I know you don't have money, that's why I want to know where it is."
Ben cursed internally. This was not going to be a pleasant experience.
Diego knocked on the door to his father's room, it was very early in the morning now and it had been a long night. His father opened the door summoning him inside.
"Diego, what did you find? Did you see any trace of the Señora's husband?"
Shaking his head, Diego sat at the foot of his father's bed. "No, Father, I looked everywhere along the road and didn't see any sign of him. Perhaps tomorrow when it's light out the Señora can lead us to where the attack happened."
Alejandro sighed and sat down next to him. "Do you really think that's a good idea in her condition?"
Diego shrugged. "Not exactly, but I don't know if we have another choice. The longer her husband goes without being found the more danger he’s in.” Diego sighed, shaking his head. “By the way, what did the doctor say about her, has she been hurt?"
"She is healthy and uninjured but he recommends that she gets plenty of rest and not strain herself." Alejandro put a hand on Diego’s shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. “I suggest that you also get some rest as well, I have a feeling you will be very busy tomorrow.”
Diego gave his father a tired smile. “You’re right, I should get some sleep. Goodnight, Father.”
“Goodnight, Son.”
Marie woke early the next morning and quietly left her room. She hustled silently through the house heading to the door, she had forgotten all about her horse in the confusion of the previous night. Not seeing the stallion outside the gate she worried that he had run off into the countryside. Scanning the hillsides she couldn’t see any trace of the animal.
Disappointed, she turned back to the patio where she saw the young man from the previous night descending the steps from the mezzanine. He was tall and handsome wearing a well-cut Spanish suit.
Upon seeing her he raised a hand. “Buenos días,” he called.
“Buenos días,” she responded as she came to the foot of the stairs.
Meeting her, he offered her his arm. Taking it she said, “I suppose you are Diego? Your father said you went to search for my husband last night.”
Diego nodded. “Yes, I did, but I’m afraid I had no luck. I was hoping that maybe you might feel well enough to drive out with me to where the attack happened. That way maybe we can find some information and hopefully bring your husband home safe.”
Marie let Diego lead her back inside and guide her to a dining room chair in the sala. “Of course, when do you want to leave?”
Diego smiled at her. “Not quite immediately, I think it would be best for you to eat some breakfast before we go out. We wouldn’t want you falling ill.”
Marie unconsciously passed her hand over her stomach. “Ben, my husband, I know he’s strong but I’m worried that the bandidos might hurt or kill him. He doesn’t even speak any Spanish, he’s not going to know what they want from him.”
“Do you know what they do want? Is there any reason you might have been singled out for attack?” Diego sat across from her at the table as servants entered to serve breakfast.
“They must have heard he was carrying money to buy cattle. He had quite a lot on him.” Marie paused, “What do you think they’ll do to him when they don’t find the gold?”
Diego shook his head. “I’m not sure, bandidos can be unpredictable. I hope they decided to let him go once they realized he doesn’t have what they want. Do you happen to remember how many of them there were?”
“I don’t really, it was quite dark. Maybe there were two or three of them, maybe more. Once they attacked everything happened so fast.”
“You must be very brave to not only think to flee so quickly, but to ride all the way here in the dark. I found your horse last night, he’s in a stall in the stables. Is the stallion yours?”
Marie smiled a little. “We were in a wagon with Ben’s stallion behind. When the assault happened Ben fought the outlaws and I tried to get away. A bandido had grabbed the mule leading the wagon but no one paid attention to Ben’s horse. Somehow I managed to get to the horse without the robbers noticing and got it loose from the wagon. When I saw I was free I knew I had to take my chance and find help as quickly as possible.” Finishing her meal she got to her feet. “Can we be going now?”
Diego quickly rushed to assist her, a look of slight concern on his face.
Marie straightened her skirt a little. “Don’t worry about me, I’m not a delicate flower by any means. You have to be a strong woman to be married to Ben Cartwright.”
Giving her his arm to lean on, he said, “All the same, even though I can tell you are quite a fearless woman, it makes me feel better to assist you when I can.”
Smiling, she took his arm. “All right, if you insist.”
Diego drove the two of them down the road Marie had ridden up last night. He went slowly enough for Marie to look at the landscape and hopefully remember where she had been when the attack took place.
“So, tell me Marie, why were you and your husband coming all the way to California to buy cattle? Certainly they have good breeds in the American states?”
“My husband,” Marie said, “he’s always heard of the quality of Spanish cattle and he wanted to get some to improve the bloodlines in his herd. Unfortunately he doesn’t speak much Spanish, so he needed me to come with him as a translator.”
Diego flicked the reins to keep the mules on course. “Your Spanish is very good, I must say. Where did you learn it?”
“I’m from New Orleans. It’s quite a cosmopolitan city and often Spanish sailors and traders from Florida would come there for supplies and to sell their goods. I learned as much Spanish as I could to talk with them and it’s come in useful many times since.”
Diego nodded, fitting the pieces together. “New Orleans, yes? So that is where the French comes from?”
Marie blushed a little. “Do I still have a French accent after all these years? I thought I had managed to drop it.”
Diego smiled at her. “Don’t feel shy, it makes your Spanish sound lovely. Is French your mother tongue?”
Marie nodded. “It was the only language I spoke for a long time. In New Orleans it’s still very easy to get around with no English.” Marie paused, taking in the surrounding area. “I think we’re getting close, I remember that fallen tree by the roadside.”
Diego slowed the mules to a halt and took a good look hoping to see something of use.
“There!” Marie pointed. “I see our wagon.”
Following the direction of her finger, Diego saw the wagon sitting by the side of the road partially turned onto its side. “Stay here,” he said, handing her the reins as he climbed down from the carriage to inspect the scene of the attack.
In the dark he had managed to miss the area entirely, but here in the daylight it was all fairly clear. The amount of hoofprints indicated that four or five horses had been present. There seemed to have been some kind of fighting, a lost hat and an abandoned pipe showed as much. The contents of the wagon had been rifled through and cast everywhere, certainly the bandidos had been searching for gold and other valuables. Walking around the wagon Diego scanned for anything that might be helpful.
Coming to the front of the wagon where the driver would sit he saw a knife sticking straight up from the seat, pinning a piece of paper to the buckboard. Retrieving the knife and paper Diego looked around once more before heading back to the carriage.
“What is it?” said Marie, looking concerned.
Diego held up the paper. “It seems that the bandidos have left us a note. They write, ‘We have the Americano, if you want him back alive leave the gold you brought for cattle in the wagon at midnight. Any tricks or soldiers and he dies.’”
It was late, almost eleven o’clock at night. Marie had said she was tired and had gone to her room but she was anything but sleepy. Diego had told her not to worry, they had spoken to the military commander of the pueblo and the Sergeant had promised to help recover her husband, but she didn’t want to risk it. Ben’s life was too important to risk playing games. The money was nothing, they’d find a way to make it up.
Carefully, she took off her spencer jacket and using the knife that had been found at the wagon she carefully slit the seams of the lining. Three small sacks of gold tumbled onto the bed, the money she and Ben had brought to buy cattle.
Unbuttoning her gown she quickly shed her more confining old dress and exchanged it for the looser garb of a peasant. The flowing skirt and roomy chemise would give her more comfort on her excursion.
Gathering up the gold she tied the sacks together in one bundle and slipped out of her room into the silent house. As she entered the sala the swords hanging above the fireplace caught her eye. It might be a good idea to have a weapon.
Hastening to the stables she quickly had Ben’s stallion saddled and was off to meet the bandidos at the wagon.
Ben sat uncomfortably on the wagon mule, his hands tied behind his back. From what he understood the highwaymen were expecting to ransom him. They had been hiding deep in the hills all day, keeping him closely guarded in case he would try to escape. Now the thieves led his mule as they carefully picked their through the rough countryside. He hoped against hope that there would be some opening for him to escape once they got to the wagon.
“A rider approaches,” said one bandit (Ben thought of him as Scar because of the prominent mark on his cheek) to the other two.
The others, who Ben was mentally calling Sombrero and Kerchief, slowed their horses. “Is the rider alone?” asked Sombrero.
Kerchief stood up in his saddle to look down the road. “It’s only one person, I think it’s a woman.”
Ben didn’t fully understand what the bandits were saying, but he knew the word woman and could see the rider in the moonlight. His heart sank. There was only one person this could be.
The bandits guided their mounts onto the road. The woman rider slowed her approach. Moonlight was glinting off her long blonde hair as she pulled her horse to halt.
“Bandidos,” she called, “I have brought the money. Release my husband and you shall have it with no trouble.”
Ben could see her holding a small bundle aloft. The gold they had brought for the cattle. Sighing, he shook his head. He supposed there was no other option this time. While it would certainly be a setback he was sure it could be recovered. At the end of the day all that mattered was that he and Marie both got out of this alive.
Sombrero rode forward to meet Marie on the road. “Señora, dismount and give us the money,” he ordered.
“Release my husband,” she insisted.
Sombrero drew his sword. “I said dismount, woman.”
Marie caught Ben’s eye. He knew she couldn’t really see his face in the dark, but he nodded to let her know that she should do as they said. More than likely they wanted her off the horse so they could steal the stallion too. Ben was sure the steed would fetch a good price for the highwaymen.
Marie slipped off the stallion and cautiously approached Sombrero’s horse. Throwing the money on the road in front of him she said, “There, take your money bandido and release my husband.”
Ben held his breath, waiting for the highwaymen to take the money, leave him and go. Surely they wouldn't want anything else.
Sombrero dismounted, sword in hand and bent to pick up the money. Stuffing the pouches into his belt he rose, pointing his sword at Marie. “These bags feel so light, Señora, I would hate to think that you’re holding out on us.”
Marie took a step back, closer to her stallion. “I promise that is all we had, I gave you everything.”
“We’ll see about that,” said Sombrero, taking a step towards her.
Reaching back to the saddle Marie whipped out the sword she had brought with her from the de la Vega hacienda. “Do not press me, bandido.”
Ben was actually afraid now, Marie was hot-headed and could easily be provoked. He saw no situation where this went well for her. “Marie, don’t do this!” he called, only to be struck by the butt of Kerchief’s gun a second later.
“Quiet, Americano, I’m watching the show,” said Scar.
Laughing, Sombrero lunged at Marie only for her to parry his blow. He swung again but her blade deftly deflected his. No longer laughing, Sombrero got serious. He redoubled his attack swinging his blade wildly back and forth. Marie weaved her own blade in and out, blocking his blows and attempting to find a way past his defenses. Just as it seemed that Sombrero might get the upper hand Marie executed a complex flick of her wrist which sent Sombrero’s sword flying into the roadside brush.
Enraged, Sombrero reached behind his back and drew out a pistol. Pointing it at Marie he said, “That’s quite enough, woman, now drop your weapon or I end you right here.”
“How strange,” said a new voice from behind Sombrero, “I was just about to tell you the same thing.”
“Zorro!” gasped Scar and Kerchief in unison.
Marie’s heart was beating a mile a minute. The bandit before her stood stock still, seemingly paralyzed by the presence of this new man, Zorro.
“I said ‘drop your weapon,’ Señor, do not make me ask again.” The black clad man seemed to twist his sword for emphasis.
Trembling, the bandit dropped the pistol. “Please don’t hurt me, Señor Zorro, I only wanted to scare the woman.”
Zorro looked at Marie. “If you would be so kind as to collect the pistol, Señora.”
Marie quickly retrieved the gun, keeping it trained on the sombrero wearing bandit.
Turning slightly, his sword still in the back of the bandit, Zorro addressed the other highwaymen. “Señores, throw down your weapons and surrender quietly and your friend won’t get hurt.”
The bandits looked at each other, the one with a scar on his face threw down his pistol and hesitantly dismounted. The one with a kerchief over his face looked between Zorro and his compatriots.
“I don’t have all night,” Zorro said, an edge to his voice.
“Do it, you fool,” said the sombrero wearer, fear strangling his words.
Finally, the third bandit dismounted.
Zorro jerked his head towards Ben. “Now untie the hands of the Americano, and make it quick.” He jabbed his sword into the sombrero wearer to punctuate his urgency.
The scarred bandit reached up and untied Ben’s hands. Ben slid off the mule and joined Marie, taking the pistol from her hands and holding it on the bandit himself.
“Are you all right?” he murmured, concern in his eyes.
“I am now,” she whispered back.
Zorro, seemingly satisfied that Marie and Ben had their bandit under control, gave his attention to the other two. Taking the rope from the scarred bandit he proceeded to tie his hands together.
Sensing an opening, the kerchiefed bandit made a break for it. Nimbly jumping back onto his horse he dug his heels into its sides, bolting down the highway.
“Go,” said Ben, gesturing with his pistol to the bandit in front of him.
“We can take care of this one,” said Marie. “Go catch him before he gets away.”
Lightly, Zorro sprang into the saddle of his black stallion and a second later he thundered down the highway in hot pursuit of the final bandido.
Kerchief raced down the king’s road throwing glances behind him as he rode. Everyone knew that it was impossible to evade Zorro, but maybe this time he would get lucky. Pressing his horse to go faster he barrelled down the moonlit highway.
Looking over his shoulder he saw the curve of the road bathed in full moonlight. For a second the road was silent, peaceful even. Then, like a furious thunderbolt Zorro appeared, hot on his heels. Terror pumped through his veins, he kicked his horse to go faster. Behind him the sound of hoofbeats grew louder. His hands shaking, he used the long end of the reins to slap his horse, driving it faster. Only a little longer and he would be in the clear.
Suddenly, a great wight slammed into, him knocking from his horse. Fumbling for his knife he lashed out at the masked assailant, but Zorro was faster grabbing his arm and forcing it away. Scrambling for purchase he twisted, trying to escape Zorro’s grasp. Zorro twisted with him, keeping a firm grasp on his knife hand. Kicking out as hard as he could he heard Zorro grunt as his foot made contact. Gaining a second of advantage he dropped the knife, twisting his arm free. Springing to his feet he tried to run for it. He made it exactly three steps.
Crack!
The sound of the whip cut through the air and brought him to a sudden stop. His arms were pinned to his side by El Zorro's leather bullwhip.
“You’ve gone far enough, Señor,” said Zorro, “I think we’d best rejoin the others now.”
Marie watched Zorro ride toward her and Ben and the group of bound bandits; behind him trailed the last bandido on his horse, his hands tied behind his back. “Look, Ben, the Fox caught him.” She was dazzled, this man in black had so swiftly and suddenly come to her and her husband’s aid.
Ben watched the mysterious caped figure. “I wonder who he is.”
“Whoever he is, he came like an angel from heaven.” Marie squeezed Ben’s arm. “We would have been dead if not for him.”
Zorro pulled his horse to a halt close to Marie and Ben. “Thank you, my friends, for keeping an eye on these bandidos while I collected my lost sheep.”
Stepping closer, Marie gazed at the partially shadowed face of her rescuer. “Zorro, how can we ever thank you enough? You saved us.”
“To be of service to those in need is thanks enough, Señora,” Zorro said with a small bow.
In the distance more hooves could be heard coming down the road. Marie turned to look down the highway apprehensively.
“Do not worry, Señora,” said Zorro in a cheerful voice, “it seems that Sergeant Garcia has decided to join us tonight after all.”
And, sure enough, the sergeant and four lancers came trotting into view. Marie sighed with relief. “They are soldiers from the town, I spoke with them earlier. They must have come to rescue you,” she explained to Ben.
“Sergeant,” Zorro called to the soldiers, “I have made you a gift of three badidos. Take them to the cuartel immediately.”
“Zorro!” exclaimed Garcia. Then looking around at the scene he seemed to decide the bandits were more pressing. “Lancers, take custody of these bandidos and take them to the cuartel immediately.”
With that, Zorro turned his horse away from the group on the road.
“Wait,” said Marie, a strange thought seizing her.
The masked man paused.
“Before you leave, Señor Zorro, tell me the name of your patron saint.”
Zorro seemed a little puzzled by her request, then smiled. “My patron saint? It is none other than San José el Carpintero.” And with that he spurred his horse and rode into the night.
Marie and Ben set out from Los Angeles a week later. Their buckboard had been repaired and she and Ben had plenty of time to rest up at the de la Vega hacienda. Don Alejandro and Don Diego had been gracious hosts, and had marveled at her story about her rescue. She had even demonstrated a few of her fencing moves before all the men had persuaded her to sit down and rest.
During this time Ben was also able to contact a few sellers of cattle and bought a few head he thought would help balance his herd, as well as hiring two vaqueros to guide the livestock back to Nevada with them.
When they finally said their goodbyes Marie almost felt sad. Los Angeles seemed to be an exciting place where anything could happen. Men like El Zorro, after all, didn’t rise up in boring places.
As Diego helped her into the backboard for the last time she paused, her hand in his. “Thank you for everything, Diego. I wish there was something stronger I could say, but I mean it, thank you. Please, do write me and Ben. I don’t want to forget about Los Angeles or her people.”
Diego kissed the back of her hand. “Don’t worry, Los Angeles doesn’t want to forget about you either.” Then, pressing a small pouch into her hand he said, “This is for the little one when he or she arrives, it’s the medal of my patron saint, I hope that maybe it can provide them some protection in their life.”
“Thank you, Diego,” she said one last time.
Diego stepped back and nodded to Ben who slapped the reins and the mule lurched to a walk. As they left the hacienda behind them Marie opened the pouch and pulled out the medal.
“What’s that?” Ben asked, glancing at the shiny silver object in her hand.
“It’s a medal of Diego’s patron saint. He wanted our baby to have it for protection.”
“That’s kind of him, which saint is it?”
“San José el Carpintero.”
Fin