Chapter Text
Scene One
This early in the morning, the hills above the Pueblo de Los Angeles are deserted. No one is around to see a small figure in an olive jacket leading two horses by the halter. One is pitch black and the other is brilliant white, and the three have the entire hill country to use as their training ground.
Bernardo stops in a sheltered hollow and slides off the halters. Turning to the white horse, he gestures for Phantom to stay where he is. Then Bernardo turns his back and walks half a dozen paces away. When he looks back, Phantom is right at his heels, sniffing for apples in his pockets. Bernardo sighs, pushes the horse back to his starting position, and tries again.
This time, he stops suddenly after two steps and turns around. Phantom freezes, but there is no hiding that he hasn’t stayed where Bernardo left him. Bernardo shakes a finger at him, takes three more steps, and turns again. He beams when he sees that Phantom has remained in place. He waves the horse to come to him, but Phantom stares at him impassively and doesn’t move.
Again Bernardo sighs, pushes the horse back to where he started, and turns to the black one, who has been following the proceedings with his swiveling ears. Bernardo lines Tornado up next to Phantom and gestures for Phantom to watch how it’s done.
He gives Tornado the “stay” command, walks a dozen paces to the end of the hollow while the horse waits patiently beside Phantom, then turns and waves him forward. Tornado leaps into a trot and jogs up to Bernardo, nosing his waistcoat for his apple.
Bernardo pats the glossy neck and raises an eyebrow pointedly at Phantom. But Phantom is no longer looking that way: his ears are pricked and he raises his nose, scenting the air. Just then Tornado raises his head too, and Bernardo sniffs experimentally. His expression of curiosity turns to one of concern when he catches the scent on the wind.
Leaving the horses, he climbs out of the hollow and up to the crest of the nearest hill. From there, he looks down into the valley where the pueblo sits. A column of white smoke rises into the clear blue sky, but it’s not coming from the pueblo itself. It’s coming from a rancho beyond it, closer to the sea.
Bernardo turns quickly in a circle, looking for help. There are only the two horses, who have followed him up the hill. Gathering himself, he grabs Tornado’s mane and tries to leap onto his bare back. He gets halfway, clings for a second to the horse’s side, then thumps back to the ground. He tries twice more with the same results, and then Tornado flicks his ears back, shakes his mane, and lowers himself into a bow. Bernardo scrambles onto his back and the horse heaves himself upright again.
Bernardo urges him forward and Tornado leaps into a gallop, his rider nearly sliding off in the process. Bernardo turns and gestures for Phantom to “stay,” but the white horse only eyes him and then follows Tornado.
They race across the hills, cutting through pastures and woodland to avoid the public road that leads to the pueblo. When they reach the rancho, the hacienda is already little more than a smoking ruin, and not a soul is in sight. Bernardo looks around helplessly until suddenly a faint cry comes down the wind. The horses hear it too, turning their ears in its direction. Bernardo urges Tornado to follow the sound, and soon they are back in the fields, cutting across country in the direction of the cries that continue to punctuate the horses’ hoof beats.
Coming over the last ridge, Bernardo brings Tornado to a sharp halt as he finally spots what they have been pursuing. Not far below them is a creek that runs into the salt marsh, and on the near bank of that creek are two boats. And in the boats are half a dozen children and half a dozen…
Pirates. Bernardo mouths the word since he cannot say it. They are well-dressed pirates, wearing sailors’ uniforms, but no one but pirates would be herding frightened children at gunpoint onto rowboats whose prows are turned toward Santa Monica Bay.
Bernardo slides down from Tornado and pushes the two horses backward a few steps so they can’t be seen from below. He gestures for them to stay, starts to leave, and then on second thought returns and manoeuvers Tornado so that he stands in Phantom’s way. He gives Phantom a meaningful nod and then heads stealthily down the little hill.
The children, crying and occasionally shouting when one of the pirates prods him with the end of a lance, have all been loaded into the boats now, and the sailors are preparing to shove off. Sheltered behind a scrub brush, Bernardo reaches for his sword. He didn’t bring it. Then he reaches for a pistol. He didn’t bring one of those either. He pats his waistcoat frantically and comes up with his slingshot. Searching the ground at his feet, he finds a handful of pebbles worn smooth by the water. One of these he fits into his sling, takes careful aim, and fires at the nearest sailor, who is bent over pushing the boat off the bank.
There is a sharp “smack” and the sailor leaps up, howling and holding his backside.
“What’s the matter?” another barks at him.
“Something stung me!” he cries.
“A bee,” the other says. “Shut up and don’t be a child. You’re worse than they are.” He cuffs a nearby boy in the back of the head.
Bernardo takes aim again, and this time it’s the other sailor who howls, holding his knuckles where a pebble has cracked them.
“Another one?” asks the first sailor, still rubbing his backside.
Bernardo covers his mouth and laughs soundlessly. He sends a third pebble at the back of the head of the sailor sitting in the stern, and now three of them are hopping about and cursing.
He is just about to fire again when a hand grabs him roughly by the shoulder and spins him around.
“A bee, is it?” the sailor growls. He snatches the slingshot and tosses it into the brush. Before Bernardo can collect himself, the sailor seizes his wrist, twists his arm behind his back, and frog marches him down to the bank.
“Move over, Ramón. Another passenger for you. Don’t worry: I removed his stinger.”
“He’s dressed like a servant,” Ramón objects. “The orders were for the dons’ children.”
The sailor pushes Bernardo into the boat and Bernardo loses his balance as they shove off. He sits down hard in the stern and the sailor puts his boot on his chest to keep him down.
“It doesn’t matter,” he says with a grin. “I’m sure we’ll find a use for him.”