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Diego dug his heels in and leaned forward, urging Tornado on with his whole body as they turned the corner, cleared the final building, and reached the open road. Tornado was eager, tense, his anger and fear from fire and whip dissipating slowly.
Another night Diego would have turned Tornado back towards the pueblo, made the point of reappearing as Don Diego. Tonight the whole pueblo, lancers and general populace alike would be watching for Zorro's horse. Diego turned Tornado's nose towards home and let him run, let his own anger fall away piece by piece into the night and be trod to dust under Tornado's hooves.
By the time they reached the cave the night air had served to soothe both man and horse. Diego was smiling again, and Tornado was picking up his feet, pleased with his escape and with his triumph over Roberto. Diego unsaddled Tornado himself, removing the tack piece by piece, then removed his gloves to let his fingertips verify there was no lasting damage from Roberto's whip. Once assured, he brushed Tornado down, letting the horse nuzzle into his shoulder, patting the long dark nose that angled itself against his cheek. "Good boy, Tornado. Good boy."
Tornado blew air in his ear, and lipped at his hair. Diego laughed. "Enough, my friend! Peace! Tonight you shall have oats, they will be more to your taste than I will."
Tornado having been fed and watered, Diego made his way up the stairs. From the peephole behind the cabinet in the sala, he could see his father reading. The small wire spectacles were nearing the end of his nose. Diego stifled a laugh, and replaced the stopper.
Behind his own wall, he left Zorro's cloak, hat and mask across the wooden chest. The rest of his return to Don Diego's wardrobe was accomplished once inside the bedroom proper, since the clothes he had been wearing at the tavern were still there. Or, by now, somewhere between the pueblo and the hacienda, with Bernardo and the two horses they had ridden into town.
Diego tied off the cords of his dressing gown and restored Zorro's costume to its place behind the wall, then decided to follow his father's example, and read by the fire. It was some little time before Bernardo's return.
At the knock, Diego slid a small scrap of leather between the pages to mark his place. Bernardo entered quickly and silently, as was his wont, but then leaned back against the closed door and winced, hand going to his belly. It wasn't the telegraphed motion of his speech, but a small, genuine gesture of pain. Diego stood, abruptly. "You're hurt."
Bernardo shook his head, put his hands up, but Diego turned to the desk and twisted the knob to extend the lamp wick. "Come into the light. Was there any trouble leaving the pueblo?"
Bernardo let his shoulders slump and perched on the edge of the bed where Diego had indicated. He shook his head again, motioned as if throwing buckets of water onto a fire.
"Everyone was too busy putting out the corral, eh?" Diego unwrapped Bernardo's banda, fingered the rend in the fabric. "How did this happen?" He sat back on his heels, to give Bernardo space to answer.
Bernardo drew his hand from his left shoulder to his right hip. "A lancer?" Bernardo nodded, then mimed cracking a whip.
The soft rounded flesh of Bernardo's belly was crossed with two thick weals. He blew air between his teeth when Diego pressed beside them, but the pain seemed fortunately little deeper than the skin. Bernardo pointed to his left side, and Diego found a third welt striping from there across his back.
"This is what you tried to tell me in the tavern. What Roberto was doing to anger Tornado before the corral caught fire."
Bernardo hesitated, on the brink of explaining further, then simply nodded. Diego gritted his teeth, and thumped a fist down on the mattress beside Bernardo. "I hope Tornado flattened him into a tortilla."
Bernardo's fingers waved to catch his attention. When Diego looked up Bernardo shook his head, pointed to himself, and smiled. "You are trying to tell me you are all right?" Bernardo nodded, made a riding motion and pointed down the secret passage. "Tornado?" Bernardo nodded again, pointed to Diego, to himself, and smiled, spreading his hands wide.
"Tornado, and you and I, we are all of us all right?" Bernardo grinned, and patted Diego's hand as its grip relaxed. Diego let his head fall forward and laughed.
"Very well, my friend. We are here, and he is not." Diego rose and clapped Bernardo's shoulders. "But you will stay here tonight."
Bernardo scooted smugly up the bed and flopped into Diego's goosefeather pillows with a beatific smile.
Diego chuckled, and bent to remove his manservant's boots.