If there was one thing Bernardo learned he didn’t have in common with Zorro, it was his horrific riding skills. He wiggled his boots in the stirrups, but they still went all the way through like a knife when it worked its way through the chest cavity. Losing his balance, Bernardo fell onto Tornado’s black neck. His eyes widened, and, in an attempt to not fall, he hugged Tornado like a child who refused to be separated from their mother.
Off to the side, with his arm propped against a wilted tree trunk, Don Diego de la Vega said, “Well, my friend, that’s one way to ride a horse.” His high cheekbones twisted in an arc as he tried not to laugh, and he ran his fingers through his short, brown hair.
In his head, Bernardo screamed, Get me off!
Sensing him, Tornado seemed to nicker, “Off? Okay.” He halted and shook like a dog.
Yipe! the voice in Bernardo’s head yelled. He flew through the dry air and landed in a heap at Diego’s feet.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” he said. “I should have warned you that Tornado likes to shake occasionally.”
Dizzy, Bernardo rose to his feet. He shook his head and gave Diego a sad look.
“Aw, don’t be so glum,” he said, patting Bernardo’s shoulder. “Just think, with a little more practice, you’ll ride as well as Zorro. No one will suspect a thing.” Diego took his sombrero-like hat off his head and set it down on Bernardo’s. “Now, picture this, Bernardo. You’re Zorro, and you just had another run-in with Sergeant Garcia. Let’s say that, for once, our good sergeant excelled at fighting, and he knocked you into a thorn bush, damaging your eyes to the core.”
Bernardo shivered.
“Sergeant Garcia is coming in for the capture,” Diego continued. “What do you do?”
A minute later, realization washed across Bernardo’s face, and he pointed at Tornado, who munched on the little grass they had in the desolate countryside.
“Exactly, Bernardo!” Diego said. “You summon Tornado. Watch this.” He passed Bernardo and stomped his boots three times. They mimicked the sounds of horseshoes.
Perking up, Tornado huffed. He approached Diego and offered him his wet muzzle, grass smeared around his lips.
Impressed, Bernardo clapped.
“Good boy, Tornado,” Diego told the seventeen-hand-tall stallion. He moved his palm across Tornado’s neck and glanced at Bernardo. “And this, my friend, is your method of summoning Tornado.”
“Ah, Diego, I thought I’d find you here,” a sudden voice said from off to the side. Don Alejandro de la Vega stepped out of the looming shadows of the tree branches. He approached Diego and Bernardo and explained, “The new comandante, Capitán Arturo, is stopping by the hacienda on his way into Los Ángeles.”
“Really?” Diego inquired. “Well, aren’t we popular, Father?” With his hand, he directed Tornado into the cave’s vine-covered entrance that led to Zorro’s hideaway.
Seeming to nod, Tornado ducked his head between his muscular shoulders and disappeared inside.
“You’re a funny lad, my son,” Alejandro said, his hands behind his back. “I sometimes feel like you love that horse more than me.”
“Oh, please, not this again, Father,” Diego said, slightly annoyed but still smiling. “I think you’re just jealous of Zorro.”
“That may be,” Alejandro explained. While Bernardo checked on Tornado, he grasped Diego’s shoulder. “But, son, it’s the same every day. You wake up, talk about the horse, and then tell me, over and over, everything you do as Zorro. I’m not against this, but I want to ensure you don’t let him get in your head.”
“With your permission, Father,” Diego countered. “But I will tell you that if there were no Zorro, Los Ángeles would have fallen already.”
“And how can you be sure?” Alejandro crossed his arms, and his bushy, gray eyebrows furrowed toward his nose.
Diego’s smile turned into a grin. His white, perfectly straight teeth sparkled under the rays of the sun. “Because I read way too many books. Now let’s go greet this Capitán Arturo.”
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