Diego de la Vega and his mute sidekick, Bernardo, headed into town to visit the Farmer’s Market.
Steering the horse-drawn carriage, Diego glanced at his partner and said, “I’ll tell you, Bernardo, when was the last time Zorro was needed in the cuartel?”
Bernardo tapped his head and pointed at Diego’s chest. With his pointer finger, he drew a Z in midair and held it up to Diego’s face.
“Bravo, Bernardo!” was Diego’s response. “One full week! Do you think Monastario is finally giving up?”
Bernardo shrugged.
“I hope so,” Diego added. “There was something about that comandante I didn’t like. Can you guess what it was?”
Bernardo nodded and held out his arm. He pretended to be handling a whip and snapped his arm forward.
“Yes,” Diego said when he saw what Bernardo was acting out, “it was how he mistreated those poor Pueblo and made them move those rocks at the mission. What a heartless man. Well, at least we can finally travel to the Farmer’s Market without worrying about the safety of the people. This is what every day should be like.” He glanced into the gorgeous blue sky. “Blue skies, birds flying, and a chicken comandante.” He laughed and patted Bernardo’s shoulder. Picking up the reins, he shouted, “Hyah!” and flicked them.
They arrived at the cuartel ten minutes later.
Diego sniffed the air. “Ah, that is the scent of succession, Bernardo. I have never felt this good in my entire life.” He waved at the Pueblo who roamed the cuartel.
Bernardo’s eyes rolled over to a large man, Sergeant Garcia, hanging up posters and whistling. He nudged Diego.
“What is it, Bernardo?” he asked, gazing at him.
Bernardo frantically pointed at Garcia.
Spotting him, Diego said, “Huh, that’s interesting. Why would Sergeant Garcia be up at this hour?” He handed the reins to Bernardo. “I wonder what those posters say. Bernardo, watch the carriage.” He adjusted his jacket and held his palm out to his partner. “Hand me my book.”
Nodding, Bernardo reached into the back of the carriage and dug out a thick, 400-page book. He set it in Diego’s palm.
“Thank you, my friend,” Diego said. He began to climb out of the carriage. “You wait here with the horses, and I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
Smiling, Bernardo saluted.
Diego’s feet hit the stone ground. He put his hat behind his neck and exhaled. He then marched toward Garcia and stopped behind him.
Garcia had not noticed him. He was too busy whistling and hammering a poster on the wall.
Diego waited a bit, then said, ”Buenos días, Sergeant.”
Garcia screamed and dropped his load of posters. Whirling around, his eyes widened. “Don Diego!” He placed his hand on his heart. “Why would you do that?”
"Lo siento, Sergeant,” Diego said, “but I was wondering...” He pointed at the posters. “What’s with these posters you’re so kindly hanging up?”
“Oh,” Garcia said. He removed his hat and held it before his chest. ”Comandante’s orders, Don Diego. As you should know, he gives the orders. I only follow them.”
Chuckling, Diego said, “I am well aware, Sergeant. May I please read one of them?”
Garcia tapped the rim of his hat with his fingertips and said, ”Si, señor,” in a shaky voice. He moved to the side so Diego could see the poster he had just hung up.
Leaning into the poster, Diego read it. His expression went from happy to grim. Afterward, he backed away from the poster and asked Garcia, “What’s with this, Sergeant?”
"Comandante’s orders,” Garcia anxiously spoke. “He gives the orders. I only follow them.”
Suddenly, the sound of cantering horse hooves polluted the atmosphere.
Diego turned to see an enormous Freiberger cantering toward him. On top of the Freiberger sat Capitán Monastario.
He halted his horse before Diego and Garcia.
Diego sighed.
“Sergeant,” Monastario sternly said, “have you finished hanging up the posters?”
Garcia didn’t speak. He hid behind his hat and pointed his chubby thumb at Diego, who read in his book.
Monastario glanced at him. His eyes moved over to Garcia, and he gasped, looking back at Diego. “Diego de la Vega!”
Diego looked up from his book and waved.
Monastario shot Garcia an angry look and dismounted his horse. Approaching Diego, he crossly asked, “What are you doing here, de la Vega?”
“My apologies, comandante," Diego said. “Bernardo and I were on our way to the Farmer’s Market, and we stumbled upon these posters.” Closing his book, he pointed his hand at the posters. “Which I meant to ask—what’s all this talk about taxing the people of Pueblo de Los Ángeles and imprisoning them if they can’t pay their taxes?”
“It’s none of your business, de la Vega,” Monastario said. “I’m merely doing my duty, and I don’t need spineless weaklings like you to keep getting in my way. Sergeant Garcia!”
Jumping, Garcia hobbled to him and stood tall, his belly sticking out. “You called, capitán?"
"Si,” Monastario said. He focused on Diego. “Escort our friend to his carriage and ensure he stays there.”
Saluting, Garcia said, ”Sí, capitán!”
Diego upsettingly lowered his book.
Monastario remounted his horse and glared.
Diego said, “Don’t look so excited, comandante. Not everyone fails to capture a fox.”
“Ooh,” Monastario spoke, blushing embarrassingly. “You try my patience, de la Vega. Guide him to his carriage, Garcia.” Turning his horse, he called, “Lancers, mount up!”
The prison gates opened. A dozen soldiers sprinted out. They hurried to their tied-up horses and untied them.
Monastario urged his horse to a canter. He shouted, “No slacking off!” as he cantered toward the lancers. “We ride to the mission... immediately!”
“Sergeant Garcia,” Diego worriedly said as he watched the comandante and his lancers ride away, “why are they targeting the mission? My friend, Padre Fray Felipe, lives there.”
Garcia patted his shoulder and led him to his carriage, where Bernardo waited. “Oh, please forgive me, señor, but the comandante’s been in a bad place since he lost that battle against The Fox last week. He has ordered his men to ride around Los Ángeles, visit every house, and ask people for their money.”
Bewildered, Bernardo locked eyes with Garcia and grabbed Diego’s wrist, helping him into the carriage.
Once settled, Diego picked up the reins in his left hand and snapped his fingers in Bernardo’s face with his right, causing Bernardo to take his eyes off Sergeant Garcia and stare at him instead.
He said, “Well, thank you for that most eventful morning, Sergeant Garcia, but my father will be expecting me home soon with a fresh batch of apples. I’ve heard that the tavern has gotten some new wine from Mexico City, and I’m sure a brilliant sergeant, such as yourself, who has been working nonstop, should probably stop by and give it a taste.”
“Ooohhh,” Garcia said at the thought of wine. He patted his belly. “Well, if you insist, Don Diego, I have been riding in a hard saddle for a few days now.”
“Even better!” Diego stated. Lifting his hand, he patted Garcia’s back. “Hurry before they run out of wine!”
"Si!” Garcia saluted, treating Diego like he was Monastario. Placing his hand on the hilt of his sword, he hobbled away.
Diego winked at Bernardo, but he lost his smile and became serious. “Bernardo, this is serious. Monastario is taxing the people of Pueblo de Los Ángeles. If they can’t pay their taxes, he will throw them in prison and flog them until they fall. Monastario and his lancers are riding to the mission to ask Felipe for his money, but as you should know, monks don’t have money. Felipe needs somebody to warn him about Monastario before it’s too late. But who?” He tapped his chin to think.
Bernardo mimicked.
Eventually, Diego snickered. Lowering his hand, he leaned in toward Bernardo. “A fox, perhaps?”
Understanding who he was talking about, Bernardo checked their surroundings to ensure nobody was watching. He faced Diego and asked, “Choo choo choo?” redrawing the Z in midair.
Winking, Diego nodded.
Bernardo grinned.
Diego flicked the reins, urging the horses forward.
ns216.73.217.22da2
and then Add to home screen.