FicWad

After making sure his father had gone to see the alcalde, Diego had sighed in relief: at least Don Alejandro wouldn't go on a search on his own after opening this very disturbing parcel. Dealing with his father's impulsiveness was always trying, but this time the very personal circumstances were making things even worse for the troubled elderly father. At least, Diego was reassured: just like in the morning, Sergeant Mendoza would keep a close eye on Don Alejandro this afternoon.

Behind Señora Valdès's back, Felipe gestured to him: he was going to saddle Tornado again. Diego noticed that the señora was holding her daughter's locks of hair tightly in her hand, her gaze lost somewhere beyond the horizon through the broken glass panel of the window. He made sure she was taken care of by her maid Concepcion, and then discreetly left them to take the secret passage to Zorro's cave.

Zorro had followed the tracks left by the rider who threw the stone and the message through the window. They led him to a hill a few miles from the hacienda; but it was hard to tell the real distance, since the rider took a wide detour to avoid the pueblo.

And here they were. Three men, and a tied-up and gagged child. Hidden behind a bush some hundred yards from them, Zorro was watching them. They were positioned as to form a triangle. Closer from Zorro was a man dressed in dark brown clothes who was standing beside the child, a pistol in his hand but not aimed at her. Another grey-clad armed man was near two saddled horses on the left. And on the right a third man dressed in light brown seemed rather agitated. All three of them were wearing a scarf over their nose, tied at the back of their head, so that their faces were hidden. All that could be seen of them was the eyes and part of the forehead, between the top of the scarf and the hat. Zorro heard another horse whinny, probably the third man's horse. Since they were shouting, he could understand what they were saying: they seemed to be arguing.

"That was a really stupid thing to do," the man near Leonor was saying, pointing a finger at the third one. "That wasn't part of the plan."

"I'm sure the old fogey needed some persuasion," he replied.

"And you didn't need to cut the girl's hair either, really!" the second man added, not listening to what the other objected.

"Well," he retorted, "I'm not the one who gagged her!"

"Her constant cries and whines were getting on my nerves, she'll recover from it," the man in grey argued, shrugging.

"And her hair will grow long again," his accomplice retorted. "If everything goes according to the plan, that is..."

"You should have referred to me before taking any kind of initiative!" the first one who appeared to be their leader shouted. "Did you at least think about covering your tracks?"

"Oh come on, there's nothing to get all worked up about!" the beige-clad man objected. "By now they must be too worried about their little princess here to think about either hunting us down or trying to fool us!"

"I'd really like to have your naive optimism," the man in grey told him, "but I'm afraid we now have to break camp and clear off to another hiding place..."

"Of course we have to," the boss agreed, "thanks to mister Big-Brain here," he added pointing at the beige-clad man on his right. "And this time we'll carefully cover our tracks."

"I swear you," the man on the left said, "if any of us gets caught because of your stupidity, don't expect us to cover for you: your name will be the first given to–"

"That's enough!" the leader cut in in a commanding voice.

Humm, Zorro thought, he doesn't want infighting and discord within the group... "Divide and rule", they say: this trouble in paradise could favour Zorro. The major danger was for one of them to use the girl as a hostage, to threaten to harm her, or to unwillingly hurt her while fighting. Which meant that he'd had to neutralise the one who was guarding her while the other two would be busy doing something else with their backs to him.

Spotting a rock a bit ahead of him to hide behind he got closer from them, in order to have a better aim: his plan was to come close enough to disarm their leader with his whip while the other two were not paying attention, and then to either fight them too or to just catch the girl and whistle for Tornado to come and then, back home!

He was about to do exactly that when an unexpected event, a hitch, occurred in his plan: he saw a horse gallop to them, coming from the bottom of the hill. No! that wasn't the good time for that! He had to act quickly before the bandits noticed it too! But at this exact moment, he was taken aback as he recognised his mare Esperanza.

Esperanza, mounted by a flurry of frilly sky-blue something. And before he could recover from his stupefaction, Señora Valdès had dismounted, a pistol in each hand aimed at each of the two bandits on both sides. She coldly but firmly told the third one, the one keeping watch over the child:

"Release my daughter, or your two friends will die before you have time to move an eyelash!"

Oh, no, Zorro thought. Her interference was derailing his plans. Diego had spent the last hours fearing that his father's hot temper and reckless attitude might mess things up and put him at risk, and out of the two parents it was finally the mother who did something stupid and rash like attacking bandits one-to-three and unprepared. What happened to not going on a solitary search? What happened to calming down, keeping a cool head and not doing anything rash?

Well, Diego knew what happened: she saw her daughter's cut hair and a message promising to harm her. That was quite a disturbing sight, along with an even more disturbing promise; all the more so that the message was laconic and lapidary. Short and sharp.

And in Araceli's mind, the cool-headed and rational part had finally been overtaken by the instinctive and immediately responsive part of her being. The ratio between the two had been inverted. Understandably so.

But that was a problem for Zorro in the current situation.

And what's more, he recognised with horror the pistols in her hands: on the right, some very old collector's handgun that usually adorned the study's mantelpiece, and on the left she was holding a finely decorated antique pistol which had belonged to Don Alejandro's father in his youth.

The first one was only harmless, as Diego knew the flint was lacking: she wouldn't shoot at anything with that one. But the second one was more worrying: his grandfather's pistol was a keepsake, a family heirloom, but it was so outdated that it hadn't been fired for at least thirty years. The odds were high that it wouldn't fire at all either, but there was also a significant risk that the gun might just explode in her face.

Oh, Dios, what a mess she was unknowingly making of all this!

On the ground, the little girl was wriggling, struggling with her bonds, having recognised her mother. Despite her gag, she was trying to shout something that sounded a bit like "Mamá!"

The bandit dressed in grey barked to the one on the opposite side:

"You see what you've done? You've led her straight to us, you moron!"

Suddenly a fourth masked man Zorro hadn't noticed before silently appeared right behind Señora Valdès and grabbed her, knocking one of her pistols out of her hand. The man in the grey suit made the most of her short moment of distraction to disarm her of her second pistol, and despite the reversal of circumstances Zorro let out a breath of relief: at least Araceli wouldn’t unintentionally blow up the worn-out gun in her own face.

Her two weapons now lay on the ground, and in a flash two of the bandits were aiming their guns at Leonor and a third one was taking aim at her mother with his pistol while the fourth man was holding the woman, twisting her right arm behind her back in a hammerlock.

A black horse then calmly came trotting from behind a rock, along with another white one. Four bandits, and four horses in total. Let's just hope that was all, Zorro thought.

"I don't think I'll release your daughter right now, Señora," the brown-clad leader told her, still aiming his weapon at the child. "With all due respect, I'll ask you to leave her with us some more time; after all we still need her for some business deal, don't we? As a matter of fact, it all depends on your... your old flame..."

The other three burst out laughing at the dubious pun.

"Then keep me instead of her and let her go!" she offered straight back.

"Well," the man answered, "I'm sorry but a daughter is worthier than a former sweetheart." He paused. "Or even a current one, come to think of that," he added flippantly. "And a young child is far less troublesome than an adult, so thank you but we'll pass. Your daughter is lighter than a feather and my horse doesn't feel any difference when I take her with me to ride pillion... No offense intended, Señora."

"None taken," she grumbled through greeted teeth.

The man who was holding her in a hammerlock was keeping her arm pinned against her back with his right arm and encircling her with his left one clasped around her, keeping her locked flat against him. From her shoulders to her waist, she couldn't move at all.

Suddenly, right against his left hand – the one wrapped around her chest – the man holding her noticed... something. Something soft and rounded and cushiony. Here, right against his palm, the tip of his fingers gently sinking into its warmth and softness... With this same hand he then stroked and felt and kneaded and fondled and groped, an eyebrow suggestively arched high over his eye and a crooked smile on his face.

She froze and tensed, her eyes growing wide, her breath catching.

"Well well well," he said, "the old lech is a man of taste... He did all right for himself, the lucky bugger!"

With a sharp move of his head, he managed to make the red scarf hiding his features fall under his chin, and he slowly ran the tip of his nose up and down the side of her exposed neck, breathing against her skin. Her features sharpened and froze in distaste.

The man then replaced his nose with his moist lips. This time she screwed her face in clear disgust, still as a statue.

"I wish we could spend some good time alone together, sweetheart," he murmured in her ear. "You'd surely have more fun than the dirty old man ever gave you..."

And this time he downright licked her neck.

Against her better judgement, she couldn't bear any more of that: Zorro saw her sharply jerk her head backwards, headbutting the man hard.

Surprised and under the impact, the man stumbled backwards, releasing his hold on her. She tried to hit him in the ribs with her elbow, but he was already too far behind her and she just touched him lightly in the chest. He raised a hand to his aching nose, but incensed by the pain and the damaged done to his pride, he threw a punch at her cheek. She fell backwards on the ground, rolling in the dust. Her fancy dress, already mussed by the wild ride, was now a real mess. In her fall, the bottom of her skirts hiked up, letting her white silken-clad calves show from her ankles up to her knees.

Each of the four bandits reacted immediately: the two guarding the child tightened their hold on their guns, the man in grey got closer from the señora, holding her at gunpoint, while the fourth man, still recovering from the blow she gave him and hiding his face again with his scarf drew his pistol and aimed it at her too.

The situation became more complicated for Zorro to take action. He could easily neutralise one man, probably two in a same move, but not four in two different places at the same time. If he attacked the two bandits threatening the child, the other two would have time to pull the trigger and shoot her mother. And if he freed the woman first, he wouldn't have time to do anything more before the two remaining men could harm little Leonor.

That was an even trickier situation than a few seconds before. It was really too risky to intervene.

"Wrong move, querida," the man with the red scarf told Araceli, still holding her at gunpoint, "but I'm a good boy and I'm all for giving you a second chance. Are you sure you don't want a special cuddle with me? I can be extra gentle, if that's what makes you get wet... Or a bit rough, if that's what makes you get off... Whatever you like, pretty!"

Still lying on the ground, she shuddered in revulsion and flinched a bit.

"No?" the man went on with a snigger. "Sure? Well, you have no idea what you're missing out on, love. Too bad for you!"

"That's quite enough!" the gang leader's voice sharply cut in. "I'm sorry Señora," he then added graciously, "I must ask you to forgive my associate, some people just don't have manners and don't know how to address a lady of quality nor to watch their language in the presence of a child..."

And the child in question was indeed silently sobbing through her gag. No doubt that seeing her mother being hit in the face distressed the girl greatly.

"Gallantry would normally command that I should offer you my arm to help you up," the leader went on, "but you'll understand that considering the situation and the demonstration you've just given us of what kind of nasty tricks you're capable of, we'll keep our distance. My apologies about that, Señora, but safety prevails."

She sat up, taking a look around herself, but she didn't stand.

"I have an offer," she announced. "Co–... come to think about it... I might have a deal to propose..."

"I don't think you're in any position to negotiate, Señora."

"Who talks about negotiation, here?" she said in a very self-assured voice. "I'm talking business!"

She paused. The four men waited, curious against their better judgement to know what she'd have to offer.

"Here is the deal," she went on. "I..."

She paused again.

"You let my daughter go on my horse here," she said showing Esperanza, "and once I'm sure she's safe, let's say... in half an hour..." she paused again, then took a deep breath to give herself some courage, "then I... I let you do whatever you want with me. I... I could even be... be quite... cuddly, if that's what you..."

But her whole physical attitude showed enough how repulsed she felt at this idea. She failed at totally suppressing a shudder. She nonetheless tried to conceal it and put on a brave face.

"So?" she asked, defiantly holding her head high.

"Well," the brown-clad leader answered, "I would hate for you to think we disregard the quality of what you're offering, Señora, but despite what you seem to be thinking, we're not the kind of men who'd take advantage of a woman. But please don't take this as an insult to your charms, I think I can talk on behalf of all my associates here to assure you they're quite appealing."

The red-scarfed man, the one who'd been precisely holding, groping and teasing her a few seconds before told her:

"If you're not truly ready to have fun and enjoy yourself, it's just not fun for me either... I don't get off from forcing myself on anyone who doesn't really want me!"

"And anyway, as otherwise pleasant an undoubtedly enjoyable what you have to offer seems to be, I don’t think it's worth eight thousands pesos. We're here on a certain business, Señora, and we fully intend it to be handled on our terms. After all, business is business, I'm sure you of all people can understand that, Señora. But we pay tribute to your motherly devotion and abnegation."

He paused.

"So in short," he concluded, "thank you for the tempting offer but the answer is no."