


Revenge Of The Indian Chief

by miXiZ



Category: Zorro
Genre: Adventure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2014-10-01 23:01:13
Rating: K+
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,374
Publisher: www.fanfiction.net
Story URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10470449/1/
Author URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/4501243/miXiZ
Summary: WDZ short story - Diego and Raúl defy Comandante Nieto, who has imprisoned three Indians on dubious charges.





	Revenge Of The Indian Chief

**Revenge Of The Indian Chief**

**A/N**

This is a short story, fitting into my Diego and Soledad series, but several stories in the future. It helps if you know **Doubloon Trouble** and **Death Feud,** as well as my early, now revised short story **Zorro and the Apache Chief.**

Winnetou and his white blood brother Old Shatterhand are figures created by the late Karl May. They are much like Zorro, fighting for justice. The story takes reference to all three stories mentioned above, but should be a good read without knowing them, too. Soledad and her brother Raúl are childhood friends of Diego, who have returned after a longer spell in Spain. Diego and Soledad fell in love and got married, and this stories is a couple of years into the marriage.

**Pueblo de los Angeles, 1827**

The noise of wooden sticks clattering against each other resounded in the de la Vega patio. Alejandro de la Vega smiled broadly as he watched his son teach his oldest grandson a few basic moves. At three years, Luis de la Vega barely reached his father's hip, but he showed an interest and hunger for the art of wielding a wooden rapier that eerily reminded the old man of when Diego had been this age. Sitting down in a chair, Alejandro observed the spectacle with a smirk while at the same time he admired his son's patience to teach.

Something made the old man look up to see his daughter-in-law coming down the staircase, smiling. Soledad de la Vega had put the newest addition to the family, little David, down for a nap. At six months old, he had recently started to crawl and practised this art to exhaustion.

"Do let him win, querido," Soledad said teasingly when she reached the patio level. Before Diego could react, Luis raced past him towards his mother.

"Mamá," he shouted. "Did you see me fence with Papá?"

"I sure did, Luis," she smiled. "You'll be as good as Zorro one day if you keep practising."

Diego and Alejandro chuckled at this and the young don went over to his wife to tenderly kiss her lips. "Do you think it's a good idea to talk about Zorro in front of him?" Diego whispered only for Soledad to hear. "There is a reason he doesn't know what I do at night."

"Sure there is, Diego. But like all boys he wants to be like Zorro. Let him have his dreams." Soledad's smile evoked a mirroring one from her husband and he laughed.

"You're right, as usual. I..." Diego trailed off for at this moment a movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Turning, he saw Luis had climbed onto a chair next to his grandfather and, wooden sword in hand, he jumped down with a big "Ha!"

Soledad leaned closer to Diego and whispered in his ear. "Like father, like son."

Alejandro chuckled, drawing his son's attention. Yet before Diego could say anything, the patio gate opened and in rushed Raúl Fábregas. "Diego, I need to talk with you." Raúl sounded anxious.

"But of course, my friend. What's the matter?"

"This is not meant for his ears," Raúl nodded at Luis. Soledad, understanding her brother's hint, took Luis by the hand and led him inside the hacienda.

"What's wrong, Raúl?" Diego asked when his son was out of earshot, gesturing for him to take a seat. Raúl accepted the offer and waited until Diego had fetched another chair to sit with his friend and his father.

"Capitán Nieto has taken three Indians prisoner, to be executed tomorrow at noon," Raúl explained.

"What did they do?" Diego asked, exchanging a quick glance with his father, sounding alarmed.

"Don Francisco de Gama said they tried to steal a horse," Raúl continued. "But the Indians claim they were merely searching for a horse of theirs which had run off."

"And Nieto wants to execute them? Does he have enough proof that Don Francisco's accusation is true?" Diego didn't like the story his brother-in-law had told him. "Horse theft is a capital offense, in the wild, mind you. I would have thought us to be civilized. And even in the wilderness you need good proof."

"I don't think so, Diego. Don Francisco didn't catch them with one of his horses. They only were sneaking around, he told Nieto." Raúl frowned. "But you know that Don Francisco isn't friendly towards the local Indians. Even less friendship he feels for these ones of a strange tribe."

"That doesn't sound good, Raúl," Diego mused. "Let's get into town and find out more."

"I will join you, my son," Alejandro declared, but Diego laid a restraining hand on his arm.

"No, Father. It's likely that Don Francisco is around and I don't think I have to remind you that the two of you don't get along, do I?"

Alejandro scowled slightly, which almost caused the two younger men to burst into laughter. "Sí," he grumbled.

"And I need you to let Bernardo know what's going on when he's back from the blacksmith. I would like him to meet us in the pueblo."

"Very well, my son. Good luck."

***ZzZ***

A knocking could be heard on the door to the comandante's office.

"Enter!" Capitán Nieto called, throwing a quick glance aside towards Don Francisco de Gama.

The door opened and in came Corporal Reyes. "Don Diego de la Vega and Don Raúl Fábregas to see you, mi capitán," he announced with a salute. Nieto sighed, having a pretty good idea what the two young dons were there for.

"Let them enter," he replied and Reyes disappeared. Don Raúl rushed in, followed by Don Diego, who touched his friend on the elbow and tried to convey the message to stay calm. Raúl nodded and exhaled, letting his friend step forward.

"Buenos días, Capitán," Diego greeted politely. "Don Francisco," he nodded towards the older don. Raúl simply nodded in greeting, having all hands full to not burst out shouting for an explanation.

"I'll come straight to the point, Capitán," Diego started, ignoring Nieto's gesture to take a seat. "I have heard you want to execute three Indians who have been seen close to a herd of Don Francisco's horses and have been labeled horse thieves for this reason alone..." he let the statement hang without taking his gaze off the officer.

"I am sure they would have stolen at least one horse, Don Diego," Don Francisco piped up. "I caught them myself looking at them closely."

"When I look at a horse it does not mean I want to steal it," Diego stated. "Is there anything else that made you think that? Did they have a lasso ready to catch it? Did another have their horses ready to disappear? Was one of them sitting on one of your horses perhaps?"

"No, Don Diego. They only have two horses. There are three Indians," Francisco spat out the last word. "Of course they wanted to steal one. That's all that filthy Indians know how to do."

"It's obvious that you are quite prejudiced, Don Francisco. Just how many times have you had horses stolen by Indians?"

"None," Francisco replied testily. "Because I have reliable vaqueros guarding them."

"Capitán," Diego said, relocating his attention. Don Francisco's reasoning was testing his patience and he just knew Raúl was ready to explode. "Surely this can't be proof enough to warrant an execution. Have they been questioned?"

"Sí, Don Diego. They claim they were passing by, searching for their lost horse. Obviously, that was a lie," Nieto replied.

"Obviously," Diego growled, "your reasoning needs improving."

"Obviously the capitán is too chicken to defy Don Francisco's wishes," Raúl burst out, unable to contain himself any longer.

"Raúl," Diego hissed, turning towards his friend to hold him back. Taking a deep breath, Raúl stepped back.

"Days like these, Diego, I'm wondering if I must get my commission back to show the military here how such a post has to be handled," Raúl muttered under his breath and Diego patted his shoulder. Then he turned back to face the capitán and Don Francisco.

"In other words, you're going to execute these men without any more proof than Don Francisco's word. Everyone knows he has no love for Indians, no matter what. And these three strangers haven't even tried to get away when they were accused. Surely a guilty party would have tried to avoid arrest."

"They are Indians, and they deserve to die. Only a dead Indian is a good Indian!" Don Francisco said disdainfully. Diego stared hard at him and then turned.

"Let's go, Raúl. There is no reason or justice in this room." With that, the two dons exited the office. Diego made a straightforward line to the cell the prisoners were in.

"Don't get too close, Don Diego. They are dangerous," Private Ortega, who was keeping an eye on the prisoners, said. Diego was about to retort something and this time it was Raúl who had to calm his friend. He put his hand on Diego's arm and winked when Diego looked at him.

"Sí. Gracias, private," Diego replied. He studied the three figures behind the bars. One of them, apparently the leader, stepped closer and stared back at him. The Indian scrutinized the don and then the shadow of a smile crossed his features before he retreated a step. "Do you speak Spanish?" Diego asked. The Indian nodded. "What is your name?"

"They call me Pouncing Puma," the Indian replied.

"My name is Diego de la Vega, this is my good friend Raúl Fábregas," Diego introduced themselves. "They say you tried to steal a horse?"

"We were merely trying to find one of our own. The Mescaleros are no horse thieves," Pouncing Puma said proudly. "We thought the sense of justice of the white people would be better developed."

"I believe you," Diego said enigmatically. "I will see what I can do."

Pouncing Puma nodded. "I know," he simply said and then retreated to the back of the cell. Puzzled, Diego turned and headed for the cuartel gate, along with Raúl.

"What was all that about?" Raúl quietly asked when they crossed the plaza.

"I have no idea, Raúl. I seem to be missing something. He said they are Mescaleros. I have heard of that tribe before. I'm just not sure when... and where." He sighed. "Let's go to the tavern for some refreshments," he then suggested and the two friends entered the inn.

***ZzZ***

Sergeant García was delighted when he and Corporal Reyes spotted Diego de la Vega in the tavern. Exchanging a thirsty look, the two soldiers headed towards the table the young don and his friend occupied.

"Buenas tardes, Don Diego, Don Raúl. It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" García called cheerfully. Diego and Raúl could only do so much to prevent from bursting out in laughter. The sergeant's plump attempt to get a free glass of wine amused them.

"Indeed it is, Sergeant. Would you and the Corporal care to join us?" Raúl invited the soldiers.

"Oh, muchas gracias, Don Raúl," García delightedly replied. Soon the four toasted to a beautiful day and the soldiers emptied their mugs.

"I hear you have strange Indians in your cell, Sergeant," Diego remarked, earning a glance from Raúl.

"Sí, I tell you, Don Diego, those three are quite eerie," García looked over his shoulder, his voice low. Corporal Reyes nodded ominously.

"Eerie? How so?" Diego inquired. He was letting the fox surface, Raúl observed and quickly smothered the smile that wanted to spread over his face.

"The way they look at you, Don Diego. As if they want to look straight to your bones."

"Sí," Corporal Reyes chimed in. "My bones start shaking when they look at me."

Diego rested his head on his hands, propped up on his elbows and gritted his teeth to control his own urge to laugh. He enjoyed the picturesque descriptions of the two bumbling soldiers.

"The only thing more eerie would be ghosts, Don Diego," García confirmed Reyes' words, shuddering.

"Ghosts?" Diego's eyebrows climbed up his forehead. "I thought ever since Zorro tricked you into believing in the ghost of the dead monk you were positive that there are no such specters."

"Please, Don Diego. Do not remind me of that night. It was dreadful," García pleaded. "But you are right in one thing. We are much too experienced by now to believe in ghosts."

"That's good to hear, Sergeant. There have been rumours that the ghost of the ancient Indian, who lives in the forgotten canyon, will take revenge upon all soldiers should these three Indians be executed."

Silence followed Diego's words and only the slight shaking of Raúl's shoulders attested that he realized what Diego was doing. Disrupting the silence, Diego grabbed the bottle and poured García and Reyes another glass of wine. He then put the bottle down with a thump which made the two soldiers jump.

"The ghost of the ancient Indian, Don Diego?" García repeated. Diego nodded. "The forgotten canyon?" Still Diego was nodding.

"Don't tell me you never heard of this," he sounded exasperated. Both García and Reyes shook their heads no. "I can hardly believe that. It's an old wives tale my father told me when I was a child," Diego ploughed on. "Would you like me to tell you why this ghost doesn't like soldiers?"

The look of terror on the soldiers' faces was priceless. Yet before Diego could start his little ghost story, the door opened and Bernardo approached them. García and Reyes were grateful and took the opportunity to leave, not without making sure their mugs were empty.

***ZzZ***

"You really are as sly as a fox, Diego," Raúl told his friend as they were riding home. Bernardo had taken up his post in the pueblo to notify Diego if anything unforeseen should occur. Diego and Raúl were heading to de la Vegas with a slight detour to the Fábregas hacienda to let Raúl's family know he'd be spending the night at his friend's place.

Graciana and their two-year-old son Javier, named after his late grandfather, waved goodbye as the friends left. Now they rode at a leisurely pace towards the hacienda Diego's grandfather had built.

"How do you mean?" Diego asked.

"Just the way you fed that ghost story to García. Him and Reyes looked like they might see the devil himself," Raúl chuckled. "Now what was that about a ghost monk?" Diego laughed heartily and told his friend about the story of Zorro and the mad monk and how it saved Nacho Torres' life.

"I see I don't know all your exploits yet... by far," Raúl stated when Diego had finished. "I must say, though, that it sounds a lot more like you than the pacifist you're pretending to be."

"Thanks to you this picture is starting to crumble, my friend. People may still see me as a scholar, but ever since Raúl Fábregas taught Diego de la Vega how to handle a sword, the pacifist alibi is wearing thin," Diego laughed. Then he sobered. "At least it gives me the opportunity to teach my own son," he said.

"Talking of that, don't you think Luis is a bit young for that, yet? He's barely three."

"True, but he'd take anything to use as a sword. Those stories my father has been telling him have left him eager to learn. When I teach him at least he has supervision with the stick."

"I understand. I was talking to your father last week and he told me he sees a lot of you in Luis. Not only the dark locks and the cheeky smile, but your courage and agility, too. You'll have to keep a close eye at the boy, I tell you. I'm just glad Javier is more mellow."

"Just you wait, Raúl," Diego laughed. "Just you wait."

"Why? I don't see him interested in stick wielding anytime sooner than David. And he'll still need a bit of time to get interested in sticks." Raúl grinned at the thought of his little nephew crawling around with a wooden sword.

"Don't say that too loud, my friend. When my father was asking for grandchildren constantly I'm sure he didn't think there would be so much commotion in the hacienda," Diego laughed and Raúl joined in.

***ZzZ***

In the dead of the night, Zorro and Tornado covered the distance between the cave and the pueblo effortlessly. The moon was not yet full but bright enough along with the stars to illuminate the landscape a bit. Diego had tried to remember where he had come into contact with the Mescaleros. He was sure he must have, for it would explain Pouncing Puma's cryptic words. However it was, he hadn't managed to solve this riddle.

A chuckle escaped the masked man when he thought about his plan to free these Indians. They were only in possession of two horses and it wouldn't do to steal one for real this time when they had been put to jail being accused of attempted horse theft. Zorro had hobbled up a de la Vega horse in a canyon about three miles away from the cave. It was the same canyon he had told Sergeant García and Corporal Reyes about, the forgotten canyon.

Knowing the two soldiers as he did, they had wasted no time to tell the other lancers about the haunted place. He was sure the soldiers wouldn't set foot in it on their own free will.

Arriving at the cuartel wall, Zorro stood on Tornado's back and hoisted himself up onto the top of the wall. From there he ducked and signaled Tornado to hide. Slowly the outlaw crawled across the terracotta roof tiles right to the edge.

Despite the supposed execution the following noon, he saw no evidence of the gallows. But there was always the possibility of the firing squad. However, Zorro only counted the usual amount of guards. Capitán Nieto must know Zorro would try to free the Indians. Usually this called for a special trap for the fox.

Private Núñez was standing right below Zorro, next to the cells and there were two guards by the gate. All three of them looked rather bored. Straining his eyes to see if Nieto had told his other soldiers to hide, just like Capitán Monastario once had, he couldn't make out anything suspicious.

He would have to take his chances. Getting ready to drop down, Zorro waited until the guards at the gate leaned against the wall to keep from falling asleep. Then he dropped and used Private Nuñez to break his fall. As expected, the private was knocked out.

Quickly flattening himself against the ground, Zorro glanced up to see if the other guards had heard the thump and were alerted. But everything seemed to go in his favor. They didn't even twitch. Maybe they were fast asleep. Pushing himself up, Zorro glanced inside the cell to find all three Indians looking right at him. He pressed his index finger across his lips in a gesture to keep them quiet.

Zorro sneaked towards the stables and got the two horses of the Indians to the front. He listened to hear the usual occasional noise from the barracks. The comandante's office was still holding a light, as he could see the shimmer from beneath the door. Smiling, the fox now went to loosen the saddles of the soldiers' mounts and then went to relieve the unconscious Núñez of the keys to the cells.

"Take your horses and head north for about five miles," he said in a low voice. "You will find an extra horse there at the mouth of the canyon." Pouncing Puma and his companions nodded and silently got to their horses. Zorro strode out to the middle of the cuartel yard.

"Attention!" He called loudly, making the two guards at the gate jump up.

"Zorro! It's Zorro! Sound the alarm!" the one shouted and ran towards Zorro drawing his saber while the other one hurried straight to ring the alarm. Zorro drew his own sword and deflected the lancer's clumsy attack. Like he was possessed, the private attacked time and time again and each attack Zorro deflected with ease.

In the meantime, commotion in the barracks were heralding the remaining lancers' imminent arrival which the three Indians took advantage of the distraction Zorro offered and escaped through the gate, leaving it open. One by one the soldiers poured from the barracks, joined by Capitán Nieto who emerged from his office.

"Don't let Zorro get away!" Nieto shouted. Then he noticed the prisoners were missing. "García! The prisoners! Quickly, pursuit!"

Sergeant García tapped a few soldiers on their shoulders and told them to mount their horses. He himself as well as Corporal Reyes followed suit. But as soon as they put their feet in the stirrups the whole saddle came sliding down to hang underneath the horses' bellies. Not one lancer had managed to mount up.

Zorro, who had been busy deflecting attacks from all directions, took on more seriousness and sent saber after saber flying through the air. Then he stood face to face with Nieto. Flashing a smile, Zorro awaited the capitán's attack. He wasn't disappointed. Nieto slashed at him and thrust his saber enthusiastically, but whatever he tried, the fox had an answer to it.

Seeing the soldiers finishing up resetting the saddles, Zorro whistled loudly. Then he initiated a swift flurry of movements and with a metallic swoosh the capitán's saber became airborne. A shrill neighing announced Tornado's presence and Zorro jumped onto his faithful steed.

"Adios, mi capitán. Until we meet again!" The masked bandit whirled his stallion around and thundered off. Grabbing a musket from the rack on the wall, Capitán Nieto took aim hastily and shot. The black stallion's gallop didn't miss a beat.

***ZzZ***

Zorro was racing away from the cuartel when he heard the report of a musket. A split second later it felt like a giant fist slammed him on the left shoulder. Gritting his teeth, the masked man continued, knowing that Sergeant García would be close behind him. He had to lead them to the forgotten canyon.

As he rode on, Zorro became aware of a dull throb in his shoulder, which was growing into an ever present sharp pain. Every pace Tornado made jolted his pain up a few notches. Finally he felt something warm and sticky running down his back and arm. It was then, that the fox realized he had been hit.

By the time he reached the mouth of the canyon, he saw the horse he had planted there had disappeared. A brief smile flickered across his face, only to distort into a pained expression. Guiding Tornado into the canyon and up a narrow path, he hoped the lightheadedness he was experiencing would recede.

He reached a secluded spot, a good place to hide out which allowed him to observe the mouth of the canyon without being seen. With effort, he managed to dismount without falling off Tornado. His vision was swimming for a moment and Zorro realized he wouldn't be able to get back on his horse. He needed a diversion.

Remembering a trick he had pulled off during Monastario's reign, he was elated to find a forked branch nearby. Placing it on Tornado's saddle as best as he could, he then draped the cape across it. It certainly wasn't his best piece of handiwork when it came to deception but it would have to do.

Now he waited and listened for the lancers to arrive at the canyon. He didn't need to wait long. "Halt!" He heard the booming voice of García echoing through the night. Sound carried to him easily and Zorro chuckled slightly, hearing a mumbling coming from the soldiers. He picked up words, "Zorro... canyon... it's haunted... not going in...," and he was quite pleased with himself. His little scheme had worked. The lancers thought the canyon was haunted.

Shifting in his hideout, Zorro couldn't suppress a groan when his wounded shoulder brushed against to rocky walls of his shelter. The tunnel-like walls amplified the sound somewhat. "It's the ghost!" a soldier shrieked, frightened. A weary smile escaped the injured rider. Pulling himself up, Zorro put his right hand on Tornado's mane.

"Go boy, lead them away from here, find Bernardo! Find Soledad..." he trailed off. The faithful horse only looked at him with big eyes. Zorro shook his head and sighed. "Go!" Tornado turned slowly and carefully made his way down to the bottom of the canyon.

Zorro adjusted his attention to the soldiers below again. They were still not daring to ride along the narrow path. The masked man wanted to laugh but found it was too much effort.

"There's Zorro!" He heard a shouting from below and realized they must have seen Tornado with his makeshift rider. A rumbling then told him Tornado picked up pace. "We have to follow him," García's voice floated up to Zorro. A murmur of protests from the lancers arose. "Quickly, or he will escape. The comandante will wring our necks. Lugo, you go first."

"Me? No, Sergeant. You can't..."

"This is an order!"

In his hideout, Zorro chuckled silently. Looking down he saw that a lancer, Lugo, had tentatively ridden up a few steps ahead. Slowly the other lancers followed him. It was time to send them home. Zorro moved to a hollowed out part of the rock wall and cupped his hands. Then he spoke with the spookiest voice he could muster.

"Soldiers... in my canyon... oooohhhh!"

Shrieks of terror sounded from below and Zorro could see the soldiers frantically turning their horses. At least two lancers were unseated in the process and struggled to get back on their horses in the panic.

"Soldiers...!" Zorro groaned again. "Revenge is... mine..."

Listening again, Zorro could hear receding hoof beats and peeked down once more. All the soldiers had left. His plan had worked beautifully. Exhausted, the man in black slid down the rocky wall to a sitting position, resting his head on the rock behind him. His left arm was numb with pain. Closing his eyes, Zorro tried to will the pain away.

***ZzZ***

A few miles further north Pouncing Puma and his companions had crossed paths with another member of their tribe. He and his white companion and blood brother were supposed to meet Pouncing Puma and his men in Los Angeles. Being a chief, Winnetou had travelled to the west to visit tribes the Apaches were friendly with. His blood brother Charlie, who was more famously known as Old Shatterhand, had decided to accompany Winnetou.

Pouncing Puma, Crooked Arrow and Little Beaver were chosen to join the two, but had to take the short route directly to Los Angeles when Little Beaver's horse ran off one night. Los Angeles was determined as the meeting point because the blood brothers wanted to pay a visit to a friend who lived there.

This friend, then being a stranger to Winnetou, had put his own life on the line to save Winnetou's when the chief had first visited the pueblo a couple of years back. Whenever Winnetou or Old Shatterhand told the story, they would refer to him as the Black Fox. Only a few knew the name the man held in his pueblo, and Pouncing Puma was one of them.

The reunited group made camp and Pouncing Puma filled Winnetou and Old Shatterhand in on why they were not waiting in Los Angeles and where they got the new horse. The sun was rising early and Pouncing Puma had just finished his tale when the first rays flooded over the horizon, lifting the black shadows of the night into grey.

Winnetou, who was sitting opposite his three warriors, his white brother at his right, exchanged a look with the latter. A soft neighing caused Old Shatterhand to look ahead again. Barely visible as a contrast were the outlines of a magnificent black stallion, who held his head high up in the air, sniffing it. Then he trotted right at them.

Winnetou and the other Mescaleros had noticed the beautiful animal, too. The chief rose and stepped up, standing perfectly still a few meters away from the group. Snorting softly, the horse walked up to the chief and stood still. What was left of a black cape was hanging haphazardly from his saddle and Winnetou went to untangle it, which the beast tolerated.

Holding the cape in his hands, Winnetou went to unfold it. Then he turned and held out his hand to Old Shatterhand, who had walked up to him. The hand was red from crimson blood soaked into the torn material.

Not wasting a word, Winnetou handed the cape to Pouncing Puma and went to unhobble his black stallion, Iltshi. Soon the small group was following Tornado's lead back to the canyon.

***ZzZ***

Tornado was galloping ahead, leading the Indian and his friends back to where his master was. He remembered this Indian. He had helped his master once already and he trusted him to do so again. Finally he reached the secluded spot where he had left Zorro to find help.

Zorro was lying on his back on the ground, and the rising amount of sunlight revealed several more or less dried up bloody spots around him. His eyes were closed and Winnetou jumped off Iltshi and knelt down next to the masked man. Putting his fingers softly to the side of Zorro's neck, he felt a pulse flutter beneath them.

Old Shatterhand had joined his friend again while the other three Indians stayed mounted on their horses. Pouncing Puma knew his chief would do all he could for the Black Fox. Old Shatterhand's eyes scanned over the still form. Apart from the bloodied sleeve, he couldn't make out the source of the bleeding. Winnetou looked at his brother and together they carefully turned the bandit.

"If he keeps putting his life in jeopardy and takes a bullet every time we come to this area, we'd better stay away from him," Old Shatterhand mused. Then he retrieved some bandages from his Hatatitla's saddlebags and handed them to Winnetou. The Apache was feeling around the wound to determine where the musket ball was stuck.

Zorro moaned painfully at the prodding and opened his eyes to look into Winnetou's face. "Hurts," he rasped. Then he mustered a smile. "A vision if ever I had one." His eyes roamed on and stopped at Old Shatterhand. "Charlie," he nodded weakly.

"Winnetou found the bullet. It's not in too deep." With that, he pulled out his knife and fetched some dried herbs from a pouch at his saddle. He took the bandages from Old Shatterhand and spread the herbs on them. Then he added a few drops of water from his flask.

"Hold him down," he told Old Shatterhand who immediately complied. Locating the ball with his fingers again it only took a quick twist of the knife's blade to remove it. Zorro gritted his teeth to keep from shouting in pain and he was glad Old Shatterhand's firm grip prevented him to jerk from the sensation.

Zorro concentrated on breathing while Winnetou quickly and expertly applied the bandage. He only became aware it was done when Old Shatterhand offered him a drink of water.

"Gracias," Zorro rasped and took a few sips. Then he grimaced. "What, by the santos, was that?"

"An herbal painkiller which also is known to keep inflammation at bay," Old Shatterhand explained. "How did you end up in this predicament this time?"

Zorro relayed the events of the last day, ending with a smile tugging on his lips when he shared his little ghost story and the lancers' reaction. Winnetou, who had been observing the mouth of the canyon, stepped closer.

"Soldiers on the horizon. We have to keep them away."

The chief looked at Old Shatterhand briefly and Zorro could have sworn he saw a smile tugging on the corner of Winnetou's mouth. Then the Apache grabbed his silver rifle and swiftly climbed over the rocks to a spot that gave a clear view at whoever was arriving. There he crouched down.

"What is he doing?" Zorro asked, puzzled. Somehow, his brain couldn't quite make the connection. Old Shatterhand only smiled. Meanwhile, voices were floating over.

"... know it. As if grown men, soldiers at that, would believe in ghost stories." Capitán Nieto said reproachingly.

"But we all heard...", García's voice tried to explain.

"Nonsense," Nieto boomed. "Ghosts don't exist. Or can you show him to me?"

A shot reverberated through the air, making everybody look up. Winnetou had risen to his full height, holding his rifle high over his head in the air.

"Th... there, mi capitán. It's the ghost of the Indian." García's voice was trembling. "He wants revenge."

Capitán Nieto stared at the vision in disbelief, rooted to the spot. The Indian ghost seemed to look right at him and slowly started lowering his rifle to aim at the capitán.

"He's gonna shoot us," several of the lancers shouted in panic and started turning their horses.

"Save yourselves!" García exclaimed and showed surprising agility at turning his own steed and racing off ahead of everybody.

Soon, Capitán Nieto was standing alone, still staring at Winnetou, whose aim came to rest on the capitán's chest. Realizing this, the comandante broke free of his stupor and hurried to catch up with his deserters.

After watching until all soldiers were out of sight, Winnetou returned to his friends. He glanced at Zorro who was looking at him expectantly.

"They're gone. Let's get you to your home."

***ZzZ***

"Are you sure he hasn't returned yet?" Raúl asked his sister for at least the tenth time in the last half hour. The sun had risen a good hour ago. He had expected Diego back long before sunrise.

"Sí, if you don't believe me go check for yourself," Soledad sounded tight with worry. Of course Diego hadn't always returned on time riding as Zorro. His job was all but predictable. But usually a trip such as last night's had him safe and home a good hour before sunrise at the latest.

"No, I believe you. It's just... I'm beginning to worry." Raúl's concern for his friend was evident in his voice.

"I know. I also worry," Soledad replied quietly. She was glad Luis and David were sleeping in late. As was their grandfather. "Bernardo is in the cave, seeing to Sirocco. He'll let us know when Diego returns."

"What if he doesn't return?"

"Don't ever say that!" Soledad glared at her brother. She knew Diego was only human really well. Somehow, it had been easier not to worry before they tied the knot. "He'll always return. And if he can't, Tornado will return to get help."

Raúl thought there was a case when even Tornado couldn't return but he didn't think mentioning that to his sister would be wise. He sighed. "Let's hope you're right. One thing is sure, though." Soledad looked up at him, quizzically. "If he had been caught we'd know already."

***ZzZ***

In the cave, Bernardo was pacing up and down with Sirocco observing him. He had brushed the stallion's coat countless times, made sure water and hay was ready for Tornado equally often. Where in the world could Zorro be? What could have caused this delay?

A noise drew the manservant out of his thoughts. Was that Tornado returning with his master? Somehow he didn't dare hope. The rustling of the vines caused Bernardo to hold his breath in anticipation. Sirocco just turned one ear towards the noise and continued to steal Tornado's hay.

When Zorro and Tornado were finally in the cave, Zorro mustered a smile for Bernardo to reassure him. He knew his friend had already spotted the injured shoulder. The mute's eyes went big and he hastened over to the black horse to help his friend down.

Zorro walked over to a bale of hay and sat down. Taking a deep breath, he pointed at Tornado to keep Bernardo from fussing over him. He'd do enough of that when he had completed the task anyway. While Bernardo saw to Tornado, Zorro pulled down his mask and filled his friend in on the nocturnal adventure.

At the mention of Winnetou, Bernardo halted in mid step, his curiosity most evident. It had been years, but he remembered the encounter with the Indian chief vividly. Zorro smiled wearily. Then he finished his tale and Bernardo helped his friend climb the stairs back to his room.

Diego's arm was throbbing and he needed Bernardo's help to unbutton his shirt. Just when the mozo pulled away the fabric, the door to his room opened without a knock preceding it and in came Soledad. She gasped when she saw the bloodied bandage on Diego's left shoulder.

"Díos, what happened, Diego? Are you alright?" Soledad asked while rushing to Diego's side. Her husband mustered a smile.

"It's not as bad as it looks. I'm just exhausted. Shoulder hurts but Winnetou put a hell of a bandage on," he explained.

"Winnetou?" Soledad frowned. "I'm not sure you have told me who that is."

"I will, if you get me something to drink. But don't mix anything in it. I'm afraid we'll have visitors soon."

While Soledad went to fetch some watered down wine, Bernardo finished changing Diego into his suit. Diego then proceeded to shave the stubble and gratefully accepted the wine.

"Let's get down to the sala. I will tell you all over breakfast."

***ZzZ***

Breakfast had come to a conclusion with Diego answering everybody's questions. Don Alejandro, who had heard about the Indian chief before, used everybody's silence after Diego had ended, to enquire about him.

"Aren't we going to meet this famous chief, Diego? This is the second time he's dug a bullet out of you and I still haven't met the man to thank him."

"I'm sure you will get your chance, soon, Father," Diego chuckled. He then got up to kiss his wife, who just entered the sala again after fetching the kids from Cresencia's care. Their little son, David, flapped his hands in excitement when he saw his father, brushing Diego's wounded shoulder in the process. Diego hissed and gritted his teeth.

"Are you alright, Papá?" Luis asked. His little eyes hadn't missed a thing.

"I'm good, my son," Diego replied, blinking. "Papá knocked his shoulder on the doorframe last night. It just hurts a little."

Juan, a servant, entered the sala. "There are two gentlemen waiting for you in the patio, Don Diego," he announced.

"Gracias, Juan. Let them know I'll be right out," Diego said, nodding his thanks. "Looks like you'll have the pleasure to meet the chief now, Father."

"Good," Alejandro grunted cheerfully.

Taking Luis' hand, Diego walked through the door onto the patio, followed by his wife, Raúl and his father. In the middle of the patio, Winnetou and his blood brother were waiting. Old Shatterhand smiled and nodded when he saw Diego walk out. Winnetou, as usual, refrained from showing any emotion. Holding out his hand to the German, Diego greeted him.

"Charlie, it's good to see you again," he beamed. Then he looked at Winnetou. Diego wasn't sure how to greet the Apache since he wasn't familiar with their customs. Winnetou sensed his uncertainty and solved the dilemma by holding out his right hand to Diego who clasped it and nodded.

"May I present my family, my father, Don Alejandro," Diego smiled as his father stepped up to shake hands. Then the hidalgo looked at them both.

"I think you both know what I mean when I say muchas gracias to you both," he said, unable to take all the emotion out of his voice.

"Yes, we know," Old Shatterhand replied. "No need to thank us."

Luis had been staring at both Winnetou and Old Shatterhand with an open mouth. He was familiar with Indians but had never met a chief. Now he walked up to stand next to his father and grandfather.

"My name is Luis de la Vega and I'm three years old. Are you really a chief?"

A smile crossed over Winnetou's face and he bent down a bit to shake Luis' hand. "Yes, I am. It's a pleasure to meet you, Luis de la Vega."

Diego introduced his wife and little David, as well as his brother-in-law, Raúl. Then he invited everyone into the sala. Cresencia brought wine and even Winnetou accepted a glass.

"Are you passing through only, or did you take a room at the inn again? And what happened to Pouncing Puma and the others?" Diego asked later on.

"We haven't yet been to the pueblo," Old Shatterhand started. "Although with the recent events I'm not sure how clever that would be." He glanced at Winnetou. "Pouncing Puma, Crooked Arrow and Little Beaver are on their way back to the Pecos. We thought it would be better than to try fate."

"Then allow me to prepare rooms for you at my hacienda," Alejandro said, stepping forward. "It's the least I can do after all you've done for him."

Another silent exchange ensued between Winnetou and Old Shatterhand and the chief nodded almost imperceptibly. "We would be grateful for that. We were actually planning on staying a bit this time." Old Shatterhand replied and winked at Diego, who chuckled.

Little Luis squealed and ran towards Old Shatterhand, grabbing his hand. "I will show you the horses, Señor," he said excitedly and laughing, the trapper followed him.

"Looks like I made a new friend, I'll see you later, Diego."

Just when the two were about to leave, a knock on the door sounded and in entered Sergeant García. "Buenos días, Don Alejandro, Don Diego," he greeted. Then he looked up and down the two visitors. His initial frown made space for a smile when he recognized them. "Ah, Señor Shatterhand, you're visiting again. Will you be staying at the inn?"

"No, Sergeant. Don Alejandro has most graciously offered us a room here at the hacienda. We figured it'd be less trouble."

"Sí," García nodded thoughtfully. "Especially after last night. People might think your Indian friend here is a ghost."

Diego chuckled. "So you did believe my story, Sergeant?"

"Sí,... I meant, no, Don Diego. Me? Believe in ghost stories? Nah...," he trailed off, shaking his head. Diego picked up a glass of wine and walked over to the sergeant.

"Have a drink, Sergeant. You look like you can use it. What brings you here anyway?"

Accepting the glass, García took a sip. "That is a long story. Are you ready to hear it?" Diego nodded. "Well, last night I almost caught Señor Zorro..."

The END

**A/N 2**

This is part of a challenge amongst several WDZ authors... we had to have Zorro injured, trying to escape capture. He must escape capture with the help of a ghost story.


End file.
