Free California Bloodstock by Terry McDonell

placehe stopped along the way, but no letters came for her. People told her that the count had just loved her so he could trade with her father, but she didn’t believe them.
    She was very faithful. Fifteen years passed and he didn’t come or even send a letter and her father made her become a nun. She cried all the time and was afraid the count was dead, but she was still beautiful. Soon it was too late for everything because her father found out that the count was dead. His horse slipped in a river in Siberia and killed him when he was on his way to see the pope.
    When her father came to the convent and told her the count was dead, she didn’t believe him. More years passed and she became old and ugly. She still believes the count is coming back to marry her.
    The story was over and Taya pointed up the hill toward the convent, it was where Concepcion lived, if she was still alive.
    T. D. Jr. didn’t know what to say. That’s a very sad story, he said.
    Concepcion was a fool, Taya told him.
36
Zorro
    Out of the night when the full moon was bright there came a horseman known as Zorro.
    Taya and T. D. Jr. had been pushing hard to make Agua Caliente before midnight, when the West’s first Robin Hood swooped out from behind a big grey rock and got the drop on them with his rapier.As formidable as he was in his black mask and cape, the gun turned out to be mightier than the sword and Zorro managed to retain the upper hand only until Taya pulled a pistol from her sash.
    No fair, Zorro complained, slashing invisible Z’s in the air.
    The truth of the matter was that Zorro looked like a skinny old bum. This onetime folk hero had fallen upon hard times and had grown senile as the romance of the halcyon days dwindled in what he called the Californias. He had, of course, been hell to pay against the evil Spaniards back when he had lived as the sensitive, mild-mannered Don Diego by day and ridden the wind as Zorro by night. Just ask that fat Sergeant Garcia.
    Naturally, T. D. Jr. wanted to make a daguerreotype. He had never made one at night, but the moon was so bright that he figured it was worth a try. The bigger problem would be Zorro, getting him to stand still. It would have to be negotiated. Zorro could obviously use the cash. But before he could broach the subject, who should pop out of the bushes behind them but that flamboyant roto, Joaquin Peach, with the drop on them all.
    This is my apprentice, Zorro announced, pointing his rapier at Peach. I’m showing him the ropes.
    I thought we’d meet again, Peach said to Taya.
    What do you want? she asked.
    What do you got? he answered.
    Nothing, she said.
    Well then, he winked at her, why don’t you hang out with me and Zorro for a while?
    The Californias are rich, Zorro volunteered. It’seasy to be bad. Bad is good and this is the best island of all.
    We have our own business, said T. D. Jr., trying to sound tough. He figured he and Peach were about the same age.
    Is that right? Peach asked Taya, ignoring T. D. Jr.
    When she said yes, Peach shrugged and explained the normal procedure. Safe passage over the San Fernando Hills was usually best purchased from him and Zorro. Otherwise they couldn’t be responsible; and it would be a sad thing if such a fine young couple fell prey to the hazards of the trail and wound up completely broke or even dead, like some other travelers who passed this way just recently.
    Ah, come on, Taya said.
    Yeah, said T. D. Jr., who do you think you are? Pizarro or something?
    Pizarro, Zorro suddenly shouted. Who’s Pizarro? I’m Zorro.
    Yes, we know, Taya told him softly.
    There must have been something in the old hero’s desperate outburst or in Taya’s response that softened Peach’s attitude. Or maybe he just wanted to spend a little more time with people his own age. Or maybe it had all been a big joke anyway. Let’s just talk some more, he said.
    And they did: Peach trying to flirt with Taya; Taya trying to find out if Zorro had ever