Young Zorro by Diego Vega

young woman ran out of the shadows of the vine-trellised tables, sobbing. Five deeply tanned men ran after her, grabbing at her skirts, laughing and crowing, “Come back, chica ! Come sit on my lap! I like little girls!” They were loud, showing off, drunk enough to be dangerous. “Come back, chica , and we’ll whisper sweet things to you! Come backand bring your mamacita .”
    They were not vaqueros, not soldiers. With their pigtails and tattoos, they had to be sailors, strangers to Pueblo de los Angeles.
    The girl ran right past the boys, not even seeing them in her fear. Diego had the spark of an idea. He pushed Bernardo right into their path. Bernardo was surprised but suspected some Diego trick. He stumbled to a stop just in front of the sailors, holding up his hands sternly: Stop right there!
    The sailors were startled. They stopped for a few heartbeats, then the biggest sailor said, “So you’re bossing us around? What this Indian needs, shipmates, is some face decoration. I can give him some fancy stuff,” and he reached for the knife on his hip.
    Now Bernardo looked worried.
    Diego grabbed Bernardo by the shirt and began to beat him, blow after blow. Whap! Whap! The sailors fell back, first in amazement, then they began to enjoy the sight of one Indian brat being beaten by another.
    It was a game the boys played, pretending to fight fiercely but hardly touching each other. When Diego threw a punch with one hand, he struck his side with the other hand, making a meaty whap ! The trick was to react to a punch that never landed. Bernardo jerked hishead back as if he had been struck. They scuffled. Now Bernardo broke free and threw a punch at Diego. He slapped his side just as his fist passed an inch from Diego’s jaw. Diego jerked back, shouting, “Oof!” They couldn’t play this for long. The sailors would be expecting some blood with these mighty blows, but at least the girl was safely away. Diego wrestled Bernardo to the ground, shouting, “Grab at my sister, will you?”
    The sailors were confused a moment longer. The Indian hadn’t been grabbing at the girl. They had.
    But Diego dragged Bernardo to his feet and held him by the shirt collar. “We’ll see what the comandante says to a dog like you! Molesting young women and these fine sailors! Come with me, you hound!” He began to drag Bernardo back toward their horses.
    It almost worked.
    The boys had moved only a few steps when the big sailor kicked a chair over in their path. “Well now, shipmates,” he said to the others, “we come for a drink and get a show. These boys figured we’re just as dumb as farmers. But we aren’t stupid corn diggers. You country boys want some advice? Play your games on dirt farmers and Indians. Not blue-water men and blackbirders. We seen all kinds of games. We shipped a thousand blackamoors between Africa and Jamaica, and weseen it all. Every trick that can be played. Not so easy to fool us. Maybe you give us a show, but you’re going to pay for it.” The sailor moved toward them, slow and menacing.
    â€œAha!” Diego cried, trying another diversion. “The seafaring man is not amused by our little charade. And we worked so hard to please you! What can I do to gain your favor? Can I produce a coin from your pigtail?”
    He reached behind the sailor and seemed to pull a coin from his hair. It was a bit of hand magic that White Owl had taught him to entertain the village children.
    â€œAnd look”—he held the coin up—“there isn’t even a spot of tar on it!”
    The sailors frowned in puzzlement.
    â€œBut I thought that tar ran in the veins of every sailor man! Every hair a rope yarn, every finger a marlinspike—isn’t that what they say? So every vein a tar bucket?”
    One of the sailors actually smiled, but he may have been more drunk than the others.
    â€œWhy don’t he say