by Mary Sheeran
The black stallion stood motionless for a moment, as though contemplating some philosophical question.Perhaps he was. As if he had resolved the question, he reared up on his hind legs before racing off toward an orchard at the end of the meadow. No mistaking that horse.
He was himself, thought Moneta, stunned to see this beautiful creature. She had once seen this horse close up in Los Angeles and had never forgotten him.This was Zorro's horse, no mistake. But what was he doing here without his rider?
Even before she had seen this horse, it had been a day too lovely to contemplate anything but that which could be imagined. The sun suffered no rivalry from clouds. It shot its beams through the air, lighting a sky as blue as the Virgin's cloak at the mission. Moneta had ridden out to sit among the wild roses and capture what beauty she could in her sketch pad. On the way to the roses, though, she came across a more stunning beauty.
She directed her own gentle pinto to follow that noble creature through the meadow. Had something happened to Zorro? For a moment, she panicked, feeling hollow at the thought that he might be gone forever.
Then she remembered. Nothing had happened to Zorro. Stories about his exploits had come to Los Angeles over the last several days: Zorro had rescued the army payroll in Monterey, Zorro had saved two children from fire in San Pedro, Zorro had forced the unjust magistrado in San Luis Rey back to Spain, Zorro had trumped the corrupt politicians in San Diego. So people said. And, Moneta remembered grimly, interspersed through these little minor tasks, Zorro had gone courting Senorita Verdugo in Monterey. Zorro was all over California and all over Anna Maria, and everywhere but on his loyal, brave horse. The man's miraculous deeds suddenly annoyed Moneta.
Zorro's horse, who didn't seem in the least annoyed, was munching young apples off the trees. Was he hungry, she wondered.
A mad desire formed in her mind. All right, Zorro, if you cannot keep track of your horse, and you want to be off serenading that simpering coquette, you deserve the consequences!
She slipped off her sidesaddle, then eased the bridle off her mare. Approaching the stallion as quietly as she could, she tried not to disturb the tall grass and watched for gopher holes that could catch her feet.
"Easy," she said, softly, smiling at the beautiful animal. "It is all right. I am your friend."
Either he trusted her or he wanted to meet her pinto, but he let her bridle him. She patted the very congenial snout he had.
"Did Zorro leave you behind, too?" she asked, sympathetically. "I am so sorry. I will bring you home and give you a good dinner. I should try to reach Zorro and tell him where you are. Would you have his address?"
She laughed with excitement. Zorro would have to find her to find his horse. She would tell him a thing or two. The dignified Moneta – he would be surprised!
"Will you let me saddle you?" she asked. He did, and she hopped up into her sidesaddle, taking a deep, happy breath filled with the scent of apples and wild grass.
"Come, boy," she said, softly, and he responded swiftly. She felt a stirring at the base of her spine that charged up her body and energized her.
She was riding Zorro's horse! She urged him into a trot around the meadow. Was this a dream, she wondered. Had she fallen asleep in the rose garden and dreamed this up? Moneta ignored the sobor look from her pinto. "Come," she called to the mare. "Let's take this one home!"
The pinto followed. Perhaps she wanted to meet Zorro's horse.
Moneta chose a road that led to the outer buildings of her father's hacienda and rode the stallion into a draw near the old smokehouse where no one went anymore.
"I will try to get word to Zorro where you are," she said to the horse. "Do not worry. I will find him." Perhaps, she thought grimly, she should send Anna Maria a note. Her pinto resisted leaving the draw. Moneta took no pity on her.
Special thanks to Ms. Randi Scott for use of the Tornado picture on this page.
