6/12

 

Senorita Maria Alicia Margarita de Puente was in trouble, riding too far from her father's house after a heated argument over Don Alejandro Alfredo de Salazar, and the marriage her father was insisting take place between them.  Not paying attention as she wept bitter tears, she had found herself surrounded by unwashed banditos.  Too far off the beaten path to scream for help, she stood her ground, her head held high.  They would not hear her beg for mercy, not from their ilk.  The leader of the this particular band of banditos was named Lobo, she had heard of them, they were ruthless, she expected the worst, and she was prepared, it couldn't be worse than having to marry Don Salazar.  Lobo approached her, wiping his hands on his filthy shirt, he leered in anticipation of claiming his prize, a nobleman's daughter.  Glancing at the two men who held her, also leering, she thought she might get one good kick in before they...well, it was best not to think about it.  Best just to do it, and hope for the best.  Lobo advancing on her, his odor preceding him, she steeled herself to deliver the humiliating blow, hoping he would lose his mind and kill her before she died from his cloying scent.

In the distance, the sound of thundering hooves could be heard, on the outskirts of their protected hideout, cries of alarm could be heard, then death screams as the hooves drew closer.  A whip cracking in the air, and the pained shout of another downed man brought the hooves even closer.  The cry of a demon horse splitting the night air, Lobo's men fleeing in terror before it, and she could see the horse, a giant black stallion, rearing in the air, a dark figure on his back, wearing a mask.  Man and demon horse rearing as one, the dark man released his feet from the stirrups, flipping from the horses hindquarters, to land in the midst of the banditos.  Striding toward the girl, the whip in his left hand, a sword in his right, he fought as a denizen of hell itself, reigning death and destruction on any who crossed his path.  Grabbing Maria as a human shield between himself and the otherworldy creature who approached, Lobo backed toward the horses, hoping to make his escape and leave his men to their own devices.  Retribution in his hands, the dark man drove the last of Lobo's men out of his path.  Feeling him shaking behind her, Maria watched the dark man.  Tight black boots that came up to his knees, tight black leather trousers, tailored perfectly for the man who wore them, a sword belt that also carried a pistola.  A black shirt, the collar open, a hint of skin, flowing like a dark bird of prey, his cape billowed behind him.  His sword held in a black gloved hand, the other one without, showing strong hands,  with the face of an avenging angel, the dark beard, the dark curls, the dark eyes that peered out of a black mask, almost more than she could bear.  They glanced at her, taking coherent thought with them.  Suddenly unsure if it was the dark man, or the hand of Lobo on her throat that kept her from drawing breath into her body.

"I'll kill her, dark man."  Lobo sneered.  Maria feeling his hands shaking with fear.

"I don't think so."  The dark man said, not smiling.

As the two faced off, Maria found a small surge of pity for Lobo, she was sure he would not survive this night.  Feinting a lunge with his sword, drawing Lobo away from her for just a second, the black whip cracked, snaring Maria about the waist, pulling her away, spinning her to the ground, to land on her assets.

The battle with Lobo quick, the dark man stood over Maria, offering his hand.  Pulling her up, he held her up, an arm around her waist.

"Are you all right, senorita?"  He asked.

"Who are you?"  Was all that she could think to ask.

Looking into her dark brown eyes, his expression serious, she almost fainted from the overwhelming power of his presence.

"God's vengeance."  He said softly.

Turning he whistled for the black stallion that had fought at at his side, helping her to mount, he slid into the saddle behind her.  The reins in his strong hands, the headed the great horse back to her fathers house.  Finding her horse along the way, he leaned down and grabbed the reins, leading it behind them.  In sight of her fathers house, he let her down, handing her the reins to her horse.  Her hand on his knee, she looked at him, not wanting him to leave.

"Will I ever see you again?"  She asked.

"Only God can answer that question, senorita."  He answered softly, smiling at her.

"Thank you.  Thank you for saving me."

Nodding his response, he turned the horse and left her.  Turning to look at him once more before she went through the gate, Maria saw him, horse and man as one, rearing, he waved, and was gone.

 

6/14

 

It was nearing midnight in the chapel of the Franciscan Brothers, on the bay in a small village called Hercules, Father Samuel waited his charge, knowing his first stop would be the confessional.  It ever amazed him the fire of the soul this young one possessed, yet such a kind heart, he felt remorse even for those who would kill and destroy all the was decent in the world, simply for the pleasure of watching the suffering.  Even dying, the father had known what his son would need to become the man he needed to be.  So he had brought him to Father Samuel and the Brothers.  Hearing the determined footsteps of his favorite charge, Father Samuel smiled, sliding the door of the confessional aside, waiting for the penitent warrior of God to unburden his heart.  To do his part and take the weight of his sins away that he might continue his mission, to free the people of their tiny village from tyranny, and fear.  The confessional door opened, the sound of rustling, as  the warrior knelt before the tiny window, the window to freedom of heart.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned in the eyes of God."

"What troubles  you, my son?"

"I killed eight men, Father."  The voice quiet, contrite.

"What kind of men, my son?"

"Banditos, Father, they had captured Don Puente's daughter, they were going to...harm...her."  His voice trailed off.

"By ending the lives of eight men.  Men who have tortured and plagued our village, you saved the life of a woman."

"Yes, Father."  He whispered.

Smiling to himself, Father Samuel shook his head, even for ones who would do evil, he felt pity, a remarkable young man!

"Say a prayer for each of their souls, and go with God, my son, you have done well.  In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, your sins are absolved, my son."  Making the sign of the Cross, Father Samuel blessed his young charge.

"Thank you, Father, " Normally, he would have been away, eager to return to the peace of his cell, to resume his contemplative life as one of the Franciscan Brotherhood.  To work, to study, to pray, then by night ride as the dark winged arm of God's vengeance on an evil land.  But something...

"Something else troubles you, my son?"  Father Samuel prompted quietly.

"The woman, Father."  His head hung, shame, something new.

"Is she all right?"

"Yes, Father..."  This unfamiliar feeling in his heart, as if it could no longer beat without something to beat for.

"What is it, my son?"

"When I looked into her eyes, Father...something stirred in my soul, as if I knew her."  He whispered.

Smiling, relieved that this was all it was, Father Samuel nodded, "It is perfectly natural for one of your age, my son."

"But Father, it isn't right for a Brother to have these thoughts of a woman."  The torment in his soul, evident in his voice.

"You are not truly of this order, my son, you were left in my care, but this life was never intended to be yours forever.  You have a destiny to be fulfilled, when you are ready."

Sighing heavily, the young man put one hand on the partition.

"And how will I know when I'm ready, Father?"

"When you see your future in someone else's eyes, my son."  Father Samuel responded gently.

"That makes no sense, Father."

"It will, my son, it will.  Go with God."

Opening the door of the confessional, removing the cape, shedding the persona of the dark avenger, Brother Joshua strode purposefully toward the monastery, the memory of a woman's dark eyes troubling his soul.

******************************************************************************************************

Maria sat at her dressing table, in a light cotton night gown, she stared at her reflection absently, brushing her hair, a dark stranger riding through the shadows behind her eyes. Her maid, confidant and best friend bustled into the room, carrying the skirt that Maria had been wearing when attacked by Lobo and his men,

"How did you say you tore this?"  Conchata asked, looking at the tear that ran from the waistband to the hem.  She didn't think even her sewing skills would be able to save it.

"I didn't, my friend."  Maria answered.

Shaking her head, tutting at the tear, she looked at her mistress, the one who treated her as an equal instead of a servant.

"I don't think I can mend this, Maria."

"It's alright, I have dresses enough to clothe all of California.  Father sees to that, he wants to make sure I'm resplendent for Don Alejandro, so he dresses me like a peacock."

Shivering, Conchata, took the brush from her mistress, taking over the brushing of her long, black hair.

"Detestable man."  Conchata muttered.  "Forgive me, Maria, I think I would rather die than marry that swine."

"Swine is too kind, don't you think, he's more of a snake."  She smiled, beginning a game they had played together since little girls.

"Maybe a lizard, his tongue certainly moves like one whenever he's near you."  Conchata said, her nose wrinkling in disgust.

"Perhaps a spider, he makes my skin crawl whenever I see him."

"Or a mosquito, driving you insane, always buzzing in your ear, before he sucks your blood."

Missing her turn, Maria looked at her friend in the reflection of the mirror.

"Conchata, I have something to tell you, but you must swear it will be repeated to no one!" 

"My Maria, has one word of any of your secrets ever passed these lips?"

Smiling at her truest friend, Maria shook her head, "Never.  You are the only person in the world that I trust, Conchata."

"Then bear your soul to me, my friend, it will never leave this room."

"I was captured by Lobo the bandito, and his men, they were going to do terrible things to me and then kill me!"

Her eyes wide, Conchata pulled over a chair, sitting in her friends face.

"WHAT!?"  She gasped, her hand to her chest.

"It's true!  Then a man came out of nowhere, a man dressed all in black, with dark curly hair, and the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen!  He killed them all, and brought me home!"

"The Black Hawk!  You were saved by the Black Hawk!"

"Who is the Black Hawk?" 

Conchata ran to the door, peeking her head out, she looked to see if anyone was watching, running back to her friends side, she took her hands, whispering as if she told a great mystery.

"They say he rides straight from hell!  He has saved many families in the village from the banditos.  They say the horse he rides is a demon stallion, and he brings God's revenge on all the evil in our village!  I can't believe you SAW him, that he SAVED you!"

"That's what he meant."  Maria said.

"He SPOKE to you?!"  Conchata was beside herself with amazement, admiration, and a little envy.

"Yes, I asked him who he was."

"What did he say?"

"He said he was God's vengeance."

"Oh!  I would have died on the spot!"

"He was very handsome."  Maria smiled at the memory.

"A handsome demon, your father will be thrilled."  They laughed.

 

6/18

 

Rising with the dawn, Brother Joshua went about his daily routine, morning prayers with the rest of the brothers in the Chapel of the Holy Mother.  Then on to breakfast, and chores.  He cleaned the office of Father Samuel every morning, then cleaned the kitchen in between the preparation of breakfast and lunch, staying out of Brother Thomas'(their cook) way.  Fetching firewood for the noon meal as his last task, before reporting to Father Samuel for his lessons.  Lessons til lunch, then for another hour after the noon prayer and meal.  Two hours free before the evening meal, then Vespers, and supposedly off to bed.  As the other brothers settled for another peacefully contemplative night of rest, Brother Joshua entered the secret passage behind his closet door, going to the hidden cellar, the training place.  The place his father had built, and that Father Samuel had brought him to when he was 12.  Entering the candle lit training rooms, he thought back over the last ten years, and the training he had received from the man the village thought of as a quiet man.  Fencing, fighting, pistolas, riding, everything a Brother should have nothing to do with, he had learned here.  Black Hawks home, his birthing place.  It was here that Father Samuel had told him about the death of his parents at the hands of Don Alejandro Salazar's men.  It was here, the vision of his mother burning alive, trapped in a house that was coming down around her, because she had lied so his father could escape with him, the vision of his father coming to Father Samuel, dying, to save his son, here where all these things had created a hate in his heart, a desire for vengeance.  Here.  The place his other half had come to be.  Shedding his brothers robes, he donned the black pants, the black shirt, the boots, finally the mask, turning as he heard footsteps, his hand automatically going to his belt, resting on the pistola, relaxing when he recognized them as Father Samuel.

"How are you tonight, my son?"  Father Samuel asked, noting the place his protege's hand rested.  Smiling.  He was well trained.

"Well, Father, is there anything I should look for tonight?"

"There is a shipment of Spanish gold heading for the harbor at San Francisco, they will be passing through our humble village tonight.  It would not hurt the people of this area if the Federales were relieved of that shipment."

"I understand, Father, I'll see what I can do."  Wrapping the cape about himself, his sword strapped to his side, he nodded at Father Samuel and was gone.

The demon horse whinnying as the two pounded away into the night, Father Samuel crossed himself, "Go with God, my son."

Knowing the one he loved more than a son, he went to the chapel to pray, and wait in the confessional.

Waiting in the night, on the road east of town, the Black Hawk watched and waited, his patience paying off around 8PM.  The convoy of  five soldiers, and a wagon, bearing the gold shipment rolled past him on the road.  Encouraging Thunder to be quiet, he followed  picking them off one at a time, until only the man on the wagon remained.  The rocking motion and the darkness lulling him to sleep, the man was not aware he was in trouble until he woke to find a dark man in front of him.  With a sword at his throat.

"If I let you go, what will you do?"  The dark man asked.

"I...I will go to my captain, and tell him a dark man has taken the gold."  He stammered.

"Wrong answer."  The dark man said, his expression serious.

The driver fell off the wagon in his fear, falling on his knees before the dark man, he folded his hands, begging for his life.

"Please, sir, I have three children, don't kill me!  I will go home and no one will know what happened from me!  Please, don't kill me!"  He begged, clinging to his boot.

Feeling compassion, he was going to let the man go, until he threw dirt in his face! 

"You snake!"  He cried, momentarily blinded.

Running for the back of the wagon, the soldier grabbed a pistola, the Black Hawk's blade was faster.  Two strides and he was beside the man, running him through.  Kneeling beside him, he closed the man's eyes, saying a prayer for the life he had been forced to take.  He buried the body, no evidence must be found of the existence of the Black Hawk, no witnesses except the happy faces of the oppressed.  Whistling for Thunder, he drove the wagon back to the monastery, hiding it in the stables with Thunder.

 

To be continued....