CHALLENGE for the week of 06-17-01

TRIO CHALLENGE: croquet mallet, a chemise, orange

QUOTE 1: "When the head aches, all the members partake of the pain." Don Quixote

QUOTE 2: "Always forgive your enemies. That's what they hate most." -Unknown

And now for something completely different: Following up on a suggestion by Julie, we're adding a new section to our Challenges - specific words to be used in the story somewhere. Each word will be given with its dictionary meaning to help you use it. You may use one or all, plus, of course, either a Trio or Quote challenge within your story.

"discommode" (dis-kuh-MOD) verb tr. - To put to inconvenience. [From French discommoder, dis- + commode, convenient.]

"quartan" (KWORT-n) adjective - Occurring every fourth day, counting inclusively, or every 72 hours. Used of a fever. noun - A malarial fever recurring every 72 hours. [Middle English quartaine, from Old French, from Latin quartana, from quartanus, of the fourth, from quartus, fourth.]

"mirabile dictu" (mee-RAH-bi-lay DIK-too) interjection - Strange to say; wonderful to relate. [Latin.]

AUTHORS: Eliza, Greg, Jo, Julie, Maril, Babnol <g>

By Eliza
elizawpg@home.com

TRIO CHALLENGE #22 [orange, chemise, croquet mallet]

~~~~~

Thwack, thud. Thwack, thud. Thwack, thud.

Colonel Montoya enjoyed an accompaniment to his meals but this was not the music he would have chosen.

Thwack, thud. Thwack, thud.

The fruit knife paused over the peel of a fresh orange. The colonel had been nurturing the single tree for years and it was finally mature enough to produce fruit. Six oranges had ripened this year and this one was the last of them. Montoya planned to enjoy every moment.

Thwack, thud.

"What is that?!" he muttered under his breath. The knife returned to the table with the a thump, as the colonel rose to his feet. It was coming from the direction of the square, but also seemed to be within the courtyard. While he approached the gate again there was a "thwack", distinctly coming from the square, but the "thud" that followed resonated through the walls.

Montoya strode through the gate in time to see the source of his irritation. A small boy, about 6 years old, was picking up a wooden ball from the base of the courtyard wall. In his other hand was a croquet mallet. The boy straightened with the ball in his hands and looked at the colonel. He didn't seem afraid or guilty, just unsure of what to do.

"Please. Continue," prompted Montoya. He was certain of what he was going to see but he needed the time to figure out exactly what to say to the child. That mallet looked familiar. The little boy trotted a half dozen paces from the wall, set the ball on the ground, and struck it with the mallet--thwack. The ball hit the wall--thud. That was quite a swing. The child would make a good polo player, thought Montoya. But not against my courtyard wall.

When the child came to retrieve his ball, the colonel intercepted him. "That is an interesting mallet. Where did you get it?"

"Doctor Helm gave it to me," said the boy, warily. He was holding his gift protectively behind his back.

Montoya tried not to grin at the picture of paranoia before him. He couldn't blame the child for the mistrust; it was the way of the world. "Doctor Helm is a generous man," was all the colonel said.

Since there was no attempt to confiscate his treasure, the boy seemed to relax. "He also showed me the game and said that this was the best place to play it."

"Did he now? That does sound like something the doctor would do." Particularly since Grisham tried to shoot him a few months ago.

"Yes, he's very nice."

"A prince." Montoya was hoping that the child couldn't recognize sarcasm, for the last words were dripping with it. He was trying to sort out how to put an end to this "game" when a shrill voice was heard from across the square.

"Luis!"

The colonel turned toward the strident call and saw one of the local women walking toward them. She had obviously been doing washing, she still had a wet chemise in her hands. As his gaze fell upon her, she froze in her tracks and a look of panic crossed her face. Montoya had difficulty suppressing the smile that pulled at his mouth as he came to understand the situation.

He squatted down on his heels to look the boy in the eye. "Your mama?" he asked, indicating the woman standing horrified half a dozen steps from the square's fountain. The boy nodded.

"And you are Luis," the colonel confirmed. Again a nod; the boy's expression not showing any connection between that name and El Coronel.

"Well Luis, I would like to make you an offer... a trade. You give me the mallet and I will give you this." Montoya opened his hand and presented the orange. Luis' eyes became very wide, their focus darting between his new treasures and the rare treat.

Montoya saw a little guidance was needed; it was a big decision for a little boy. "Your mama would be very happy if you brought the orange home for dinner. And you can keep the ball." He had picked up the wooden toy and now presented both spheres to the child.

The smile that lit up Luis' face showed an agreement had been reached. His little hands could barely grasp the orbs that rested easily in Montoya's palms, so the colonel made sure that Luis had them both tucked safely against his chest before sending him on his way.

"Buenas tardes, Coronel," the little boy called over his shoulder while running full speed toward his mother.

"Vaya con Dios, Luis," replied the colonel. He gave a gracious nod in reply to Luis' mother's hesitant smile. Then he picked up the mallet, experimenting with a test swing as he speculated on how to properly return it to the doctor.

END

By Greg
gmccarron-hb@att.net

TRIO 22

DISCLAIMERS: I don't own them. If I did, they would still be working.
SPOILERS: None
FEEDBACK: Please
Thanks to Rodlux for betaing
NOTE: If you did not read my response to last week's challenge you may want to read it first as things.

~~~~~

When Dr. Helm had asked for help sorting through a couple of trucks he had recently received from England, Tessa had jumped at the opportunity. After all she told Martha it would give her a chance to spend some more time getting to know her fiancee. Now she was gleefully sorting through one of Dr. Helm's trucks when she discovered a large wooden mallet. "Doctor, is this some strange medical instrument?"

Dr. Helm looked up from across the room, where he was conducting his own treasure hunt, to see what Tessa had found. "It's a croquet mallet." Seeing the confused look on Tessa's face, he began to explain the intricacies of the game he played as a young lad on his father's country estate. He was rewarded with an increasing puzzled look. "Oh never mind," he finally muttered.

Tessa thought, So, I am not the only one with secrets.

~~~~~~~

It had been one of those days. Colonel Montoya felt he truly understood how Don Quixote felt when he uttered the now famous line, "When the head aches, all the members partake of the pain." He had started sorting through dispatches early this morning, worked throughout the day, and could now finally see the bottom of the stack as the evening ocean breezes brought relief to his kingdom. He picked up an urgent dispatch from the military commander in San Diego. As he broke the heavy red wax seal, he wondered what could be troubling Colonel Martinez. As he read the letter a dark fury settled over his pale grey eyes, anger inflamed his heart, and standing so quickly he knocked over his chair he yelled at the top of his lungs, "GRISHAM!"

What does he want now? Grisham had just returned to his quarters after having dressed down the troops for letting the Queen get away again and was looking forward to getting some rest. It can't be another quartan tongue lashing about letting the Queen get away. I already got that today. Deciding it was not in his best interests to keep the Colonel waiting he picked up his hat and headed toward the lion's den.

As he entered his superior's office, Markus Grisham noted the Colonel sitting calmly in his chair but pure rage radiated for his eyes. I had better be careful, he thought snapping off a crisp salute. Colonel Montoya let Grisham stand there for what seemed like eternity before his words cut through the air. "Captain, I have just received a dispatch for San Diego, the supply ship coming from Spain also carries an Inquisitor from the Royal Court." Before Grisham could digest the information, Colonel Montoya continued, "You will be on your best behavior."

"Yes, Colonel," Grisham replied as he saluted and turned to leave the room.

~~~~~~

Tessa slowly maneuvered around the wine cellar, watching every move of her imaginary opponent. A light bead of sweat had formed on her brow due to the heavy wool chemise under her white fencing shirt. When Martha had asked her why she wore that hot uncomfortable thing during practice she replied, "Maestro Torres once stated that you should practice as though your life depended on it, because someday it will. I can't only fight for justice at night. I must be ready to fight during a hot day." Since the wine cellar was the Queen's area, it was off limits to all but Martha. Hearing a sound behind her Tessa asked, "What is it, Marta?"

"The supply ship has arrived."

"We must go into town at once. Maybe there will be some oranges from Seville or some golden apples," Tessa replied with a twinkle in her eye as she remembered a chance encounter over an apple, "or maybe the red fabric you order for my wedding dress will be there."

"First you must change," Marta stated.

"Of course you are right, Marta. I must change from Tessa to Senorita Marie Theresa Alvardo." As Tessa changed into her white blouse and long blue skirt, Martha watch in amazement as the caring compassionate Tessa she knew became the arrogant self-absorbed senorita everyone else in Santa Helena thought they knew.

~~~~~

Tessa and Marta where happily strolling through the square after a successful shopping trip, when Tessa saw Colonel Montoya and Captain Grisham nervously waiting in the square as Montoya's coach arrived from picking up a passenger from the ship. Tessa strategically altered her course to take up a position behind the Colonel. As the visitor stepped out of the coach, Tessa felt a wave of happiness washed over her as she recognized the visitor. "Maestro Torres, your reputation proceeds you," stated Colonel Montoya.

"Colonel Montoya, flatter will not save you. I have been appointed by the Royal Court at the request of Governor Ryes to investigate why your garrison and your supposedly competent Captain of the Guard have been unable to stop one woman." Why you overgrown pompous peacock I could teach you a thing or two if I had the chance, but heeding the words of his master just days earlier he said nothing.

Observing Grisham's body language, Maestro Torres stated, "You disagree with me, Captain."

"No Sir."

"Captain, your mouth says one thing and you body says another. Which is it?"

As Tessa overheard the conversation, the warmth of happiness was replaced by a cold dread in the pit of her stomach and a tensing of her jaw as she said, "Martha it is time to go. As the two women headed back to the wagon, Maestro Torres eyes followed them because in additional to Grisham's reaction, he had also seen Tessa's.

THE END

By Jo

TRIO CHALLENGE: croquet mallet, a chemise, orange
QUOTE 1: "When the head aches, all the members partake of the pain." Don Quixote
WORD: discommode

~~~~~

Her chemise flowed down over her body, then she pulled it down and turned for Marta to put the corset over her torso and start to tie it. She grabbed her orange and started to peel it. "I am still not sure that I want to go, Marta."

"It is just an afternoon with Montoya," Marta said with a candescent smile. "What could possibly be the harm in that?"

"I have a headache. I should send word that I cannot make it."

"You do not have a headache."

Marta pulled tightly on the ties of the corset that made Tessa react with "Ow!" She added, "When the head aches, all the members partake of the pain."

"What are you so worried about? All the afternoon will entail is to be with a group of wealthy Dons and Donas, Montoya, Dr. Helm, all enjoying a game croquet."

"I am afraid of what I will do with a croquet mallet in my hand."

Marta turned her around. Tessa noted the inquiscal look on her face. Tessa said, "It just may find itself being knocking against a certain doctor's head."

Tessa pulled off a piece of the orange and popped it into Marta's mouth. Tessa moved toward the window to chew a piece of fruit and hope for rain so the party will be called off.

Marta said, "Come back here. I hate to discommode you, but you cannot fit into that new yellow dress I just finished--specifically for this afternoon--without a tied corset. Come back here."

"I do not want to go, Marta."

"Why? You usually leap at the chance to see Dr. Helm."

"I am getting tired of it. He seems to cannot wait to see the Queen, but when he sees me, all he can do is keep himself from sneering. Why can he not see what is right in front of him?"

"You are a good actress, Tessita." Marta walked over to her charge and softly massaging her shoulders. "You are keeping your identities separate and no one is the wiser. It is what is keeping you alive."

Marta started again to tie up the corset as Tessa pondered that. "But miserable," she whispered.

END

By Julie
julie@centurybooks.com

TRIO/QUOTE/WORD CHALLENGE
SUMMARY: Our beloved Colonel gets crabby, and our intrepid Queen has a frustrating experience.
DISCLAIMER: They belong to the TPTB. I'm just having a little fun with them.

~~~~~

"You and your quartan complaints, doctor! Do you make little notes upon your calendar, planning the days on which to vex me. Tuesday, it's some wretched labourer who must be excused from working. Saturday, it's the soldiers' revelries disturbing your patients. Today, it's the state of your supplies. As though I have control over the schedule of the supply ship."

Helm was surprised by the intensity of the Colonel's response. "I merely asked if you knew when the ship would arrive. It is quite late, and my stores of medicines are dangerously low."

"You want your medicines. Senora Hidalgo wants her new silk chemise. The Alvarado girl complains that she hasn't tasted an orange in months. We are all discommoded by the delay. Even I. My cook ran out of coffee." Montoya rubbed at his temples in a vain attempt to stop the dull pain which had persisted all day.

"I'd offer you something for that headache, Colonel, but I can't until the ship arrives with more laudanum."

Montoya shot the doctor a look of pure venom, but kept his voice soft. "It seems to me, Doctor, that your planning leaves something to be desired. I will help you to correct this problem. To start, I would like you to provide a complete inventory of all your supplies, plus a report on all that you have used since your arrival and your projected needs for the next year. I will expect this report by tomorrow morning."

"What? Are you mad? It would take hours to compile all that information."

"I pay for these supplies of yours, Doctor. I think that gives me the right to know how they are being used, no? Of course, if you are unwilling to provide such an accounting, I can have Captain Grisham do the inventory."

The thought of Grisham pawing through his office and lab was enough to make Helm shudder. "Fine, I'll do it."

A soldier knocked on the door with a message for the Colonel, and Helm took the opportunity to escape. He felt sorry for the young Sergeant making stammering responses to the Colonel's clipped questions. It wasn't going to be a good day for any of Montoya's staff. "When the head aches, all the members partake of the pain," he muttered, heading back to his office to begin his report.

~~~~~~~~~

"Mirabile dictu! I found it!" The old hermit emerged from the depths of the trunk, his mouth twisted into a toothless grin of victory and his hand holding something behind his back.

"What is it?" The Queen was anxious to see. The old man had promised her information on Montoya, but had then promptly disappeared. It had taken her a week of hard work to track down his ramshackle little hut. Now she held her breath as he brought his hands forward.

Tessa released her breath with an exasperated sigh. "That looks like an old croquet mallet."

"Not just any croquet mallet! A very special one! Her majesty Queen Caroline played with this very mallet." He grinned with pride, but then looked confused. "Or maybe it was one of her ladies-in-waiting. Or..."

He tossed the mallet over his shoulder, reacting not at all to the crashing sound it made as it landed. "Oh well, it hardly matters. Now, what can I do for you, my dear?"

"You said you had information on Colonel Montoya for me." Tessa spoke very slowly, trying hard to hide her impatience.

"Colonel Montoya, yes! Charming fellow, capital chap."

Tessa blinked in confusion. "I thought you hated the Colonel."

"Oh I did! I did! But I forgave him." The old man leaned close in a conspiratorial manner. "Always forgive your enemies. That's what they hate most."

Tessa leaned back. The man obviously had not bathed in some time, and getting too close made her eyes water. "But what about the papers you'd taken?"

"Papers? Oh yes, had lots of paper. Made fine kindling, and I do like a fire when the night gets cold."

"You burned the papers you stole from the Colonel?"

"Had to. How else could I have boiled the water to make the coffee?" The old man laughed at the expression on the Queen's face and patted her hand. "Don't worry, there's plenty left. I'll brew a pot right now. Mighty fine coffee, as I think you'll see. Take my advice, Missy. Always steal from folks with good taste."

END

By Maril
maril.swan@sympatico.ca

RATING: G
FEEDBACK: yes, please & beta
DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks still owns the copyrights, but they play in my backyard now <g>

TRIO 22 croquet mallet, a chemise, orange

~~~~~

Tessa lifted the heavy object and examined it, frowning at the stick with the cylindrical block attached to its end. Her attention was diverted to Doctor Helm, industriously planting metal hoops at intervals in the scrubby earth. As he bent to his task, his white shirt tightened over his shoulders, revealing the taut muscles underneath. With long adept fingers, he pushed the hoops into the ground. She followed those graceful strong hands to the corded muscles in his forearm. She sighed with a bit of disappointment û the rest of his arm and torso was covered by his shirt. But the fabric of his pants stretched very tightly over his rear, of which his position gave her an unrestricted view. She felt herself warm with awareness of his athletic body. Her chemise seemed to suddenly be clinging damply to her. She flourished her fan with vigour.

He turned as he bent again, his face flushed with exertion in the torrid heat of the sun, and noticed her staring at him. What the devil...? he wondered, then felt his face grow even hotter. She was admiring him, almost unabashedly. Of all the cheek, he thought, restraining an urge to laugh with embarrassment. He straightened up, brushing back the unruly strands of damp hair that stuck to the sweat on his brow.

"Right," he said, "Now the croquet court is set up for your party. It's a simple game when you've done it once." He picked up a wooden ball and dropped it at her feet. "You take the orange ball, and I'll take the green one." Helm went on explaining the rules of croquet but he was sure she was not taking it in. Finally, he said, "Now take the croquet mallet, and hit the ball through the hoop over there."

"Perhaps you could help me with the first try, Doctor." Tessa positioned herself awkwardly with the mallet near the ball and waited. It was all she could do not to laugh at the look of consternation on his face.

"Just hit it," he said. He groaned as the ball careened across the short grass at a sharp angle away from the hoop. He strode over and retrieved the ball, dropping it once more near the mallet.

"I've never played this game before, Doctor. Could you show me how to swing the club?" She implored him with her eyes, and watched his shoulders sag with resignation. She tried not to giggle as he moved behind her. She felt his arms go around her and then his hands covered hers on the mallet.

"Like this, just an easy, smooth stroke." He pulled her arm back and pushed to give the ball a sharp knock with the club. The ball rolled short of the hoop. With an exasperated sigh, he went and got the ball again. She seemed to have pulled back just as he made the swing, her resistence made the hit go short. "Don't resist. Let me do everything," he said very near her ear as he positioned himself once more behind her and took her hands again.

This time she added her own strength and the ball shot through the hoop and far down the court. As he trudged after it, Tessa stifled a laugh, coughing delicately when he turned suddenly at the sound.

"Let's try again. You have to learn the momentum, not too fast or too slow." Once more he leaned over her, trying to ignore the scent of some pleasant perfume from her hair. He concentrated on positioning her hands on the mallet and getting the swing just right. Somehow, he couldn't seem to get the hang of it anymore. The warmth and closeness of her body was distracting him. And to make matters worse, he was almost sure she was laughing at him.

"I don't think I'll ever master this game, Doctor Helm." She turned in his arms, her face very near his; her lips only inches away.

"On the contrary," he said, with a nervous laugh, "I think you play this game only too well."

END?

By Maril

RATING: PG-13 for sexual innuendo
FEEDBACK: and beta, please
DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks

Epilogue to "End of Days" - a missing scene that I promised Eliza <BG>

#22 QUOTE: "Always forgive your enemies. That's what they hate most." -Unknown

~~~~~

"Always forgive your enemies. That's what they hate most." Grisham laughed scornfully as he recalled Montoya's little dictum. The colonel had been referring to the antagonism that had sprung up between the doctor and the captain. What was the rest of it? "Bury the hatchet, and let peace reign in our little pueblo." He chuckled at his own riposte to that.

"Colonel," he'd said, "I thought the Queen of Swords reigned over the pueblo." That remark had earned him an icy stare from his commander. Grisham grinned.

"Chalk one up for the captain," he said aloud, making a stroke in the air with his finger. His voice echoed hollowly in the mine and he shuddered as he picked his way through the rubble. 'Not much farther now,' he consoled himself. Each uneasy step seemed to make the unstable structure tremble and groan. 'I must be nuts, doing this,' he berated himself. 'But a promise is a promise.' Finally, in the lantern-light, he saw what he had come into this crumbling mine to get--the bundle of dark clothes lying amidst the fallen rocks.

Grisham froze as the broken timbers groaned and the wind sighed through the cave like a soul in torment. He drew a shaky breath and bent to pick up the black garments. He shook off the dust and grit clinging to the fine material of the blouse, enjoying the pliant softness of the silk in his calloused fingers. A scent wafted to his nose--a subtle flowery perfume. He recalled watching her take off the blouse and trousers, leaving only a black chemise and a lacy undergarment covering her luscious body. She had demanded he turn around so she could disrobe, but he had refused.

"No deal," he'd said. "You watched me take off my uniform, I get to do the same." Grisham chuckled to himself now as he remembered the fury that had leapt into her eyes, then the crimson that glowed on her cheeks. Obviously, she had never been with a man. That sudden thought nearly staggered him, and a flush of heat rushed through his body. 'I sure blew my chance,' he thought angrily. 'I had her at a disadvantage, and let her go. Damn! I must be getting soft.' Though a certain part of his anatomy denied this assertion.

A sharp crack, and the rattle of falling rocks shook him back to the present. 'Better get out of here before this whole thing collapses.' He scooped up the black boots and pants, and retraced his steps to the cave entrance. He stumbled out and squinted at the blessed sunlight that greeted him. That and a dark figure sitting on a boulder, swinging her foot abstractedly.

"If I had thought you were going take all day, I would have gone in myself," she said brusquely. She stood up and lifted a large canvas sack. "Fair trade," she said, moving toward him. "Here's your uniform. Now give me my things." She watched him warily, keeping her back to the cliff.

"I didn't bring anyone with me, if that's what you're worried about." Grisham grinned, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "I kept my part of the bargain." He set her clothes down on a rock and stepped back, keeping his hands open and easy.

The Queen of Swords set the canvas sack on the same rock and waited for him to take it.

Grisham lifted the bag and opened it. He whistled appreciatively as he pulled out a pair of shiny black boots. "I could never get my orderly to put a polish on them like this. How did you do it?"

"I spat on them," she said and then laughed at his indignant look. "Spit and polish, it's a joke." She shook her head ruefully and reached for her own clothes and boots.

"Not so fast," Grisham said, with his hand on her arm. "In the mine, you promised me a kiss. Instead, you nearly broke my nose. I want that kiss now."

"That wasn't part of the bargain," she said, her voice lowering, as she tried to pull her arm away. Her other hand moved toward her sword.

"One kiss, will that kill you?" he coaxed, squeezing her forearm gently. He stared intensely into those beautiful brown eyes, and smiled at the indecision he saw there. "Afraid you might like it?"

That broke the spell. She pushed him away roughly and pulled her sword. "You got what we agreed to ...now let's just call it even before someone gets hurt." She whistled and her horse trotted out from behind a cleft in the rocks. An impish smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. Suddenly, she bent forward and placed a brief kiss on his lips.

He closed his eyes and sighed, savouring the softness of her lips, the promise of passion as she pressed gently upon his mouth. Then she was gone. He almost felt like he was falling, as if the bottom had dropped out of the earth, leaving him weightless. Opening his eyes, he watched the dust trail swallow her up. With a resigned shrug, he shouldered the canvas sack and trudged to where he had left his own horse.

'What a woman!,' he thought to himself. 'All that fire and passion, wasted on that insipid Brit.' His gut roiled at the thought, and he chalked up another mark against the doctor, another reason to hate him. 'Forgive your enemies,' he chuckled ironically to himself. 'Not if you expect to live to fight another day.'

END

AUTHOR: Babnol.
Rodlox@hotmail.com

SPOILERS: Fever. set after Fever.
NOTES: I'm visiting my cousin, and he was kind enough to let me use his account for a little while.

~~~~

The only good side to the plague, Colonel Montoya felt, was that those who had already caught the Fever were immune to the Plague. This meant that now he had only the other half of his army, a half weakened by the Fever, as were the peons who could have otherwise been enlisted.

The smell of bile was a faint tinge in the air, made that way by the improvements that Montoya had made to the sanitation system after coming here. It could have been far far worse. Montoya's mind bucked at the thought of his dear city engulfed in toxic clouds, buildings covered in muck, and sewers clogging regularly.

And Montoya knew just who to go see. Somebody who had better survive all of this...or else.

~~

At the Hidalgo Hacienda, don Gaspar Hidalgo was fretting. But he was resolute in one thing: if anyone could cure his ill petal, Vera, he would do anything, anything, to repay.

~~

Montoya knocked on the wooden door before hearing a "You can - come in," from Doctor Helm within. Entering, El Colonel saw the doctor sitting on a chair by his table, a handbook in one hand, and a bucket in his lap.

"Really, doctor," Montoya said, raising an eyebrow, "the Kama Sutra? One would think that you would be hard at work towards finding a cure."

Helm looked up at Montoya with red bloodshot eyes, the sort from both staying up late and spending a lot of time bent over a bucket. "Don't start with me. I'm glad somebody in this blink town's learned to knock." He paused, his cheeks inflating, then he swallowed the bile back down. "I've been over every book I own - nothing covers this."

He sighed. "I don't even have any nurses to take over while I'm incapacitated," Helm complained.

"Do not blame me, senor," Montoya advised. "I have not prevented you from recruiting among the populace any aides." Montoya paused, considering; "In fact, I do believe that a number of senoritas would love to assist you in any endevour."

"That's what worries me," Helm replied. "But, if you could, Colonel, could you not talk so loud?" his eyes squinting in pain at the throbbing.

"Of course," Montoya quietly agreed. He'd had headaches aplenty since the Queen arrived, few before then. "Of course, you know what they say, doctor, that when the head aches, all members partake of it's pain."

Robert didn't have much of a chance to glare before his head went back to the bucket, the handbook dropping forgotten to the table.

"I apologize for discommoding you, doctor," Montoya said, standing up. "I will leave you alone now," and left. Helm ignored the bad French pun.

~~

At The Alvarado Hacienda, senorita Maria Theresa was trying to push herself out of bed. She'd kicked off the covers earlier, her face sweating then just as now....although there were chilled goosebumps all over the rest of her. "I'm burning up while freezing cold," she muttered, and immediately regretted saying anything - her head started throbbing again.

Bom-bom bom-bom bom-bom. Her head was living the more torturous elements of that Poe person's 'Tell-Tale Heart' horror. Tessa was starting to wish she'd never read that filth, even if she had been a curious teen at the time, experimenting with new literary devices - new to her, at least.

When she was finally in a sitting-up position - after her arms complained muchly - Tessa could see her reflection in the big mirror. She was clad in a chemisette and the proper associated lower-garments, given this illness that beseiged her.

There, beside her mirror, Tessa could see the croquet mallet that her viajero del mundo - world traveller - cousin had sent to her. Tessa hadn't met him often, so she wondered why her father refered to Cousin Diego as 'bohemian.'

...And that mallet reminded her that she'd seen an identical one beneath Captain Grisham's bed.

~~

At The Grisham Residence, sitting with as much ease and comfort as his present condition might allow, Marcus Grisham was paging through one of his many books, looking for a clue that might solve this. After all, if he could cure a plague like this, a promotion might be soon at hand. It was a long shot, but the chance was great.

"'Rete Mirabalus'," Grisham read, reading to himself the section on the internal cooling system of sheep and lambs. Such words as that always reminded him of his veterinary teacher back in Lancaster County, and Teach's love of saying things like 'mirable dictu', which spurred on jokes by the rowdier kids; back then, Marcus'd just stayed quiet and studied.

Five pages - and one bucket use - later, Marcus had found what he believed was it!: "'Symptoms include a quartan cycle of increasing headaches and nausea, with vommitting on a semi-regular basis.'" After putting a bookmark there, he slammed the book shut triumphantly.

~~

Passing by the doc's place, Marcus remembered something his older sister had told him: 'always forgive your enemies - they hate it when you do that!'

Granted, him and the doc weren't exactly enemies, though they weren't bowling buddies either.

~~

Once inside Montoya's office, Captain Grisham outlined his plan to his military commander.

"And what are you suggesting we use to treat this plague, Capitan?" Montoya asked. "Limes and grapes perhaps?" the former being often carried on the visiting ships to the province, and the latter was abundantly grown hereabouts.

"Actually, Colonel," Grisham said, then coughed into his hankerchief, little sputnum errupting this time. "Actually, the best cure is oranges."

Montoya LOLed. "Grisham, the sickness has reached your brain. This is Alta California, not Florida - there are no orange groves, no great abundance of the fruits."

Grisham shrugged as much as he could without another repeat of breakfast. "Nonetheless, Colonel, oranges are the best chance this pueblo has of recovery."

~~~~~~~~

END.