CHALLENGE for the week of 07-01-01

TRIO CHALLENGE: a fireplace, a shoe, cherries
QUOTE 1: "A little in one's own pocket is better than much in another man's purse." Don Quixote.
QUOTE 2: "A truth that's told with bad intent/ Beats all the lies you can invent". -William Blake
QUOTE 3: " If music be the food of love, play on..." William Shakespeare, 1564-1616
WORDS: laconic (luh-KON-ik) adjective - Sparing with words, concise, terse.
sentient (SEN-shent) adjective, Capable of perception by sense; conscious., Sensitive in perception. noun - Someone or something that has sensation.
oniomania (O-nee-uh-MAY-nee-uh, MAYN-yuh) noun - Excessive, uncontrollable desire to buy things.

AUTHORS: Dea, Greg, Jo, Julie, Maril

By Dea
Deianira@prodigy.net

Trio Challenge 24

Summary: A little girl talk between Tessa and Marta.
Challenge: fireplace, shoe, cherries
Note: The ideas expressed in this piece are merely generalizations and are not meant to further the stereotypes of the male species. :)

~~~~~

Tessa Alvarado slammed the front door of her hacienda and trudged to one of the chairs by the fireplace. Sinking down in the velvet cushions she crossed her arms over her chest and sighed heavily. Then she kicked her shoes off and sighed again.

'That man is going to drive me insane!' she fumed silently. 'I don't think he even knows what he wants!'

"Tessa?" a voice called from the kitchen.

"Si, Marta, it's me," Tessa said dejectedly.

"What's wrong, Tessita?" Marta asked as she made her way into the living room, a silver-plated bowl in her hands.

"Men," Tessa replied curtly.

"Men in general or one man in particular?" Marta laughed as she came to sit beside her. Holding out the bowl she offered, "Cerezas?"

Tessa somberly reached over to grab a handful of the fresh fruit. Plucking of the stem she put a cherry in her mouth and savored the burst of flavor on her tongue. "Guess."

Marta chuckled as she made herself comfortable in the chair. "Tell me what happened."

"Oh it's nothing new, Marta," Tessa explained exasperatedly. "I was in town and Dr. Helm rebuffed my attempts at pleasant conversation. Again. No matter what I do there's just no pleasing him. What is it that men want, Marta? In a woman, I mean."

"A simple question," Marta replied thoughtfully as she nibbled at a particularly plump cherry, "with a very complex answer."

Tessa turned to face her friend and popped another cherry in her mouth. "Well?"

"Different men want different things," she began to explain. "Some men want a servant. Someone who will cook their meals and wash their clothes and raise their children."

Seeing the repugnant look on Tessa's face, Marta went on.

"Some men want a mother. Someone who will take care of them and tell them how special they are and how everything is going to be alright...especially when they're sick."

Tessa laughed and rolled her eyes as she reached for another cherry.

"And some men," Marta said quietly, "want a partner. Someone to share their lives with. Someone to love and be loved by. Someone who is a valued equal. A friend, and a lover."

Tessa smiled and wondered again what is was that Dr. Helm wanted. Certainly it was the latter. But was she the partner he wanted? Or was it the Queen?

Almost as an afterthought, Marta added, "And then some men just want a woman who can do this..."

As Tessa watched fascinated, Marta popped cherry, stem and all in her mouth. She worked her jaw for a few moments and then parted her lips. There on the tip of her tongue was the cherry stem...tied in a knot.

"Marta!" Tessa cried, equally scandalized and delighted. "How did you do that?!"

"An old gypsy talent," she casually shrugged.

Then they both burst into laughter.

END

By Greg
gmccarron-hb@att.net

TRIO CHALLENGE: a fireplace, a shoe, cherries +"oniomania" (O-nee-uh-MAY-nee-uh, MAYN-yuh) noun - Excessive, uncontrollable desire to buy things.

Disclaimers: I don't own them. If I did, they would still be working.
Spoilers: None
Feedback: Please
Note: This vignette continues my first couple of posts. When they are done, they may be combined into a complete story.

~~~~~

Their debut had, without question, been a success. Tessa had enjoyed seeing all the senoritas turn varying shades of green.

The couple was slowing walking back to Dr. Helm's quarters, after Colonel Montoya's celebration, just enjoying each other's company. Even though the evening air had turned quite chilly, Tessa didn't feel it. The happiness in her heart spread warmth throughout her body.

All too soon, they reached Dr. Helm's front door. Robert turned and tenderly kissed Tessa. The kiss, while brief, contained all the growing love between the couple, laced with the promise of future passion.

"Good night. Thank you for a wonderful evening."

"You're welcome. When I come to town tomorrow, we need to discuss some details about the wedding."

"I will be at your disposal tomorrow, Senorita," Dr. Helm replied with a slightly mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Don't tempt me, Robert." With that, Tessa turned and quickly stepped into her buggy.

Dr. Helm turned to watch the buggy disappearing into the darkness wishing he could be next to Tessa to protect her. In just a few months I will be joining her as her husband. Smiling he entered the front office of his practice closing the front door behind him.

Entering his bedroom, he hung his jacket in the closet. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he liberated first his left and then his right foot, which had both started to hurt, from a pair of brand-new shoes. Note to self: Do not wear new shoes to one of Montoya's LONG boring parties again. Before his head hit the pillow Robert Helm was dreaming about the senorita with the split personality.

~~~~~

Tessa stopped to look at the portrait of her father, Don Alvarado, hanging above the fireplace as she entered. Robert is a good man. I know you would like him if you were alive to meet him.

~~~~~

"Marta, try to control your oniomania this time. Don't buy the whole market. We only need half a box of cherries." Tessa playfully pleaded as the two women stepped down from the wagon.

"Maybe, you should come with me, to keep me under control."

"I can't. I have to talk to Dr. Helm about the wedding."

As Tessa parted company with her duma, Colonel Montoya advanced toward her. "Senorita Alvarado, could I steal a moment of you valuable time to discuss a very delicate matter. Please, join me in my office."

Tessa became uneasy as Colonel Montoya closed the doors to his office behind him. "I must congratulate you on your upcoming nuptials. However, your fiancee is not Catholic. As military governor, I cannot allow your wedding to take place without a dispensation for Rome."

Tessa felt a vise tighten around her heart and her head started to spin as the news slammed home.

TBC

By Jo
EnyaJo@aol.com

TRIO CHALLENGE: a fireplace, a shoe, cherries
WORD: sentient
Once again, I hope Julie doesn't mind... can't leave that cat alone <g>

~~~~~

Luis sat in front of the fireplace warming his feet as they rested upon an ottoman on an unusually chilling evening in Santa Helena. His sentient cat, Cleo, sasheyed closer to her master and rubbed up against one of his shoes that was lying just to his left on the floor. Luis put his hand down from the arm of the chair to wait for Cleo's companionship. After a few beats of watching cat looking at his hand, Luis said, "It is I, Cleopatra. The one who makes sure you have food, milk, love. Come."

Cleo meowed at him and moved closer, but still away from Luis' reach. "Why are you so hesitant? It is me."

Then he noticed them. His fingers were red from having been popping cherries in his mouth and extracting the pits for the last hour, and as he looked at them, he realized that from her eyes, the stains could very well have been blood. "Well, it is only cherries," he smoothly commented. He took one by the stem from the bowl in his lap and held it down to her level. When she didn't take to it, he put it in his own mouth and savored the flavor. "It is your loss, Cleo."

END

By Jo
EnyaJo@aol.com

QUOTE 2: "A truth that's told with bad intent/ Beats all the lies you can invent." -William Blake
WORDS: laconic and oniomania

~~~~~

Beatriz, having suffered from oniomania that morning, brought her bundles from the General Market back to her room at Luis' hacienda. One package in particular held what she had most desired. She lifted the gray silk gown that she had put on Luis' tab out of the box and held it in front of her to see how it looked. She started to do a little tap dance in front of the full-length mirror. Yes, she hadn't lost it! She was still a looker. But then, her left knee gave out and she fell to the floor. Just then, Luis raced up the stairs and into her room. "Auntie, are you all right?"

"Yes, Bunky. I'm limber."

He chuckled as he dropped the report that he was reading on the bed and helped her up and got her situated on her bed. "It would help if you were graceful, or at least a década younger." He took the dress that was still clenched in her fingers and held it up, knowing that she had purchased it with his money. "Where on earth are you thinking of wearing this? To the cantina for a drink with the mule wrangler?"

"You'll be having another party," Beatriz confidently said. "I will wear it then. Everyone has seen my only other ballgown. You know that dress is the only one that made the trip from Spain in one piece. Last night is the last time anyone will ever see it."

The party at Luis' the evening before had been interesting from Beatriz standpoint for many reasons. One was that even though Dons and Donas didn't invite her Luis to their humble haciendas for little things like roasting an entire pig and inviting half of Santa Helena to eat it, they all devoured Luis' offerings and basked in his gracious hospitality. Another reason was that Jorge had come, from the back entrance as Luis had asked, and only stayed in the kitchen out of the view of the guests. Beatriz was a little riled by that at first, but understood the concept of 'station' that was so important to Luis' command of the pueblo.

The third interesting event was when Beatriz was showing Jorge the balcony from which she had hoped that he would climb up to her. She had carried hopes that he would one day make that wish of hers come true. He had only good-heartedly laughed. Instead of joining in on his laughter, Beatriz spotted that Captain of Luis' stepping away from the guests in the courtyard. Her eyes followed him across the moonlit square to a secluded spot behind some palms, where he waited. And waited. Then, to Beatriz' shock, Vera Hidalgo joined him for a little osculation session. Beatriz immediately averted Jorge's eyes, for he shouldn't see such decadence and tisked in disgust as she walked Jorge back to the kitchen. They would enjoy one a final drink of the evening, or maybe two. They weren't married to others, so it would be all right. Jorge was laconic, was too gentlemanly, and had the irritating habit of needing to get up early in the morning, but she enjoyed the time they had together. One day, she was certain that Jorge would do more than chastely peck her on the cheek when saying good evening. She had already figuratively tattooed "BEA'S MAN" on his forehead and made sure that he knew it. But alas, he hadn't taken the hint.

She eyed Luis as he carefully laid her new dress on the back of an armchair and said, "I will have the maids press it at once, Auntie."

"Bunky," she said as she patted a space on the bed next to her so that he would join her for a little chat. His grimace at her pet name for him that started when he was a wee lad of three made her know that she shouldn't be using it. But he was so cute bucking away on that rocking horse that her ingrate husband had made for him, swatting his little hat behind him, calling out, "Bueno cabalitto! Bueno cabalitto!" But only sounded like 'Bunkeo' from his little boy lisp and excited articulation.

She started again, because she wanted Luis to know that she was not only serious, but that she wanted answers. "Luis, do you know that your Capitan has an interesting sideline?"

Luis sat on the bed and said, "Sideline? Like... trying to put one foot in front of the other while walking? Or, trying to figure out how to take over my command?"

Beatriz humphed. "Well, he may try, but he will never succeed in that. Both, actually." They joined in mutual laughter. Putting down the Captain was a favorite past time of theirs, but this is serious. She said, "He is ... familiar with a Dona. Did you know that?"

"Vera Hidalgo? Of course." Beatriz slapped him on the arm, making him rub the instantaneous pain away. "OW! What did you do that for?"

"You know that he is breaking at least one commandment and you have done nothing?"

"Auntie, it is the nineteenth century. I am not saying that everyone does it, just cads... such as Grisham."

"And what would you call Dona Hidalgo?"

After a pause, he only stared at her with a crook in his eyebrow. She gasped. "Luis! Knowing about it is one thing, letting it go on is another matter all together. You march down there and take that man by the ear and demand that he stop seeing her. He could ruin her marriage and her reputation." Beatriz slowly but firmly shook her head from side to side as she pondered the possibilities for Vera Hidalgo's soul. "She has a lot of explaining to do when she meets her maker."

Luis laughed. "I am doing no such thing."

"What?!"

"I have a lot to deal with besides the extracurricular dealings of my men. I have a pueblo to run, a Governor to keep happy--not to mention the Spanish court--outlaws to capture, I can not plan my day around whether or not Vera Hidalgo is going to heaven or hell."

"She is going straight to hell, as well as that no good Capitan, and maybe yourself. But I am not. If you will not put a stop to it, I will, by God."

She started to get herself off the bed, but Luis stopped her with only a hand on her shoulder. "You are not talking to either Grisham or Vera Hidalgo, Auntie. I know you. You will make things worse."

"Bah!" was all she could muster as she fought against Luis' hand on her shoulder, to no avail. All she had accomplished was getting her leg over the side of the bed and now she was uncomfortable. And winded.

Luis put her leg back up on the bed and lifted her petite frame to situate her so that she is more comfortable. "Should I call for Dr. Helm to make sure that you are all right?"

"No. Call for Marcus Grisham and Vera Hidalgo. Now."

"No. Just forget you saw anything. It could be useful to have that information one day." After she glared at him in disgusted surprise, he said, "Auntie! I am surprised at you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Do not pretend to be high and mighty with me. I know you quaff and are old and are now thinking about the afterlife, but you still have some good years left in you if you do not fall down on a regular basis."

"I do have some good years left," she said, pointing her finger at him. "To pop you on the butt when you need it."

"Yes," Luis said, with a light laugh. "Yes, you do. And you can still turn heads." He softly kissed her on the forehead. "Just as you did when you were married to Uncle." After she gasped and grabbed the report that he had laid on the bed and fanned herself, he said, "You were very good at hiding your secret. I am sure that no one but a select few ever knew. Vera could take lessons from you."

"A truth that's told with bad intent beats all the lies you can invent, Bunky."

Luis laughed and kissed her on the forehead again. "You rest. My only intent is to make your last years better than your first sixty."

He tried to take the report back, but she wouldn't let it go. "What does this say?"

He yanked it out of her hand. "None of your business."

As he left her room, she yelled, "I will know soon enough!"

She heard him reply, "I am positive that you will."

END

By Julie
julie@centurybooks.com

Disclaimer: May whose who own them and let them languish sleep as well as their creations.
Rating: G-ish
Feedback/Beta: Yes, please.

TRIO/QUOTE CHALLENGE: a fireplace, a shoe, cherries
"A truth that's told with bad intent/ Beats all the lies you can invent". -William Blake

~~~

Marta felt the stiff breeze blowing in from the coast and frowned. "Tessa! Come. You have your cherries for the pie. Now it is time to return home."

Tessa paused to pat the horses who were prancing nervously, their ears pulled back, and then mounted the wagon. "Why the rush? I wanted to visit with the doctor for a moment."

Marta did not even wait until Tessa was properly seated before she slapped the reins and turned the horses toward the hacienda.

~~~

A thump on one's chest and a hiss in one's ear is a rude way to be awakened, even when the awakening itself is not unwelcome. Colonel Luis Montoya grunted and focused his eyes just in time to see Cleo leap down and scramble under the bed, her fur standing straight up.

"What in the world?" He spoke thickly as he roused himself and looked about the room. He heard nothing but the wind howling at his windows, whistling through the fireplace. He looked beneath the bed and saw nothing except his shoes and two glowing eyes in the far corner. "It's all right, Cleo. There is nothing here."

The eyes stayed put and kept their unblinking vigil. Luis lay back upon the bed, but sleep eluded him. His eyes maintained their own reluctant vigil as the wind whispered in his ear, whispered echoes of the dreams which haunted him.

"Enough!" Luis pushed back the blankets and rose abruptly. He lit his lamp and crossed to the wall of books which had so often brought him comfort. He selected a recent addition. The volume was beautifully bound in leather, and the paper was of thick linen stock. Illustrations on each page had been hand tinted by the English poet himself. He knew nothing of the poet, but he knew Don Angelo had paid a handsome price for the book.

The Colonel sat down and shook away the thoughts of Don Angelo, the man who had been invading his dreams, the man who even now was on a ship to Spain, who had given up everything in this New World, exactly as Luis had predicted.

"I told him only the truth." Luis couldn't say why he spoke out loud, his tone almost defiant. Only the wind heard him, and only the wind answered. He turned to the book.

"To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour."

Luis breathed deeply. The words did soothe him. Though he found the English awkward, he appreciated the high thought. Here perhaps was yet another poet who would have been better born a Spaniard. He read on, drawn into the poem, though the couplets grew darker.

"The gnat that sings his summer's song
Poison gets from slander's tongue.
The poison of the snake and newt
Is the sweat of envy's foot.
The poison of the honey bee
Is the artist's jealousy."

The wind came louder now, pressing at the shuttered windows, slipping in at the grate. Luis felt a chill draft, and the lamp flickered, making the innocent illustrations dance with menace.

"The prince's robes and beggar's rags
Are toadstools on the miser's bags.
A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent."

Luis slammed the book shut, and a shutter flew open. The wind swept through, extinguishing the lamp and scattering the papers on his desk. Luis sat stiffly in the dark, unable to move for moment, despite the shutter banging so near. "I told him only the truth," he said softly. Not even the wind seemed to hear now.

~~~~

"God appears, and God is light,
To those poor souls who dwell in night;
But does a human form display
To those who dwell in realms of day."
--William Blake, Auguries Of Innocence

By Maril
maril.swan@sympatico.ca

Trio & Word Challenge #24

DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks Productions
RATING: G
FEEDBACK: yes, please

~~~~~

A little tornado of dust swirled in the wake of the coach as it stopped in front of Santa Helena's hotel. The driver turned from his perch on the bench and began to unlash the baggage atop the roof, preparing to remove it to the ground.

Grisham remarked, "The coach has arrived, Colonel."

He received a laconic, "Has it really?" from Montoya who was sitting in the hotel's open air cantina, seemingly studying his highly-polished shoe.

The colonel's wintry grey eyes narrowed slightly as he smiled without mirth. "Sometimes, Grisham, I almost think you are sentient." He finished his glass of wine and stood up, then stepped down onto the street, striding toward the coach. "Let us see if fortune has smiled on us today."

He reached the coach just as Don Gaspar Hidalgo opened the coach door and assisted his pretty wife out onto the dusty street. Vera Hidalgo gave her husband a peck on the cheek, then turned to the driver.

"Bring all my packages to my buggy." She glanced uncertainly at her husband as the pile of parcels rose alarmingly in the back of their small carriage.

"Vera, my petal," Don Gaspar remonstrated mildly, "You seem to be afflicted by oniomania each time you go to Monterrey." The coach driver carried a set of andirons and placed them in their small wagon. Don Gaspar shook his head despairingly. "We already have a set for the fireplace. Vera, we are running out of room in the buggy to transport all your purchases."

The rest of their conversation was lost to Montoya as they moved off to their buggy. The colonel eyed the remaining parcels avidly. There it was! A small wooden crate lay among the boxes and baggage set on the street next to the coach. Their owners were picking among the packages and carrying them away. Montoya motioned to Grisham. "Pick up that box and handle it carefully. Bring it to my office."

Captain Grisham lifted the small crate labelled, "Preserved Cherries", staggering under its weight. "What's in here, gold?" he laughed.

"Idiota!" the colonel hissed. "Keep quiet and just carry the box." He pushed his way past the Alvarado woman's gitana servant, and strode toward the governor's villa.

He missed the slow smile that spread across her face as she watched the captain and the colonel climb the steps between the stone lions and enter the dark interior of the building. Marta grasped the bolts of cloth that the driver handed down to her, and stowed them in her wagon. Her dark eyes danced with excitement as she climbed onto the wagon bench and turned the horses toward home.

END

By Maril
maril.swan@sympatico.ca

24 Quote Challenge

Disclaimers: Fireworks Productions gave them to us, gratefully accepted.
Rating: G
Feedback: yes, please and beta
Author's Note: You can blame this piece on last night's full moon. <G>

QUOTE 3: " If music be the food of love, play on..." William Shakespeare

~~~~~

There, he did it again! Helm set his wineglass down heavily, sloshing the red fluid over the rim onto his hand. The smooth bastard. Anger roiled in his gut as he watched the man dancing with Señorita Alvarado. Couldn't she see what a smarmy, oily Casanova he was? The doctor seethed as his eyes followed them around the Rose Courtyard, impotently watching her partner sneaking little touches and light kisses as they danced. How could she fall for such a transparent seducer?

His temper rose as the man ran his smooth hands over her neck, and down her bared shoulders. In the warm light of the many candles illuminating the courtyard, he could see the banked passion in her eyes, the way her body swayed dangerously near his. Helm was almost choking with indignation. Where was Marta? he wondered, glancing around the crowded patio. He finally spied her sitting and chatting with a group of servants on the periphery of the fiesta. He had a mind to take her to task over her lack of vigilance with her charge.

Impulsively, he stood up, swaying a little from the many glasses of wine he had quaffed this evening, first out of boredom, then out of frustration. If Marta wouldn't do her job, he would do it for her! Helm marched across the tiled floor to the dancing couple and tapped Tessa's partner on the shoulder. The man's eyes were locked onto Tessa's and for a second, he did not respond. Then he turned to Helm with an impatient glare.

Helm had to admit the fellow had everything going for him. Finely featured with wavy dark hair that was oiled smoothly to his shapely head, tall and muscular, and above all, he seemed to have a way with women. From the moment Arturo de Sallas had turned up in Santa Helena, all his efforts seemed to be concentrated on wooing Tessa Alvarado, almost as if he had a mission. Helm had seen from the first that she was taken in by him. In the days that followed, de Sallas had lost no opportunity to further his interest. Tonight, at Montoya's fiesta, was the final straw as far as Helm was concerned. The blackguard was blatantly seducing that innocent young woman practically under the eyes of the whole pueblo. He would put an end to it.

"Excuse my interruption, Señor de Sallas, but you have been monopolising the most beautiful woman in the room. I would ask for the pleasure of the next dance with Señorita Alvarado. If she will permit, of course," he added, bowing, with a wry smile at Tessa.

Tessa returned his smile. "Of course, Doctor." She stepped away from her partner who looked on with an ill-concealed annoyance. "The next dance is a waltz." She moved into his embrace as the small band began to play again.

"If music be the food of love, play on..." Helm quoted with a quirk of his lips. He held her at a decent distance, enjoying the fluidity of her graceful movements. She knew how to dance, even making his awkwardness seem smooth. She seemed especially lovely tonight, quite radiant, in fact. He forced his mind back to the reason he had asked for this dance.

"Señorita Alvarado," he began hesitantly. "In the time since I've gotten to know you, I have developed certain feelings for you." He felt her body move reflexively and she looked startled. "As you have no near male relatives, I've begun to feel a kind of brotherly concern for you." The banked passion he saw in her eyes earlier now flared into fire and she suddenly became rigid in his arms. He plunged on. "What I mean to say is, de Sallas is the kind of man who tries to seduce women, not because he loves them but because of the challenge. I don't want to see you get hurt."

But she did look hurt as she pushed him away. "Perhaps, Doctor, you should mind your own business!" she snapped and strode briskly toward Marta. Several faces turned to Helm, and he felt his cheeks beginning to burn as if she had slapped him.

He turned away from the group and walked out of the Rose Courtyard, leaving the noise of conversation and the music behind. 'She's right,' he thought. 'What business is it of mine if she gives herself to that cad? It isn't as if I could do anything to stop her.' As he neared his office, the din from the fiesta still reached him faintly, and he stood outside for a long time, bathed in the silver moonlight, wondering why he felt so wretched.

END