DEA RESPONSE FILE 3

By Dea
Deianira@prodigy.net

CHALLENGE: promise, pail, herb garden

~~~~~

"Promise you'll still respect me in the morning, doctor?"

"I don't think that will be a problem, senorita."

"Even if things don't go your way?"

"I'm pretty certain that things will go my way, but yes."

"You have done this before haven't you?"

"Most men have, I suppose."

"I didn't ask about most men."

"I'm fairly familiar with the activity, yes."

"So am I."

"The pressure's not bothering you is it?"

"No, you?"

"Of course not. I always perform better under pressure."

"Well, then, shall we get to it?"

"Would you two just get on with it!"

Tessa Alvarado and Robert Helm turned to look at Marta's exasperated face as she stood in the midst of her herb garden.

"If you two are going to race, then just do and stop talking about it," she told them.

Helm and Tessa faced each other again. She sat astride Chico and he was on the horse he kept at the stables in town. It had all started off innocently enough. A little tease here. A little barb there. Like most friendly squabbles it had ended in a dare of sorts. Who was faster? Tessa felt she had this wrapped up. After all, she certainly had enough practice fleeing from Montoya's soldiers.

She and Dr. Helm had been spending quite a bit of time with each other lately. Ever since they had shared a dance in the Rose Courtyard he seemed to be showering her with attention. And she certainly wasn't complaining. Pretending to study the path ahead of her, she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He wore no jacket or vest, just a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The top three buttons of the shirt were undone and she could just see a hint of perspiration on the exposed skin. His hair was slightly mussed from the riding they'd done earlier.

He'd come out to see her on this lazy Sunday afternoon with a story about having no patients to see and nothing else to keep him occupied in Santa Elena. She liked to think that even if he had a line of patients out the door, he would somehow find time to come and see her.

"We've yet to discuss the outcome of this little demonstration," Helm was saying, a wry smile firmly on his lips. He was enjoying this immensely. Things in town had been quiet lately and therefore there had been no need for the Queen. He was actually starting to believe there might be chance for a normal relationship between him and Tessa. He could always hope.

He watched her as she surreptitiously watched him. She had on a red blouse that clung in all the right places and a long pair of dark blue gauchos. Her dark hair was pulled back in a loose braid with a few wisps escaping around her slightly flushed face. She looked a far cry from the Senorita Maria Theresa Alvarado that he usually saw in town, and he was very pleased.

He admitted to himself that this race had been his idea. His casual goading had spurred her on and she now felt it was her duty to prove him wrong. Yes, he was enjoying himself immensely.

"I take it you're referring to what you'll get if you happen to win?" she asked impishly.

At his nod, she said, "Okay, if you win, I'll cook you a magnificent dinner here at the hacienda."

"You're supposed to be encouraging him to win, Tessa, not scaring him out of it."

Tessa looked sharply at Marta who was now kneeling beside a pail of fresh soil and so didn't catch the twinkle in her charge's narrowed eyes.

"As I was saying," she continued sweetly. "If you win, I'll cook you dinner. Or if that doesn't suit you, I could help out at the clinic for a week?"

"Just what I need, a nurse with absolutely no experience," he replied, the smile on his face taking away the sting of the words.

"How soon you forget!" she exclaimed. "How about that time I bandaged your hand after you got into that fight with Grisham?"

"I'll have you know that bandage fell off the moment you left," he said archly.

"It did not!" she replied indignantly.

"Did so."

"Did not!"

An impatient groan from Marta ended the debate.

"Dinner would be lovely," Helm conceded. "And if you win?"

"And if I win," she said, pausing to think it over. An evil grin spread over her face. "If I win, you can help me clean out my stables."

He stared at her a moment open-mouthed, as he remembered the last time he had entered the Alvarado stables. It had not been a shining moment for him. Then he seemed to screw up his courage and faced her unblinking. "As long as you keep your hands off the oat bags."

"Well I've never heard it put quite that way, doctor," she giggled, "but rest assured I'll keep my hands to myself."

"You're raising a wicked woman here, Marta," Helm threw over his shoulder.

"You have no idea," Marta replied with a mischievous grin.

"Shall we?" Tessa asked with a sweeping gesture toward the path ahead of them. "I could give you a head start?"

"That won't be necessary," he assured her grimly.

"Alright then. Marta? Will you do the honors?"

Marta stood off to the side, watching as the horses skittered beneath their riders. They too seemed to be enjoying the tension. She raised her arm and in her hand she held a red handkerchief. Tessa and Helm were both watching her intently. When she quickly lowered her arm Tessa urged Chico forward with the ease of familiarity and in moments all Marta and Helm could see was a trail of dust.

Helm sat calmly on his mount enjoying the sight of the lovely senorita barreling towards the horizon. Marta just stood there, hands on her hips.

"You should have taken the head start," she informed him wryly.

He turned to her and smiled a contented smile. "In this particular situation, it seems to me I win either way."

Laughing, he urged his horse forward and galloped after her.

END

CHALLENGE: wooden crate, salt, pin

This story takes place immediately after "Betrayed" and includes small spoilers from that ep.

~~~~~

Robert Helm knelt beside the wooden crate and rearranged its contents to make more room. He'd already packed all his clothes and books and the few personal items he owned. Most of his medical instruments, potions, elixirs and salves had already filled another crate. His medical bag he could carry with him in case his services were needed along the way. This had not been an easy decision to reach, but he knew it was something that had to be done.

Robert Helm was leaving Santa Elena.

His year in Alta California had been interesting at least, if not the most enjoyable. He'd nearly been incinerated in a purposefully rigged explosion, hunted down by an assassin, almost beheaded, tossed off a ship and nearly drowned, held at gun, knife and sword point, participated in more fistfights than in the whole of his childhood, and been sentenced to house arrest more times than he could remember. And yesterday...yesterday he really thought he was going to die.

Grisham had marched him into the desert with direct orders from Montoya to murder him.

What in bloody hell was he still doing here?!

He used to think he knew why he stayed despite the real threats to his survival. But yesterday had also taken care of that. The woman in black that terrorized Montoya's soldiers and gave the peasants someone to root for was well aware of his feelings for her. He knew she was not stupid. But apparently she was frightened, or the less appealing option, simply not interested.

He'd told her several times how amazing and incredible he thought she was. He couldn't really remember any answering compliments. Following yesterday's discussion about Vera Hidalgo's extramarital activities, he casually suggested that maybe some loves should stay secret. He'd hoped to shock her into denying such a silly thing. Her response, or rather lack thereof, had only rubbed salt in his proverbial wounds.

But then what could he expect? Did he think she would suddenly declare her love for him and then retire from the vigilante business to become a dutiful wife? He laughed out loud at that. He didn't even know her true identity. How on earth did he think they could have a semblance of a normal relationship?

No, better to just pack it in and hit the road. Since leaving the army he'd done his share of traveling. He'd been on a trek in Texas when Montoya had recruited him to heal this little pueblo. Sometimes he regretted ever stopping at that hole in the wall cantina outside of La Rosa. Who knows where he'd be now if he hadn't? He could still remember the moment El Colonel walked through the bar's swinging doors. Even there the peasants seemed to sense his self-appointed authority. A pin dropping to the floor could have been heard.

And yet, he'd agreed to come. Well, Robbie, all of our decisions can't be winners.

Looking around the office he'd used for the past twelve months, he though he should be feeling more solemn about his departure. Certainly he would miss his patients. The poor, dirty peasants that came to him for help they would find nowhere else. The skinned knees and black eyes of the children who played just a tad too rough. The exhaustion of the wives who worked too hard for their own good.

Professionally, he had seen very few dons and donas in his time in Santa Elena. Either their servants were skilled enough to deal with the occasional cut or burn, or, as he figured more likely, their lives of comfort and excess were not as conducive to illness. The exceptions to that had been a smattering of visits from Senora Vera Hidalgo, which he'd later deduced had only served as reconnaissance missions for Montoya. And of course Senorita Alvarado had made his office her second home. One didn't need to knock on the door of her own home, did she?

He had to admit, the thought of Maria Theresa breezing her way into his office and tapping him on the head with her fan brought a grin to his face. He just didn't understand that one. She played the part of the spoiled aristocrat almost too well. She seemed to genuinely care about the people of Santa Elena but she sighed and simpered along with the best of them. Perhaps given enough time, he would eventually find out who she really was. But that didn't look like it was in the cards.

Robert pulled on his jacket and ran a negligent hand through his hair. Of course he was dreading the talk with Montoya. He wasn't certain how the Colonel would take the news that he was losing his physician. Then again, he might rejoice. Just one less person for him to worry about. After all, he'd wanted to get rid of him badly enough to put a bullet in his head. This way was much easier, not to mention a lot less messy.

And it wasn't as if he was just taking off for parts unknown. Robert always had a plan. A few weeks ago he had spent three days in Monterrey for a medical convention. Four other well-known doctors had joined together in the El Camino Real Hotel on Main street to pour over the latest medical journals and discuss daring new procedures. He'd come to realize that medicine as a profession had come a long way, and there was no limit to what it would be able to accomplish in the future. Helm came away from the convention proud that he was a part of this revolution.

He had also come away with an open invitation to join the thriving practice of Dr. William Webster Butterworth, a Boston physician who had just set up office in Monterrey. Perhaps there he would find his purpose. He could use his talents to help people who might not try to kill him in return. Life there might not be as exciting as in Santa Elena, but at least it would be normal. And right now, Robert Helm longed for normal.

~~~~~

Once he had everything packed up, Robert Helm left for Colonel Montoya's office. The sooner he confronted him the sooner he could be on his way. The friendly waves he received from the townsfolk on his way to the pale pink structure brought a tightness to his throat. Would they be so polite it they knew he was hours away from clearing out of town? Shaking off the doubts he continued to Montoya's. He would need all his concentration for this encounter.

After the soldier had announced him at the door, Robert walked into the elegantly decorated office and found the Colonel seated at his desk, hands folded in front of him. If he was surprised to see him alive and well it did not reflect in his eyes.

"Doctor Helm, I trust your little stay in our jail has done some good," he greeted him pleasantly.

"Actually I'm doing quite well. No extra holes in my head and all that," Robert replied with a smirk. He felt no fear in Montoya's presence. He knew the colonel himself would never raise a hand to him. He always stayed behind the scenes of his machinations. "No thanks to you."

Montoya sighed and spread his hands out in supplication. "My dear doctor, I truly regret the incident with Capitan Grisham. You know how seriously he takes his role as my second in command. He simply got a little carried away."

"Carried away? He was going to shoot me in the head!" Robert replied, not buying the Colonel's explanation for a moment. Not that he ever expected Montoya to come forward with the truth. "And he was acting on your orders. We both know that."

"Dr. Helm I'm shocked that you would think me capable of murder," Montoya said indignantly as he rose from his chair behind the desk. "Especially against someone as yourself. An integral member of our community."

"Only integral when it suits you," Robert said, a grim smile lighting on his face. "Like when you have fever and are scared of dying."

The barb hit its mark and Montoya's face went deadly still for a moment. Schooling his features once more, he said softly, "I think we can agree that we have had our differences, doctor, and simply leave it at that."

Robert shook his head. The man had talent, he had to give him that. His ability to circumvent the truth, to call forth such wounded pride. He used every situation to further his own goals. This conversation could go on forever if he let it. He'd better just get to the point of his visit.

"I've come to tell you I'm leaving," he announced.

"I think a vacation is just what the doctor ordered," Montoya replied, sitting back down and sifting through some papers on his desk. "Pardon the expression."

Was that relief he heard in the colonel's voice? Did he actually think he was going to get out of this situation so easily? That he would simply go on as if nothing had happened?

"Not a vacation," Robert clarified folding his arms over his chest.

"Oh?" Montoya looked up, confused for the briefest of moments. Then realization seemed to hit. Folding his hands again he replied casually, "I see."

Robert waited for the Colonel's reaction. Would he be angry, vehemently insisting that he was bound to him somehow as his personal physician? Or would he, as he himself had done, use his responsibility to the townspeople to prick his guilty conscience? He certainly wasn't expecting what the colonel said next.

"Dr. Helm, do I need to remind you of your situation when I found you in Texas?" he asked calmly, spearing him with a look that demanded his undivided attention.

How could he even bring that up? At first it surprised him, but then he realized that it really shouldn't have. He was simply once again using everything in his arsenal to achieve his own purpose. Stunned hazel eyes stared back at Montoya for a few seconds before Robert replied carefully, "What happened in La Rosa was not my fault. I had the situation completely under control!"

"Doctor, you were about to be hanged," Montoya informed him almost gleefully. It was clear the colonel enjoyed seeing his distress.

"Vigilante justice," Robert said with a dismissive wave.

"Ah, yes, something we know about all too well here in our little pueblo," Montoya remarked.

"Those men were angry with grief. They wouldn't have gone through with it," he insisted as he paced in front of the desk.

"Then you had more faith in them that I, doctor!"

"So that's what this is about then?" he asked, gripping the back of a chair. "You think you rescued me from some horrible demise so I owe you the rest of my life?"

"The arrangement was for one year--"

"And I've fulfilled that," Robert said emphatically. "And as I recall, death threats and house arrest were never part of the deal."

"Yes, fulfilled it you have," Montoya agreed begrudgingly. "Just remember that if you do go, there is no coming back."

Robert laughed.

"What, you're going to post soldiers outside of town to keep me out? Nothing personal but your soldiers aren't exactly the most adept at their vocation."

"It is not I you are abandoning here Dr. Helm," Montoya told him. "Do you think the people of this town will welcome you back with open arms after this? They depend on you to sustain their bodies just as the Padre sustains their souls. What am I to tell them?"

Leaning over the desk between them and placing his hands on either side, he replied, "Well Colonel, I suppose you could just pretend that Grisham succeeded, and tell them what you had planned for that unfortunate circumstance."

This time it was the Colonel's mouth that hung agape. It was a look that pleased Robert greatly.

"Adios, Colonel," he mock saluted as he left the office.

~~~~~

CHALLENGE ITEMS: piñata, medicine bottle, brick

~~~~~

Robert Helm descended the steps of the Colonel's residence with a healthy dose of satisfaction. To be sure, Montoya had done his level best to coerce him into remaining in Santa Elena, but he definitely felt he had come out on top of the situation...for once.

And why on earth did he insist on bringing up that little misunderstanding in LaRosa? He'd done all he could to save that man's life; surely his brothers understood that. Then again, maybe they hadn't...

As he crossed the main street he became aware of the sound of footsteps running behind him. He turned around and was nearly barreled over by a little girl of about 5 or 6 years old. It was almost a reflex for him to scoop her up into his arms and situate her against his hip.

"Dr. Helm!" the child beamed as she threw her chubby arms around his neck. "Mira! Look! My arm is all better!"

"It certainly is," Helm replied as he made a show of examining her elbow. "Didn't I tell you it would be?"

He had stitched it up several weeks ago after the girl had fallen from the tree in which she and her brother had been playing. In her fear she had cried as if the devil himself were after her, but he had given her some of the sugary hard candy he kept on hand for just such situations and the tide of tears had ebbed.

Now she nodded bravely and smiled beneath her dark lashes as the doctor continued to walk towards his office, carrying his precious burden.

"My birthday is tomorrow!" she told him proudly. "Papa said I can eat all the candies from the piñata!"

Helm chuckled. "If you do that you'll have to come see me again, this time for a tummy ache."

When the girl made a humorous face at that suggestion, Helm realized with a start that he wouldn't be here tomorrow. For the party or the tummy ache. He studied the girl's expression as she watched him, small round face glowing with rapt attention. She would soon lose that all-encompassing trust. He would most likely be the first of many men to desert her.

"I'll bring you some candies, doctor," she promised, innocently patting his cheek with her tiny hand.

"Thanks," he mumbled averting his eyes from the sight of her misplaced adoration.

"Sela!"

Both doctor and child turned at the sound of her name being called.

"Mija! Why are you bothering the doctor?" the dark-haired woman fretted as she crossed over to them, hands holding her skirts. "I'm so sorry, Senor Helm. I was buying vegetables for dinner. I turn my back for a moment and she is gone!"

"It's no problem, Senora Juarez," he assured her as Sela reluctantly allowed him to hand her over to her mother. "She was just telling me about her arm."

"And the party!" Sela reminded him in a stage whisper.

"And the party," Helm amended with a small chivalric bow.

"You stop by tomorrow, yes? I'm making empanadas for the party," the woman smiled as her daughter nodded enthusiastically.

"Oh, I don't know Senora," he explained hesitantly. "I may be very busy tomorrow--"

"Please, please, pleeeease?" Sela begged, squirming in her mother's grasp.

'Good lord, I can't say no,' Helm realized. Even if it is a lie.

Finally he inclined his head. "I will see what I can do."

Sela's face lit up as her mother turned to take them back to their wagon.

He watched Sela wave at him happily as they were swallowed up by all the townsfolk in the square. Why did a decision that came so easily in the heat of anger become so much more complicated in the face of joy? Trying to push the thought of the girl from his mind he headed in the direction of his office.

No sooner had he resumed his stride than his path was blocked. A young senorita with dark hair and even darker eyes stood before him, a shy smile on her face as she looked up at him.

"Rosa, how are you feeling? Have the headaches eased any?" he asked as he took her lightly by the arm and led them out of the way of some children running around the busy square.

"Yes, Dr. Helm, I am feeling much better," she beamed. Then she brought out a glass medicine bottle from under her black shawl. Holding it out to him she said, "I take your medicine and my headaches get better. I bring this back to you."

The sight of it brought back the memory of the whole fiasco with Grisham and the laudanum. After he'd returned from the desert he'd sought her out and after carefully explaining that the other medicine had been watered down, he presented her with a new bottle.

Helm now took the half-filled bottle from her hand and said, "I'm glad you're feeling better, Rosa."

"I have you to thank," she insisted. "I had the headaches a long time before you arrived here. Nothing else helped, until you came."

He opened his mouth to argue with her but she went on, "We are all lucky to have you here."

The look of genuine gratitude on Rosa's face nearly undid him. His already guilty conscience was now cursing his rash behavior and the decision that stemmed from it. If only things in Santa Elena weren't so...abnormal! He could have a nice little practice here. He could care for his patients and feel as though her were doing something worthwhile with his time and talents. But what kind of doctor could he be if he was always looking over his shoulder for the next pistol or sword aimed at him?

"I appreciate that Rosa," he said, willing a pleasant smile to his face while gripping the medicine bottle so tightly in his hand that he feared it would break and he'd have to stitch himself up. "Now, if you would excuse me, I have some business to attend to?"

He really hoped he hadn't appeared rude in his abrupt departure, but he just couldn't face her any longer. Was it his imagination or was someone trying to tell him something? Someone who had a bit more authority that Colonel Luis Montoya. Not that he'd ever gone in for such talk about an almighty power guiding you through life and all that. Best to just hitch up the horse and go. Before he could change his mind.

He turned toward the stables and jogged to the entrance. His horse was in her stall waiting for him. As he neared the animal he saw that someone was standing on her other side brushing her down. Jose, a young man who worked in the stables as a groom met him with a grin.

"She is such a fine animal, doctor," he said, smoothing the brush down the shiny flanks.

"Yes, she is, but you don't have to rub her down for me," he chided gently as he approached him.

"I don't mind," Jose replied, continuing the even strokes. "When my papa fell and hit his head, you were there to make him better."

"That wasn't my doing," Helm reasoned. "Luckily you're father's head was hard as a brick."

The young man grinned showing his agreement with Dr. Helm's assessment of his father's tenacity.

"Still, he most surely would have died if you had not been there," Jose insisted, turning to look at the doctor. "And for that, I take care of your horse. Will you be needing her today?"

It was an excellent question. Would he?

TBC

By Dea

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