JO FILE FOUR

By Jo
EnyaJo@aol.com

TRIO CHALLENGE: brick, medicine bottle, a piñata

Still trying to make this three paragraphs.

~~~~~

How long do I have to live? Yesterday I would have asked myself that question and rightfully assumed that I still had decades left as I'm still a relatively young man. That all changed. Yesterday a took a brick and slammed it on the head of a soldier who was violating my daughter. I didn't know he was a soldier, he was dressed in civilian clothes. What I did care about was that my Maria Louisa was crying and trying to fend off a drunken man. Who can blame a father who rescues his daughter?

All I can do is wait. I sit on my cot with hopelessness overtaking my soul. I kicked something that clinked across the hard, dirt floor. Getting onto my hands and knees, I see that it is the small medicine bottle that Dr. Helm had given me to soothe my headaches. Just the thought if it makes me laugh. I'm to die before sunset and Dr. Helm gave me something for my headache this morning. Well, it was all he could do for me. I saw the look in his eyes as he bandaged my wounds that I received during my arrest. I've never seen such kind eyes in a stranger. Just having a bit of humanity in this time of darkness will help my soul go on to the next life. When he had asked me, "Did you kill that soldier?" I had to admit that I had. But I also told him the reason for it, quietly so none of the other guards who wanted my blood could hear. I don't want to rile the guards. I can see the gleam in their eyes as they all wait for me to swing from the gallows for taking the life of one of their own, no matter what he had been doing.

Suddenly the door to the jail swings open and a woman clad in black charges in. I've never seen such a sight! Her long hair floats behind her with each quick movement she makes, the sword in her hand shines from sunlight as she expertly swings against the guards who came suddenly to attention. This is the Queen of Swords! I've never seen her before, but I'm thrilled that she has come for me. She has come for me, right? There is no one else in the jail. She's come to save me! She deftly kicks and swings her sword, slamming her feet and fists at them guards as if they were piñatas. The third guard falls and she turns to look at me. I stand back from the cell door, my heart caught in my throat. She tells me, "Delago, once you leave here, you must never return to Santa Helena. Your family is waiting for you out at the old ruins. Do you know where that is?" I can only nod my head as a grateful smile ignites my entire body. Hope fills my soul. She unlocks my cell door and pulls me to freedom, stopping short at the outside door to look out both ways. "There's a horse waiting for you around the corner," she hurriedly tells me. "Ride and don't look back. I'll create a diversion in the square. Just keep riding, Delago, and good luck." With that, she pushed me out the door and ran in the other direction. I find that horse and mount quickly. As I ride out of town, I hear behind me, "The Queen of Swords! Get her!"

END

WEEK 22 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 quizzical look on her face. Tessa said, "It just may find itself being bumped 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 try to 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 Jo

CHALLENGE 23
QUOTE 1: A man can't be too careful in the choice of his enemies. - Oscar Wilde
QUOTE 2: Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it. - Confucius
WORDS: potatory, dotty, epuration

~~~~~

As Montoya sat at his dining table--which had a lovely, lone rose in the crystal vase in the center--he realized that he was famished. Lying a crisp, white linen napkin upon his lap, he could smell the smoked bacon and the freshly brewed coffee wafting in from the kitchen. He took a sip of the orange juice just as his butler set a plate in front of him. Montoya looked down at the crisp bacon cooked to perfection and the lightly toasted bread and noted the jar of apple jam on the table, but crinkled his eyebrows when he saw the mess that was in the middle of the plate. He slammed the glass down and tossed the napkin on the plate. "Cook!"

The butler jumped back, then bowed and said, "I will get her for you, Colonel," just before scurrying off in the direction of the kitchen.

By the time the gray-haired, diminutive woman graced him with her presence, Montoya was not only famished but raging mad. She wavered a bit as she stood, mostly at attention, as Montoya paced around her in a slow, predatory manner. "Was there something not to your liking?" she asked, and then as an afterthought added, "Sir?"

Montoya peered into the old woman's eyes who made the best bread and paella this side of Spain. She stared back, not in the least bit intimidated. He poked her with a firm finger, but had to grab her arm so she wouldn't topple over from the force of his nudge. As she got herself steady on her feet, Montoya looked at the guard in the room and abruptly waved for him to leave. It didn't please him to see the guard smile as he left them alone. He took a deep breath so as to collect his thoughts, then said, "Auntie..."

"Yes, Luis?" Beatriz asked, slurring the words.

"Beatriz," he started again.

"Yes, Bunky?"

From hearing the 'endearment' that he was called when he was a young lad, he both bristled and was heart-warmed by the woman who he had always had a bit of affection for. But sternly told her, "When I got word that that miserable man, who was my uncle, your husband, had happily passed on to the devil himself, I brought you here as a favor to my mother's memory."

"Was there something wrong with your breakfast, honey?"

"I asked for scrambled eggs."

"You got them."

"No." Montoya steered her back to the table to show her, holding her up in the process. "What I received," he said as he lifted the napkin, "was something resembling what comes out of Salan when he is ill."

"You have always been a demanding child." She tisked. "Those are scrambled eggs."

"You have always been a potatory, dotty, old bat. Those are garbage. I take it that one of the other members of the kitchen staff made the toast and the bacon."

"I made that bread yesterday."

"Before you visited the cantina for too long last night, I presume."

"I am a single senorita about town," she flamboyantly said, then added in an almost desperate tone, "I am lonely, Bunky."

"Do not call me that." He scoffed. "Senorita? You haven't been a senorita for the better part of four decades."

Beatriz smiled and said, "I met a senor last night. I might have gotten in a little late."

Montoya looked his aunt over, and grimaced. "Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it."

Beatriz, offended, said, "A man cannot be too careful in the choice of his enemies. Remember, I cook your food, Bunky."

"I could always send you back to Spain."

"I could always join up with the Dons for the epuration that they are planning. Or with the peasants who are planning a coup d'état."

Montoya stepped back. "They're planning what?"

"They are Dons and peasants, Luis. They are always planning something." She lightly tisked three times. "You really do have full days."

"You do not know the half of it."

"So, why are you making the one person in this world who unconditionally loves you angry? All you needed to nicely say was that you prefer your eggs to be cooked for a little less time than I did this morning--and not call them garbage--and I would bring the plate back into the kitchen and start over again. If you tossed in a 'please', I would even forget what you called me and warm up the bacon and toast."

Montoya stared at her as she stood with the same puritanical expression that made him crumble when he was a boy, but now filled him with familial love. He softly said, "Auntie. I would like my eggs to be scrambled to perfection this morning. Please."

"That's a good boy." Beatriz beamed to her nephew and squeezed his cheeks. "You are so handsome. My sister, God rest her soul, would be so proud of you. But you really should shave."

Beatriz picked up the plate and happily went back to the kitchen with it as Montoya rubbed his cheeks. He spotted a guard looking through the window, with a grin on his face. Montoya authoritatively pointed at him and said, "You did not see that."

By Jo

TRIO 23 cameo, lantern, weight scales

Borrowing some original characters from brig and Julie, namely Lucy and Cleo.

~~~~

After instructing the kitchen staff during clean up, Beatriz had already had a full day. She plopped herself into a kitchen chair as one of the young, lithe cooks finishing wiping down the counter. Beatriz's knees were quite stiff making her know that Santa Helena would again receive a rare rain shower. Her white hand with prominent veins went to her forehead to wipe off the beads of sweat that had collected in the hot kitchen and wondered if it would be nicer outside than in the Montoya's house. She could catch a breeze, or the sight of that gentle señor who bought her drink after drink in the cantina last night. Jorge usually pulled his mule through the square around 10, so Beatriz thought she'd get herself ready and place herself in a prominent position in which to gaze upon him. From on high. She giggled, from a balcony, just like Romeo and Juliet. It helped to have a privileged nephew who had a balcony to further her romantic imagaination. Surely when the señor would see her, he would come to converse with her... bring her a rose... but he might try climbing up and his knees were probably as bad as hers. But it was a lovely image to have in mind anyway.

Beatriz stumbled through the house to the stairs as her knees were really giving her trouble and put a hand on the banister to see the many steps that she would have to climb. She gathered her strength and took the stairs much as one should take life, one step at a time, and serpentine while you're at it. After climbing the stairs, she was a little winded, but Bunky's bedroom was just at the end of the hall. She took out her fine linen, embroidered handkerchief that her mother had stitched for Beatriz's wedding and mopped off the sweat from her chest as she walked into her own bedroom to collect the cameo brooch and earrings that had been another wedding gift to her by her cherished aunt. Aunts were so important; Beatriz had a favorite and hoped to be such a lady for Luis.

When she got to her nephew's room, clamping the last earring on, she saw that the maids had already been in there, straightening up, making the bed. But, there was one thing out of place. That adorable cat that Luis had taken under his wing was comfortably sitting on Luis' pillow. When Beatriz had walked in, grabbing the doorknob for support, the cat had lifted her head to stare at her, but then laid it back down upon her paws.

"Well, Pussy," Beatriz said. "If Consuella catches you in here, you're in trouble." The cat didn't even seem to have heard her, if she had, she certainly didn't acknowledge it. "What was your name again?" Beatriz tried to think, knowing that Luis had told her, but she just couldn't remember. She knocked her fist against her head trying to remember, but the cat's name didn't come to her. There were so many things that didn't come to mind as quickly as they had when she was young. The words Bunky told her still hurt her, 'You have not been a señorita for the better part of four decades.' He always did know how to rub it in. But so did everyone else in the family.

Beatriz looked at the cat and could imagine how comfortable it was on the silk-cased pillow atop the feather bed. "Whatever your name is, you are so cute!" Beatriz sprawled face down on the bed, to rest her knees, and to pet the kitty, but it made the bed bounce. Just as Beatriz reached to pet the cat, the cat sprang off the bed. Beatriz rolled over and said, "Hey, where are you going?"

The door to the balcony was open! The cat was heading toward it. Not even when Beatriz was a spry señorita could she have made it to the door before that cat could, but she labored to get to her feet anyway, knowing that Bunky wouldn't be pleased if she lost his cat.

She made her way out to the balcony, hunched over, rubbing her fingers together, softly chanting, "Here, pussy, pussy." The cat had made herself comfortable on the rail, but whirled her head around sharply when Beatriz's head poked out from the bedroom. "Here, pussy, pussy," Beatriz still chanted. The cat pranced along the rail in front of her. "Ah, there you are. Come back inside." They stared at each other. "Come on, come back inside." She made grand gestures for the cat to walk into the bedroom, but no dice. The cat just stared at her, sitting on the rail, swinging her tail from side to side.

Just then Beatriz saw him. Like clockwork, Jorge was pulling his mule across the square. Why? Beatriz had no idea but she had watched him do it almost everyday since her arrival two months before. He was such a nice señor. She was about to call out and wave to him, but the grand sweep of her hand made the cat run across the rail and jump down onto the courtyard trellis ceiling. "Oh, pussy!" she exclaimed, so loudly, a couple of men turned up to look at her. But not the right one. Beatriz had a decision to make: call out to Jorge, or go after the cat. She wouldn't be able to withstand Luis' rage if she lost the cat, so she figured there'd be another day for Jorge.

She went to the balcony rail to see the cat prance out of the courtyard into the square. That woman was down there, easing Beatriz's mind. "Lucy!"

Lucy whirled around and held her hand above her eyebrows to see who called to her. Beatriz yelled, "Get that cat!" Lucy's gaze shifted to the cat making its way toward her, but when she stooped down to pick her up, the cat ran agilely right by her. Beatriz was disappointed, but it was a good try. That cat was a sneaky one, and was making its way around toward Dr. Helm's office.

"Oh Lord in heaven," Beatriz intoned. "Give me strength."

She made her way back down the steps and out the front doorway just as Lucy approached. "I'm sorry, Bea. I tried. But Cleo will come back."

Beatriz slapped her head. "That is her name! Cleo! How could I forget? Thank you, Lucy. What are you doing today?"

"I was just taking some medicine over to the Rodriguez's for Robbie."

"For who?"

"Dr. Helm."

"Oh, yes." Beatriz scrunched her lips into that puritanical look that she had perfected all those years ago, but actually didn't fit her. "Are you still living with the doctor?"

"I room with him. I'm not living with him," Lucy corrected her, then laughed. "We're not `shacking up' if that's what you mean."

Beatriz evenly said, "I do not know what you mean."

"I'm Robbie's assistant. And friend. Nothing more."

"So, you're still interested in Bu...," Beatriz caught herself. "My nephew?"

Lucy chuckled and bent her head, now really interested in the small rocks on the ground which she brushed with her shoe. And what an odd shoe. It was more like a boot, but a boot that Beatriz had never seen. It was thick, too big for her, with laces that didn't look like they were doing their job of holding everything together. Beatriz looked at Lucy's face again, her hairstyle. She was so different from all the other women in the pueblo, no wonder Luis was smitten. But she broke his heart. He would never tell Lucy that, but after he had offered his `arrangement' to her, Lucy had turned him down flat. Only after eating half of the leftover turkey right off the bone, barking at the household staff, putting new recruits through exhaustive training and taking a long moonlit ride on Salan did Luis' mind get back to where it should be. But Beatriz did like Lucy, she would be so good for her nephew. "Say, Lucy," Beatriz said, in a whispered tone, as if planning a bank robbery.

"What?"

"How about coming to dinner tonight? Just yourself, do not bring that friend of yours."

"Robbie?"

"Yes. Just you, Luis, some lit candles, my paella, I can arrange for a violin player."

Lucy laughed again. "Those people are so annoying. They come to your table and it's great, for about a minute and a half, then it's just embarrassing. Stereos are so much better. You don't have to look at the band, just enjoy them, as background music."

Beatriz's face again held a confused expression, but let it go. Lucy did have an imagination! Beatriz cleared her throat and ticked off on her fingers, "Luis, candles, paella. Are you in?"

"I'm sorry. I can't. I have plans tonight. I'm going out to the Alvarado hacienda for a pig roast."

"Oh?" Beatriz was again confused. A wealthy Dona was having a party and her Luis hadn't been invited? The nerve! He has had many, many parties at his place and only one couple had invited him to one of their soirees. "Well. Okay then," Beatriz shortly said.

"Bea. It's just that... for a dinner such as you're suggesting, shouldn't Luis be doing the asking, and not his aunt? I'm not showing up if he doesn't expect me."

"That is true." Beatriz had to admit, but her nephew could be so stubborn! Sometimes he needed a lantern to show him the way. Ways of the heart seemed so foreign to her attractive nephew and Beatriz just couldn't understand it. Maybe he should shave that beard off. Maybe it sent signals that the ladies didn't like. "Believe you me," she told Lucy. "I will be bending his ear tonight... seeing as he will not be at the pig roast. There are a lot of conditions to your love."

"Needing a man to be a gentleman and have him take my feelings into consideration before he makes grand plans is having conditions'? Well, I guess you're right. I have a brain, Bea, and to Luis' chagrin, I use it."

"You are not getting any younger. You should be married. To my Luis."

Suddenly, there were the sounds of a cat's screech, the crashing of glass and wood to the floor, English expletives and a woman's light laughter coming from Helm's office. Lucy ran inside and Beatriz could hear her laughter join the other woman's. Damn these knees! She couldn't move fast enough to Helm's door to see what had happened.

Beatriz walked into Helm's office to see Lucy and Maria Teresa Alvarado huddled together laughing. They saw her enter and moved aside for her to see. Helm was sitting in the corner with most of his instruments on his lap and around him on the floor. A book case had overturned. One weight from the scale rolled to the door. Beatriz raised her shoe to catch it. Cleo pranced by Lucy, then rubbed herself against Beatriz's leg. Helm sniffed back, sniffed back, then again, then let out a humongous sneeze that seemed to have come from his toes. "Bloody cats!"

Cleo hissed at him and ambled out the door. Beatriz was again torn... should she try and follow that wandering cat, or confront the señorita? "Señorita Alvarado," Beatriz said, instantly making her decision. "So nice to see you again. You are looking very pretty. I hear you are having a pig roast this evening. I guess my Luis' invitation got lost on it's way to his desk."

"It is just a small get together, Beatriz," Tessa said, her cheeks just a touch red, which made her even more beautiful. She reminded Beatriz of herself when she was her age, but of course, she had much better manners than the señorita. "Just a few friends, nothing official."

"You are roasting a whole pig for a few friends?"

"And my workers. We had a profitable year."

"Oh, I will make sure to tell Luis that."

"Please do," Tessa sharply said.

"Tell him what?" Beatriz pleasantly said. "That he can come to your pig roast or that you will be paying your taxes very soon since you have had a profitable year? Or both?"

Lucy said, "Bea? Don't you have a cat to find? Or you can pitch in and help clean up this mess."

"I am past my cleaning days, missy." Beatriz glared at Tessa as Helm got up from the floor. She said in a dignified tone, "Dr. Helm. Good day."

After leaving the office, Beatriz saw Cleo sitting on a crate that was stacked atop another, licking her paw, her tail swirling around behind her. Beatriz moved slowly toward her, and it wasn't just because her knees were still stiff and needed to get good footing before taking the next step. She didn't want to lose the cat again. She reached out her hand and Cleo leaned forward to rub her ear against it. "Good job, Cleo. How about a saucer of milk?" Beatriz gathered the cat into her arms and felt Cleo's purr as she walked back across the square to home.

Just as Beatriz walked by the fountain, she heard her name being called. She turned to see Jorge with his mule in tow. "Nice pussy," he said as he petted Cleo's head. Beatriz grinned... Hm... Cleo... you are quite the Señor Magnet...

END

By Jo

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

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

TRIO CHALLENGE: vellum parchment, metal pot, a ceremony
QUOTE 3: The evil that men do lives after them while the good is oft interred with their bones... Julius Caesar - William Shakespeare
WORDS
horst - A mass of the earth's crust that lies between two faults and is higher than the surrounding land.
woof - threads that run crosswise in a woven fabric
triturate - to rub, crush, grind, or pound into fine particles or a powder; pulverize.

~~~~~

Montoya yanked opened Helm's office door without ceremony and stalked inside. Montoya had awaken with a sore throat that morning and if the doctor wasn't going to come to him... Damn that insolent man! Montoya had sent a man to inform the doctor that he was needed over two hours before. Helm was found at his worktable, was busy triturating various herbs. "I am working on it, Colonel."

"What is taking so long?"

"I had to deliver a baby this morning. The boy is fine, by the way, and I figured that your sore throat could wait. Have a seat, be quiet, and let me finish making your potion."

Helm took a metal pot down from the top shelf as Montoya silently wished he had the extra inches that Helm had. But that was the only thing he was envious of the doctor. In the pueblo, Dr. Helm was a metaphorical horst compared to the height of other men. Alto California was full of faults, and so was Helm. Montoya chuckled to himself as he watched Helm fill the pot with liquids and dump the powder he ground in to mix.

Montoya sat in the only seat he saw, a small rolling stool and waited. He fingered the woof of the fabric of his uniform jacket. Faults. Yes. To Montoya, one of Helm's biggest fault--one that was sure to get him killed--was that he was quite close to the Queen, Montoya's prey, the thorn in his side, the crinkle in his armor, the demon seed who kept him up nights wondering how best to get the better of her.

Helm poured a portion of the contents of the pot into a small glass and turned to face Montoya with it. Montoya took the glass and sniffed the cloudy liquid. "What is in this?"

"My secret recipe."

"Secret." Montoya glared at him for a moment, wondering if the doctor would have had the gall to actually poison him.

As if reading his thoughts, Helm picked up the parchment that contained the recipe for the medication and showed it to him. "Those are the ingredients. Unless you are allergic to citronella, which some have found does dispel insects, you should be safe."

"Insects?! You do think badly of me."

Helm thrust his hands in his pockets and remained mum. "I am only keeping the peace, Helm. You would do well to not forget that," Montoya said as he raised the glass to his lips. Both men's green eyes glared at each other as Montoya took a sip of the liquid. It burned while going down and Montoya set the glass on the table. "That is that most brackish liquid I have ever tasted in my life."

Helm smiled. "That could be the sodium chloride."

"The what?"

"How would you say?... Mesa sal." He poured the rest of the preparation into a small jar and sealed the lid and gave it to the Colonel. "You must gargle with it, and drink plenty of water, and your throat should be as good as new in the morning." He added, "You should also rest your voice, Colonel. This doctor's prescription is to not order any executions today."

Montoya took the jar and scrutinized the taller man. Straightening himself, he said, "You think so little of me, doctor. Yes, I do carry out justice, and I do remember saving your... how you say... arse... after the incident involving the cold-blooded murder of the man known as El Serpente."

That quieted Helm, and Montoya could see that his words had affected him. It was just the result that Montoya had desired. "The evil that men do lives after them while the good is oft interred with their bones, doctor."

As Montoya turned to leave, he heard Helm mutter, "Shakespeare is universal."

END

Challenge 26 response

TRIO CHALLENGE: cheese, skull, clock
QUOTE: "Anyone can make mistakes, but only an idiot persists in his error." -- Cicero
WORDS: blase, ossuary

So, that's out of the way, what should the rating be, Bea?
No Jorge? G
We need a disclaimer.
My Luis belongs to those ungrateful suits, but I know he wishes that he belongs to brig and Eliza and many other very capable writers who is keeping him alive.
How about Marta?
Oh, that would be Maril.
How about Tessa?
Who cares?
Bea!
I do not like her.
She's the star of the show!
How dare you! My Luis is!
It's not called King of Pueblo
I like the sound of that.
It's called Queen of Swords
She is two-faced. One can not trust her farther than you can throw her.
Well, she looks skinny. A guy like Roman could toss her pretty far.
Would you be quiet and post the damn story?
Yesh! How about a certain OFC that's in the story?
You have been reading Un Sabor again.
Of course!
That delightful young lady trying to deal with her past is Lucy, who belongs to brig. Boy, Jo. I hope she does not mind that you are again putting her in a story without her permission.
Well, briggie's pretty nice and I think it would be okay. It's not like I portray her as a mass murderer or something.
Yeah, good thing I talked you down from that one. I do know how you like to kill off your characters, right Jim? Do you not know that you cannot kill off Methos and still have people talk to you? People are coming after you with swords.
I know. I'll take care of it. Can I help it if Methos' plans are a little... disturbing?
Enough of Methos, more about me.
Ok, you. You mentioned Cleo, what do you say?
I hope Julie does not mind. Now pass the mezcal.
Just wait a minute. Marta will pour for you.
She is so nice. It is too bad she is stuck living with that stuck up little brat.
Bea! Oh, God. Forgive her, she drinks.
Feedback/beta: Please

~~~~~

In a large bowl, Marta put some cheese chunks, oil and mezcal. She heard a horse outside, but was busy smoothing the ingredients to see who it was, assuming it was Tessa back from her morning ride. As she was ready to pour the mixture into glass jars, someone rapped on the kitchen door.

Before she could clean her hands to open it, the door flew open and an old woman hobbled inside with the use of a cane. She said, "Since you wouldn't open the front door for me, I took the initiative to come in the back."

"Excuse me? May I help you?"

The woman sat on a chair and leaned her cane against the table. She pointed at the bottle of mezcal and said, "A small glass would do the trick. My skull is still rattling from the long carriage ride out here. I'll be off to the ossuary soon."

Marta stopped cold when she realized that the woman at her table was none other than Colonel Montoya's aunt Beatriz. "My mistress is out for her morning ride. Was she expecting you?"

"I would imagine that she does not know that I have come to visit." She pointed at the cupboard and said, "Just a small glass, please."

Marta smiled as she went to the cupboard to get a glass, but was concerned about why the old woman was there. There were rumors that she was crazier than a loon, but hadn't been alone with Beatriz before. What possible reason could she be here? Did Montoya put her up to it? But why? Is he suspicious about Tessa and she is here to spy on us?

"The clock is ticking, Señorita," Beatriz said. "Time is a-wasting. I hate to be pushy, but I am old and thirsty."

"Yes, ma'am," Marta said, chuckling. She wondered if by chance she could get a few glasses of mezcal in Beatriz and do a little spying of her own. Beatriz did have the reputation of indulging in potent potables. Marta poured a quarter inch of mezcal in the glass and gave it to Beatriz.

Beatriz slammed it back and held her mouth open as she swallowed, slowly exhaling. She shook her head and announced, "That hit the spot!" Marta held the bottle as if to say, `more?', to which Beatriz immediately nodded and held out her glass. Marta poured some more and Beatriz said, "Keep going."

Marta set the bottle down in front of Beatriz and said, "Have all that you desire."

Beatriz sipped what was in her glass and looked at the items on the table. "What are you making?"

"Tetilla."

"Oh," Beatriz said. "Do you have some tortillas to slap it on?"

"I am sorry. It is not ready yet. It must age for three months."

"You would not have any in the cupboard, would you?" Beatriz said, straining to look behind Marta.

"No. That is why I am making more. I can give you a jar when you leave. What have you come all the way out here for, Señora?"

"I was going to have a talk with your mistress."

"Oh?" Marta decided not to continue making the tetilla, but instead pulled a chair close to Beatriz to get the scoop, and hoped it wouldn't be to Tessa's detriment. "Maybe I can help you."

"I was wondering why she is so arrogante."

"Tessa? What do you mean?"

"After feeding her face at my nephew's countless times, she could not see it in her soul to invite my Luis to her pig roast?"

Tessa had told Marta of her encounter with Beatriz at Helm's office while she was looking for a cat that had run away from Montoya's. Marta just couldn't envision Montoya with a cat, and wondered if they had ever found it. She had wished it God's speed in it's quest to run away. "It was a small get-together, Beatriz. It was not official."

"See? That is what I am talking about. My Luis makes sure that this hacienda is kept safe, since there is not a man around, and what he gets in return is to be snubbed!"

"I believe that he gets taxes in return."

Beatriz's eyes narrowed. "Which Señorita Alvarado still owes."

"I will mention it to her."

"A little common courtesy is all I ask for my Bu... Luis. That is all that would please me, and him. You do not know how he feels only being important to you people when you want something? Or have complaints? For things that are out of his control? The only one who gives Luis the time of day is that Indian girl who lives with that sarcastic doctor. And Cleo. Luis is military governor and he should be given respect, and companionship, friendship. Some kindness, would that be too much to ask? That Capitan of his is not worth the clothes Luis outfits him in."

Marta watched, stunned, as Beatriz refilled her glass. She had never thought about Montoya having a life, being human, thinking or feeling anything other than how to ruin people and expand his command. Cleo? Who in the world is Cleo? Oh... Cleo must be the cat she was looking for, Marta assumed. She said, "If Colonel Montoya would show `friendship' to others, maybe it would be showered upon him in return."

Beatriz nodded in agreement. "I have tried to tell him that for years. It is hard for him to trust people, it always has been. If he has one fault, that would be it."

One fault?! Marta cleared her throat and silently coaxed Beatriz to continue, who took leave of the conversation to once again fill her glass. She tipped the bottle completely over to get the last few drops.

After taking another sip, Beatriz said drunkenly, "Anyone can make mistakes, but only an idiot persists in his error." Then her eyes widened and drew closer to Marta, taking her hand to pull her closer still. "Say," she said with great importance, then asked, "What is your name?"

"Marta."

"Say, Marta, how about if we do this..." Beatriz slurred, her mouth starting to droop, but her eyes still sparkled with conspiratory intent. "If you get Alavarad... that woman... to invite Luish to eat one evvenering, I will make shertin he will be a gentleman. How about that?"

Marta took the glass from Beatriz's hand and put it on the table as she smiled politely. The woman got tipsy fast, and soon she wouldn't be in any condition to reveal anymore of Montoya's secrets, such as gold shipments or the whereabouts of his secret arsenal. Marta heard the door open in the other room and Tessa ask, "Marta, there is a carriage outside." Beatriz blinked twice at Marta, then fell forward into Marta's lap.

Tessa walked in to see Marta sitting, seemingly blase to the fact that an old woman's head was on her lap. "Who is this?"

"Luis Montoya's protector."

"Beatriz? His aunt?" Tessa smiled as she walked to them and bent down to see the unconscious woman's face. "What did you do to her?"

"Me? I did nothing. I was minding my own business making tetilla when she stormed in."

"What for?"

"Luis is lonely, according to her. Poor dear. The both of them."

Tessa straightened up and put her hands on her hips. "Well, what should we do with her? Load her into the carriage and point the horses in the direction of Santa Helena?"

Marta gasped, "Tessa. We must show her hospitality."

"Do we have to?"

"She is Colonel Montoya's aunt."

"I repeat," Tessa said teasingly, "Do we have to?"

"Help me here," Marta said as she held Beatriz's head. "We will lay her on the drawing room couch until she... comes to. And then give her plenty of coffee, and then send her on her way."

Tessa moved Beatriz's cane out of the way and took one arm as Marta took another. Beatriz started to come around, bobbing her head up and down as they walked her to the front room, but soon her head fell forward again.

There was a knock on the front door and Marta said, "Another visitor? You are quite popular today, Tessa. What did you do?"

"For once, nothing."

The front door opened and Señorita Sparhawk walked in. As soon as Lucy saw the three of them, she tisked as she moved forward and bent down to look at Beatriz's face. "I saw her take off out of Santa Helena like a bat out of hell and figured she was on her way here." She carefully lifted Beatriz's head and opened one eye. "Bea! Bea!"

Beatriz snapped her head up and saw Lucy and smiled. "Ah, you schweet young thing. What I would do if I wash ash young ash you." She looked at Marta. "And you." She looked at Tessa and tightened up. "YOU!"

Marta and Tessa sat Beatriz down on the couch as Beatriz pointed her finger at Tessa, at least she seemed to want to, she ended up pointing at the lamp alongside the couch. "I have a bone to pick with you!"

"Oh, hush up, Bea," Lucy said. "You're blood pressure's probably sky high. Do you want to have a stroke?"

"Ungrateful! She is!"

"Bea! Settle down. You have to sober up before I can take you back to town. What would Luis think if he knew that you got drunk in the middle of the day?"

"He would think it is just another day."

"He worries about you, Bea. Don't bother these people anymore." Lucy put one of Beatriz's arms around her neck and gently lifted her off the couch. "Where's your cane?"

"Somewhere," Bea weakly said, her strength ebbing away.

Marta said, "It is in the kitchen. I will get it."

Lucy chastised Bea, "Luis bought you a nice cane and you just leave it around? What if you had fallen and broken a hip?"

"That was probably our fault, Lucy," Tessa said.

"Did you pour liquor down her throat?"

"No."

"Then, it's her fault."

Beatriz fought off Lucy with her last gasp and fell back down on the couch. Marta came back with her cane and saw Lucy and Tessa looking at each other, then down at Beatriz. Marta asked, "Is she dead?"

"No, she passed out again," Lucy said. "Can she hunker down here for a while? I have some errands to run." She positioned Bea on the couch and put a pillow under her head.

Tessa said, "I'll come with you."

"Sure, I could use the company. I'll be back to get her later and make sure she's out of your hair, Marta."

Marta said, with a sly smile, "Take your time, Lucy. I will be here when she wakes up and maybe we can have another chat, this time without the mezcal."

Lucy laughed and said, "Well, Luis deserves it. I hope she spills her guts." She went to the door. "And take notes, Marta.

END

TRIO: woman's glove, sage, boulder
WORDS: chasm, armigerous, rodomontade (toughies in my estimation, two of the words I had no idea about and probably used them incorrectly)
RATING: Totally G
CLASSIFICATION: Crossover
FEEDBACK/BETA: Sure, but I'll save time by saying the POV is all over the place. <g>
DISCLAIMER: Fireworks and SurferDude, and FOX

~~~~~

The three men suddenly appeared on the lip of a majestic chasm. The long blond-haired one held onto his laptop for dear life, perilously close to the edge, and screamed as he started to lose his footing. The well-suited one pulled him back to safety and checked their coordinates on the GPS system. The oily one thumped his fist against their home-made Transmigrator. While the other two were getting themselves settled on solid ground, he looked at the landscape in front of them. The rock cliff walls were colored various rainbow hues in the early morning sun. "Toto, I think we're not in Kansas anymore," Frohike said.

"I don't think we're in Nevada, either," Byers said, his voice echoing over the vast space below them.

"Well, we can't be too far away. We're in the desert," Langly said, sitting on a boulder, turning on his laptop.

"Good, Langly," Frohike grumbled. "But which desert? We could be in the Gobi for all we know. Why do we trust you with anything?"

Byers scanned the dial of his GPS and said, "I think we're in California."

"You think?"

Byers hit the machine and then stated, "The GPS just went dead, but the last readout was, I think, California."

"California?" Frohike walked over to Langly and thumped him on the side of the head. "Area 51 is in Nevada."

"I know that," Langly yelled.

Frohike tossed the Transmigrator on the ground in a huff and took off his leather jacket, then wiped his brow. Langly picked it up and dusted it off. "According to the Transmigrator readout, we're only about 184 miles off course."

"Oh, is that all? There's nothing to worry about then." Frohike looked around. "Think we can find a cab?" He pulled out his cell phone. The battery was juiced, as it always was before the three amigos would head out on a mission, but it couldn't zero in on a tower.

Byers picked a small black object up off the ground and inspected it. "What's that?" Frohike asked, while snatching it from Byers' hand. "A glove," he said. "At least someone lives around here."

"Besides big animals," Byers said, nervously pointing at some tracks on the ground. From his estimation, they were of the coyote family.

Langly punched some keys on the laptop. He moaned, "This isn't right! We should be in the Alien Hold. I know that guy wasn't just yanking our chain."

"Never trust a man who gives you too much information without asking for it," Byers said.

"Now you tell us," Frohike fumed.

"But it keeps blinking 184," Langly said, turning the laptop so they could see the monitor. "What does that mean?"

Byers looked at it and couldn't make head nor tail of the readout. "This is your area," he said as he handed it back to Langly. Then they all froze when they started to feel the ground shake, being so close to the edge. They jumped back from the chasm and turned around to see a swirl of dust coming toward them from the mesa. They heard the thundering hooves of horses. They could see men on horseback through the kicked up dirt. A garrison escorting an enclosed formal carriage made its way toward them. Small flags flew on six poles that various men in the company were holding. The red banners on the carriage stood straight out in the wind, because of the speed at which they were traveling.

"Looks like we have an armigerous visitor," Frohike said.

"What a set up," Langly said, in awe of the site before them. "Is this Reenactment Day or something?"

Byers shook his head. "It doesn't look like there's even civilization around here, let alone anyone to reenact anything."

"What would anyone be reenacting?" Frohike said, holding back the impulse to wallop Langly again for getting them into this fine mess. He checked out at the men coming in their direction again and said, "That looks like a Spanish flag, gentlemen."

"I see that along with ripping off the page of your word-a-day calendar, you took your sage this morning, too, Melvin," Langly said.

"A Spanish flag?" Byers wiped the sweat off his brow, but wouldn't think of even opening one button of his silk shirt under his expensive suit. "Is there a mission around here?"

As the garrison got closer, Langly started to edge back, and saw that there wasn't anywhere to go behind them, unless going head over heels down the chasm was on the agenda. "Um. Guys? Um. Should we be trepidatious right about now?"

The garrison stopped yards away from the three men, who grabbed their instruments and held them protectively to their breasts. The front guard laughed, pointing at the threesome as he remained on his steed. Byers looked at Frohike, Frohike looked at Langly, Langly looked at the chasm behind them, then back to Frohike, who looked at Byers, who stepped forward with a smile. "Hello."

The guards only laughed in return as the door to the carriage opened and a booted leg stepped down. Colonel Luis Rameriz Montoya turned to look at the men who he had seen at a distance as they were on their way to Monterey. He needed to see what that rag tag set of misfits could possibly be up to. As he walked toward them, he inspected their demeanor, and costumes. He put on a fake smile and said in his rodomontade manner, "Buenos Dias, señors."

The three Gunmen just looked at the military man, completely lost, as they tried to figure out what he was saying. Then, Byers stepped forward. "Habla usted inglés?" He told the rest of them, "That's about all the Spanish I know."

Montoya scrutinized his visitors and said in English, "Of course. Are you immigrants?"

"Not really," Langly said. "We've been to California many times."

"Ah. Many times," Montoya cordially said. "Interesting. How do you get about? I see no horses, I know that there are no haciendas around here."

"We're just visiting. Is that real?" Frohike asked, looking at the medal pinned to Montoya's chest. "What did you do to win that?"

Montoya patiently moved Frohike back from him and said, "I am Military Governor here. How long will you be visiting?" The last thing he wanted were more English speaking trouble makers.

"Not long. Langly got the coordinates wrong," Frohike said. "As soon as we get it figured out, we'll be off."

Montoya noticed the black glove in Frohike's hand. Montoya held his hand out for it. Frohike gave it to him without a moment's hesitation. "I know this glove," Montoya said, glaring at who he assumed were the Queen's conspirators. "More importantly, I know the hand it belongs to. Where is she?"

"If you find her, tell me," Frohike said, chuckling. "From the size of that glove, she's petite. Just how I like them."

Langly nudged Frohike to shut up as Montoya's reaction wasn't as frivolous as Frohike had obviously intended the conversation to be. He laid his laptop on the ground and sat before it. He hurriedly started clicking keys and looking at where Byers and Frohike stood to make sure that they would get to their correct destination this time.

"What are you doing?" Montoya demanded.

A soldier went to Langly as Montoya continued, "You do not sit unless I allow it."

The soldier stopped when he saw the flip-top box that the weird guy with odd black rimmed spectacles on his nose was working on. Shocked, he stood rooted to the spot, looking at the monitor and keyboard and how it seemed to make little lights appear and disappear. Where was the candle or oil lamp in that little box?

Montoya stepped forward to take the box to see it for himself. Only thing was, Langly wasn't going to let it go anytime soon. "It's mine!" he said as he and Montoya played tug of war.

Just then, the soldier felt heat and fell backward as a flash of lightening singed his arm. He howled as other soldiers rushed to him with their guns drawn. One by one, Byers, Frohike, then Langly and Montoya, still struggling over the laptop, disappeared.

END? <g>