FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE (Part One)

by Li
limdnyw@yahoo.com

RATING: G
CHARACTERS: Tessa/QOS, Marta, references to Dr. Helm, Don Alvarado, Colonel Montoya, Don Alejandro, Don Horacio, Don Miguel, Don Ricardo, Raul, all of whom belong to Fireworks and Paramount; Señor Indio, who belongs to Maril Swan; Pedro, who came to me. No harm is intended. No financial gain is expected.
SUMMARY: Tessa receives a mysterious package from a friend who brings information about her father's death.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: The scenes from "Blindman's Buff", to which reference is made, belong to Maril Swan.
Extravagant bouquets of praise and thanks to brig, Jo, Eliza, and MnD for all the wonderfully helpful comments, suggestions, and encouragement they gave on this, my first posted QOS fanfiction.
FEEDBACK: Yes, thank you.

~~~~~

"Pedro!" Her voice sounded more strident than she might have wished. "Please saddle the Palomino mare for me." Maria Teresa swept out of the house and onto the terrace. She made an effort to soften her tone, adding, "Quickly."

It would be hours before Marta returned. She could not wait that long to consult her friend and companion about her plans. She would have to leave a message and hope Marta could read between the lines with her usual perspicacity.

The day had begun uneventfully enough…..

"Will you be long?" Tessa was helping Marta carry to the calesa (the buggy) the herbs she would deliver to Doctor Helm.

"I will be back for lunch." Marta patted Tessa's arm lightly then climbed up behind the horse. "Try not to rescue the world before I return," she added. She tossed Tessa a grin.

As Marta drove away, Tessa headed toward the stable. She wanted to check on her new mount, a young Palomino mare she had decided to name "Esperanza." She found Pedro grooming the horse, brushing the cream-colored hair of its thick mane and tail.

"Buenos dias, Señorita," he said, looking up from his task. "She is a fine animal, this one!"

Tessa nodded as she stroked Esperanza's soft nose and cheek. The mare nuzzled her arm. From the pocket of her apron, Tessa produced a large carrot, which she held up for the mare to munch. "Here, girl," she said. "You are a love!" She patted the horse once more then turned and walked out to the garden.

These roses are coming along nicely, Tessa mused as she circled the bushes framing the garden. The maroon-red Belles Sultanes were finished for the season. So were the delicate white Cherokee roses her mother had loved so much, though Tessa had never been sure whether the Doña had been attracted to the flower because of its bloom or because of its story. It was said that when the Cherokee Indians were forcibly marched from the southern colonies of the United States to the territories west of the Mississippi River, many people had died. The mourning was accompanied by much weeping along the route that came to be known as the Trail of Tears. According to the legend, in each place where a tear touched the earth a rose grew. The roses, named for the departed Cherokee people, remained as a silent memorial to a civilization destroyed. The Doña, herself, had wept as she told the story.

A sigh escaped from Tessa's lips as she looked over at the fragrant pink Apothecary's roses, now in full bloom. How pleased Mama would have been with her roses this spring, she thought. Taking the trowel from the other apron pocket, she kneeled on the ground and began digging up the weeds that were perpetually invading the garden.

Tessa had been absorbed in this pursuit for the better part of an hour when she heard a horse trotting into the courtyard. She lay her trowel in the soft, dark earth and pulling off her heavy gloves, moved toward the sound. She reached the courtyard just in time to see a figure mounted on a piebald pony canter away from the hacienda, a scarlet cloak sailing out behind. She ran after the horse, calling to the rider to stop, but to no avail. A cloud of dust was now the only thing she could see moving.

"What was that about?" she asked aloud.

Hands on her hips, she swung around to face the house, wondering what the rider had wanted. There, on the steps to the front door, she discovered a package. As she drew closer, she saw it was a basket made of dried grasses like those the local native people used for so many items. Lifting it gingerly, she carried it to the table on the terrace and sat down, studying the curiously intricate design of the weave. She raised the top and found inside a pair of spectacles and a small piece of paper bearing the words, "Meet me at the water's edge at high tide. I have information that will interest you."

Tessa turned the note over, looking for some identifying mark but found nothing to indicate who the author might be. She lifted the spectacles from the basket.

Why on earth...? She hesitated. Something about these glasses seemed familiar. She held them out on her palm, the sun reflecting off the lenses. Then she froze. Could it be?

She sprang from her chair and ran into the house, to the drawing room where the portrait of her father hung over the mantle. There in his hand were the spectacles she had seen him wear so often as he sat at his desk, working on the accounts of the estate. He would remove them, rubbing the bridge of his nose, when she ran into his study to show him some wonderful object she had found in her play. She held up the frames she had carried inside and felt her hand tremble. There was no mistake. They were identical!

Tessa moved swiftly to the writing table and hastily composed a note to Marta. She placed the spectacles in the drawer; tucking the mysterious letter into her bodice, she hurried out toward the stable, calling for Pedro.

~~~~~

The tide was still coming in as Maria Teresa Alvarado, sole child and heir of Don Raphael Alvarado, reached the ocean. She walked Esperanza down to the cove below the burial place of her father and mother. The June fog still hovered above the rippling waves, casting a pall over the beach and chilling the air. In her rush to meet the bearer of the note, she had not thought to take a cloak, and now she shivered slightly. What news did the mysterious messenger have for her? How had that person obtained her father's spectacles? And why would that person return them to her now?

Tessa sprang from the saddle and led the mare into a nook from which she could observe the beach, unseen. The walls of the cove blocked the wind, and the sand felt warm as she sat down to wait.

A gull flew overhead, scanning for fish. A family of sandpipers ran back and forth across the beach, hopping away from each incoming wave then returning to search for the treasures left in its wake. Tessa lost track of the time. Perhaps an hour had passed. Perhaps more. The leading edge of the tide had covered the lower part of the beach but was now starting to recede.

Tessa had been going over all the details - precious few as they were - that she had been able to discover of the circumstances surrounding her father's death: the refusal of the authorities to allow anyone to view her father's body; the rumors of a conflict over water rights; the intrigue surrounding Don Horacio's hidden gold and the treasure map her father had divided among himself, Don Hidalgo, and Don Miguel; the fiasco with Raul; the accusations that Montoya had instigated against the innocent Don Ricardo when her Uncle Alejandro had come to investigate her father's death. Tessa was still surprised that the grand reward her Uncle had offered had failed to elicit any significant information.

"Señorita," a voice called softly. Tessa looked up, startled. On the embankment above her she saw the red cape - a blanket, actually, wrapped around a figure dismounting from a pinto pony. "Do not be alarmed. I have made certain we have not been followed." The voice laughed gently, "And I mean you no harm." The figure led the pony down the narrow path from the end of the ridge to the beach.

Tessa stood. Why did I not bring my sword? she demanded of herself. I sense no danger from this person, whoever he is, but still! Montoya would not be above setting a trap like this to capture me. Then nothing would stand in the way of his claiming the Alvarado hacienda for himself.

"I believe we have met before." The gentle voice spoke again as the cloaked figure approached her. Stopping a short distance away, the figure let the blanket fall around his shoulders.

"Señor Indio!" Tessa exclaimed in recognition and relief. "What a surprise to see you again!" The memory of waking in a strange place to the sounds of a strange language and the vision of a strangely dressed woman and man flooded back into her mind. "I do not think I ever thanked you properly for saving my life. If you had not found me, I would certainly have died. Please give my respects to your Curadora." She could still taste the bitter potion the healer had ministered to her to counter the effects of the rattlesnake bite.

"It was an honor to save the life of one who risks herself to bring justice to the people of this land." The Indian was smiling.

"I thought you did not involve yourself with the affairs of the pueblo," Tessa rejoined. The surprise was fading, and the question concerning the message returned. How had this man come into possession of her father's spectacles?

"We don't, ordinarily, but we believe that when we save the life of someone, we become responsible for that person. We are therefore responsible for your well-being." He gave her a faint, brief smile. "So if we learn of vital information concerning your kin," he paused, then added almost in a whisper, "even those who have passed on, as in this case," he paused again, "we must pass that information on to you."

Tessa felt a shiver run through her body. The air seemed suddenly cold. "And you have heard something?" She was finding it difficult to breathe.

"Did you recognize the spectacles left at your dwelling?" the Indian inquired.

"Yes." Her voice sounded more like a gasp than a cry, but the pain was not lost on her companion. "They belonged to my father."

"Yes. We know. They were found by one of our warriors … at the place where your father fell from his horse."

"How did…? What…? Was anyone else…?" The words trailed off. Tessa stood uneasily, swaying slightly. For so long she had sought to learn how her father had died. Now that the revelation seemed imminent, she was not so sure she really wanted to know. She was certain he had not fallen accidentally from his horse. He was a superb horseman - one of the best in Catalonia. She thoroughly suspected Montoya had at least had a hand in the death. But a horrible realization struck her now: if she were to learn - and have the proof of an eyewitness - that he actually had been involved, and if Montoya guessed that she knew the truth, her own life would truly be in danger.

Maybe this was not real. Maybe…

"Would you like to sit down, Señorita?" the Indian asked. He looked concerned.

Tessa allowed herself to be guided to a ledge in the rock face. "Thank you, Señor Indio," she said, sinking onto the seat.

He watched her closely for a few moments. When she finally looked up at him again, he continued. "As I said, one of our warriors saw the spectacles on the ground … after your father was taken away."

"Please go on."

"The warrior was curious, so he retrieved them and brought them back to our encampment. We do not concern ourselves with the affairs of the Spaniards, so this event would have gone no further - if your path had not crossed ours as it did."

Tessa could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Time seemed suspended. She gazed across the sand. She had to know the rest. So she asked, "Señor Indio, did the warrior see how my father fell - and who carried him away?"

The Indian man looked at Tessa for what seemed like an eternity. Then, quietly, he said, "Yes."

She looked up at him. Tears filled her eyes. "Please tell me, Señor, what the warrior said. I cannot rest until I know what happened."

The Indian sighed deeply. He looked out toward the ocean. Then he began to speak. "We all walk the road of this life until the Spirit calls us home. Your father walked well. He was a brave and honorable man, and he was kind to my people. He fought the evil he found among his own. In the end, that evil overpowered him and ended his life."

"But who took his life? How did they kill him? He was killed, wasn't he?" The words poured from Tessa.

"Our warrior had been tracking the Spanish soldiers. He heard gunshots. He saw a stallion gallop into the arroyo on your land, a figure slumped over the horse's neck. Then he saw soldiers. The man fell from the stallion. He was surrounded by soldiers."

The Indian said nothing for a while. "There was another gunshot. Then the soldiers carried the man away."

"And it was my father?" Tessa breathed.

"When the soldiers had gone, the warrior went to the place where the man had fallen. He found the spectacles left at your hacienda - and buried in the sand, … this." From under his wrap, the Indian pulled out a seal ring with the Alvarado crest. He handed it to Tessa.

Numbness enshrouding her, Tessa reached for the ring. She remembered her father saying years ago, "If anything ever happens to me, mi niña amada, look for my signet ring among the silver coins." She used to think that was funny. What would ever happen to her Papa? And why would he tell her to look among those silly old coins he collected for his ring?

Tessa held the ring, turning it between her thumb and index finger. She rubbed across the top. Was it a voice she heard - or did her finger simply catch an edge? For some reason, she found herself pressing against the top edge of the seal. After a moment, the ring opened, and inside the tiny compartment, she saw a tiny scroll.

~~~~~

Marta had completed her errand in town and thought she might stop at the Hidalgo hacienda to help Vera design the new curtains for her upstairs rooms. She had turned the cart in that direction when she saw a raven fly overhead, circle, and land on a scrub beside the road heading back to the Alvarado Hacienda. She hesitated, looking over at the bird, who seemed to be gazing directly into her soul. Suddenly a chill ran down her spine. Something had happened.

"Tessa needs me," she heard herself saying. "Vera will have to wait."

Marta turned the horse around, urging it into a canter toward home.

"Tessa," she called as she entered the courtyard, pulling the tired horse to a stop.

Pedro came running from the stable. "She left a while ago, Señorita," he said, helping her down from the calesa. "She took the mare and rode toward the coast."

Well, at least the Queen was not in danger! Marta scanned the courtyard and the front of the house. Something on the terrace caught her eye.

"Was she alone?"

"Yes, ma'am. But a person came and left before she called for her horse." Pedro stood uncertainly, looking up at Marta.

"Thank you, Pedro. You may put the horse away, now."

Marta hurried up the steps toward the table on the terrace, where she noticed the woven straw basket. It was open - and empty. Touching it, she felt suddenly cold. There was an image - fleeting but clear - of a man falling to the ground, something flying from inside his coat. The man seemed familiar.

Marta turned and walked to the house. She entered the drawing room. If Tessa had left any message for her, it would be here on the writing table.

"Ah," she sighed. Beneath the paperweight was a folded paper, her name hastily scribbled on the top. Marta opened the note and read. "Package arrived. Glasses in place. Gone to pay respects."

Again Marta saw the man on the ground; this time something lay near him, glinting in the sun. Instinctively, she pulled open the drawer beneath the table. Lying on top of the writing paper were Don Alvarado's spectacles.

She reached for the glasses. Then she heard the shot. She jumped, almost dropping the lenses before she realized this was part of the vision. Marta closed the drawer quickly. Where was Tessa now? And how had Don Alvarado's spectacles come to be here?

Marta moved to the window and gazed out at nothing in particular. She had just turned back toward the sofa when the door opened and in flew Tessa.

"Oh, Marta." Tessa was breathless. "I have found Papa's signet ring." She held out her hand. "And he has left a message."

To be continued…