QOS CHALLENGE #1

by Maril Swan
maril.swan@sympatico.ca

For the Quote Challenge, here's my response.

~~~~~

Nerves were fraying and tempers flaring as the two women sat poring over the route map. One plan after another had been advanced and discarded. Finally, Marta stood up, shaking her head. "Impossible! There is no way you can intercept the gold shipment and get away safely on this route. But I have an idea." Tessa raised her eyebrows questioningly, and Marta continued, "Let the gold shipment go through to Monterey."

Tessa gasped and rose abruptly. "Brilliant!" she snapped. "Let their biggest gold shipment get through so Montoya looks like a hero. That's your plan?"

"Dios mio," Marta muttered, "Give me patience." Taking a deep breath, she added, "There is more."

"What else? I should escort the gold to see it gets there safely?"

"I need some medicine," Marta growled, pressing her hand to her head, as she turned and strode across the room to the credenza. Lifting a brandy bottle, she unstoppered it and splashed a large dollop into a glass, downing the contents in a quick gulp. She coughed as the strong liquor burned its way down to her stomach, and her eyes watered.

From behind, she heard Tessa say, "Marta, what are you doing? You never touch strong drink!"

"I said it is for medicinal purposes only! You are giving me a headache!" Facing Tessa, Marta began again, keeping her voice carefully level. "If you are finished acting like a spoiled child, I will tell you the rest of my plan."

Tessa raised her chin with that defiant, petulant look Marta knew so well, and which always provoked her into a wrath. The Gypsy woman turned and reached for the brandy bottle again. She heard Tessa laugh suddenly.

"You'd better pour me some of that medicine too, Marta. I think I'm going to need it to steady my nerves when I hear this plan!"

THE END

QoS Challenge #2-- couldn't resist, just had to. <g>

~~~~~

Montoya looked up from the book he had been reading while eating his meal at the cantina. A small rose stood in a slim vase on the table, next to a jar of pickles. Grisham stood awaiting acknowledgment of his presence while helping himself to the pickles. Waving him to a chair opposite, Montoya continued to chew meditatively, studying the captain's handsome face. Finally, he spoke.

"Your courtship of Senorita Alvarado has not been making much progress, Grisham."

"Well, colonel, she's the kind of woman you can't rush."

"Rush! A glacier moves faster!" Montoya glared at the captain. "Tessa is the kind of woman who needs to be courted with delicacy, with finesse." He gestured to the rose. "With flowers, flattery, and intellectually stimulating conversation. Such as discussing books like this." He passed Grisham the copy of Don Quixote he had been reading.

Grisham hefted the huge leather-bound volume and handed it back. "You must be joking, colonel. I'd never get through that in a year!"

"Of course you wouldn't. How foolish of me. Your lips would tire long before that." He thought a moment, then added, "Doctor Helm has been showing some interest in the senorita lately. You may have a rival for her affections. What do plan to do about it?"

Grisham laughed scornfully. "It's easy to see who's the better man. How many women has he had since he's been here? None! I've had at least a dozen."

"Well, I suppose you could use your usual technique on the senorita. You might try to get her drunk or offer to pay her as you do all the others." Montoya grimaced and returned to eating his meal, as if the captain was no longer there.

THE END

QUOTE CHALLENGE: All alone

Feedback is highly valued and appreciated.

~~~~~

Marta pulled the door open and peered into the hidden room. She drew a relieved breath, seeing Tessa inside, seated next to a table on which a single candle burned. "There you are, Tessa. I have been looking for you all morning." Observing more closely, Marta noticed a half-empty bottle of wine on the table and a full glass in Tessa's hand. "What are you doing?" Marta asked sharply.

"I'm celebrating," Tessa answered, rocking dangerously on her chair.

"I can see that," Marta said, coming closer to catch the girl in case she fell off her chair. "What are you celebrating?"

Tessa stood up abruptly, staggered slightly, then grabbed the table for balance. She grinned fatuously and said, "My birthday."

"Of course. I nearly forgot. Felicidades, Tessa. Considering what you have been doing for the past year, your birthday is a real cause for celebration."

"I'm twenty-three today. Twenty-three, ...and an old maid." She bit her lip and looked away.

Marta took her arm and tried to steer her back to the chair, but Tessa shook her off and moved across the room, to lean against a cabinet. "You know what the married girls whisper when I pass by, Marta? 'There goes poor Maria Theresa Alvarado. Twenty-three and not married. Not even a prospect in sight'." She took a swig of her wine, glancing morosely into its contents. "Alone, alone, all, all alone," she intoned.

"Tessa, you must stop. What will the servants say if they see you like this?" Marta shook her head in exasperation as the younger woman took another long pull at her drink, then giggled.

"They won't see me, Marta. This is a hidden room. That's the whole point, isn't it?" She laughed at her own humour, unaware of Marta's troubled look as Tessa finished the last of her wine, and made her way back to the table for a refill.

"I wouldn't exactly say you have no prospects. What about Dr. Helm?" Marta said, as she intercepted the bottle before Tessa could pour more wine into her glass. Ignoring Tessa's glare, Marta pushed the cork back in and placed it on top of a cabinet.

Tessa snorted in a most unladylike fashion. "Dr. Helm! How blind can a man be? He can't even see through a flimsy piece of lace."

"So that's what this is about." Marta said gently. "Do you really think this helps?" she asked, gesturing at the bottle.

"Can't hurt."

"It will later."

"I'll worry about it then. Give me the bottle."

"No more wine. I'm taking you to your room where you can sleep it off." Marta took a firm grip on the younger woman's arm, steering her toward the door. Tessa allowed herself to led, laying her arm over Marta's shoulder for support.

Tessa hiccuped and started to laugh. "It's really quite funny, isn't it, Marta? Dr. Helm loves the Queen of Swords, and thinks Tessa Alvarado is just a nobody, a nuisance. What would he do if he ever found out the truth? He's probably end up hating both of us."

"Or loving both," Marta said, with an affectionate hug. "You can't decide for him how he will feel. But you must continue to protect yourself, keep your secret. And, Tessa, whether you realize it or not, it is you the doctor loves." Marta laughed softly. "So, go to him as the Queen, and enjoy what you already have. Just don't tell me about it. I'm supposed to be your duenna." She felt Tessa stiffen with shock, then relax. Forgive me, Don Alvarado, Marta thought, as she helped Tessa up the cellar stairs, but I'm sure you would want Tessa to be happy, as I do.

The End, or maybe the beginning <g>

---Maril

Feedback is always great.

FICTION: usual disclaimers about copyright...Fireworks, etc.

~~~~~

Marta set down a bowl of fruit on the verandah table, watching as Captain Grisham approached, his swaggering gait sending prickles of irritation through her. She summoned up a cheerful face, though her eyes were wary. "Capitan, what brings you so far from town?"

Noting her cautious look, he grinned. "Just a social visit, senora. Is Senorita Alvarado at home?"

"My mistress usually takes a long ride on the beach every morning. She is not back yet."

"Still doing that, after the kidnapping and all? She's either brave or foolhardy." Grisham stepped up onto the verandah, his hat brushing a spider web which clung to the felt material. He pulled the hat off, swiping at the gossamer, then hauled the whole web down along with the spider. With a ruthless stomp, he crushed the little creature. "I hate spiders," he said, looking into Marta's stricken eyes.

"There was no reason to kill a helpless little spider. It was doing you no harm, Capitan."

Ignoring her protest, he moved past her onto the flagstoned verandah. "I'll just wait here until the senorita returns," Grisham said. He strolled over to the table, helping himself to an apple, and dropped into one of the wicker chairs. Lounging comfortably, he munched the apple while enjoying the obvious annoyance on Marta's face. And a lovely face it was, too, he remarked to himself. In other circumstances...

"Look, Marta, what I found this morning on the beach... a sand dollar." Catching Marta's warning look and nod, Tessa turned suddenly and noticed the captain. He stood up and bowed courteously.

"Capitan Grisham, this is a ...surprise. I would offer you some refreshment, but I see you have already taken care of that. To what do we owe this visit?"

"I feel I've neglected you, senorita. I've come to apologise and to remedy that situation."

"On the contrary, Capitan. You have nothing to reproach yourself for. I don't feel the least bit neglected," Tessa said pertly.

"In any case, I've come to talk with you. If Marta would be kind enough to get me something cool to drink, I would appreciate it." He gave Marta a dismissive nod to which she merely raised her eyebrows. He jerked his head more forcefully toward the villa and she looked away. His eyes hardened for a moment.

"Please, Marta, get Capitan Grisham some of your excellent lemonade." Tessa watched Marta reluctantly enter the villa, then returned to the captain. "What was it you wanted to talk about."

"Our future. I'm sure you know how I feel about you, Tessa." He moved toward her, and Tessa dodged his grasp, keeping a chair between them. She had a look in her eyes he'd seen before--a rabbit in his gunsights. A thrill of pleasure rippled through him. She was afraid. Well, a little fear in a woman was always a good thing.

"I think I should help Marta with that lemonade," she said a bit breathlessly, moving cautiously toward the door.

"Marta can handle that, Tessa." He smiled deeply into her eyes, waiting for the inevitable melting look that was always returned. Her eyes continued to be wary. He brushed aside his annoyance. "I'd like to escort you to Montoya's next party. Would you do me the honour, Senorita Alvarado?"

"My goodness, did Marta go all the way to Monterey for those lemons?" Tessa glanced anxiously at the villa entrance, where Marta finally appeared bearing a tray with a pitcher and two glasses. "Let me help you with that," Tessa said, taking the tray and setting it on the table. "Perhaps, Capitan Grisham, you would like something to eat as well?" she said, giving Marta a significant look. "Help me prepare a plate of food for the capitan, Marta."

"That's not necessary, senorita..." his words dwindled away as the two women disappeared into the villa. He settled back to wait for his food.

"Marta, how could you leave me alone so long with him? You're supposed to be my duenna!" Tessa said sharply as they strode toward the kitchen.

"Just last week, you accused me of doing my job too well," Marta retorted with asperity.

"Well, I can always relieve you of that burden!"

"If only you would!" Marta rejoined with a harsh laugh.

"Bickering among ourselves isn't helping. How do we get rid of him? He asked to be my escort at one of Montoya's interminably dull parties."

"Well, the Queen could appear and shoot him," Marta sniffed, still irritated. "That would solve the problem. You go back and keep him out of mischief. I'll get him something to eat." Marta went into the kitchen, and Tessa reluctantly returned to the verandah.

Grisham arose and gestured to a chair beside him. Tessa ignored the implied invitation and said, "Capitan Grisham, as much as I am honoured by your asking to escort me to the party, I must decline. I am still in mourning. It would be improper to be seen in public with another man so soon after Antonio's death. I hope you understand."

A look of frustration crossed Grisham's face. Did Montoya send him out here to make of fool of him? He must have known the girl would have to remain in mourning for some period of time. "How long does this mourning usually take? I don't mean to be insensitive to your feelings, but when would it be appropriate to ask you again?" Grisham's tone was harsher than he meant it to be; his temper was just barely under control.

"It varies, capitan. In my case, it may take a long time." Tessa's eyes moistened as she turned a sad face to Grisham. "A very long time," she added more feelingly.

"I see." Grisham clenched his jaw as he moved toward the verandah steps, turning to say, "I think I'd better get back to my duties now. Thanks for the refreshments. Hasta luego, senorita."

Marta joined her as they watched Grisham mount his horse and ride off. "I almost felt sorry for him, Marta." Tessa said reflectively, then laughed, "But I'm over it now."

THE END

Tessa held her breath as the last of the wine casks was hauled up by rope pulleys over the side of the ship. From her vantage point on the shore, she could see the activity on board as the large barrels were stowed in the hold. All this morning and yesterday, the barges carrying her wines had been towed across the choppy waters between her jetty and the cargo ship anchored a league offshore.

She turned with a satisfied smile as Señor Velasquez touched her arm. He was a dapper-looking older man, shorter than Tessa with a sprightly manner. His face was sharply defined with high cheekbones and he sported a finely trimmed goatee and moustache of white hair. "Well, Maria Theresa, if these wines sell as well as I expect, you will have a shipment of gold coming to you in a few months. I tasted the young wines and they promise well. They will live up to your father's reputation, I have no doubt."

Tessa tried to control her features, to behave with proper decorum, but her grin burst through and she exclaimed, "Do you really think so, Señor Velasquez? As good as Papa's?"

He smiled at her youthful exuberance. "Yes, at least. Maybe better."

He patted her hand paternally. "And now I must go to the ship. Thank you for your hospitality, my dear child. And bid your charming duenna farewell for me. It's too bad her duties kept her from being here today."

Tessa nearly laughed aloud. Señor Velasquez' amorous attentions to Marta for the entire two weeks of his visit, had kept Marta wary of him and generally vexed. She would rather drown than come down to see him off in case he made his preposterous proposal to her again. Marriage!

Marta had told Tessa that his first offer was to be his mistress in Madrid where he would set her up in a household of her own. Marta had reminded Señor Velasquez of his previous mistress whom she had met in Madrid.

He had said, "But that was in another country, and besides the wench is dead."

Señor Velasquez was a very old-fashioned man in his dealings with women. With Tessa, he was rigorously proper as accorded with her station. But Marta, because of her supposedly lower status, he treated with less respect. Tessa had to turn away to hide her smile. No one treated Marta like that and got away with it. Marta had made her feelings very clear to him, and Tessa had seen him leaving that particular interview with a very red face.

He held out his hand now to Tessa, and said, "Tell Marta if ever she reconsiders my very generous offer, she has only to come to Madrid. Hasta luego, Maria Theresa."

"Fair winds, Señor Velasquez. Vaya con dios." Impulsively, Tessa kissed his cheek. He flushed deeply, and then stepped quickly to the waiting boat and climbed in. Several minutes later, as the boat neared the ship, Marta joined her.

"So he is gone. Thank God! I was afraid I was going to have to call on the Queen of Swords to defend me against him." Marta laughed, playfully nudging Tessa. "Especially since you were no help at all," she grumbled.

"You seemed to be able to handle him all right. I was trying to be courteous to him as he is an old friend of Papa's and our wine agent." They watched as the ship's anchor was hauled up and the sails began to unfurl. "I almost wish I was going on that ship back to Spain, Marta."

"Well, you'd have to go by yourself. I'd rather keep an ocean and a continent between me and Señor Velasquez. Though, you would certainly have a lot more fun in Spain than here."

Tessa sighed softly, then shook herself. "But then who would run the winery during the day, and defend the weak by night." The two women laughed as they walked back down the jetty toward their wagon.

- Maril

Who comes up with theses toughies? <g>

Misplaced accent, cigar, Wheel of Fortune tarot card

~~~~~

The peon's eyes widened and he ran into the villa to find his mistress. He encountered Marta instead. "Tell the doña that Colonel Montoya is here!" he said excitedly. Like all the peasants, he was terrified of the military governor whose displeasure could result in a flogging or death.

Marta grimaced as a knot of apprehension tightened her stomach. What now? she wondered as she went outside to find Montoya already standing on the verandah. She looked at him warily, a fact he did not miss. She saw the pleasure in his eyes at her seeming fear of him. "My mistress is not here right now, Colonel. Perhaps I can help you." Marta made no move to allow him to pass, barring his entry to the villa.

"This is just a social visit, Marta. Tell the señorita there will be a fiesta on Saturday in honour of my birthday. No gifts are necessary." He was about to leave when he suddenly turned and said, "You are a teller of fortunes, Marta. I would like you to tell mine. As a birthday gift. Perhaps the Wheel of Fortune card will turn up for me, and I will, at last, kill the Queen of Swords."

"I do not tell fortunes, Colonel. It is forbidden by the Church, as you know." She watched as he casually pulled out a cigar and lit it, savouring the sharp bite of the tobacco as he inhaled deeply, blowing the smoke insolently in her direction.

"I obviously misplaced the accent on my request, Marta. You will tell my fortune. Right now!"

Marta's mind was in turmoil. Was this a trap to find out where the Queen's Tarot cards were coming from? With a slight smile, she said, "Well, if you insist. Give me your hand. I will read your palm for you." She tried to keep her face composed at the angry light that leapt into Montoya's eyes. She had thwarted him and he knew it. "Hmm," she mused over his palm, "you have a very jagged lifeline. Numerous paths are open to you, but the one you follow is full of opposition and danger." She looked into his pale eyes and smiled. "However, it is a long lifeline, with many opportunities for change and improvement." Letting his hand drop, she moved back, waiting for him to leave.

A look of wry amusement lit his face, while a dangerous glint sparkled in his grey eyes. "You are a very clever woman, Marta. Perhaps your cleverness will get you in trouble someday." He swiftly picked up her hand and turned it palm upwards. "Now, let me tell your fortune. You are treading a dangerous path and your lifeline may become quite short." He dropped her hand and turned away curtly, striding toward his horse. Snatching the reins from the frightened peon, he mounted.

The warning in his eyes chilled her as Marta watched him wheel his horse and urge it into a canter toward the pueblo. He is getting too close, she thought in alarm. Perhaps I will consult the cards and see what La Fortuna has in store for us.

END

Whew! That was a stretch!

-Maril

DISCLAIMERS: re copyrights.

~~~~~

Montoya sat on the edge of his rosewood desk, swinging his leg carelessly. But the look he fixed on Grisham was anything but careless. It was as pointed and lethal as a dagger. Finally, Montoya stood up and began to pace his office. He shook his head dolefully.

"How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child," Montoya said harshly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Grisham's eyes narrowed as if he was trying to identify the quotation. Montoya shrugged and laughed scornfully. "It's Shakespeare," the colonel said in an exasperated tone. Why do I bother, he wondered, watching Grisham's face as the light finally dawned.

Montoya drew in a long breath and added, "Remember when you tried to kill me by stealing the doctor's medicine? I said it would be your first and only mistake." He saw Grisham turn slightly pale and glance furtively around as if looking for an escape. "Since then, you have conspired with the Spanish Ambassador and connived with a thief to steal gold from me. But like a patient father, I have forgiven you, over and over, and let you live. And do you know why, Grisham?"

"To continue to torment me and blackmail me?"

"That is a side benefit. No. I have plans for us. A great leader needs a right-hand man, someone trustworthy and loyal. Think of all the great men in history. They all had allies they could trust; Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, Aramis and D'Artagnan, Robin Hood and Little John..."

"Marat and de Sade," Grisham added helpfully, earning a scowl from Montoya.

"Do not try my patience too far, Grisham." Montoya came to stand in front of Grisham, punctuating his remarks with a few stabs of his finger on Grisham's chest. "I have given you many chances, and all I ask in return is your loyalty."

"Like the loyalty of a dog? You jerk the leash and I jump."

"If you feel a firm hand on the leash, it is only because you have strayed too far," Montoya said smoothly. "Face it, Grisham. Without me, you are nothing. Every time you have tried to betray me, I have found you out. With me, you can rise to unimaginable heights. By giving me your loyalty, you can be the generalissimo of my army when I am ruler of Alta California. You could have a palace of your own, and all the beautiful woman you want."

Montoya smiled with satisfaction at the lecherous look that came into Grisham's face. It was so easy to manipulate a man with such obvious weaknesses. And, Montoya thought, once I reach my goal and am emperor of this new land, I will get rid of this dangerous little monster that I have hatched and trained.

Grisham grinned widely and stuck out his hand. "I'm your man, Colonel. Like Don Quixote and Sancho Panza." And, Grisham thought, when you've made it to the top, I'll be there to knock you off and take over. He grinned again as Montoya's hand clasped his in a fervent grip.

-- Maril

This story seems to follow up Brig's excellent Trio #6 challenge -- what happened to those chocolates after Marta brought them home. <g>

~~~~~

Tessa's hand hovered over the chocolate confections, then pounced on a dark shiny bonbon, only to be intercepted by another hand. She looked up in annoyance as the chocolate dropped back into its place in the box.

"Enough. You'll spoil your dinner," Marta said, as she replaced the ornate cover on the chocolate box, and moved it a slight distance away on the dining room table.

The younger woman slapped down her quill pen. She shook her head and with a wry smile, thought, Will she ever let me grow up? Picking up the pen once more, Tessa dipped the nib into the ink bottle, and pondered. Aloud she said to Marta, "This letter to Louisa is taking longer to write than the bloody Bible. I can't think of anything I can tell her." Tessa smiled at the sharp intake of breath from Marta at her somewhat blasphemous mention of the holy book. She enjoyed shocking Marta, not easy to do usually.

Tessa drew a deep sigh, and began to doodle on the paper laying before her on the table. "Louisa's letter was full of the gaiety of Madrid, the parties, the weddings, and all those beautiful people. And now she tells me of her own engagement to Alfredo Carillo. Remember him, Marta? He paid his attentions to me for a while, until I finally had to be firm with him."

"Was he the skinny one with the big Adam's apple?" Marta asked, as she took a chair opposite Tessa at the table.

"No. That was Enrique Varga. Alfredo was shorter than me and a bit plump."

"Of course. After Antonio left for the war, there were so many vying for your hand, I lost track." Marta smiled at Tessa, a bit of maternal pride in her look.

Tessa was silent for several seconds as a wistful expression crossed her face. "Louisa wants me to come to Spain for her wedding next summer. If only I could." She seemed to shake off her melancholy and glanced up at Marta. "Help me with this letter. What can I say that is anything as exciting as her letter?" She laughed shortly. "Dear Louisa, last week we planted another vineyard, several of our cows have calved, the weather was hot yesterday, hot today and will be hot tomorrow." Tessa planted her elbows on the table and dropped her head into her hands.

Marta chuckled softly. "How about, 'Dear Louisa, you have heard of the exploits of the Queen of Swords? Well, I am she. Last week, I saved ten peasants from execution by the Spanish ambassador, and stole some ill-gotten gold from the military governor, all the while fighting for my life.' Would that be exciting enough for her? It certainly was for me."

"You know I can't write that!" Tessa laughed, her humour seeming to be restored. "Still, you've given me an idea. Perhaps I will tell her about the Queen, as a third person observer. Remember Senor Wellesley's stories? Maybe I'll just write about seeing those events as if I was watching them. Yes," she said, once more recharging her pen, "Louisa will envy how exciting my life is for a change. And I'll tell her she can keep the pink organza dress."

Marta arose and turned toward the doorway. Tessa reached for the chocolate box, only to hear, "No more chocolates until after dinner." The younger woman expressed a long-suffering sigh and with a resigned shrug, began to write her letter.

--Maril

Disclaimers, etc.

QUOTE 2: "Hello Devil. Welcome to Hell." -Hornbeck, "Inherit the Wind"

~~~~~

Dense black foliage barred her way. Long viscous vines hung in slimy strands that broke off in long strips that clung to her clothes. As the strands fell on her body, they burned like acid. She slashed with her sword trying to break out of this hellish forest but as soon as she sliced an opening more vines grew immediately to enmesh her. Her arm was sore and tired from hacking at the impossible tangle of lurid black jungle. The smell of rotting vegetation was nauseating and the sultry thick air was almost impossible to take into her labouring lungs. Tessa looked up through the web of hanging vines to a red sky that glowered down with a fierce unrelenting heat. Dread dragged her down as she saw the hopelessness of getting through the snarl of this unearthly jungle.

A black raven lifted from one of the grotesque trees and flew at her, cutting her shoulder with its talon as it passed by her with an eerie shriek. Soon the trees were full of screeching black birds and Tessa swung her sword over and over as the flocks came at her with their deadly sharp claws. All at once the birds disappeared as a bellow of weird laughter echoed through the jungle. Before her, she saw a man dressed in black. An aura of evil radiated from him and he smirked as she recoiled in terror. It was the face of Montoya! He grinned maniacally and said, "Hello Devil. Welcome to Hell." With a sudden excess of fear, Tessa struggled fiercely against the cloying clinging vines with that horrible laugh ringing in her ears. "Tessa, Tessa," that evil voice taunted.

"Tessa, Tessa," a voice said as a cool cloth touched her forehead. She awoke to meet a pair of warm green eyes staring at her. He smiled kindly. "You've had quite a battle with the fever. You were struggling like you were fighting demons. But I think the worst is over now. The fever has broken." Helm laid his hand on her forehead and nodded. "Yes, nearly normal. You'd better stay in bed for another day or so, to be on the safe side." He got up and the bed rocked gently. "Marta can take better care of you than I can from here on. I'll look in tomorrow to see how you're getting on." He pressed her hand and smiled deeply into her eyes, then was gone. Tessa closed her eyes and wondered if she was still dreaming as she drifted back into sleep.

--Maril

PS: You could call this "The Dreamer" or "Fun with Adjectives" <g>

Closing her umbrella, Tessa sighed with relief as she passed from the relentless hot sun to the dim coolness of the shaded alley. She was taking a shortcut to the harness maker's in the next street. Chico, her horse, needed a new bridle. As she was about midway through the alley, what seemed to be a blur of rags launched itself at her from the shadows, catching her off guard and thrusting her against the adobe wall of a building. For a second, she panicked as a grimy hand gripped her throat. She felt her purse being pulled away from her arm and a sudden fury took over. She kneed the assailant in the groin, then stabbed him in the gut with her umbrella, finally using its ivory handle to clout him on the skull. He fell at her feet with a loud groan. Breathing hard, she leaned against the building, and looked down at her attacker. He was middle-aged, filthy, smelly...and unconscious. Tessa hesitated, unsure whether to call for help or just step past and continue on her way.

A sound at the far end of the alley made her look up...into the astonished eyes of Dr. Helm. He strode swiftly toward her with an incredulous expression on his face. Tessa felt a mild panic seize her. What had he seen? In a breathless voice, she exclaimed, "Oh, Dr. Helm. Thank God you're here. I was so frightened." As he neared, Tessa held her hand out to him and began to fall as if fainting.

The doctor moved past her to the fallen man and she landed on the hard ground with a loud yelp of pain. Indignantly, she got back up, fixing the doctor with a look that would have melted a block of ice. "Well," she snapped, "Chivalry is certainly dead! First, you just stand there while I'm being attacked, then you leave me, the injured party, to help the attacker!"

Helm turned to look up with a wry grin on his face. "I practice chivalry when I see a damsel in distress. I saw no one of the particular description around here. As to being the injured party," he gestured at the man lying inert near his feet, "it's pretty obvious which of you is injured -- the one who's unconscious."

He continued to look at her closely with narrowed eyes, and Tessa could see the suspicion forming there. She swallowed quickly and said, "I caught him by surprise and got lucky when he stumbled."

Helm gave her a skeptical look. "Right. I don't think I've ever seen a more impressive display of umbrellasmanship. Maybe you should try a sword next time." With a derisive snort, he turned back to the assailant who was just coming to. "What do you plan to do with him?"

Tessa shrugged. "If I turn him over to Montoya, he'll be hanged for theft. It seems too extreme for just trying to steal a purse. But if I let him go, he may harm someone else. What do you suggest, Dr. Helm?"

"Lost your zeal for justice suddenly?" At that moment, the assailant leapt to his feet, pushing Helm to the ground and escaped down the alley. Helm laughed while getting up to dust himself off. "Well, I guess he made your decision for you. To be on the safe side, I'd better go with you down this alley."

Tessa blushed and stammered, "You don't need to protect me, Dr. Helm. I'll be all right."

"Protect you? It's me I was worried about -- in case he's still lurking about."

END

The last rays of sunlight stretched across the horizon, painting the landscape with a roseate blush. The adobe buildings, the hills, the trees all glowed with the crimson radiance of the setting sun. Tessa paused in the doorway of her villa, her eyes filled with the wondrous beauty of her hacienda. A sense of peace pervaded her as she drew a deep breath, inhaling the sweet fragrance of the rose garden. Like a caressing breeze, she felt the land giving up its heat to the coming night. Behind her, Marta laid her hand on Tessa's shoulder and they watched as the last glow of sunlight touched the crosses on the hill like a benediction. Then the light was gone, leaving a stillness that hovered over the land in the pause between day and night. For several minutes, they savoured the twilight, almost unwilling to break into the supernal silence with their mortal sounds. At length, Tessa adjusted the guitar she had slung behind her shoulders and stepped off the verandah. She nearly stumbled over something on the ground, and stooped to pick it up.

"Look, Marta. One of the worker's children left her doll here. I'll take it with me to their camp."

Marta reached out for it. "May I see it?" When the doll touched her hand, Marta exclaimed sharply in surprise; her face became grave and her manner uneasy. For long seconds, she studied the colourful figurine. It was carved from cottonwood and painted with intricate designs. The doll was dressed in exotic clothes and feathers, and wearing a mask . Finally, she said, "This is no child's toy, Tessa. It has an aura of power contained within it. I don't know what it is, or why it was left here. Maybe it is a gift for you." With that, Marta handed the doll back to the younger woman as if glad to be rid of it.

"Do you think it's evil?" Tessa gasped, her eyes widening as she warily accepted the figurine.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Then why are you giving it to me?" Tessa asked with a nervous laugh. Taking the doll in her unwilling hands, she moved away from the verandah. "Maybe one of the workers can explain what it is and who left it."

Tessa turned suddenly. Movement caught her eye as she passed the stable. One of the workers was replacing his pitchfork in the toolroom. It was Joachim, a worker whom the Queen had saved from death some months before. She had found him lying alone in the dark on the badlands, more dead than alive, from thirst and from beatings. Joachim had run away from a mission estancia where his people were driven like animals and treated worse. Marta had nursed him back to health and he had become their hardest worker.

She smiled at Joachim as he bowed deferentially to her. "Buenos noches, Joachim," she said pleasantly, and was rewarded with his wide grin and nod. Joachim was mute, but not deaf. She added, "Are you coming to the fiesta? We are celebrating that Marta's horse gave birth to a foal, a filly." She watched him nod again vigorously, then she continued on toward the glow of the campfire where the strains of "Cielto Lindo" wafted on the warm breeze.

Already, there were many gathered around the fire, including the children. They ran to Tessa, and she handed out the toffees that Marta had made for them earlier. She seated herself on a log and Marta squeezed in beside her. One of the workers was strumming another folk ballad and many joined in with the singing.

Later in the evening, after the children had gone to bed, Tessa brought out the colourful doll and held it up in the firelight for everyone to see. "Does anyone know what this is?" she asked, glancing around at the dark faces.

A man stood up. "Patrón," he began deferentially. "It is called a ka'china. The ka'china spirit brings good fortune to those they are given to. In the old days, a man of the tribe would dress as the ka'china and he would pretend to be one of the spirits who bring the rains and good crops. Now, of course, the ritual is forbidden by the Church, but the dolls are often given to children to remind them of the old ways."

"Does this ka'china belong to one of your children?" Tessa watched their faces as each person shook his or her head. Were they afraid they would be punished for having a pagan idol? "I respect your old ways," she said, " and if you want to keep these ka'chinas here on the hacienda, it is all right with me. Does anyone know how this ka'china came to be on my verandah?" Again, she met with blank looks and denial. She glanced at Marta who shrugged.

"Here, Marta, you hold onto the doll while I play a flamenco tune for the workers. They always enjoy the music so much. You should have brought your violin." Tessa teased as she handed the ka'china to Marta who handled it as if it were hot. What's wrong with her tonight, Tessa wondered, as she studied the frightened look in her friend's eyes. "Are you going to dance for us?"

"I don't feel like it tonight. Another time." In the firelight, Marta's eyes had a questing look, as if she was searching for something or someone. All evening, she had been quiet, introspective.

Tessa began the fiery flamenco tune. Soon, she forgot about Marta and lost herself in the music.

Marta clutched the doll tightly, and felt its power rising up slowly through her hands and into her body. She started to tremble and closed her eyes. A vision began to form and she saw a man's dark shape coming toward her out of a mist with his hands outstretched. He looked familiar. As he got closer, she suddenly knew him. Joachim! He spoke, "I was the shaman of my tribe, but I can be shaman no longer. I have no tribe. I dedicate my life to you, Marta, for you are the shaman of your tribe. The ka'china spirit will watch over you, and protect the woman who wears the black corset like a warrior in armour. I will defend you both with my life. This I pledge." She clasped his hand and a bond was created. She felt his mind touch hers gently, with love. "I am your brother," Joachim said, " and your guardian and your teacher. Since you saved my life, it belongs to you." He smiled and let go of her hand, stepping back into the misty darkness.

The vision ended and Marta realized Tessa had stopped playing and was looking at her with a worried expression. "Are you all right, Marta? You seemed to be in a trance for a while."

Across the campfire, Marta met Joachim's eyes and smiled. She saw there an ageless wisdom and knew she would seek him again in the other world to learn from him, whatever he was willing to teach her. Shaking herself, she said, "I'm fine. Just off in another world, I suppose."

END

DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks owns 'em, let's hope for another season at least.

RATING: G

~~~~~

Tessa just stood in the doorway and watched as the doctor paced back and forth, muttering something under his breath in a language she assumed was English. The rustle of her silk skirt alerted him to a visitor and he turned with an exclamation of surprise. His face closed for a second in annoyance, and Tessa's spirits plummeted. She gripped her basket more tightly and drew herself up, fixing on her lips what she hoped was a friendly, non-committal smile.

"Oh, Señorita Alvarado. I didn't hear you knock," he said acerbically.

"That's because your door was already open, and I just walked in," she replied as evenly as possible, though her temper was beginning to rise. "Did I interrupt your prayers, Doctor?"

"What? Oh, you mean the line I was saying to myself. It's part of a poem I learned as a boy. It was practically beaten into my head so naturally I forgot it as soon as I could. Now, it's driving me mad to remember the rest of it. I only have the first line."

"What is it? Maybe I could help," she said as she ventured further into the office, setting her basket on the table.

Helm laughed. "It's an English poem so you're hardly likely to know it."

"Tell me the first line anyway."

He repeated the line in English, and Tessa gave him an impatient glare. "En Español, por favor. No habla Inglés."

"It probably doesn't' translate well. But here is the first line, ""She walks in beauty like the night," he said in Spanish, "and that's all I can remember of the damned poem."

Tessa brightened and replied, in Spanish,
"of cloudless climes and starry skies
And all that's best of dark and bright
meets in her aspect and her eyes
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
which heaven to gaudy day denies."

Helm's mouth gaped open, then he shook his head, laughing, "I am truly astonished that you would know that poem, and in Spanish too."

Tessa felt her face warming at his spontaneous praise and decided it was time to leave. "Here are the salves that Marta prepared for you. I should be going now. Marta is waiting at the wagon."

"Wait, please. Could you teach the whole poem again? It's very important." Helm reached a restraining hand on her arm, then removed it quickly when he realized what he had done. "Excuse me, señorita. I would consider it a great favour if you could spare me just a few more minutes of your time to teach me the poem." His earnest face leaned near her, a pleading look in his green eyes.

"Of course, doctor. Why do you wish to learn this poem?" Tessa saw him withdraw slightly and look away evasively.

"I just need to remember it, that's all."

For the next half hour, Tessa coached the doctor with the expressive love poem until she was sure he had it perfectly. After his profuse exclamations of gratitude which made her flustered and not a little angry, she took her leave and joined Marta at the wagon.

Marta had been sitting on the bench, fanning herself, and looked very warm and a little put out at the long wait. "It doesn't usually take so long to deliver a few jars of ointment, " she said tersely. "I could have done it myself if I had known you would be in there forever. What took you so long?" Seeing the aggrieved look on Tessa's face, she asked, " Is there something I should know?"

"I was teaching him a poem," Tessa said disconsolately.

"A poem? What poem?"

Tessa repeated the verses to Marta whereupon the older woman fell back against the wagon seat and laughed heartily. Tessa regarded her with an annoyed pout. "I don't see anything funny about it!" she said sharply. "I teach him a love poem so he can say it to another woman? That isn't funny. It's ridiculous!"

Marta sobered for a second, wiping her eyes. "Especially when that other woman is you." Marta chuckled involuntarily, unable to contain herself in spite of the dark looks she was getting from Tessa. "Well, you'll soon hear that poem again, and then you'll know if it was time well spent teaching it to him." Marta gave her a sly wink and a playful nudge.

--Maril

TRIO - Spanish flag, boat & glass of wine
DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks owns them.
RATING: G

~~~~~

"I sense your presence immediately as I watch your shadow cross the floor toward me. As I look up at you, those bewitching dark eyes mock my efforts at pretended indifference. My heart begins to race as if with tachycardia, and the floor boards beneath my feet rock as if I'm on a boat on the water. The vision of you, standing outlined against the harsh sunlight in the doorway, races through my veins like wine. In the sudden stillness, all I can hear is the rushing of the wind across the dusty plaza and the snapping of the Spanish flag atop Montoya's residence.

In your eyes, I see a playful curiosity. Why am I reciting a line of poetry, over and over? I'll use that curiosity to lure you inside, like dangling a string in front of a cat. Will your inquisitiveness lead you further, or like a cat, will you remain aloof to all my efforts?

I jibe at your lack of manners in not knocking on my door, and I watch with amusement as you bristle like a cat whose fur is rubbed the wrong way. You want to know about the line of poetry I've been repeating and I tell you in English. Another rub of the fur, but at least, I have your attention. And then to my surprise, you actually knew the poem by Byron, and in Spanish. I watch the rose colour your cheeks at my unfeigned praise. As you turn to leave, I touch your arm and that touch ignites a fire within me. And in you, though you pretend as I do. As I'm pretending that I don't remember the poem in order to detain you longer. It's all I can think of, and for a very short while, it's enough. I've dangled the string and the cat reaches for it, a feint with her deadly claws sheathed.

You find me a rather dense pupil, it takes so long to learn the lines. And I can see in your eyes, that I've wounded you. You know the poem is intended for another woman, the dark side of the woman now seated at my table, patiently teaching me the verses. Whose pain is the greater, I wonder -- yours, because you think you are not loved -- or mine, because I cannot admit it until you trust me with your dark secret.

Finally, I must let you go. Your friend is waiting in the hot sun, and I've kept you as long as I could. I watch from my window as you cross the square toward your Gypsy companion. I see you speak to her and see her laugh, but I know there is also compassion in that laugh. She would never hurt you, or let harm come to you if she could prevent it. Like a mother cat, so fiercely protective of you is she."

Helm lifted the glass chimney from his lamp, and moved the page he had just written into the flame. As his words began to burn and char, he sensed the presence of another. Behind the mask, she watched curiously as the last of the paper was burned and gone. The cat had taken the string into her unsheathed claws and was drawing it and its holder inexorably toward her.

-Maril

DISCLAIMERS; the usual
RATING: G

~~~~~

Marta's hand hovered uncertainly over the pieces, gliding over the Knight, then the Bishop and finally coming to rest on a pawn. She advanced it and settled back to watch Tessa frowning in concentration at the board.

The Queen's Gambit, Tessa mused. She thinks she can beat me twice with that one? The younger woman moved her pawn and gave Marta an impudent wink. I studied with a chess master and taught Marta this game. But her playing is so unorthodox, it is hard to know what she is planning. Like fencing against someone who has never been taught the finer points at an Academy. It puts you at a disadvantage until you figure out what they are going to do next.

The pieces continued to form a pattern on the board as each woman studied the other's moves and countered them. Finally, Marta advanced her Bishop down the board to a white square next to the Black Queen. "You probably thought I'd be afraid to do that," Marta said with a self-satisfied smile.

Tessa promptly took the Bishop with her Queen, and said cheekily, "To conquer fear is the beginning of wisdom."

Marta moved her Knight into check position against the King. "To conquer fear is the way to get killed!" Marta retorted sharply. "Use your fear like a shield, and never let down your guard. When you lose your fear, you get careless. And then you die."

Tessa grimaced at losing the game. And wondered at Marta's words. While I'm supposedly giving her a chess lesson, she is giving me a life lesson. She suddenly laughed good-naturedly. "Your game, Marta. Shall we play again?"

END

RATING: G (sorry, folks)
DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks, et al
TRIO: knife, rope, bedpost (you'll have to look real hard to find them though. <g>)

~~~~~

As the ship disappeared over the horizon, Montoya turned in anger from the English captain, and began to trudge his way through the damp sand back to his horse. Suddenly, his arm was pulled around and he stumbled. He whirled with his hand already going to his sword hilt. No one manhandles Montoya! His face was livid with fury as he glared at Wentworth, his pale eyes brilliant with malice as if he dared the man to continue holding his sleeve.

Wentworth dropped his hand but met Montoya with an equally malicious stare. "You've caused me lose my wife and my ship," he bellowed. "You owe me, Montoya, and by God, you'll pay!"

"I owe you nothing," Montoya said scathingly. "And if you touch me again, one of my soldiers will shoot you. Now, get out of my town!"

"How?" Wentworth said, a note of pleading entering his voice. "I have only a few reales in my purse. Thanks to you." More boldly, he added, "I will avail myself of the hospitality of your villa until such time as another British ship arrives to take me away from this accursed place. You owe me that much."

Many thoughts tumbled through Montoya's mind as he studied Capitan Wentworth. The Englishman was very tall and strong, and had a streak of viciousness that amazed even Montoya. And he is penniless, therefore desperate. The man is a thorough bounder, without scruples or morals. I can use such a man, Montoya mused, someone who is not hampered by a squeamish conscience. Grisham seems to be getting soft these days.

To Wentworth's surprise, the colonel said, "Never let it be said that a Spaniard is lacking in hospitality. Indeed, I would be remiss if I did not aid you in your time of need. Please accept my invitation to be my guest for as long as you wish." Montoya bowed curtly and continued toward his horse. He didn't look back, but assumed that Wentworth would follow as soon as he got over his shock. Yes, he thought as he climbed onto Salan, his Andalusian stallion, the capitan has some scores to settle here, especially with the Queen. I think we can work something out. He kneed his mount gently and cantered down the beach toward the pueblo.

***********

Montoya strode into his salon and found Wentworth, reclining on a chaise, and reading his favourite work on Napoleon. The idiot had bent the book nearly in half and the spine was now lined with visible cracks. The colonel took several deep breaths to control his rage before he spoke. It had been nearly a week since the sea captain had taken up residence in his villa and the complaints had been piling up daily. His servants complained of harsh and abusive treatment, the cook of his looting the larder at all hours. Even Montoya's stock of fine sherries and ports were badly depleted. It was time to set matters straight.

"Capitan Wentworth. We must talk. Your presence here has caused a severe disruption in my household. It is time for you to make some plans to leave, perhaps go to Monterrey."

"Listen, Montoya. Do you think I would stay in this flea-bitten excuse for a town if I had a choice?" Wentworth stood up, and moved near the colonel, towering over the smaller man. His imposing height always had a salutary effect on anyone who challenged him. But Montoya held his ground without batting an eye. Wentworth added, "Maybe if you lent me some money, I could take the next coach to Monterrey."

"Hardly, Capitan. That would be a very poor investment as I would likely never see my money again." Montoya stroked his beard and gave Wentworth a sly look. "However, there are other ways to get large sums of money."

The captain raised his eyebrows with interest. "What other ways, Colonel?"

"Capture the Queen of Swords. Dead or alive, she is worth five hundred reales."

Wentworth burst out laughing. He walked over the sideboard and helped himself to a liberal serving of Montoya's best sherry. He could almost feel the heat of the colonel's gaze on his back. He would love to plunge a dagger into me, but he's afraid. Afraid of the political consequences if anyone found out. "You expect me to risk my life to do your dirty work for you? Come, come, colonel. There are much easier ways to get back a fortune. Marry it, for instance." Wentworth turned quickly to catch the colonel's expression. Montoya was taken aback. The captain enjoyed his small victory as he sipped the warm liquor appreciatively.

"And whom would you marry, señor? Putting aside the fact that you are already married."

Montoya's eyes mocked the captain, and Wentworth bristled under that uncompromising stare. He answered with studied insouciance, "How about that Alvarado girl? She's got a large property and no man to manage it. And she's getting on in years. She'd be grateful for a proposal, I'm sure."

It was Montoya's turn to laugh. "Capitan Wentworth. You would not be the first to have that thought. And you will not be the last. She has had offers and turned them down. The woman is strong-willed and independent. Even I considered courting her, but I believe she has cast her eye upon our doctor. It would seem a futile effort to try to win her affections when they are already given to another."

Wentworth brushed the colonel's words aside with an impatient gesture. "It's obvious you know nothing about women. They want to be dominated by a strong man, swept off their feet by a man's passion. No wonder she turned them all down if they're all as faint-hearted as you." He swallowed a large gulp of sherry and returned to the sideboard to refill his glass. "Could I offer you some sherry, Colonel," he said with mock hospitality. With unbridled enjoyment, he watched the colonel's face suffuse with colour.

It took a supreme effort of will, but Montoya kept his temper in check. He would not be goaded into an argument with this barbarian. It was beneath his dignity. He smiled benignly. "By all means, Capitan, court her and win her if you can. There is, of course, the minor impediment of the current Mrs. Wentworth. How do you plan to overcome that obstacle to your future marital bliss?"

"Divorce. I'll file for divorce in Monterrey at the British High Commission. Shouldn't take long, especially considering the circumstances. Abandonment, adultery. Yes, I'll be free to marry again in no time," he said blithely.

"Personally, Capitan Wentworth, I think you will have a much better chance of catching the Queen of Swords than winning the affections of Señorita Alvarado. She doesn't like you. How will you convince her - put a knife to her throat, tie her with a rope to the bedpost?" Montoya paused as he considered that titillating image, then shook his head and laughed. "I would advise you to take my offer." Montoya left the salon and returned to his office, chuckling to himself. The arrogant fool.

************

Tessa was about to climb into her wagon when she suddenly felt a firm hand on her elbow. Turning quickly, she was disappointed, then annoyed to see Captain Wentworth smiling at her and squeezing her arm much too familiarly. She pulled out of his grasp and ascended without his help.

"Capitan, I thought you had returned to England. I am surprised to see you still gracing our humble pueblo." Tessa kept her tone light and her face bland.

"My ship has been stolen by pirates, Señorita Alvarado. You see before you the most pitiful of creatures -- a marooned sailor," he said ruefully.

Wentworth smiled into her eyes with an intensity that Tessa found disturbing. He leaned on her wagon with his arms very near her leg, and seemed to be intent on restraining her from going anywhere until he was ready to allow it. She found his imposition was beginning to vex her, and searched for an escape from his company that would not seem rude.

She tapped his hand lightly with her fan. "I am very sorry about your loss, capitan. I hope your fortunes improve in the near future. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some supplies to take back to my hacienda. Buenos tardes." Tessa took up the reins, but Wentworth continued to lean against her wagon.

He drew himself up suddenly, making Tessa aware of his unusual height. "Señorita Alvarado, may I call upon you at your hacienda?" He smiled ingratiatingly with an assured look in his eyes.

Tessa's brow creased in perplexity. "Why?" she asked.

"Why does any man call upon a beautiful woman?" He smiled again.

Her eyebrows drew down and her eyes narrowed as she realized what he meant. Her chin came up and she glared at him with a look that would freeze the sun. "You are asking to call upon me to give me your attentions? Are you not a married man?" she asked angrily. He touched her hand and stroked it gently. She pulled her hand away sharply.

"I will be divorced soon, and free to marry again. I have become quite smitten with you, my dear Maria Theresa. Why wait for the divorce? I can court you now, and then when the decree is final, we can marry."

Tessa was nearly speechless with indignation. From the corner of her eye, she could see Montoya standing only a few yards away, smirking in a self-satisfied way. "Capitan Wentworth. This is a Catholic country. We do not believe in divorce, nor can we marry those who are divorced! I find your brazenness both impertinent and insulting! Do not trouble me again!" With that, she slapped the reins over the horses and pulled away quickly, causing Wentworth to stumble. The dust from the wagon wheels spattered his clothes and made him cough.

From behind, Wentworth could hear Montoya laughing heartily. In a fury, he whirled on the colonel. "You knew about the divorce laws, didn't you? You could have warned me. Instead, you let me make a fool of myself!"

"Oh no, Capitan. You did that all by yourself." Montoya wiped his eyes delicately with his hands and smiled at the captain. "Now perhaps, you would reconsider my offer. You do have a score to settle with the Queen. After all, it was the Queen who helped your wife to escape and steal your ship."

-- Maril

RR me buckos <g> ??? Anyone want to add to this?