MARIL RESPONSE FILE 3

By Maril
maril.swan@aympatico.ca

RATING: G
DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks still owns them, but they are really ours. <G>
FEEDBACK: definitely
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I was inspired by the mysticism in "The Dragon" to write this. Hope you like it. The character, Joachim, came from a previous story, "The Kachina", and is an Indian shaman. Some folks may not have read this story, or remember the character.

~~~~~

Tessa snapped the whip over the horses and drove off in a huff. It had taken all Marta's persuasion to get her to go to town alone. "I have too much to do, Tessa, to go into town today." Marta had said. But the younger woman had been almost relentless in her insistence until Marta had firmly said no. Guiltily, she watched the wagon disappear in a cloud of dust. I will make it up to her later with my paella. She always loves that dish.

As soon as the wagon was gone, Marta went to the stable to saddle her mare, and lead it out. Mounting quickly, she turned the horse toward the distant hills and the appointment she had made for that morning. She urged the mare into a trot, enjoying the smooth gait as she sank into its rhythm. Ahead were the hills and canyons, one either side were the fields where the workers were already labouring under the remorseless California sun. It promised to be another sparkling clear day, no clouds on the horizon to offer a respite to the heat and dryness. Marta tried to moisten her mouth. It was as arid as the trail she rode over. Her canteen was tied on the saddle, but she ignored it as her destination grew ever nearer. In spite of the heat, she shivered with dread. Her stomach clenched with sudden apprehension. Why am I doing this? she wondered.

At the foot of a high rocky hill, Marta reined her horse. She tied the mare behind a large rock which afforded some shade for the sweating animal. With a quick pat on its flank, she began to climb toward a cave about halfway up the cliff. The loose gravel made the ascent difficult and several times she slipped back a few feet. At last, she clambered over a ledge and stood before the cave entrance. She turned to gaze over the landscape; it was a spectacular view from this ledge, a sweeping vista of rolling hills, scrub brush, and the winding trail leading to the hacienda. Around the villa were the fields, the only verdant colour in that sere land. A warm sense of pride pervaded her as she took in the scene. Only a year ago, those fields had been barren, abandoned. Now they were fertile again with waving stalks of grain for the cattle. Further up the hills on the other side of the villa were the vineyards, once more producing the best grapes in the territory. Marta smiled with satisfaction. We did this, Tessa and me, she thought.

Returning her attention to the cave, Marta stood uncertainly at the entrance. By going in, I accept whatever happens, she thought with a sense of foreboding. I can turn away from this step, and go on as I am, or I can go in and see where this will lead me. She drew in a steadying breath and stepped across the threshold, from the blinding brightness of the sunny ledge into the dimness of the large cave. Once inside, she looked around. The cave was only a few feet higher than her head and she could see that it was deep, and branched off in two directions. Other than the light from the entrance, there was no illumination to guide her. Marta moved further into the cave, surprised to find soft desert sand under her feet. As she had been instructed, she removed her shoes and left them near the entrance. She adjusted the pouch on her hip and began to walk forward into the blackness ahead. All her innate fear of dark enclosed places assailed her at once, and she froze, unable to move. She could hear her own ragged breathing echoing in the cave and the pulse of her racing heart hammering in her head. I can do this, she said to herself, over and over as she willed her feet to move. It was no use. She couldn't go on. Tears of frustration arose behind her eyes as fear held her in its thrall. She trembled, clenching her fists so hard, the nails bit into her skin.

She closed her eyes, trying to find that centre of peace, trying to overcome this terrible fear that she had always had. Where had it come from? she had often wondered. It was as palpable a force as a wall, keeping her from going forward. She would break through somehow. Stilling her breathing with long deep breaths, Marta began to relax. A sense of calm spread through her, and she took an uncertain step forward. The black abyss ahead threatened to swallow her up and she halted again. Another deep breath and another step, then another. Soon she was completely enclosed by the utter blackness of the cave. Sudden panic gripped her; she felt disoriented, like she was falling, weightless. Her hands flung out to either side, searching for something solid. She knew she could not return as she did not know which way. As she felt for the cave wall, her hand encountered something soft, warm, human. She screamed and moved back, hitting her head on the rocks.

A torch flared suddenly, blinding her momentarily. Joachim grinned at her when he saw her look of relief. In the weeks since she had first met him, he had become a dear friend, and teacher. Though Joachim was mute, they had learned to communicate through hand signs. He also spoke to her sometimes in her dreams. Now, he held out his hand to lead her further into the cave. Somehow, his strength assured her as she allowed herself to be led forward into the darkness with only the feeble light of the torch to guide them. Her terror of this place made her feel suffocated. Only the warmth of Joachim's hand kept the icy dread of those tomb-like walls from freezing her steps again.

Finally, he stopped. The torchlight revealed the remains of a cold campfire. All around on the walls were pictures, painted in earth tones, of birds, animals, fanciful shapes she could not recognize. The hair rose all over her body. This was a place of power, a sacred place. She could feel its energy all around her.

Joachim let go of her hand. He began to assemble a campfire from the sticks and firewood placed near the cave wall. Using the torch, he lit it and soon, the fire was crackling and bright, its flickering light illuminating the cave pictures and making them seem animated.

Using the sign language he had taught her, Joachim gestured to a pool a short distance away. He wanted her to disrobe and bathe in the pool, to prepare herself. He set the torch into a crevice in the rock wall, and sat down cross-legged near the campfire with his back to the pool.

I can still go back, she reminded herself as she walked toward the pool. I don't have to do this. The eyes on the cave paintings seemed to stare at her as she took off her clothing and stepped into the water. It was bracingly cold and shallow. She had to plunge under to fully immerse herself. She climbed out and put on the gown which had been placed there for her. The soft cotton warmed her chilled skin. The dress was covered with designs of stylized animals and other sacred signs; a ceremonial gown that he had made for her. She was moved by the care that showed in every detail of the garment. She remembered an old proverb her mother had told her: "When the pupil is ready, the teacher will come."

Am I ready? she questioned herself uneasily as she glanced at Joachim's solid back. Marta moved to the campfire and sat beside her mentor. He nodded approvingly and gestured to the pouch which she held in her hands. She opened it and pulled out the card--her card, the Queen of Cups.

~~~~~

Joachim gestured that she should put the card into the fire. For a long time, Marta stared at the card, unwilling to burn it, to destroy the symbol of her beliefs. The Indian waited patiently, not watching her. Marta sensed his presence as a steadying supportive force; he would not rush or coerce her to do anything she was not prepared for. At length, she laid the card on the fire; it burned from the edges inward, then dissolved in a puff of black ash. Marta almost felt bereft, as if part of her soul had burnt away with her card.

He closed his eyes and began to hum, quietly at first, then more loudly until the cave reverberated with the sound. It was hypnotic, filling Marta's head with its rising and falling cadence. Suddenly, he stopped and picked up a clay cup which was incised with intricate patterns. He offered it to her, signing that she should drink it.

"What is it?" Marta asked as she took the cup.

Manit, he signed. It is our sacred drink, used to bring dreams and visions. It is made from a plant that grows here.

"I do not know this plant. Show me the leaves so I may learn what it looks like."

Joachim reached inside a large pouch near his side and pulled out the branch of a plant. This is manit, he signed to her.

Her hands shook slightly when she saw the plant. Datura! she thought in alarm. In the wrong dosage, it is fatal. Aloud she said, "I know of this plant, and its dangers. It is also called Jimsonweed. But, Joachim, I trust you." With that, Marta swallowed the contents of the cup.

Joachim reached across and gripped both her hands. Marta suddenly felt cold and nauseous, her head seemed to be expanding, her mind blanking. She held onto Joachim like a lifeline as consciousness fled. Then she was in a dark place, and falling helplessly into an abyss. In another instant, she was in another cave, faintly lighted and someone was waiting for her. Someone she had not seen since she was a child.

A sob broke from her as she recognized her father, still as she had last seen him, darkly handsome with a wide smiling face, intense and intelligent eyes that twinkled when he laughed. He was dressed in a white shirt trimmed with colourful edging, a dark vest and trousers. He held out his hands and she rushed into his arms. The scent he always had about him rose into her nostrils--the horsey smell of someone who trained and healed horses. Her heart felt near bursting with the remembered love she had for this strong man; it had been so long since she had been so close to him.

Suddenly, she was a child again, and he was holding her tightly. She could hear his heart beating fast and loud against her ear. He held her away and said urgently, "Go with your mother and brother. Take care of them, mi corazon. Hurry!" Marta felt herself being drawn away by hands that gripped painfully. In the dark, she could hear loud sounds, shrieks, angry yells, and screams. She tried to escape those hands dragging her from her father, and she turned to look as lights danced in the forest, and dark shapes loomed into their camp. She sensed terror and danger, then felt herself being picked up and someone running with her into the darkness. Her mother held her so tightly she could hardly breathe. The horrific sounds receded and she was set down. She could hear her mother panting, sobbing. Others were nearby though she could hardly see them in the dark. She broke away from her mother and ran back toward the noises and the lights--back to her father. Finally, she saw him illuminated in the brilliant light of the fires that were burning their caravans. He was fighting with another man. When he saw her, he pushed the other man into a burning caravan and ran to her. Picking her up, he found a hollowed tree stump and pushed her inside. "Don't come out no matter what you hear, querida. Wait for me to come for you." Then he was gone. Marta covered her ears against the noises. The smoke stung her eyes and she shut them tight and hid in the dark.

Marta moved away from her father slightly and gazed into those black eyes. "I remember everything now, Papa," she said brokenly. "That night has been hidden in my memory all this time. I never knew what happened. Mama wouldn't speak of it. Nor would the others. It was buried in the forest like your body, and I had lost those memories until now." She shook her head, almost too overcome to speak. "Why did you bring this all back to me? It is too painful." She pressed herself against him again.

"It is better to know the truth. If you understand your fears, you can control them." His deep voice resonated against her ear. "I am very proud of you, Marta."

She pushed herself away suddenly. "How can you be proud of me, Papa? I have turned my back on my people, brought nothing but pain to my mother." She took a deep breath and continued, "I ran away and married a French soldier. Are you proud of that? I left Mama when she needed me. She was training me to be her apprentice, to succeed her as the healing woman. I left that behind me too. What is there to be proud of? It would have been better for everyone had I not been born."

"Look, Marta," her father said softly. An image formed in the darkness. A little girl sat weeping by a fountain. The young Gypsy girl stopped to look, then passed by. The child's aunt came out, scolded her and took her back inside the villa. The image changed to the inside of the villa and the child was now a young woman. Her dark eyes were angry, resentful. "What a nerve, Tia Damona!" she said. "He actually proposed marriage to me. That fool Enrique. Who would want such a simpleton?" Her aunt, a portly woman dressed completely in black, came to her side. "You have done the right thing, Tessa. His family is a disgrace. I have someone else in mind for you. A young man from Madrid. His name is Antonio de la Cruz, and his family is illustrious and wealthy. Antonio's father has wisely invested in French businesses. I will arrange an introduction." Tessa turned to her aunt, her eyes uncertain. "Tia, do mean that Antonio's father is an afrancesado? A collaborator with the French?" Her aunt tapped Tessa's hand with her lace fan. "Of course. The important thing, Tessa, is to ally yourself with the winning side. Always remember that." The scene changed again. Tessa, now older, was in California. Her hacienda was a shambles, looted and abandoned. She turned as a handsomely dressed military man dismounted from his horse. "I am Colonel Luis Ramirez Montoya," he said as he gallantly kissed her hand. "I am sorry for you to have such a welcome." Tessa looked him up and down, calculation in her eyes. "My welcome had left much to be desired, but that has now been rectified, Colonel Montoya." Their eyes met and an understanding passed between them.

The images vanished and Marta's father smiled at her. "You have made mistakes, mi corazon, but they were made from love, not hate. And the good you have accomplished, do you not think it balances those mistakes? You have taken a child into your heart and raised her as your own. Think what a difference that has made in the world."

"I have given Mama much pain. And very little else." Marta turned away and looked into the darkness that surrounded them.

"Your Mama will join me soon. But for now, she has been training your brother, Rafael's daughter to be her successor. The girl is learning quickly and seems fitted by nature to be a healer. Had you stayed, Amelia would not have had this chance to learn the healing arts. Fate has directed your steps, Marta. You could not have done other than you did. Your mother forgave you long ago. When will you forgive yourself?"

Marta was silent for a long time. The image of Tessa growing up vain and spiteful like her cousin, Elena, disturbed her. Had it not been for me, that would have been her fate. To be a cold and calculating woman like her aunt. Marta shuddered at the image of Tessa allying herself with Montoya--always be on the winning side, her aunt had counselled. She smiled to think of little Amelia, now grown up, and learning to be a healer. Rafael must be so proud of her, Marta thought with a rush of warmth. She felt her father's eyes watching her, and turned back to face him.

"I understand now why I was brought here, and the lesson I had to learn. Will I ever see you again, Papa?" she asked in a hushed voice. He smiled sadly and held out his arms.

"You will see me again, Marta. Now I must go." He held her closely and darkness enclosed them both. Marta closed her eyes against the sudden pain that threatened to suffocate her.

When she opened her eyes, she was alone in the cave. The faint light was fading and she knew she must hurry to get out before the light was gone. There was one tunnel leading out of the cavern and she rushed into it only to confront again the terror that held her from taking any more steps. Suddenly, a large black bird came from the darkness and landed on her shoulder. A raven, Marta mused as she recovered from her shock. The bird of augury and death. Its talons dug into her shoulder, and as it leaned against her head, she could hear its heart beating rapidly, its warmth and solidity gave her courage. She reached up and stroked the bird's glossy feathers. It squawked loudly and fluttered. She began to move forward. The bird's eyes brightened and all at once, there was a weak light to guide her, enough that she was able to find the way out.

She stepped out into the brightness and found herself still sitting in the cave holding Joachim's hands so tightly her knuckles were whitened. His soft brown eyes regarded her with understanding and fondness.

He placed his hands on both sides of her head and leaned his head against her forehead. She heard his voice in her mind. "Did you meet your Dream Helper?"

"Yes," Marta thought back. "It was a ..." Her thoughts seemed to meet a blankness as he shut her out.

"Your Dream Helper is a sacred being, known only to yourself." He released her and, with some difficulty, stood up. "Now, it is time to return to the world, Marta," he signed to her. Carefully, Joachim put out the campfire, then picked up the torch. Without warning, he doused it, plunging them both into complete darkness.

Panic seized her at once as the light disappeared. She could hardly breathe. Or move. What did I learn here? she thought morosely. The terror is still there. What was it her father had said? If you understand your fear, you can control it. Marta forced herself to remain still, and searched for that understanding. My fear came from that terrible night when my father was murdered by superstitious villagers. He hid me to save me, but I have been hiding ever since from that memory. The sights and sounds of that night arose once more in her mind. A tear slid down her cheek as she saw that last glimpse of her father before he hid her in the hollow tree trunk. A knifelike pain seemed to slice her heart as she heard it all again. From somewhere ahead, she saw a faint glow, like two tawny eyes in the dark. She started toward them and kept moving. Soon she saw a brightness before her and knew the end of the tunnel had been reached and she was near the entrance of the cave. As she stepped out of the tunnel, she saw Joachim already there, waiting for her.

The cave has two exits, he signed to her with a wide pleased smile. I kept a candle in the other one to find my way out. I do not have the eyes of a bat. His laugh sounded like a wheeze as he regarded her with a mixture of amusement and pride. You have found your own way, Marta. If you let them, your guides will never fail you.

"Must I give up my ancient beliefs to adopt these new ones," she asked anxiously.

Your beliefs and mine are the same. Your people and mine share a deep kinship. We are all one people, he signed.

He took Marta's hand and placed it against his heart. She felt the bond grow stronger, something beyond words. She smiled, too moved to speak. At length, she stepped away and turned to her clothing that lay near the pool. She gathered it up and placed it in her pouch. Then, going back to him, she kissed both his cheeks and went out onto the ledge. The climb down was easier and soon she was at the bottom where she had left her horse. She came around the rock and out into the plain.

To her surprise, she found Tessa seated on the wagon, waiting for her. A bemused look crossed the young woman's face as she watched Marta leading her horse, preparing to mount. "Where you up there in that cave, Marta?" Tessa asked, incredulity edging her voice.

"Yes," Marta replied with a secretive smile. She climbed on her horse, and turned toward the villa. "Why are you back so soon, Tessa?"

"I didn't go to town. I felt bad about our argument and came back to apologize. Rosa told me you had gone out on your mare, and she pointed the direction to me. I have been searching for you. I was worried. What were you doing in that cave? I thought you were afraid of such places."

"I am, but I had something to learn there." Marta kneed the horse into a trot, and Tessa got the wagon moving, keeping pace with her.

"What is that strange gown you're wearing? It looks like a ceremonial outfit," Tessa called over the din of the wagon.

"I may explain it to you later, Tessa. For now, I prefer not to speak of it." She looked across at the younger woman, how the wind made her black hair flow behind her head--like a raven's wing. The signs are everywhere, if we have eyes to see them, she thought with a full heart.

THE END

RATING: G
DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks seems to have discarded them, so we have them to ourselves <G>
FEEDBACK: yes, please

TRIO: scissors, pocket watch, El Camino Real

~~~~~

Tessa entered the office just as Helm was ruefully looking in his mirror, brushing back long unruly strands of his dark hair. "Buenos dias, doctor," she said brightly. She laughed fondly at his unkempt appearance. "You look like you need a barber. Maybe, someday, when our little pueblo is bigger, we may have one."

Helm started at her unexpected entrance. "I'd hate for you to bruise those delicate knuckles on my door, Tessa, but maybe, once in a while, you could give me a bit of warning before you enter," he said irritably. He pushed at his hair and it flopped back over his brow. "I was just about to take the scissors to this mop when you came in." His hazel eyes warmed and he moved closer, so close he could feel the heat from her body. "Now that you're here, perhaps we can find something more pleasurable to do."

She pulled the pocket watch from his vest just as he reached to embrace her. "I haven't much time, Roberto." She sighed resignedly. "I'm supposed to meet Vera at the cantina in about fifteen minutes. However," she grinned mischievously, "I could cut your hair for you." She picked up a pair of scissors from his table, brandishing it like a sword.

"It's not that bad. Gracias, Tessa, but I'll do it myself." He nearly laughed aloud at her sudden angry pout, but as she turned away to leave, he relented. "All right, lady barber. Have a go at it." He sat down in a chair and watched as she searched inside her reticule for something. She pulled out a tortoiseshell comb. With the comb in one hand and the scissors in the other she approached him, seemingly nervously. "You have done this before, haven't you?" he asked anxiously as she began to pull the comb through his hair. It felt delicious, especially with her body so close, he could feel its warmth against his face. Perhaps this was not such a bad idea after all.

Tessa paused, considering how to answer. Truthfully, or with an evasion. Her memory flashed back to the incident from her childhood, where she trimmed a large lock of her cousin, Sandro's, hair while he slept. He deserved it after the trick he played on her! She giggled at the remembered sight of Sandro waking to find the entire front of his head nearly bare. "Yes, Roberto, I have cut hair before. And I have watched Marta barber the workers' hair many times. There is nothing to it."

With that, she began to trim his fine hair. It was not as easy as it looked. Using the comb, she cut from the sides, then the top. She thought, That's not even now, I'll have to cut more from that side. Now it doesn't look right with the top. Maybe a little more off there too. Oh, oh. Too much. A little more off each side to even it up. Damn! Tessa looked at the pile of dark hair surrounding the chair in dismay. Maybe I can take his mirror with me and drop it somewhere on the Camino Real, she thought in consternation.

She suddenly pulled his watch from his pocket once again and exclaimed, "Oh my, look at the time! I have to run." She replaced the scissors on the table, then with a quick warm kiss on his bemused cheek, she hurried to the door. "By the way, Roberto, you do have a hat, don't you?" Before he could answer, she was out the door and gone.

END

RATING: G
FEEDBACK: Yes, please
DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks, for now

And now for something completely different...

QUOTE 2: "You can collect evidence to support any belief." The Angel - Brimstone

~~~~~

"You can collect evidence to support any belief." Helm looked into Churi's eyes. Their darkness and ageless depth seemed to compel him to stare, to draw him into that eternity; so much wisdom for one so young. Helm was shaken for a moment, then shrugged off the chill that suddenly rippled through his lean frame.

"You reject the truth of your own eyes, Doctor." The young shaman calmly added these comments to the long discussion the two men had continued for several hours. Churi had returned to thank the doctor for his care, and his help in retrieving the sacred mask. Their ensuing debate on beliefs now seemed to be at a standstill; neither man willing or able to give way.

Churi's serious young face studied Helm and made the doctor uncomfortable. Helm had put aside all that religious nonsense long ago. Too many deaths had convinced him of the futility of trying to change Fate; too many disappointments and failures made him sure there was no grand plan for the universe--no deity's guiding hand controlling each life. Chaos ruled. One could only try to meet the challenges of each day and move on. No point in trying to plan for tomorrow, much less an afterworld. But Churi's faith seemed so sure and immutable; he was so very peaceful in his beliefs in his gods, so tranquil in his certainty of his place in the universe. It gave Helm pause. Could it be possible that there was such a Creator who cared about every life, human or animal? Helm shook his head as if to rid himself of such a ridiculous thought. It ran counter to all his experiences. Death took the very young and the very old, the beautiful and the profane, with an equal brutality. What part of the grand plan made wars so constant? What grand plan created such plagues as he had seen in Spain and elsewhere? Whose plan was served by blindness, mental infirmity, physical deformity?

Helm glanced at Churi as he felt the young shaman's eyes still observing him. Churi seemed to occupy a still, silent place as if resting in the hands of his gods. Helm envied him. If only I could believe in anything, he thought with a heavy sigh. He felt Churi's hand on his shoulder and gasped at the shock of power that seemed to come from the shaman's touch. Those ageless eyes held him.

"I could teach you, Doctor, if you are willing to take this journey. When you are ready, I will come to you." With that, Churi removed his hand and with a brief smile, turned toward the back door of Helm's office and disappeared into the darkness.

When the shaman was gone, Helm sank onto his chair as if a force had suddenly released him. He felt slightly breathless and dizzy. And frightened. What if Churi is right? Helm knew he was in for a long night as sleep was now beyond his grasp. The single candle on his table cast a pool of light around him; his only comfort for that lonely vigil ahead.

END

RATING: G
FEEDBACK: Yes, please
DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks, and now maybe Zorro Productions and Sony and Tristar and.... somebody owns this copyright, I guess.

This little vignette is the product of several coffees first thing in the morning.

TRIO CHALLENGE: A pail , a promise, herb garden

~~~~~

"Marta, why are you weeding the herb garden when the roses are languishing. And besides," Tessa began to sing, "Here comes the rain again, falling on my head like a new emotion."

The Gypsy woman stood up and belted out, "I beg your pardon, I never promised you a rose garden, Along with the sunshine, there's got to be a little rain sometimes."

"Yes, but Marta, after you set the cake out to cool "Someone left a cake out in the rain, ...."

Marta replies, "...and I don't think that I can take it, It took so long to bake and I'll never have that recipe again....Oh noooo."

"Well, I'm going in because, "Raindrops keep falling on my head..."

Marta says, "You go in if you want to, but as for me," she picks up a pail and swings it around, and begins to dance among the herbs, "I'm singin' in the rain, just singin' in the rain, what a glorious feelin', I'm happy again."

"I guess you're right, Marta. The rain is wonderful." Tessa lifts her face to the silvery drops and sings, "Every time it rains, it rains, pennies from heaven,... and if you want the things you love, you must have showers,..."

Marta and Tessa join their voices in a duet, "So if you hear it thunder, don't run under a tree, There'll be pennies from heaven for you and me."

END

OK, name that tune...anyone know all the songs mentioned in this vignette?

--Maril

RATING: G
FEEDBACK: ? wait until you read it <g>
DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks has the copyrights, I'm just giving them some exercise.

"Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven" -- Milton

Musket ball, Slippers, Rake

~~~~~

The sounds of animated conversation and guitar music drifted over the walls of the Rose Courtyard as the two women approached. The younger woman squared her shoulders and drew in a deep breath. "I guess I can't put it off any longer, Marta. We're already late as it is. But at least, the torment of Montoya's party won't last so long tonight." She smiled wryly at her friend and walked through the gate into the brilliantly lit courtyard.

A very large crowd milled in small groups throughout the garden. A larger crowd than usual, Tessa noted. Who were these other people? She had never seen them before.

Colonel Montoya spotted his late-arriving guests and strode over to greet them. "Señorita Alvarado. I was beginning to fear you would not attend this evening's gala." He bent gracefully in a courtly bow, then took up her hand and kissed it, smiling intently into her eyes. His grey eyes coolly glanced over Marta, and he nodded curtly.

"You know I would never miss one of your social events, Colonel. I was delayed by business at my hacienda." Gesturing to the strangers among the usual assemblage of local gentry, she asked, "You seem to have some new guests here tonight. I don't believe I've met them."

"Their ship put into our little harbour today for repairs. Naturally, I had to extend my Spanish hospitality to them."

"You mean you put them in your jail, Colonel?" Marta remarked dryly. His cold glance made the corners of her mouth quirk as she tried to smother a smile.

Ignoring Marta's wry comment, Montoya took Tessa's arm and began to lead her toward a group of strangers. Three men in sombreros leaned against the courtyard wall, strumming their guitars.

"Señorita Alvarado, may I present, Jim, Rodlox and Neil, who called themselves 'The Three Amigos'. They have graciously offered to entertain us this evening." The three men bowed, giving Tessa such warm looks that she felt her cheeks colouring.

"Señores," she said coolly, fluttering her fan. The Colonel led her across the courtyard to another group. In their midst, she could see Dr. Helm, almost completely surrounded by women. Her face grew warmer still as she noted his seeming pleasure at being the centre of attention in this group of adoring women. She could hear his laugh rising above their animated chatter. Her blood began to boil.

"Ah, Dr. Helm," the colonel laughed, "I almost didn't see you in that crowd." He turned to Tessa and said, "These ladies found themselves beached upon our shores, and the good doctor has been kind enough to show them the town and its many attractions."

"Of which, he is obviously the main one," Tessa remarked under her breath. She heard Marta chuckle maddeningly beside her.

"Let me introduce you to Jo, Dea, Eliza, Maril, MnD, Margie, Li, Julie, ...."

Montoya continued to roll off the names but Tessa's attention had wandered. "Excuse me, Colonel. I think I will circulate a bit and greet some of my friends. It was a pleasure meeting you all," she added tersely, lifting her chin and then turning abruptly.

Montoya smirked at her hasty departure. The woman wears her heart on her sleeve, he thought in amusement. A hand on his arm captured his attention. He raised his eyebrows in sudden recognition, then his face fell. "I'm sorry. For a moment, you looked like someone I knew."

"I'm brig," she said brightly. "People are always saying I resemble someone else -- someone named Lucy."

The colonel swallowed, his face paled, but he quickly recovered. "A passing resemblance only." He kissed her hand courteously. "The woman in question thinks I am the devil incarnate."

"Better to reign in Hell than to serve in heaven?" brig asked with a wry smile.

He frowned, his flinty eyes intense as they regarded her. "How well do you know Lucy?" he demanded.

"A passing acquaintance only," she replied.

Another voice spoke beside him, the woman he introduced as Eliza. "Who is that handsome soldier lounging against the wall, Colonel?"

"That's Captain Grisham, our local rake." Montoya said flatly.

The captain seemed unaware of their scrutiny as he eyed the women in the courtyard while abstractedly tossing a musket ball up and catching it in his hand. Montoya followed the captain's gaze and found it focussed on Tessa Alvarado. He nearly laughed aloud at her indignant return glare at the captain's lustful stare. He clenched his jaw to withhold the smile that threatened as he watched Grisham casually making his way toward the señorita, and her suddenly joining a couple of dons and their wives to avoid him.

"If you don't want to find your slippers under his bed, you would do well to steer clear of Grisham. He seems to have started on a campaign to seduce every woman in the pueblo since he..." The colonel paused, realizing he was retailing local gossip to these strangers. Their fascination with the topic almost made him continue. "If you wish, I could introduce you."

"No thanks, Colonel," Eliza replied. "I was just curious." With the other woman, she wandered back to the group with the doctor.

About an hour later, Tessa had had enough. She had not been able to get near Doctor Helm all evening, surrounded as he was by that bevy of women. And now Grisham seemed to be stalking her everywhere she went. She began to search for Marta and spied her with a small group of women, some of whom she had already met. She made her way to the little gathering and said, "Marta, I'd like to leave now. Let's go."

"I'm in the midst of a conversation, Tessa. A few more minutes, then we'll go." Returning her attention to the women, she said, "Now, where were we? Oh yes, Jo and Maril, I was telling you about my early life in Spain, and about Tessa as a little girl. She was quite a handful. I remember one time..."

Marta's voice broke off as Tessa grabbed her arm, pulling her to her feet. "Oh no,'" she snapped, her face paling, "you're not telling stories about my childhood, Marta! We're leaving now."

With Marta in tow, Tessa strode toward the exit. Montoya intercepted her. "Not leaving already, Señorita Alvarado? The party has only just begun."

"Yes, Colonel, I must. But thank you. Your party was even more stimulating than usual." She turned quickly and went out the gate. And I think I will return later as the Queen to visit a certain doctor who shall be nameless and maybe other part-less, after I give a piece of my mind to a certain Gypsy woman, she fumed as she strode toward her wagon. I was wrong about this party. It wasn't just dull. It was a total disaster!

--Maril

RATING: PG - sexual innuendo
DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks et al have the copyrights, but we keep them alive.
FEEDBACK: yes, please
NOTE: this piece was inspired by Lisa's vignette followed by Jo's suggestion about what would happen when the Queen tried to get her sash back. This must be 'be nice to Grisham' week <g>.

"Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge." Shakespeare (Titus Andronicus)

~~~~~

He seemed to be swimming toward a light at the surface, his mind sluggishly trying to identify what was persistently pricking at his neck. A cool room bathed in moonlight met his gaze as he finally pried his eyes open. Groggily shaking his head brought a needle of pain somewhere near his throat. The moonlight flashed on a length of shiny blade. He followed its luminous path to the hand holding it, then to the shadowy figure standing next to his bed. He groaned. And was rewarded with a throaty chuckle.

"You have something I want, Grisham," she said. The sword tip never wavered far from his throat.

"Well, you know you don't even have to ask," Grisham replied while lifting the covers invitingly. The wan light flashed on his grin.

Another chuckle accompanied the blade moving down toward the top button on his longjohns. "Don't you ever take those off?" the Queen asked, wrinkling her nose at the strong male odour arising from him. She sliced the button and it flew off and bounced on the floor.

"In the mine, you got a little peek at the Grisham body and want to see the rest, eh? Well, I always try to oblige a lady." His hand moved slowly to the next button on the garment, but her sword stopped him.

"Please, spare me. Just give me what I came for and I'll be on my way."

His eyes glittered merrily in the moonlight as he carefully began to reach under his pillow. The increased pressure of the blade on his chest halted him. "I know what you came for and I'm just getting it for you." The blade moved back a fraction and he pulled out a red sash, proffering it to her. As she reached for it, he clamped it in his teeth. "Get it from me," he laughed around the cloth.

"You kept it under your pillow?" Behind the lacy mask, a pair of dark eyes sparkled mischievously. The sinuous swish of silk tracked the sword moving from his chest to his groin region. She lowered her face to his, her breath warming his cheek as she opened her mouth to take hold of the cloth next to his lips. She laughed deep in her throat as she gently tugged on the sash. His grip seemed unbreakable as they silently duelled over the red silk sash.

Her breasts pressed softly against his chest, the warmth of her body and her fragrance drugged his senses. His head was giddy with sensations and reached up to pull her closer. The blade at his groin reminded him she still had the upper hand. But would she use it? He dropped his hands back on the bed and waited while keeping a firm hold on the cloth in his teeth. The silent tug-of-war continued for another slow eternity until she slid her free hand under his longjohns, seductively caressing his chest with her gloved hand. He groaned, sighed deeply, and let go. In a second she had lifted from him and triumphantly bore her prize away in her teeth. She took the sash out and shoved it into her belt. She bent to his ear and whispered, "That was too easy."

"Best of three?"

She laughed lightly. "I still have your uniform, Grisham. What will you do to get it back?"

"You've got me at a disadvantage here. You won't let me use my sword...," he grinned when she laughed at his double-entendre, imagining the colour rising in those beautiful cheeks. "What do you want from me?"

She studied him appraisingly for a moment, then said seriously, "Nothing. You have nothing I want. Besides, "Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge." You were merciful to me in the cave by not taking off my mask when I was unconscious. That was a noble act. Sometimes, even enemies can be allies for a while. Here's your uniform and boots. Now we're even." She leaned over him again and kissed him softly on the lips. "Until the next time, Capitan."

END

RATING: G to PG
DISCLAIMERS: Still Fireworks, et al
NOTE: This is the one combination of characters I haven't tried yet, so I gave it a shot. I think I was inspired by "End of Days". <g>

A necklace, iron rod, Mission

~~~~~

The dust rising on the trail caught her attention. A squad of six soldiers was coming toward her, their banners fluttering vividly against the cerulean sky. In the distance, the mounted men seemed to waver in the heat haze, like a mirage. She sighed heavily. It was not a mirage, and Capitan Grisham was leading the troop right to where she was, near the ruins of the old Mission.

Marta compressed her lips and stood up from her cramped position. Her eyes were wary, unwelcoming as Grisham held up his hand for the men to halt. He grinned down at her; his eyes, blue as the sky, seemed to glitter.

Grisham thinks:
'She's all alone out here. What's she doing? Picking herbs or something for a Gypsy potion, I suppose. Funny, I've never noticed 'til now, how beautiful she is. Look at that face, and her hair, so tangled and curly, not like any woman I've ever seen. Wonder if it's true what they say about Gypsies, how they're more fiery and passionate. Only one way to find out. She's in for a real treat today.'

As he gazed on her, Marta began to feel unaccountably nervous. She fingered the necklace that Joachim had given her. It contained items he had chosen for her, to keep the evil spirits away. 'Too bad it doesn't work on humans,' she thought in alarm, watching Grisham alight from his horse.

"You men ride on and meet me back here in about an hour," he said. Turning back to Marta, he added, "We're patrolling all the likely hideouts that the Queen might have. Every bandit has a secret place where they stash their loot."

"Why don't you ride on with your men, Capitan? I would prefer to be alone."

Marta thinks:
'I don't like the look on his face, a look I have seen many times before. It is usually trouble. At least I have my dagger in my boot, in case he tries anything. And the wagon is not far away. Perhaps I can reach it before anything happens.'

As if reading her mind, Grisham led his horse over to the wagon, and tied its reins to the wheel. He grinned widely, as he took her in with a leisurely assessment. The colour rising in her cheeks only added to his amusement.

Grisham thinks:
'I thought this was going to be just another dreary patrol. But it's turning out far more interesting than I expected. And look how she's blushing. She knows what I'm thinking and is excited. If I can get her inside the ruins, no one can see us if anyone rides by here. Or hear if she tries to resist.'

"Marta, I can't leave you here undefended while there's so much danger everywhere. Bandits, pumas, rattlesnakes..."

"Do not worry about me, Capitan. I know how to handle snakes." She resisted the urge to back away as he moved toward her. Her pulse leapt suddenly; the impulse to flee nearly overcame her. But she waited, keeping her eyes fixed on his.

Grisham thinks:
'She's not backing away. That's a good sign. That means she wants it too. This will be easier than I thought. Though a little resistance always makes it more fun.'

"You know, señorita, I've been attracted to you for a long time. Maybe you've taken a bit of notice of me too. I know I'm not that hard on the eyes. Neither are you. When two people are attracted, and find themselves alone... in a romantic spot like this ...well, I'm not one to let opportunities pass." He reached for her arm and took a firm grip, only to find a boot aimed at his groin. She nearly hit her target. He let go and stepped back quickly, his eyes darkening and narrowing with anger.

"I don't like women who play games. We both know what we want, so let's go. If you try to resist, you'll get hurt."

He lunged for her and grappled her about the waist, taking them both to the ground. His superior strength was winning as she struggled vainly to get loose. His florid face moved down on hers and she tried to turn away, but he gripped her chin and forced her back. As his mouth descended, she heard a loud clang. Then Grisham relaxed suddenly, all of his weight settling upon her. Marta's arms were pinned under him and she was stuck, her mind rebelling against the feel of his body so close to hers. In her peripheral vision, she saw a dark boot shove at the captain's shoulder, rolling him off. A black-gloved hand reached for her and she turned and gasped.

Montoya smiled grimly as he helped her up. She noted the iron rod in his other hand, taken from her wagon likely. "I must apologize for the capitan. He has the base instincts of an animal, but sometimes he is useful. I trust he did not hurt you?" His eyebrows raised as the wintery eyes bored into her.

She knew what he meant and her face flushed hotly. "No, I am not hurt. Thank you, Colonel. What will you do with him?" She glared at the supine Grisham, while her hands trembled with the urge to throttle him for what he tried to do to her.

An amused look crossed the colonel's lips. "What do you want me to do with him? Hang him? Execute him by firing squad?"

"No, Colonel. I have no wish for you to kill him." She stooped to her basket and pulled out some herbs. "This will cure his headache when he awakens. Make sure he takes it all with water."

Marta thinks:
'And the herb will cause him to spend the next day or so in the latrines, along with some severe stomach cramps. I think that will be punishment enough. Of course, I will not tell Tessa of this outrage or she may be tempted to some other revenge. That would be too dangerous for her. He might even be expecting it and set a trap. No, I will take care of this myself.'

The colonel handed her a linen handkerchief to wipe the dust smudging her face and clothes. "We will consider the matter closed then. By the bye, I am quite surprised that you would give him something for his pain, after he attacked and tried to ravish you. Marta, you are a remarkable woman." He bowed over her hand and kissed it.

"There is a time for mercy and a time for revenge. A wise person knows which is which. Buenos dias, Colonel." Marta collected her basket and mounted the wagon, after unfastening Grisham's horse. With a slap of the reins she was off, her blood finally cooling as she smiled to herself. Over her shoulder, she called to the colonel, "And make sure he takes his medicine."

END

RATING: G
FEEDBACK: Yes, please
NOTE: I wasn't very happy with my previous story and the Grisham muse wasn't either. This is the result. <G>

Act 1, scene 1 -

--Marta standing alone near a woven basket, a few metres from the ruins of an old mission. Grisham has just dismounted and is coming toward her with a purposeful look on his face.--

"Marta, I can't leave you here undefended while there's so much danger everywhere. Bandits, pumas, rattlesnakes..."

"Do not worry about me, Capitan. I know how to handle snakes." She resisted the urge to back away as he moved toward her. Her pulse leapt suddenly; the impulse to flee nearly overcame her. But she waited, keeping her eyes fixed on his.

Grisham thinks:
'She's not backing away. That's a good sign. That means she wants it too. This will be easier than I thought. Though a little resistance always makes it more fun.'

"You know, señorita, I've been attracted to you for a long time. Maybe you've taken a bit of notice of me too. I'm not so hard on the eyes. Neither are you. When two people are attracted, and find themselves alone... in a romantic spot like this... well, I'm not one to let opportunities pass." He reached for her arm and took a firm grip, only to find a boot aimed at his groin. She nearly hit her target. He let go and stepped back quickly, his eyes darkening and narrowing with anger.

"I don't like women who play games. We both know what we want, so let's go. If you try to resist, you'll get hurt."

He lunged for her and grappled her about the waist, taking them both to the ground.

GRISHAM: "Whoa ...wait ...hold on here! Where's the writer?
MARIL: "Is there a problem?"
GRISHAM: "You bet there is! I've never had to force a woman in my life. Used alcohol a few times, money now and then. But I've never used force. Unless they wanted it, of course, heh, heh."
MARIL: "So what do you want me to do with this scene?"
GRISHAM, glancing amorously at Marta: "Well, you could make her go along with the seduction at first. I mean, if she could go for that big lummox in "Takes a Thief", why not me?"
MARTA: "Being also a big lummox, you mean?"
GRISHAM, frowning: "I'm sensitive, gentle, romantic. Ask ...., well, never mind."
MARIL: "So you want Marta to seem to be playing along while looking for a chance to escape?"
GRISHAM, eyeing Marta: "Yeah, that's it. And once I start kissing her, she is overcome by passion...
MARTA, coughing uncontrollably: "Sorry, something's stuck in my throat. I can't seem to swallow it." grins apologetically.
GRISHAM: "And another thing. I don't like Montoya clocking me over the head with an iron bar."
MARIL: "Iron rod, see ...it's in the challenge outline. That's why you're out here at this mission."
MARTA: "And why I'm wearing this tacky necklace."
GRISHAM: "Whatever. The audience isn't going to buy Montoya whacking me over the head. We're pals. He can't get along without me."
MARTA, coughing again: "Dry throat. Must be the hot air around here."
GRISHAM: "So, Maril, get out your pencil and start rewriting. Here's how it goes. I get close to Marta, she swoons in my arms from my impetuous passion, and then a love scene begins. I unlace her bodice while she's unbuttoning my tunic, she runs her hands through my flaxen locks..." looks up surprised. "Is there something wrong?"
MARIL: "Yeah, Marta's gone."

Both view a dust cloud rapidly disappearing over horizon.

GRISHAM, kicks the dirt in frustration, then leers at Maril: "Well, I still have about an hour to kill before my men get back. Maybe we could work on that scene together, you know, work the kinks out of it."
MARIL, looking around, says in undertone: "I wonder if Marta left any of that medicine."

END