MARIL FILE 4

Escritoria: Maril de Swanez
maril.swan@sympatico.ca

RATING: G
FEEDBACK: yes, please
DISCLAIMER: Fireworks, et al

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LAS NOTICIAS DE MONTERREY

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Santa Helena, Alta California (via Courier) dateline: June 7, 1818

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SANTA HELENA ---- A daring daylight robbery has once again foiled the attempts of the authorities in this territory to bring the outlaw known as the Queen of Swords to Spanish justice. Just after dawn today, a shipment destined for Monterrey was waylaid by the bold bandita who made off with an undisclosed amount of currency and documents. In the ensuing skirmish, several soldiers were injured, none seriously. The wagon containing the shipment was found later, abandoned at the bottom of a steep cliff; the horses and the contents were missing.

Colonel Luis Montoya, military commander of the territory, has posted a substantial reward for information leading to the capture of this notorious criminal. Asked how one woman could continually elude an entire garrison, he said, "She has the devil's own luck. But, soon, her luck will run out and she will make a fatal mistake. Then, we will have her and justice will be done." He added, "If I had more resources to work with, more men and guns, this sorry episode in California history could be brought to a conclusion, and peace would be restored to this little paradise."

In Monterrey, Viceroy de Sola commented on the problems in the Santa Helena region: "We are aware of the predations of this Queen of Swords and are utilizing what resources we have to bring her to book. Unfortunately, Alta California is a vast territory with many demands for money and men. We just cannot spare anything more for a tiny pueblo and its petty criminals. As the proverb says, 'Why do you need two coats, when you only have one back?' More expenditure on this problem would be a misuse of public funds."

The captain of the guard in Santa Helena, who asked that his name be withheld, when approached for an interview, only said, "No comment." None of the soldiers in the garrison were allowed to speak with the reporter.

In the town of Santa Helena, feelings are mixed on this unusual felon. A local landowner, Seħorita Maria Theresa Alvarado, commented: "I've only seen her a couple of times. She wears a tacky black outfit and covers her face with cheap Spanish lace. If she is a menace to society, she should be apprehended so that we can all feel safe. I'm sure Colonel Montoya is doing his best to catch her."

One of the leading citizens in Santa Helena, Don Gaspar Hidalgo added: "I don't know why she does what she does. For the money, probably. But she helped save my life once, so I really don't know what to think of her. She does not seem to pose a danger to the landowners. Her vendetta, if you like, seems to be with the military commander, Colonel Montoya."

The town's doctor, Robert Helm, was more forthcoming in his assessment of the Queen of Swords. "She's the most remarkable woman I have eve known," he said. With a slight grimace, he added, "I suppose I should also thank her. My practice has become quite busy because of her... tending to broken bones, cuts and bruises. But seriously, she seems to be a latter-day knight, a crusader for her own brand of justice. Though I may deplore her methods, I have to admire her for the courage of her convictions."

For nearly a year, the Queen of Swords has reigned supreme over the territory of Santa Helena, eluding all attempts at her capture, becoming more daring in each of her crimes. A local peasant, asked for his opinion on this bandita, only said, "She fights for us. Viva la Reina de Espadas."

--Maril

RATING: G

NOTE: we move forward nearly two hundred years to the same news story, only it probably wouldn't make the front page. <G>

All the news that fits around the advertising

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THE MONTERREY GAZETTE

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Santa Helena, California (via AP/Reuters) dateline: June 8, 2001

SANTA HELENA -- A daring daylight robbery has once again foiled the attempts of the authorities in this AREA to bring the outlaw known as the Queen of Swords to justice. Just after dawn today, a Brinks truck destined for Monterrey was waylaid by the bold bandit who made off with an undisclosed amount of currency and documents. In the ensuing skirmish, several officers were injured, none seriously. The truck containing the shipment was found later, abandoned at the bottom of a steep cliff; the contents were missing.

Mayor Luis Montoya, a retired army colonel, has posted a substantial reward for information leading to the capture of this notorious criminal. Asked how one woman could continually elude an entire police force, he said, "She has the devil's own luck. But, soon, her luck will run out and she will make a error. Then, we will have her and she will pay for her crimes. She's typical of the slackers this society has to support. Too much money, too much time on their hands and no responsibilities. I think all young people should be taken into the army for at least two years. That would teach them some discipline and respect for authority."

In Monterrey, Chief Inspector de Sola commented on the problems in the Santa Helena region: "We are aware of the predations of this Queen of Swords and are utilizing what resources we have to bring her to book. Unfortunately, California is a vast territory with many demands for money and men. We just cannot spare anything more for a tiny town and its petty criminals. As the proverb says, 'Why do you need two coats, when you only have one back?' More expenditure on this problem would be a misuse of public funds."

The captain of police in Santa Helena, who asked that his name be withheld, when approached for an interview, only said, "No comment." None of the officers in the station were allowed to speak with the reporter.

In the town of Santa Helena, feelings are mixed on this unusual felon. The daughter of a local business owner, Maria Theresa Alvarado, commented: "I've only seen her a couple of times. She's like... totally awesome. I mean... like, she wears this black outfit... and it's like... Gothic, you know. I wanna be her new best friend and we could hang together at the mall. That'd be ...like... way kewl,

y'know."

One of the leading citizens in Santa Helena, and a rival candidate for mayor, Gaspar Hidalgo added: "I don't know why she does what she does. I am sure once she has been apprehended we can take some steps to help her become a useful member of society." He added, "The main platform of my election campaign for mayor is to solve the youth problem in our small town. Rehabilitation, not punishment, is the key to emptying our jails and helping young lawbreakers see the error of their ways."

The town's doctor, Robert Helm, was more forthcoming in his assessment of the Queen of Swords. "She's the most remarkable woman I have ever met," he said. With a slight grin, he added, "I suppose I should also thank her. I spend a lot of time these days filling out HMO forms. Viva la Reina de Espadas!"

--Maril

RATING: G
FEEDBACK: Yes, please
DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks still has the copyrights, we have the imagination.

TRIO CHALLENGE: salt, wooden crate, a pin

~~~~~

"I may have to change my mind about women who wear men's pants," he said as she bounded up the steps toward him. His grey eyes warmed as they slid over the shapely legs encased in the tan trousers. 'Of course, a woman wearing a man's shirt and vest is also quite enchanting,' he added to himself. His lips barely curved as she strode across the deck, seemingly unmindful of its pitching or the slippery salt water washing across it like a frothy river. 'An admirable woman, a law unto herself at sea,' he thought.

Her eyes were bright and keen as a cat's, constantly moving, missing nothing. Now they watched him with barely concealed impatience, as she propped her booted foot on a wooden crate and leaned toward him. He almost wanted to flinch away from her unwavering stare, but schooled his features into a bland look.

Finally, she said curtly, "So what's this about, Montoya? This secret meeting at sea. What do you want?"

Montoya moved away from the taffrail, staggered with the rolling of the ship, and reached out, nearly falling. Mary Rose grabbed his arm, shaking her head. "No sea legs, Montoya? Better hang onto the rail, or better yet, let's go below." She smiled at his wan look at that suggestion. "You're right. It's worse below for landlubbers. So, while you can still talk, and have control over your stomach, tell me what you want."

"I'd like to hire you to take a shipment to Monterrey and bring something back." He waited while that information sunk in. Her wary look bespoke her mistrust. He expected that. "My gold shipments are constantly being waylaid and stolen by the Queen of Swords. I need you to see the next shipment safely to Monterrey."

Her eyes swept over him and a curl of dislike twitched at the corners of her mouth. "Why should I do anything for you, Montoya? You were going to hang my son."

"Money, my dear pirate queen. You need money. I will pay you handsomely to see that the gold is delivered to the municipal offices in the capitol. On the return trip, you will bring me a special package that is waiting in Monterrey. And..." his eyes became as dark as the seas tossing the ship, "... if you do not, I may have to take your hacienda for non-payment of taxes." He smiled at the sudden anger, like lightening, that flashed in her blue eyes. He relaxed against the rail, abstractedly twirling the diamond pin in his cravat ...and waited.

After several seconds, she replied, "What makes you think you can trust me? I might just take the gold myself. For all you know, I could be the Queen of Swords."

Montoya burst out laughing, unable to control the sudden fit of mirth. "Is this an impromptu confession?" Regaining his composure, he said, "You couldn't be the Queen. I have been close to her many times. She has black hair, you are fair-haired..."

"A wig can cover the hair." Mary Rose smiled roguishly, a merry twinkle in her eyes.

"And the eyes? Hers are dark, like the pit of hell, while yours are the clear blue of the eternal sky. Not even a lace mask could disguise your eye colour. No, Mary Rose, you could not be the Queen of Swords. You should be satisfied being the Queen of the Sea, Neptune's bride." He held onto the rail while taking her hand and placing a reverent kiss on the back. "Now about our deal..."

Continued as Deal Round Robin

By Maril
maril.swan@sympatico.ca

RATING: G
FEEDBACK: yes, please
DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks has the copyrights, but doesn't own their souls

QUOTE: "Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever. " - Napoleon Bonaparte

~~~~~

"Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever." Helm snorted softly as his finger traced the thin blue line underscoring the printed words. All through the book Montoya had lent him were such telling lines beneath Napoleon's aphorisms. 'He has no idea how much he has revealed about himself in this book. It is more about Montoya than Napoleon,' he thought as he closed the thick volume. The sudden waft of air caused the lone candle to flicker over the dark leather. It glinted on the hand-tooled gold lettering of the cover. Helm smoothed his lean hand over its pebbly surface, and leaned back against the cushions on his narrow cot.

'What's he trying to tell me with this book?' Helm wondered as he watched the dancing light on the ceiling of his bedroom. 'Is he trying to enlist me in his crusade to create an empire in California? Get me onside against the Queen? Montoya is devilishly clever and never does anything without a reason. What is it? Looking for understanding, comradeship?' Helm smiled wryly. 'As if someone who has tried to murder me twice could ever become a trusted friend. Preposterous!' And yet as Helm thought about the colonel, he had to admit a grudging admiration for him. 'Damn,' he thought with a mirthless laugh, 'I think I even like the guy. I must be going crazy in this isolated little place. Next thing you know, I'll be proposing marriage to Señorita Alvarado!' He laughed aloud at the thought. 'What a catastrophe that would be! She'd never give me a moment's peace. Though,' he mused, seeing her lithe form in his mind's eye, 'there would certainly be some interesting compensations.'

Guiltily, he dismissed the thought as another face, half covered by lace arose in his mind. He sighed heavily at the hopelessness of their situation. A few tender moments together and a single kiss. That comprised their entire romance. It would never be more than that as long as she continued her own crusade for something called 'justice'. He could not espouse her cause any more than he could Montoya's.

Helm set the book down on the floor and quenched the candle. He settled comfortably and stared at the ceiling for a long time. 'Two enemies, one I love and the other I hate, both wanting me to be their friend. An irreconcilable situation. All I can do is stand between them and try to stop them from killing each other. At least in war, the enemy is well defined. Until the war is over, then we become friends again. It's crazy.'

His thoughts moved to his brief stop-over on St. Helena with the British army. He had caught a glimpse of Napoleon there among his retinue of sycophants. The Great Man lived in luxurious exile, revered even by the British inhabitants who were in awe of him. His empire had shrunk to one obscure island somewhere near Africa. 'If Montoya wants an empire, he should be satisfied with his own Santa Helena. It's about all a man can manage in his lifetime.' He yawned widely. 'As for me, I'd be satisfied with just enough space for a certain woman to lie beside me every night.' He pulled his pillow tight against his chest and fell asleep.

THE END

RATING: G
FEEDBACK: beta, yes please
DISCLAIMER: Fireworks created them, we're keeping them alive

QUOTE CHALLENGE 21

~~~~~

"Why should I return to California now, Marta? With both my parents dead, there is nothing to go back for. Why should I leave everything that is familiar to go into the unknown?" Marta mused over this conversation with Tessa as she watched the younger woman now pacing impatiently on the quarterdeck, waiting for the longboats to be loaded. The sailors sweated under the relentless sun, slinging the barrels and trunks over the side onto the waiting boats. Already they had been rowed ashore several times with the cargo and come back to be reloaded.

Marta returned her gaze to the blue Pacific, flowing gently to that bleak shore. It looks like a desert, she thought with some misgiving at the rocky coastline with hardly a hint of green. Maybe I should not have convinced Tessa to come here. She recalled the long debate with Tessa over this trip. The news of Don Alvarado's death had devastated his daughter, and she had leaned heavily on Marta for support.

In her emotional state, the younger woman had vacillated between longing for her home in California and determination to sell it and remain in their villa in Madrid. At one point she had said to Marta, "I will hire an agent to sell my hacienda for me, and stay here." Marta's own sharp reply had started a firestorm of anger, but had accomplished its purpose. In exasperation, Marta had said finally, "Why don't you just advertise for someone to rob you blind?"

Tessa had sulked over that remark, but eventually agreed to return to California, if only to see to the legalities of her inheritance. She had no death certificate and was unable to obtain any funds other than the annuity which her father had set up for her maintenance in Madrid. There was not enough to buy passage for the two of them. Tessa's uncle, Alejandro, had come to the rescue. He had arranged for a family to lease the villa in Madrid, and they had given a year's rent in advance. Marta sniffed angrily at the memory. I could have got twice what he agreed to. The man has no head for business.

She shook that annoying thought away and concentrated on the present. Watching Tessa now, she sensed the tension that had been building all during this long, arduous voyage. The Atlantic crossing had been uneventful, but the trek through the Isthmus of Panama had been hard on everyone. In the steaming jungle, attacked constantly by hordes of mosquitoes, eating unknown foods and drinking contaminated water, many had become sick. One child had died. By the time they had arrived at Panama City, the long mule train, with its native bearers and sickly passengers, was exhausted. But the Panama shortcut had saved months of travel by the safer route, around Cape Horn. She recalled Tessa's disappointment when they arrived to find no ships waiting in Panama's harbour. Two weeks had passed before a northbound British merchantman had sailed into the port. At least, we were able to regain our strength for the last part of this journey, Marta thought as she watched the long breakers splashing onto that unknown shore.

The memory of the voyage up the coast made Marta smile. Tessa had been impatient and bored. At one point, she had asked the captain if she could stand on the upper deck with him. The captain, a middle-aged man, was quite smitten with her, and suggested she take the ship's wheel. When Tessa had protested, he had said, "Anyone can hold the helm when the sea is calm." Marta chuckled when she remembered how alarmed the superstitious sailors were, watching a woman at the wheel.

Marta leaned on the taffrail, enjoying the gentle rocking of the ship as it rose and fell rhythmically. The waves rolled onto a long white shoreline, on which she could see a cluster of people standing amidst the baggage. Waiting for the ship. I hope we will find someone waiting for us. Tessa had sent a message to Don Federico, her godfather, that she would be arriving as soon as she could get passage on a ship going to Panama. It is more likely the message will arrive after we do, Marta thought wryly, smiling to herself.

She felt someone grab her arm and turned to see Tessa, her eyes alight with excitement. "They're finally debarking the passengers! Come on, let's get in the boat." She hugged Marta and whispered, "We're home, Marta. Thank you."

END

RATING: G
FEEDBACK: yes, please & beta
DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks still owns the copyrights, but they play in my backyard now <g>

TRIO 22 croquet mallet, a chemise, orange

~~~~~

Tessa lifted the heavy object and examined it, frowning at the stick with the cylindrical block attached to its end. Her attention was diverted to Doctor Helm, industriously planting metal hoops at intervals in the scrubby earth. As he bent to his task, his white shirt tightened over his shoulders, revealing the taut muscles underneath. With long adept fingers, he pushed the hoops into the ground. She followed those graceful strong hands to the corded muscles in his forearm. She sighed with a bit of disappointment û the rest of his arm and torso was covered by his shirt. But the fabric of his pants stretched very tightly over his rear, of which his position gave her an unrestricted view. She felt herself warm with awareness of his athletic body. Her chemise seemed to suddenly be clinging damply to her. She flourished her fan with vigour.

He turned as he bent again, his face flushed with exertion in the torrid heat of the sun, and noticed her staring at him. What the devil...? he wondered, then felt his face grow even hotter. She was admiring him, almost unabashedly. Of all the cheek, he thought, restraining an urge to laugh with embarrassment. He straightened up, brushing back the unruly strands of damp hair that stuck to the sweat on his brow.

"Right," he said, "Now the croquet court is set up for your party. It's a simple game when you've done it once." He picked up a wooden ball and dropped it at her feet. "You take the orange ball, and I'll take the green one." Helm went on explaining the rules of croquet but he was sure she was not taking it in. Finally, he said, "Now take the croquet mallet, and hit the ball through the hoop over there."

"Perhaps you could help me with the first try, Doctor." Tessa positioned herself awkwardly with the mallet near the ball and waited. It was all she could do not to laugh at the look of consternation on his face.

"Just hit it," he said. He groaned as the ball careened across the short grass at a sharp angle away from the hoop. He strode over and retrieved the ball, dropping it once more near the mallet.

"I've never played this game before, Doctor. Could you show me how to swing the club?" She implored him with her eyes, and watched his shoulders sag with resignation. She tried not to giggle as he moved behind her. She felt his arms go around her and then his hands covered hers on the mallet.

"Like this, just an easy, smooth stroke." He pulled her arm back and pushed to give the ball a sharp knock with the club. The ball rolled short of the hoop. With an exasperated sigh, he went and got the ball again. She seemed to have pulled back just as he made the swing, her resistence made the hit go short. "Don't resist. Let me do everything," he said very near her ear as he positioned himself once more behind her and took her hands again.

This time she added her own strength and the ball shot through the hoop and far down the court. As he trudged after it, Tessa stifled a laugh, coughing delicately when he turned suddenly at the sound.

"Let's try again. You have to learn the momentum, not too fast or too slow." Once more he leaned over her, trying to ignore the scent of some pleasant perfume from her hair. He concentrated on positioning her hands on the mallet and getting the swing just right. Somehow, he couldn't seem to get the hang of it anymore. The warmth and closeness of her body was distracting him. And to make matters worse, he was almost sure she was laughing at him.

"I don't think I'll ever master this game, Doctor Helm." She turned in his arms, her face very near his; her lips only inches away.

"On the contrary," he said, with a nervous laugh, "I think you play this game only too well."

END?

RATING: PG-13 for sexual innuendo
FEEDBACK: and beta, please
DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks

Epilogue to "End of Days" - a missing scene that I promised Eliza <BG>

#22 QUOTE: "Always forgive your enemies. That's what they hate most." -Unknown

~~~~~

"Always forgive your enemies. That's what they hate most." Grisham laughed scornfully as he recalled Montoya's little dictum. The colonel had been referring to the antagonism that had sprung up between the doctor and the captain. What was the rest of it? "Bury the hatchet, and let peace reign in our little pueblo." He chuckled at his own riposte to that.

"Colonel," he'd said, "I thought the Queen of Swords reigned over the pueblo." That remark had earned him an icy stare from his commander. Grisham grinned.

"Chalk one up for the captain," he said aloud, making a stroke in the air with his finger. His voice echoed hollowly in the mine and he shuddered as he picked his way through the rubble. 'Not much farther now,' he consoled himself. Each uneasy step seemed to make the unstable structure tremble and groan. 'I must be nuts, doing this,' he berated himself. 'But a promise is a promise.' Finally, in the lantern-light, he saw what he had come into this crumbling mine to get--the bundle of dark clothes lying amidst the fallen rocks.

Grisham froze as the broken timbers groaned and the wind sighed through the cave like a soul in torment. He drew a shaky breath and bent to pick up the black garments. He shook off the dust and grit clinging to the fine material of the blouse, enjoying the pliant softness of the silk in his calloused fingers. A scent wafted to his nose--a subtle flowery perfume. He recalled watching her take off the blouse and trousers, leaving only a black chemise and a lacy undergarment covering her luscious body. She had demanded he turn around so she could disrobe, but he had refused.

"No deal," he'd said. "You watched me take off my uniform, I get to do the same." Grisham chuckled to himself now as he remembered the fury that had leapt into her eyes, then the crimson that glowed on her cheeks. Obviously, she had never been with a man. That sudden thought nearly staggered him, and a flush of heat rushed through his body. 'I sure blew my chance,' he thought angrily. 'I had her at a disadvantage, and let her go. Damn! I must be getting soft.' Though a certain part of his anatomy denied this assertion.

A sharp crack, and the rattle of falling rocks shook him back to the present. 'Better get out of here before this whole thing collapses.' He scooped up the black boots and pants, and retraced his steps to the cave entrance. He stumbled out and squinted at the blessed sunlight that greeted him. That and a dark figure sitting on a boulder, swinging her foot abstractedly.

"If I had thought you were going take all day, I would have gone in myself," she said brusquely. She stood up and lifted a large canvas sack. "Fair trade," she said, moving toward him. "Here's your uniform. Now give me my things." She watched him warily, keeping her back to the cliff.

"I didn't bring anyone with me, if that's what you're worried about." Grisham grinned, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "I kept my part of the bargain." He set her clothes down on a rock and stepped back, keeping his hands open and easy.

The Queen of Swords set the canvas sack on the same rock and waited for him to take it.

Grisham lifted the bag and opened it. He whistled appreciatively as he pulled out a pair of shiny black boots. "I could never get my orderly to put a polish on them like this. How did you do it?"

"I spat on them," she said and then laughed at his indignant look. "Spit and polish, it's a joke." She shook her head ruefully and reached for her own clothes and boots.

"Not so fast," Grisham said, with his hand on her arm. "In the mine, you promised me a kiss. Instead, you nearly broke my nose. I want that kiss now."

"That wasn't part of the bargain," she said, her voice lowering, as she tried to pull her arm away. Her other hand moved toward her sword.

"One kiss, will that kill you?" he coaxed, squeezing her forearm gently. He stared intensely into those beautiful brown eyes, and smiled at the indecision he saw there. "Afraid you might like it?"

That broke the spell. She pushed him away roughly and pulled her sword. "You got what we agreed to ...now let's just call it even before someone gets hurt." She whistled and her horse trotted out from behind a cleft in the rocks. An impish smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. Suddenly, she bent forward and placed a brief kiss on his lips.

He closed his eyes and sighed, savouring the softness of her lips, the promise of passion as she pressed gently upon his mouth. Then she was gone. He almost felt like he was falling, as if the bottom had dropped out of the earth, leaving him weightless. Opening his eyes, he watched the dust trail swallow her up. With a resigned shrug, he shouldered the canvas sack and trudged to where he had left his own horse.

'What a woman!,' he thought to himself. 'All that fire and passion, wasted on that insipid Brit.' His gut roiled at the thought, and he chalked up another mark against the doctor, another reason to hate him. 'Forgive your enemies,' he chuckled ironically to himself. 'Not if you expect to live to fight another day.'

END

By Maril

DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks Productions owns them but has abandoned ship, the crew has taken over
RATING: G
FEEDBACK: Yes, please and beta

TRIO: cameo brooch, weight scales, a lantern

~~~~~

In the flickering lantern light, the doctor rummaged through an old trunk. It had just arrived on a ship from England and contained items that he had sent home for. He grinned widely as he reached for an oil-cloth wrapped object. Pulling it out, he quickly unwrapped it to reveal a weigh scale and a set of brass weights. 'Finally,' he sighed to himself. 'I can make up medicines more accurately using my own familiar system of British weights and measures.' Almost reverently, he set the scale and weights on his work table and returned to the trunk. It held many more treasures yet, he hoped.

One by one, he lifted out the clothing, books and medical instruments. As he handled each item, he imagined his mother, painstakingly packing everything, her loving touch on each carefully selected article in the trunk. The thought affected him so strongly, he felt the prick of tears behind his eyes. It had been years since he had seen her.

Near the bottom was a small velvet box. Helm lifted it out and opened it, bemused. Inside he found a note wrapped around something. As he began to open the paper, a cameo brooch fell into his hand. The sight of that brooch, which his mother had always worn pinned to her gown, brought a rush of emotion he could hardly contain. He clenched it in his hand, as a tear rolled down his cheek. He opened the note and began to read. It was in his mother's hand.

Dear Son,
This family heirloom has been given by the Helm men to their betrothed for generations. I send it to you now in the fervent hope that you will find the right woman to whom to give your troth. ..."

The rest of the words swam before his eyes. He was so moved by her generous gift, he just sat back on his heels, and studied the ebony oval with its ivory image for a long time.

His reverie was broken by a draft of wind through his office, then a swish of silk. He grinned and stood up, a little stiffly from being in a cramped position for so long. A warm voice behind him brought on a new flood of emotions and he turned to face the black-masked beauty of the Queen of Swords.

"Are you packing to leave us?" she asked with an alarmed expression, gesturing at the trunk.

"No," he said hastily. "This came today on the boat. It's some of my things that I sent home for." He paused, and looked down at his hand enclosing the brooch. "And a few things I didn't expect." He gazed into those warm brown eyes, regarding him so seriously. He stepped toward her and took her gloved hand. Turning it over, he placed the cameo brooch into her palm.

Her expression was surprised, confused. Then she smiled uncertainly. "What is this?"

"Someday, when I'm walking through the plaza, I'll meet a beautiful señorita wearing this brooch. She'll give me a smile, just like yours, and I'll tip my hat and go on. But I'll know." He paused and watched her eyes, saw the longing there that must be reflected in his own. "Someday?" he asked, closing her hand over the brooch.

"Someday," she said softly. "I promise."

END

By Maril

DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks doesn't own any of these characters, not even Chico, but other authors do. I've borrowed Cleo because she's such a lovely cat.
RATING: G
FEEDBACK: yes please

Since reading all these animal stories, I had to trot out a little 'fic for Chico. I also promised him he wouldn't have to eat any of Tessa's oatmeal. <G> I fudged the quote a bit, but cats can't be expected to know everything, even if they seem to.

QUOTE 23: "A man can't be too careful in the choice of his enemies. " - Oscar Wilde

~~~~~

Chico pricked up his ears as he heard something skulking along the ground nearby. It was dark, but he could see a pair of eyes glowing greenly from a short distance away. The horse snorted and stamped to warn the creature off. But it slunk nearer, finally leaping with a fluid bound onto a low wall next where the horse was tied.

"I haven't seen you around here before," Cleo purred as she settled onto the wall. "I saw you arrive with a two-legged wearing a mask. You carried her on your back. Doesn't that hurt?"

The horse shook his heavy head, and blew a gust of breath at the cat, ruffling its fur. "I love to carry the Masked One on my back. She and I are the best of friends."

Cleo lifted her paw and began to smooth down her ruffled fur with smooth strokes and licks with her raspy tongue. Eventually, the cat said, "Some friend. She leaves you tied up outside while she goes inside. My Grey Eyes would never do that to me. He treats me like a queen."

"You're a friend of Grey Eyes?" The horse shivered then suddenly snapped at the cat. She jumped agilely out of the way. "The Masked One and your owner are enemies. So that makes us enemies too." Chico moved to the end of his tether trying to get another shot at the cat who had settled just out of his reach.

Cleo's tail swished indignantly. "A cat can't be too careful in the choice of enemies," she said with a wide grin that showed her sharp teeth. "The Masked One makes Grey Eyes loose sleep, and makes him shout at everyone. Everyone but me." The cat suddenly bristled as a dog, prowling the street seemed to catch their scent. An old hound, it shambled across the street and sniffed around the horse. Cleo's back arched and she spread her claws, ready for an attack.

A swipe of Chico's tail made the dog move off out of range. He sat down, looking at the horse with his mournful eyes. His leg thumped the ground as he scratched absently at an itch. "Why'd you do that? I got no beef with you, long legs," the dog said. "Which reminds me. My master, Big Nose, usually feeds me about this time, but he hasn't left my dish out yet. Have you seen him?"

The cat rolled over with its paws in the air, and made a coughing sound while she grinned. She righted herself and sniffed importantly. "I saw the Masked One sneak into Big Nose's building over there," Cleo said, pointing with her paw. "And she left her poor long legs tied up here."

The dog stood up and shook himself. With an indignant look, he said, "I call her Brown Eyes. She is very nice. Sometimes she comes to see Big Nose wearing a mask. Other times she doesn't wear a mask. And lots of times, she brings me a big juicy bone to chew on." The dog licked its lips and lolled its tongue happily.

Cleo perked up her ears and switched her tail. "You mean Brown Eyes and the Masked One are the same two-legged?" The cat's golden eyes gleamed.

"Of course," said the dog. "I may be old, but there's nothing wrong with this," he added, lifting his nose and sniffing loudly.

Chico stamped and reared, startling both the cat and the dog. "That's supposed to be a secret. Now, you both better get out of here, and don't tell anyone what you know."

With an offended glance over its shoulder, the dog loped off in the direction of Big Nose's building. 'I've already tried to tell him that she's the same two-legged. I lick her hand, and brush around her legs, practically turn myself inside out to show him I know her. But he doesn't seem to get it.' The dog stood by the doctor's office door and barked a few times. The door opened and the dog wagged its tail as a hand dropped a bowl onto the ground beside him, then disappeared back inside.

Cleo snorted at the pathetic creature. 'If my Grey Eyes treated me like that, I would leave,' she thought haughtily. 'And look at that long legs, tied up and waiting for Brown Eyes to come back. Disgraceful.' The cat began to purr as she thought of the saucer of cream that would be waiting for her and the satin coverlet she would curl up on when she got home. 'And,' she grinned to herself as she nimbly leapt to the nearest roof and pattered across, 'I have something that Grey Eyes would like to know. All I have to do is figure out how to communicate it to him. Two-leggeds, even the best of them, are rather dumb.'

END

By Maril

Trio & Word Challenge #24

DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks Productions
RATING: G
FEEDBACK: yes, please

~~~~~

A little tornado of dust swirled in the wake of the coach as it stopped in front of Santa Helena's hotel. The driver turned from his perch on the bench and began to unlash the baggage atop the roof, preparing to remove it to the ground.

Grisham remarked, "The coach has arrived, Colonel."

He received a laconic, "Has it really?" from Montoya who was sitting in the hotel's open air cantina, seemingly studying his highly-polished shoe.

The colonel's wintry grey eyes narrowed slightly as he smiled without mirth. "Sometimes, Grisham, I almost think you are sentient." He finished his glass of wine and stood up, then stepped down onto the street, striding toward the coach. "Let us see if fortune has smiled on us today."

He reached the coach just as Don Gaspar Hidalgo opened the coach door and assisted his pretty wife out onto the dusty street. Vera Hidalgo gave her husband a peck on the cheek, then turned to the driver.

"Bring all my packages to my buggy." She glanced uncertainly at her husband as the pile of parcels rose alarmingly in the back of their small carriage.

"Vera, my petal," Don Gaspar remonstrated mildly, "You seem to be afflicted by oniomania each time you go to Monterrey." The coach driver carried a set of andirons and placed them in their small wagon. Don Gaspar shook his head despairingly. "We already have a set for the fireplace. Vera, we are running out of room in the buggy to transport all your purchases."

The rest of their conversation was lost to Montoya as they moved off to their buggy. The colonel eyed the remaining parcels avidly. There it was! A small wooden crate lay among the boxes and baggage set on the street next to the coach. Their owners were picking among the packages and carrying them away. Montoya motioned to Grisham. "Pick up that box and handle it carefully. Bring it to my office."

Captain Grisham lifted the small crate labelled, "Preserved Cherries", staggering under its weight. "What's in here, gold?" he laughed.

"Idiota!" the colonel hissed. "Keep quiet and just carry the box." He pushed his way past the Alvarado woman's gitana servant, and strode toward the governor's villa.

He missed the slow smile that spread across her face as she watched the captain and the colonel climb the steps between the stone lions and enter the dark interior of the building. Marta grasped the bolts of cloth that the driver handed down to her, and stowed them in her wagon. Her dark eyes danced with excitement as she climbed onto the wagon bench and turned the horses toward home.

END

By Maril

24 Quote Challenge

Disclaimers: Fireworks Productions gave them to us, gratefully accepted.
Rating: G
Feedback: yes, please and beta
Author's Note: You can blame this piece on last night's full moon. <G>

QUOTE 3: " If music be the food of love, play on..." William Shakespeare

~~~~~

There, he did it again! Helm set his wineglass down heavily, sloshing the red fluid over the rim onto his hand. The smooth bastard. Anger roiled in his gut as he watched the man dancing with Señorita Alvarado. Couldn't she see what a smarmy, oily Casanova he was? The doctor seethed as his eyes followed them around the Rose Courtyard, impotently watching her partner sneaking little touches and light kisses as they danced. How could she fall for such a transparent seducer?

His temper rose as the man ran his smooth hands over her neck, and down her bared shoulders. In the warm light of the many candles illuminating the courtyard, he could see the banked passion in her eyes, the way her body swayed dangerously near his. Helm was almost choking with indignation. Where was Marta? he wondered, glancing around the crowded patio. He finally spied her sitting and chatting with a group of servants on the periphery of the fiesta. He had a mind to take her to task over her lack of vigilance with her charge.

Impulsively, he stood up, swaying a little from the many glasses of wine he had quaffed this evening, first out of boredom, then out of frustration. If Marta wouldn't do her job, he would do it for her! Helm marched across the tiled floor to the dancing couple and tapped Tessa's partner on the shoulder. The man's eyes were locked onto Tessa's and for a second, he did not respond. Then he turned to Helm with an impatient glare.

Helm had to admit the fellow had everything going for him. Finely featured with wavy dark hair that was oiled smoothly to his shapely head, tall and muscular, and above all, he seemed to have a way with women. From the moment Arturo de Sallas had turned up in Santa Helena, all his efforts seemed to be concentrated on wooing Tessa Alvarado, almost as if he had a mission. Helm had seen from the first that she was taken in by him. In the days that followed, de Sallas had lost no opportunity to further his interest. Tonight, at Montoya's fiesta, was the final straw as far as Helm was concerned. The blackguard was blatantly seducing that innocent young woman practically under the eyes of the whole pueblo. He would put an end to it.

"Excuse my interruption, Señor de Sallas, but you have been monopolising the most beautiful woman in the room. I would ask for the pleasure of the next dance with Señorita Alvarado. If she will permit, of course," he added, bowing, with a wry smile at Tessa.

Tessa returned his smile. "Of course, Doctor." She stepped away from her partner who looked on with an ill-concealed annoyance. "The next dance is a waltz." She moved into his embrace as the small band began to play again.

"If music be the food of love, play on..." Helm quoted with a quirk of his lips. He held her at a decent distance, enjoying the fluidity of her graceful movements. She knew how to dance, even making his awkwardness seem smooth. She seemed especially lovely tonight, quite radiant, in fact. He forced his mind back to the reason he had asked for this dance.

"Señorita Alvarado," he began hesitantly. "In the time since I've gotten to know you, I have developed certain feelings for you." He felt her body move reflexively and she looked startled. "As you have no near male relatives, I've begun to feel a kind of brotherly concern for you." The banked passion he saw in her eyes earlier now flared into fire and she suddenly became rigid in his arms. He plunged on. "What I mean to say is, de Sallas is the kind of man who tries to seduce women, not because he loves them but because of the challenge. I don't want to see you get hurt."

But she did look hurt as she pushed him away. "Perhaps, Doctor, you should mind your own business!" she snapped and strode briskly toward Marta. Several faces turned to Helm, and he felt his cheeks beginning to burn as if she had slapped him.

He turned away from the group and walked out of the Rose Courtyard, leaving the noise of conversation and the music behind. 'She's right,' he thought. 'What business is it of mine if she gives herself to that cad? It isn't as if I could do anything to stop her.' As he neared his office, the din from the fiesta still reached him faintly, and he stood outside for a long time, bathed in the silver moonlight, wondering why he felt so wretched.

END