REDEMPTION

By Maril
maril.swan@sympatico.ca

RATING: G
DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks
FEEDBACK: yes, please
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT: Thanks, Jo, for the beta-ing of this story. It helped immensely.

~~~~~

The scream echoed through the plaza, echoed in her brain, amplified by the sight of the child falling. Time seemed to slow down as she pushed the soldier aside and tried to get to the child. She was still falling as the Queen reached her, a red spot already beginning to stain her muslin dress.

"Ohgodohgodohgod," the Queen whispered as she held the tiny tot, a girl of about seven. Just a wisp of a thing, she was, with jet-dark eyes and long black hair; she seemed to weigh almost nothing. The Queen pushed away a stray lock from that innocent face. The child sighed and relaxed suddenly; her eyes closed. The Queen held her closely, protectively but death still hovered near. From somewhere another scream pierced the sullen dusty air of the plaza.

"You've killed my baby," a woman cried as she rushed to the Queen's side. She thrust the masked woman away, taking the child from her, holding her child and rocking her.

In her benumbed mind, the Queen seemed to hear the soldiers nearby, clicking their rifles to readiness, people talking and shouting, but all she saw was the tiny wan face, and the blood staining the child's little dress. Her world narrowed to that one fragile atom of life that was flickering out of existence. Nothing else mattered, now.

Someone pushed through the crowd and knelt by the distraught mother. Her shrill keening chilled the Queen's heart. "Here's the doctor," she heard people whispering among themselves, as if he could perform the miracle of restoring life. He lifted the girl from the mother's arms and with a quick reproachful look at the Queen as she knelt in the dust, he strode away with the little girl.

Montoya had watched the whole scene unfold from his balcony which overlooked the plaza. The three Indios who were about to executed that day for theft, had been paraded to the gallows. Suddenly, the Queen of Swords appeared with three saddled horses, cavalry horses, Montoya noted, and dashed into the plaza with them. The Indios, seeing their redemption at hand, fought and kicked the soldiers, eventually getting free. They mounted the horses and fled, leaving the Queen to fend for herself against the garrison. She would have escaped save that a soldier aimed his rifle at the fleeing Indios, and with her whip, she pulled his gun away just as he fired.

The bullet went astray but hit a little girl standing near the fountain, waiting for her mother to finish with the family washing. As Montoya watched, the Queen of Swords leapt from her horse and ran to the child. It was evident to him that she was devastated by the accident. Even Montoya felt his heart lurch when the child fell.

Grisham grinned and lifted his pistol, aiming at the kneeling masked woman.

"You pull that trigger, and you are a dead man," Montoya rasped. "Take her prisoner. She is not going anywhere."

At that moment, the Queen stood and pulled her sword. Twelve rifles clicked, ready to fire. She drove the sword into the ground and held her arms out. Two soldiers rushed forward and grabbed her, while the others covered them.

The captain strode forward and said, "Well, we missed one hanging today, but we'll have another one tomorrow. And now, let's see who will dance at the end of the rope." A gun near his temple stopped his hand as he reached toward the black lace covering the upper portion of the woman's face.

"No one is to touch her, ...or speak to her, ...or molest her in any way. Is that clear? If anyone disobeys this order, he will wish a hundred times over that he was dead." Montoya's grey eyes glittered as he scanned the soldiers, and their eyes fell as he met them. "And that includes you, Capitan Grisham," he added, as he lowered the pistol. "I have waited too long for this moment, not to savour it for as long as possible." To the men holding the Queen he said, "Take her to the cells, and lock her up. No one is allowed to see her without my consent."

One of the soldiers picked up her sword, and followed as the others escorted the Queen toward the prison. Montoya's eyes followed her, as she went without protest with her captors. He shook his head and looked at Grisham. "With all the soldiers and weapons we have at our command, all it took was a child to bring her down." He went back toward his office, still shaking his head.

~~~~~

Pancho pulled the rein on his little burro and leapt off, hitting the ground running as he hurried toward the villa. His dark face shone with sweat, his young brow furrowed with distress. He pushed past Rosa, as he raced into the villa's kitchen, searching for his dona. He nearly knocked Marta over as he rushed down the corridor toward the villa's main room.

She caught his arm and stopped him. Her annoyance dissolved as she saw the anxiety in his black eyes. "Where are you going in such a hurry, Pancho? What is wrong?"

"Such a terrible thing happened in town, Marta! I must tell the senorita. She asked me to tell her whenever I heard anything. This is so awful. Where is Senorita Alvarado? She would want to know this." Marta released his arm and he gazed wildly about, almost unaware of the elegance of the villa compared to his poor clothing and bare dusty feet.

"The Senorita is out right now. You can tell me and I will repeat it when she returns."

"A child was killed in town today. And they have captured the Queen. She is in the jail." The words came out in a rush. The young man watched as Marta's face lost its colour and she suddenly held onto him for support. He flinched slightly from her touch, superstitiously afraid of her as were most of the workers. She seemed mysterious to them, otherworldly. Yet now, he felt a warmth of sympathy for her. She had taken the news so much to heart, he was surprised and a little embarrassed.

A long silence hung between them as Marta tried to regain her composure. Finally, she said quietly, "Tell me everything. How do you know this?"

"I was there, and saw it all." Pancho related the events of that morning, wondering as he did why Marta seemed so distressed. She sat down heavily at the dining table, staring sightlessly into the room. She almost seemed to have forgotten he was there until he shifted his feet uneasily. The look she gave him was so full of anguish, he felt a shock. She has such a tender heart, Pancho thought. The news about that little girl has upset her very much. With unaccustomed boldness, Pancho reached out and patted Marta on the shoulder, a gesture of sympathy. "It was a terrible accident, Marta. No one could have prevented it." With a last sad smile, he turned and went back toward the kitchen to exit the villa.

Marta sat, frozen by anguish, as she contemplated Pancho's news. A child killed by a stray bullet. How must Tessa feel, she wondered. Like I feel, torn apart, and guilty. An accident, but Tessa will blame herself. How can I get to her, to console her? And how can I help her get out of this? She must not die, not for this. It was not her fault. With a sudden resolve, she arose and went into the kitchen. While Rosa watched, bemused, Marta pulled down several earthen jars and set them into a basket.

"I have to deliver some medicines to Doctor Helm. You have the evening off, Rosa. Do not make any dinner tonight." A look of delight crossed Rosa's round face, as Marta went out the kitchen door.

~~~~~~

He heard the rustle of her silk blouse as the Queen moved to the cell window, and pressed himself closer to the wall underneath. He glanced across the street, knowing she was looking there too. Her window faced the street where the doctor's office was located. A large crowd of peasants milled near his door, talking in low tones. He heard her sigh, then the sound of weeping. A soul in torment, he thought as he listened. How that sound fills my ears like music. Let her weep and lament for all she has done to me. She is finally in my hands, and I will have my vengeance. Montoya compressed his lips in a hard line, trying to shut out the sight of the child falling in the plaza. In spite of his efforts to rationalize it, the memory was painful. If the Queen was responsible, so was he. Fortunes of war, he said to himself decisively, as he moved away from the prison wall and wandered toward his office.

To the guard standing a distance away, he said, "No one is allowed near her cell window or anywhere in this area. You have orders to shoot if anyone tries to talk to her or get close to her. Do you understand the penalty for failure, corporal?"

The soldier's face blanched and he nodded vigorously. Montoya gave him a grim smile, then strode down the narrow lane which led to the main street. He noted the Gypsy woman's wagon rattling up to the doctor's office, and shrugged. Her heathen magic comes too late.

The setting sun bathed the little pueblo in a rosy hue as Montoya crossed to his office and went inside. Going to his liquor cabinet, he pulled out a bottle of cognac. He poured himself a liberal shot, then sipped it meditatively. What a day it has been, he thought in wonder. The moment I have dreamed of all these months, has finally come to pass. He took a long pull at his drink and let it slide down his throat like liquid fire. It should feel like a great victory, but it tastes like ashes in my mouth. She has cheated me once again. He gulped down the last swallow and refilled the glass.

He walked across the office, to sit at his rosewood desk, and contemplate his next move. There must be some way to feel this was a triumph, some way to salvage some glory for himself from this. But, he thought, his resentment turning to bitterness, she gave up without a fight. There was no great battle won today, only an enemy defeated by her Achilles' heel. What will they say of Montoya after this--his greatest enemy, against whom he had used all his power, had surrendered because of a child. I will be laughed at in Monterrey and in Spain.

Montoya arose suddenly and went to his office door. He gestured at the guard seated at a nearby desk. "Bring the prisoner to me in two hours, and make sure she is heavily guarded. I want her in manacles." Without waiting for a reply, the colonel went back into his office and closed the door.

~~~~~

Helm crept out the back door of his office, and slipped from building to building toward the prison. The crowd around his door had moved off finally and was now collected around the town fountain. Their mood had been sombre, and distraught, but now he wasn't sure. He feared some violence but first he had to get to the Queen. He had to speak to her, tell her something vitally important. As he skulked past the walls of the buildings, he caught a glimpse of the prison. He noted the soldier walking up and down beneath the cell window. He smiled wryly. Thanks, Colonel, for pointing out which cell she's in. But how do I get to her with that soldier there? He jerked back suddenly as he felt someone beside him. Marta!

"What are you doing here?" he whispered in her ear. "This is dangerous. Go back to my office."

Marta shook her head violently. "I'm not going anywhere until I see her. We will have to take care of that guard first." Marta nodded toward the soldier patrolling near the prison wall. "There is only one. It shouldn't be that difficult. I have a plan." She leaned forward and whispered in his ear. Helm's lips became a grim line as he listened.

"I've tried my best not to harm anyone since becoming a doctor." He sighed heavily and added, "But this seems like the only way. Lead on, MacDuff."

Helm remained hidden while Marta stepped out from between the buildings and marched across the street toward the rear of the jail. The guard watched her approach, moving his rifle from his shoulder to the ready position with his finger on the trigger.

"I just want to see what kind of monster would kill a child!" Marta snapped as she closed the distance to the soldier. He moved nervously as she got nearer.

"That's close enough," he said. "Colonel Montoya's orders. No one is to get near her or speak to her. Please move along, Senora." The soldier gestured with his rifle but Marta stepped toward the cell window, causing the soldier to turn away from the street. As he did, Helm rushed up behind him and chopped him on the back of the neck with his hand. The soldier collapsed, and the doctor looked about quickly then dragged the unconscious man around the corner of the building.

The commotion attracted the Queen and she stared out her window, then incredulously at Marta. In a harsh whisper she said, "Marta! What are you doing here?"

Marta moved closer to the window. "Tessa, listen..."

But Tessa silenced her quickly with a vehement, "No, you listen to me! Take all the money in the hidden room and get as far away as you can. They don't know who I am yet, but when they do, they will come for you too. Please, Marta. For my peace of mind. Get away while you can. You don't deserve to be punished for this. Only I do."

Marta was about to speak again but a soldier rounded the building and the Gypsy woman was forced to move on. With a last glance at the cell window, she retraced her steps to the doctor's office. Helm was already waiting for her. His face was grave, his green eyes intense as he pulled her inside, taking her hands in his.

"Did you tell her?" he asked urgently.

"I didn't get a chance. Another soldier came and I had to leave." Marta sighed heavily. "She wants me to escape, to run away before they find out who she is." Her eyes seemed to implore Helm for some hope. "As if I would! I would rather die trying to save her." She brightened momentarily. "Perhaps they would let you see her. As a doctor, to make sure she is all right."

"Somehow I doubt Montoya will let me near her. He already suspects I have some strong feelings for her. With that guard having been knocked out and the crowd around the fountain getting more tense, I think Montoya will be very careful about keeping her well guarded." Helm moved restlessly around his small office. "But I'm going to see Montoya right now. Why don't you go home for a while? I'll meet you later. Maybe we can come up with an escape plan."

"Even if we had a way to get her out, I do not think she would come with us. She seems to have given up, and is prepared to take the punishment." Marta sat down heavily on a wooden chair, her shoulders slumped dejectedly. "Tessa was always so headstrong, always getting into mischief. But she never tried to escape her discipline if she thought she deserved it." Marta shook her head dolefully. "What can we do to convince her it was an accident, that she is not responsible?"

~~~~~

Her knees hugged tightly to her chest, the Queen sat on the cot and stared sightlessly at the scabrous walls of the cell. How many condemned has sat here in this cell, staring at eternity? How many felt as condemned by their consciences as she did now? Her raw throat ached with the unshed tears that she refused to let fall. She would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her weep again. Montoya's voice outside her cell had shocked her, enraged her. He was gloating over her defeat, enjoying her torment. No more! She rested her chin on her knees, and tried to blot out the memory of the gun exploding, the child falling. She squeezed her eyes shut. If only I could sleep, I could lose myself in that darkness, and forget. Somewhere in the outer area of the prison, she could hear noises, men talking and laughing, chairs scraping on the tiled floor, a door opening and closing. Life outside continued on its own course as if nothing had happened. As it would after tomorrow when she was gone too. What did it all matter anyway?

Tessa suddenly looked up in alarm as a squad of six soldiers entered the cell corridor and came to a halt in front of her cell. A corporal pulled out a ring of keys that jangled loudly on her overwrought nerves. She felt her heart lurch with fear as she looked into those grim faces. Is this it? she wondered, her breath catching in her throat. The corporal wrenched the key into the lock and then swung open the cell door with a loud clang. Are they coming to take me to my execution? I thought I would have at least until tomorrow. In spite of her resolution to be brave, her knees felt like water as she stood up to face them. Her heart was hammering in her chest so loudly she was sure they could hear it.

"Hold out your hands, and don't try anything," the corporal said gruffly. Behind him, the other soldiers raised their rifles, all aimed straight at her.

She watched her hands as she held them out, willing them not to betray her with their trembling. A grim smile played over her face as her hands remained rock steady while she allowed the manacles to be snapped on her wrists. The metal cuffs were heavy, weighing her arms down, making her feel more trapped than ever. I never thought it would end like this, she thought desolately as she tried to still her breathing to normal. I thought I would die in battle, ...not like this. The manacles rattled as she was pushed toward the cell door. Squaring her shoulders, Tessa marched out into the corridor. She shrugged off the soldier's hand as he tried to take her arm.

"Didn't Montoya say no one was to touch me?" she mocked with a wry grin. He stepped back quickly, giving her some space to walk alone.

As the little party of soldiers and their prisoner marched toward Montoya's office, Tessa noted the large crowd of people around the fountain. A contingent of soldiers surrounded them with bayoneted rifles. When she appeared, a noisy commotion began amongst the gathering. Her guard closed ranks around her and hurried her into the governor's building. Behind her, she could hear loud yells but could not make out what they were saying. Crying out for my blood, no doubt, she thought dejectedly.

She was ushered unceremoniously into Montoya's office and the soldiers closed the door, leaving her alone in the room. She glanced around, taking in the elegance of the expensive furnishings, and artifacts that graced the bookcases and walls. Bought with money stolen from the people, she reminded herself.

Montoya stepped in from another room, and grinned wolfishly. "How often I have dreamed of this moment, mi Reina. To have you here, in manacles, at my mercy." He sighed and laid his hand over his heart in a mock theatrical gesture. "I have saved the best for the last, your Majesty. A private unveiling, away from the vulgar eyes of the public. Like our duel, it will be between just you and me. But first, let us do this with some dignity, some courtesy to you as my esteemed enemy. If you will allow me," he added as he gestured toward the room from which he had entered.

Tessa noted his formal appearance. He was wearing his full dress uniform of black trimmed with gold braid. His white shirt gleamed in the candlelight and his grey silk cravat was held in place by a silver pin. His dark hair was smoothly pulled back and tied with a black silk ribbon. He looked resplendent and elegant, dressed as if for a state function. She felt out of place in her dusty costume, and unkempt hair. She knew her face must be smudged with dirt. They had not given her anything in the cell to wash with. It put her at more of a disadvantage than ever. The manacles were the final indignity. They rattled on her wrists whenever she moved, a constant reminder that she was his prisoner. She stepped past him into the other room and gaped in surprise.

She found herself in his dining room... with the table set for two. The room was brilliantly lit with many candles which shone on the glittering silver utensils and on the gleaming plates. A bottle of red wine stood already opened on the white linen cloth, with two wine goblets standing near the plates. Covered dishes lined the sideboard, waiting for the diners.

And at the far end of the long table, was her own sword, its point aimed at her like an accusation.

Montoya chuckled delightedly at her astonishment. "Did you think I was such a barbarian that I would not do you some honour? A quick execution and it is all over? No, no, my dear. These things should be done right, do you not think? You have led me a merry chase, but I am a gracious winner, as you can see. No hard feelings, my dear Queen." He came up beside her, and with his hand pressed against her back, gently guided her toward the table. He pulled out a chair for her, remaining behind it. Tessa flinched involuntarily as his hands came to rest on her shoulders. She held her breath, almost expecting those long delicate fingers to enclose her throat, to choke away her life.

"So tense," he murmured as he massaged her shoulders through the fine black silk of her blouse. His hands were warm and the rhythmic kneading was almost hypnotic. "Relax, my dear," he whispered near her ear. "We have the whole evening ahead of us."

And then what, she wondered as her eyes were drawn once more to her sword, so tantalizingly close. Would he take her life with her own weapon? She felt his hand move to her hair and breathlessly waited for him to try to remove her mask. Instead, he threaded a lock of her hair through his fingers, then let it go. He came around to stand beside her, forcing her to look up at him.

"I have no wish to see you dead," he said, moving his face to within inches of her own. The golden lights in his grey eyes were almost mesmerizing, unnerving.

Tessa kept her own eyes locked with his. "At least we can agree on that, Colonel," she said brightly, as she forced herself not to move away from him. She held up her manacled hands. "Remove these and I'll be on my way."

Montoya pushed away from her chair with a loud laugh. "I would gladly do so if you will swear not to oppose me any longer."

"If you will also swear to rule justly here, and give up your ruthless ambition to create an empire in Alta California, then I will not oppose you."

The colonel snorted derisively as he took his seat at the table. "Spain is weak and cannot hold onto her far-flung colonies for much longer. It takes men of strength and vision to seize such an opportunity as this, to become the ruler of this new world. I am such a man... a man of destiny." Montoya's eyes bored into hers as if daring her to mock him.

"I know of another 'Man of Destiny' who is also languishing in a place called Santa Helena. Learn from the lessons of history, Colonel. Enjoy what power you have, but use it for the good of the people." Tessa leaned back in her chair, observing his reaction.

His eyes lit with an almost mad rage, but it subsided quickly, replaced by a wry smile. "Napoleon made some mistakes, trusted the wrong people. I will not make such mistakes as I trust no one."

"How lonely for you," Tessa said softly.

Montoya seemed taken aback for a moment by the warmth of her sentiment, then settled comfortably in his chair, steepling his hands in front of him. "But I'm not the one the peasants have gathered to watch die tomorrow." He grinned at her sharp intake of breath, the sudden anguish that made her wince.

With affected insouciance, the colonel lifted the wine bottle and poured the warm red fluid into their glasses. "I must apologize for the poor quality of the wine, mi Reina. But in this part of the world, one must make do." He set her glass in front of her, his eyes glittering triumphantly as he observed her.

Tessa forced herself not to react as she noted the Alvarado label on the bottle. Is he taunting me? she wondered in annoyance. This whole charade is meant to prolong the inevitable. It seems to amuse him to torment his prey like a cat before he kills it. She held up her hands and gave the colonel an entreating look. "How will I eat my last meal with these on, Colonel? Perhaps they could be removed while we dine together."

Montoya laughed harshly. "I apologize for the inconvenience, but the manacles will remain. I have not got this far only to have you escape again. No, my dear Queen, I will keep you at a disadvantage until tomorrow. Then you will hang for your crimes. Especially for the last one. The killing of that little girl today. What would she have been, six or seven years old? A mere baby really. She had her whole life ahead of her until she died from a bullet that you deflected. A bullet meant for escaping criminals." Montoya sipped his wine while studying her through slitted eyelids. He saw her face pale, and heard the manacles rattle with her shaking hands. How I am enjoying this, he exulted to himself. She is utterly defeated by her own guilt.

"Please have me taken back to my cell. I suddenly have no appetite for dining with you, Colonel," she said, her voice husky with suppressed emotion. Tessa began to stand and move away from the table.

"You aren't going anywhere until I say so. Sit down!" Montoya's eyes glittered angrily in the candlelight, the wineglass trembled in his hand. He relaxed as Tessa subsided once more into the chair and waited silently for him to speak. He grinned in satisfaction. "That is more like it. No need to be uncivil." He drained off his glass and refilled it, noting her wine was untouched. He shrugged blithely. "The wine is not to your liking?"

Tessa straightened in her chair, sending him a chilling glance. "I prefer a true Rioja from Spain. I would never 'make do' with anything but the best."

Montoya flushed deeply at the barb. For a long time, he studied her, his defeated enemy. The thrill of victory was missing, and in its place, was just a heaviness. Her spirit was undefeated. That was what he wanted from her. Complete capitulation. Begging for mercy. But she denied him. She would never beg. Her death tomorrow would prove, once again, that she was stronger. He drew in an impatient breath. "You know, mi Reina, this is not how I pictured our last duel. Not at all. I had always thought it would end with my taking your life with my own hand, spilling your blood with my sword. Such an anticlimax this has turned out to be."

"Take off the manacles and give me my sword." Tessa said coolly. "We can still have our last duel, just as you've dreamed of. It may not turn out quite as you imagined it, however." Her eyes flashed impudently and she grinned.

"It is a tempting offer, but I must decline. My heavy responsibilities to law and order in this community would forbid such a vanity. No, I will take no chances this time. Now, as your hands seem to be somewhat hampered, I will do the honours and serve the dinner."

He lifted the covers from the dishes on the sideboard and placed portions for each on the plates. It was a sumptuous meal of roast beef, a variety of vegetables and sauces, with spicy condiments. Once the plates were filled, the colonel seated himself and said a quick blessing. He toasted her gallantly with, "To my worthy adversary. May you die well tomorrow. Which would you prefer... the gallows or a firing squad."

Tessa lifted her glass and clinked the rim of Montoya's. "The firing squad. I've seen your soldiers shoot. I think I would have a good chance of living through it." She sipped her wine while enjoying the chagrin on Montoya's face. Setting down her glass, Tessa tried to summon up an appetite for the foods arranged so delicately on her plate.

The manacles proved an impediment to eating but Tessa tried to keep it from showing. Every torment he inflicted on her seemed to increase his enjoyment. She would not give him the pleasure of seeing her frustration with the heavy metal cuffs as she tried to manage the fork and knife with some grace. "The food is very good, Colonel. My compliments to your cook," Tessa said with mock courtesy.

Tessa stopped eating and listened. The din from the town square seemed to be getting louder. Her stomach clenched in apprehension. Was a lynch mob forming outside? Were they coming to get her?

Montoya also seemed to be disturbed by the sounds. He laid down his utensils and said, "Come with me." With a firm grip on her arm, he led her to the balcony door and opened it. The torches in the town square flickered over a large crowd, their noise rising to a roar when they saw the Queen. The soldiers remained on guard but so far there had been no violence, only the tumult of many voices talking and yelling at once.

Tessa was appalled at the size of the crowd. It filled the entire square. They are all here to see me die, she thought morosely. I cannot believe it.

Down below, a man jumped on the fountain. A woman called out to him, "How can you defend her when she killed your child, Geraldo?"

"My child is not dead, she was wounded. She will live. It was the soldier who fired the bullet, not the Queen. She is not to blame," he yelled vehemently. Then he turned and shouted to Tessa, "Viva la reina de espadas." The cry was taken up by many voices, and echoed through the pueblo.

Montoya pushed her forward roughly. Tessa was too paralysed by the news at first to react. Tears prickled behind her eyes as she took in the meaning of the words. The child is not dead! Over and over she said these words to herself, willing herself to believe it. The darkness that had pervaded her soul lifted suddenly, and she felt a surge of hope. And sudden rage. "You knew," she snarled at him. "You bastard! All this time you let me think..." Her words were cut off by Montoya shoving her onto the balcony.

"Tell them to disperse, to go home, or the soldiers will start firing into the crowd!" His grip on her arm tightened painfully.

"Let go of me, or they will know you are forcing me to speak."

As soon as he loosened his hold, Tessa drove her elbow into his stomach then used the manacles to strike him across the head. With a groan, he dropped at her feet. "Well, Colonel, I guess it's back to dreams for you," she said with a wry laugh. She raced into the dining room and grabbed her sword from the table. Returning to the balcony, she stepped over the colonel and sped down stone steps and into the square.

The crowd saw her escaping and surrounded the soldiers. Someone dragged a mounted soldier from his horse and led it to her as she waded into the fray. "Go, mi Reina," the man shouted. "We will take care of the soldiers. And mil gracias." He helped Tessa into the saddle and she kneed the horse into a gallop. Several rifle shots followed her but soon the lights of the town were behind her.

She knew she was not yet safe. The manacles still hung heavily on her wrists. And the soldier's horse was inferior to her own. It was already tiring. She could feel its chest labouring under the strain of the pace she was forcing it to keep. Ahead she saw a wagon moving slowly down the trail. Could it be? Yes! She recognized Marta driving the wagon, and as she approached, the woman turned.

Marta jerked the reins, stopping the wagon. No words were needed; the joy on her face was eloquent enough as she saw Tessa pull up beside her. Behind them, they could see a dust cloud near the town. Soldiers on horses coming after her. "Quick, Tessa. Send the horse on and hide underneath the wagon. It is dark and they may not look there."

Tessa dismounted and Marta lashed the riderless horse with her buggy whip. It galloped off across the plain away from them. Tessa slid under the wagon, searching for something to grip. She wrapped her arms and legs around the metal frame and said, "Marta, get the wagon moving or they will be suspicious." Tessa felt the wagon lurch forward and she hung on. The manacles made it difficult to keep her hold and the motion of the wagon over the ruts in the road threatened to dislodge her. Soon she heard the hoof beats of the soldiers' horses getting near and then the wagon stopped. Her arms ached with the strain of holding up her weight, and she laboured to keep her breathing subdued. Sweat stung her eyes as she struggled to hang on.

Grisham's voice rang out into the sudden quiet. "Search the wagon."

Tessa heard some boots hitting the ground as two soldiers dismounted, then the rustle of the canvas covering the goods in the back of the wagon. She saw their feet pass as they walked around and checked under the bench seat. Grisham spoke again. "Nothing there? Mount up." Then she heard him say, "Senora, did you see anyone ride past just a while ago? We're chasing the Queen."

"Yes. She went in that direction, Capitan. I hope you catch that child killer!"

The hard edge in Marta's voice seemed to convince the captain. "We'll do our best, Marta. Gracias." The sounds of the horses receded and Marta started the wagon again.

After a short interval, Tessa called out, "Stop, Marta. My arms are killing me!" The wagon halted and Tessa let go, dropping with a relieved grunt onto the sandy ground. For several seconds, she remained still, trying to catch her breath. Then she slid out from under the wagon and got into the back. "You could have told me while I was in the prison that the child was alive, Marta," Tessa chided gently.

"If you had given me a chance to get a word in, I would have!" Marta rejoined testily. "And to tell me to run away and save myself," she fumed, pulling her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. "Now cover yourself with that canvas. No point in tempting Fate any more than you already have." Marta whipped the horses into a trot, the din of the wagon wheels precluding any more conversation.

~~~~~

Marta examined the manacles and shook her head. "I don't know how we will remove these. It would take a blacksmith to do it, and I cannot ask Alexei to take such a risk. Besides, it would take too long to bring him here." She looked up helplessly at Tessa, hoping the younger woman might have an idea. She could see from the frustrated expression on Tessa's face, that she did not.

"We need an expert at lockpicking to open them, Marta." Tessa strode across the hidden room and sat down dejectedly in a chair. "If Montoya comes out here before tomorrow, I will be exposed as the Queen and it will be all over ...again. This time he will take no chances." Suddenly, Tessa paused and listened. She could hear booted feet walking on the floor above, then a loud "Is anyone home?"

"Marta!" Tessa said excitedly. "It's Doctor Helm. Bring him down here. And hurry."

Marta went out and returned shortly with Dr. Helm in tow. The warmth in his eyes sent a surge of joy through Tessa. He crossed the room swiftly and lifted her into his arms. Wordlessly, he held her tightly until they both became aware of Marta, still in the room. He stepped back, his face flushing hotly.

"Still wearing your iron bracelets, I see, " he said jocularly, his thin lips widening into a wry smile. He lifted her hands and inspected the metal cuffs. "I suppose you would like to get rid of these?"

Tessa laughed. "No. I was planning to keep wearing them as a souvenir." She reached up and touched his cheek, making the chains on the manacles clatter. "Though it does make some things more difficult."

A mischievous light rose in Helm's eyes, and he chuckled. "And some things more interesting." He laughed aloud at the sudden hectic flush in her cheeks and the way her mouth dropped open in a silent reproof. "But now, we will relieve you of this rather weighty jewellery." From his pocket, he pulled a knife which had many utensils enclosed in it. He snapped one open and with it, twisted and turned the tumblers in the manacle lock until it sprung open. He repeated the procedure with the other and then Tessa's hands were free.

She rubbed her raw wrists and studied them with alarm. The marks of the manacles were clearly visible. "Marta, what can we put on this to make it less red and sore. If Montoya sees these wounds, he will know."

"I have something that should help. I will get it."

Marta had hardly left the room before Helm drew Tessa once more into his arms. She buried her face against his chest. "What about the child, Roberto? How is she? I want to see her, to be sure she is all right."

"The little girl is going to be fine. The bullet hit a fleshy part of her body, and did not touch any vital organs. She will have a scar possibly, but no permanent damage." He drew in a deep breath and added, "I was afraid you had given up. You seemed as if you were ready to die."

"I was. When I saw that child fall, my world collapsed. Suddenly, nothing mattered anymore." A tear escaped as she recalled the horror of those minutes. With a gentle touch, Helm wiped it away and kissed her cheek.

"You can't blame yourself. You did save three men from Montoya's version of justice. I am very proud of you." He moved to her lips and brushed them lightly with his own. She pressed tightly against him, returning his kiss with a passion that made his knees weak.

Marta cleared her throat, and the two sprang apart. She just smiled and handed Helm the jar of ointment she had brought with her. "I will go and make some lemonade," she announced. "It may take quite a while." She winked at Tessa, then left and closed the door.

~~~~~

EPILOGUE:

Such a tiny hovel for so many, the black-clad woman thought as she watched from a hill above the poor farm. Three small children played in the front yard and another older boy worked in a sparse garden near the shelter with his mother. A small flock of chickens scratched the dry earth, squawking loudly and fluttering each time a child came near. Tied to the garden fence, a rangy goat bleated as it flicked flies away with its tail.

Sitting in the shade next to the doorway was little girl of about seven. She watched and called out to the others but remained on her chair. Now and then, one of the children would speak to her, and she would laugh then wince. That pained look pierced Tessa's heart as she summoned the courage to confront the child and her mother. It had only been a day since the accident. Seated on Chico, Tessa drew on her resolve to see them and beg their forgiveness. She nudged the horse and he started down the hill toward the small adobe hut.

The children all looked up at once as the dark rider approached. Fear widened their eyes and they called out to their mother. But the woman had already seen the visitor. Tessa noted her obvious weariness as she drew herself up from her labour, standing with her hands on her hips. She was a small, thin woman. Her face was dark and glistened with sweat; her clothing was clean but much patched. She watched through wary eyes as she advanced from the garden toward the Queen.

Tessa dismounted and swallowed convulsively. The hard stare of the woman seemed to penetrate the emotional armour Tessa tried to shield herself with. This encounter was taking more courage than challenging Montoya or his soldiers. Her gaze moved past the woman to the small child watching curiously from the doorway.

"I have come to see that your daughter is doing well, Senora," Tessa said softly. "If you will allow me, I would like to speak to her." The mother stood aside, without comment. Tessa walked to the little girl, carrying the package she had taken from her saddlebag. She knelt next to her chair and smiled. The child eyed the masked woman shyly, looking toward her mother for reassurance. Tessa was tempted to move a lock of tousled black hair off the little girl's face but refrained. I might scare her, she thought. Instead, she said, "What is your name?"

The girl grinned, and said in a high piping voice, "Rosalia."

"Well, Rosalia, I have brought you a gift." Tessa laid a linen-wrapped package on the girl's lap, and smiled warmly. "It's for you. You may open it."

Tentatively, Rosalia unwrapped the cloth. Her eyes suddenly grew very wide. She pulled the object from the wrapping and held up the gift for all the family to see. "Look, Mama. A bride doll!" A big smile crossed her face and she flung her arms around Tessa in a sudden excess of joy. "Gracias, Senorita Riena, muchos gracias! It is the prettiest doll I have ever seen." Rosalia hugged the white-gowned doll to her tiny chest, then held it out again. On her face was a rapt expression as she studied the frilly white dress, the rouged doll face and the fine little slippers on its feet.

Tessa was too moved to speak for several minutes as she watched the childish joy on Rosalia's face, and remembered how near that wondrous joy had come to being lost forever. "I beg you to forgive me, Rosalia, for your painful wound. This gift does not make up for it, though I am glad you like it so well."

The little girl became shy again suddenly. She looked up at Tessa and said, "Papa said it was not you who shot the gun, but a soldier. He did not come to see me." Rosalia grinned and kissed Tessa's cheek. "But you did. And you brought me this fine gift. I forgive you." She giggled and clutched the doll to her again.

Tessa stood up and wiped at a stray tear. "Senora, I have a gift for you too, if you will accept it." She pulled a purse from her pocket and offered it to the mother. Tessa feared for a moment the woman would refuse the gift of money. For a long time, she regarded the Queen coolly, then stepped forward and took the purse.

"Gracias, Senorita. The money is needed, as you can see," she said grudgingly.

Tessa could find no warmth in the woman's dark eyes, only bitterness and anger. She has good reason to resent me, Tessa thought as she strode back to her horse. I am wealthy, and the wealthy can buy themselves out of anything. So she must think. And she is right. Did I not just do that? With a heavy sigh, she began to mount Chico.

"Senorita!" the mother called out to her. Tessa turned, steeling herself for the storm of aggrieved anger that would surely follow. The woman stepped toward her, and Tessa could see strong emotions working in her face. Finally, she said, "If my daughter can forgive you her injury, then so can I." The woman tried to smile, and blinked at some tears that spilled down her cheeks. "We are about to have our mid-day meal. Would you join us? It won't be the kind of fine foods you are used to, but you are welcome."

"Senora," said Tessa heartily. "Whatever you offer, will be a banquet to me." She followed the mother to the small hut, stopping to pick up Rosalia and her new doll, to carry them inside.

THE END