SAME, NOT SAME

by Anthony Docimo

Rodlox@hotmail.com

RATING: PG-13, foul language, death

SUMMARY: Vera prepares the house for a visit by her in-laws, Tessa learns that there have been crusaders before in California's history, Robert Helm must try to keep 'The American' from killing him.

NOTES: 'In the dusky afternoon' is a direct quote from the play "The Crucible". Can anyone find the Farscape reference... or where I nearly typed 'holy ground'?

DISCLAIMER: You and I both know who owns QOS.....Zorro in here is a derivation of the one in the film 'The Mask of Zorro'.....all original characters and events are my own {If you ask me, I'll let you borrow them}.

"Senora, Senora," a voice called out for the lady of the hacienda. Vera turned around from her task of arranging photos, It could wait until after she'd listened to Little Maria, her favorite font of information on things she was unable to attend for one reason or another. The young lady reminded Vera of herself at that age, so curious about the world, ambition beginning to blossom alongside her abundant physical attributes...

"Captain Grisham, Senora," Maria said in a hushed tone before she continued to tell Vera how a woman who was new in town had her mouth up against Grisham's ear.

Inwardly, Vera was glad. That man grew tiring after a while. He only knew so much, either physical or intellectual. So it was a good thing that he'd latched himself to other woman. Vera had more important things to do.

Vera nodded like this was the most interesting thing in the world. "Thank you, Maria, for bringing this to my attention. How would you like to go into town with me tomorrow? I'm certain we can find a pretty dress for you."

Maria beamed, her face lit up with a smile. Vera knew that it wasn't just the offer of a dress that got Maria so excited, it was the chance to go on a trip with her personal hero, Senora Vera Hidalgo. Personally, Vera wasn't entirely sure what it was that made the girl hero-worship her... but perhaps it was the same reason that she liked Maria -- that was her best guess so far.

"Okay, now go finish your chores. I know you don't have much left," but Maria was gone before half the sentence was said. The girl was nothing if not a hard worker. At times like that, Vera actually felt motherly.

ALVARADO HACIENDA

Tessa stood on the closed gate watching the horses in the corral. One of them was not hers and she should have said something earlier when she had the chance. Part of her mind mocked her, saying that she was not acting proper in the least. Tessa told that part to shut up.

"Is there something I should be aware of," Marta cautiously asked Tessa, staying where the younger woman could see her approaching, her eyes on the dark brown horses inside the poles.

"Doctor Helm left his horse at the Agulera hacienda the other day. Since I was there too," Tessa said, making a point of ignoring Marta's raised eyebrow, She couldn't actually see Marta's eyebrow, but she knew that it was raised by that comment. "I figured that I may as well give it back to him."

"Does the doctor know that you took his horse here," Marta asked. Tessa shook her head. "Do you plan on ever letting him know?"

Tessa made a face, and forced herself to face Marta. "Well, actually, I was hoping you would..." She told Marta about the 'ailing woman' that Tessa had made her out to be to Helm.

Marta sighed, then nodded, then said that she would go do it as soon as possible. Once she was out of earshot, Marta exclaimed to nobody in particular, "Why me?"

MONTOYA'S HOUSE

That doctor Helm! Never around all day yesterday, certainly not since being carted off by Don Agulera... When the doctor had finally arrived at nearly midday, he had openly refused to be escorted under guard to check on Colonel Montoya. That man was one of the biggest sources of ruined weapons outside of the weather and the actions of the Queen.

About the only good thing lately had been the absence of that blasted Queen Of Swords's presence. No doubt she was off elsewhere, robbing the rightful, cheating justice. Just like Zorro, in the old stories that his father had told him as a child... as his adopted...

No! Montoya blocked that line of thought: pain lined that road. Almost as if it'd heard its name called, the throbbing returned to the Colonel's head. Where was that doctor??

HELM'S APARTMENT

There was an old phrase, 'dead on his feet', and Robert Helm wasn't sure where it originated but it described him to a tee. He hadn't gotten much rest last night as he had still been on the trail... and sleep does not come easy when there were wolves howling and snakes rattling at odd hours. Once he'd gotten into town it was halfway to noon and there was a considerable line waiting for his medical skills. He had obliged them. Luckily, there was nothing more serious than a bad cough.....not counting the royal pain-in-the-head that Montoya was complaining of, which Dr. Helm had given him some medicines for.

Now that he was at last able to retire to his little apartment, he was ready to collapse on his bed and sleep for as long as he could. Though with his luck, Montoya would require his services five minutes after he dozed off. He slowly pulled off his over shirt, his muscles aching in both arms and legs alike -- even his spine felt like it was slightly out of whack. Robert didn't even want to guess how many calluses were on his feet. Once the shirt was off, he reached down to light a lamp and carried it into his bedroom. He knew the room was slightly cramped, but then, who was he expecting but himself?

To Helm's surprise, there was a woman lying on his bed, fully clothed, and a gun resting next to her. She turned her head to look at him. "Well well, and here I was beginning to think you'd never show up."

Those were not words that Robert Helm particularly liked to hear. "I don't know you, so what are you doing here, in my--."

"I'm here to find a killer, little more than that," she answered him, interrupting him. "Joseph Latham, in particular."

Helm had stopped in his tracks in the past, but now he was frozen. That name was familiar to him, and still fresh in his mind. He stammered, "So, why are you here?"

"To kill him," the woman replied. "And you," as she pulled back the hammer on her gun.

OUTDOORS, a minute later

Doctor Helm sped around the corner of a building then stopped to rest his back against the adobe wall. He was bathed in shadow, hidden from sight. He'd just barely missed having a sizable hole blown into him, the bookcase took it instead. As much as he would have liked to keep those first-editions in pristine condition, his own life as more important than books. Yanking the door open and darting through it, he'd again come close to being shot, if not outright killed.

Robert resolved that should he survive this debacle, he'd invest in some spackle for the wall. His eyes saw the Church across the plaza and some part of him said that it would be safe in there. No, in his experience, churches weren't respected as a neutral ground -- they were just better targets, particularly for cannons. Robert Helm looked around for a place to hide out, his ears perked to catch the slightest sound. His legs were rebelling, but there was no insurrection as of yet. He knew of the two people who offered the best chance of protecting him, Colonel Montoya, and the Queen Of Swords.

JUST OUTSIDE THE APARTMENTS

The woman known on the East Coast as 'the American' walked down the street, keeping close to the building so that she wasn't an easy target. She'd planned on killing Latham first, then moving on to Helm, but she wasn't picky. If Helm would show up again, she wouldn't wait to kill him. Blood called out for blood and the dead cried out for vengeance. But it was more than that. It was also a matter of honor, of family, and holding true to one's own. Helm... he would die too. In his own time.

MONTOYA'S OFFICE

Robert Helm sat in one of Montoya's comfortable chairs, his weary body resting. He'd chosen Montoya for two very simple reasons. First, so that Montoya couldn't even look like he was selling Helm out. Second, because he knew of no way to get in touch with the Queen Of Swords. The downside was that Montoya was not happy about being woken up in the middle of the night. Helm mused, Now you know how I feel.

The Colonel was sitting across the desk from him, in his usual carved chair. "Doctor Helm, I am expected to meet with Don Hidalgo and his noble guests tomorrow, therefore must get sleep. So, if you could provide me with some proof as to your claim," Montoya said in what must serve as a calming voice when the speaker himself has a headache.

"Have your men check my door, or my bookcase if you don't believe me," Helm said. "For all I know, it was the Queen herself." That, like nothing else he had said, got Montoya's attention.

Robert didn't personally believe that the Queen would stoop to bare-faced murder, but if it got rid of his problem, then so be it. He then proceeded to give as good a description of the woman as he could.

MARKETPLACE, noon of next day

The noose was tightening but around the wrong person. Tessa wasn't sure if they had the wrong suspect or if whatever drunk they'd paid just couldn't impersonate the Queen. The general idea had her nervous: more of the wanted posters which offered a reward for the Queen of Swords -- and this time, there was a drawing of a woman's face. Tessa's hand rubbed her bare neck, not feeling anything fatal against it - yet.

"Oh there you are," a woman said right behind Tessa, making her jump. Turning around, she saw that it was Vera, all done up like she was going to meet the President of Mexico or the Queen of Spain. "Come, Tessa, there's someone I'd like for you to meet."

Tessa let herself be pulled along by the other young lady, with Marta trailing behind obediently. Vera very nearly dragged Tessa through half the marketplace, and then across the wide plaza to where another carriage had arrived. This one disgorged only three people: an elderly couple both with considerable spring in their step given their age, and a young man who looked barely older than Vera's husband the Don, who was standing in attendance outside the carriage. Tessa didn't need a tarot card to guess Vera's reason for bringing her here.

"Senorita," Don Hidalgo said, greeting her as an aside as his relatives came out of the carriage.

Vera curtseyed to them once they exited. "May I present Senor Alejandro del Castillo y Hidalgo, his wife Elena, and son Joaquin," Vera introduced them, using the formal name that she'd been presented with when she'd first encountered her husband's father. "And this is Tessa Al--."

Tessa didn't so much as bat an eye. Interrupting Vera, and giving a proper curtsey, she replied, "The daughter of Tobias del Leon y Alvarado, Senor," filling in her full name in return, but also not wishing to contradict Vera in front of her in-laws.

"The Alvarados are an upright family from what I have heard," the Don's father told Tessa, "and I'm sure you continue that tradition."

Before Tessa had a chance to reply, Colonel Montoya approached and announced, "My apologies for arriving late. Urgent business regarding the Queen of Swords had come up unexpectedly."

"Did you catch her yet, Colonel," Tessa asked with interest. Vera's face looked like she echoed the question.

"Sadly no, that bandit is still loose."

"A bandit, Colonel," the elder Hidalgo asked, curiosity in his voice. "Does this 'Queen' perchance wear a mask?"

Montoya couldn't miss the smile on his lips. "Indeed she does. May I ask why?"

"No reason, just a memory of a time long ago." He seemed to ponder something in his mind before speaking again. "May I speak with you at a later time? I believe I know a way for you to trap this 'bandit'."

Tessa watched as they walked away, not entirely sure why she was suddenly so nervous.

Elena Hidalgo understood what was going on and said, "Yes, I do believe I am in need of rest right now, Vera. Do you think we could go on ahead to the hacienda?"

Marta came up alongside her ward Tessa and saw gooseflesh on her arms. Both women walked slowly away, careful not to look at the handsome visage of Joaquin - torn as he was about which group to go with.

"Come, brother," the Don said to him at last, "there is something I think you may find of interest in this town." Interested, the brother followed the Don out of the plaza.

MONTOYA'S OFFICE

Robert Helm listened carefully as Alejandro outlined his plan, that Colonel Montoya had only interrupted once or twice, to provide a way to lure the Queen out into the open--using Dr. Helm to lure his would-be assassin into a murder attempt and to let the Queen stop her. "Two rats with one trap," Montoya said, pleased at the efficiency of it.

"What makes you think that she'll even try to save me from that madwoman," was Helm's concern.

"Really now, Doctor," Montoya admonished. "The Queen has saved your life now, what? Two, three times? I do believe she will show herself."

"And if she doesn't?"

Montoya shrugged, "Then your new killer is killed anyway."

"Well, at least we have that part straight," Helm said, not entirely convinced.

EDGE OF THE MARKETPLACE, later that day

"Tessa," Marta repeated, impatience starting to seep into her words.

"I must go," Tessa insisted. She'd just seen Dr. Helm ride through town taking a route that ran down all the main roads, hardly something that struck her as in character with the man, at least from what she knew of him. Something about it just stunk of danger and bells were ringing in her mind, Danger, danger, get the Queen of Swords!

"It is a trap," Marta tried to convince her of. "I feel it."

"I know, Marta, I know. But I also can't stand by and let him be hurt either."

"I wonder if the Colonel planned it that way," Marta wondered. "Capture the Queen if you show up, or tar her name if you do not."

Tessa went to go change. A part of her wondered if she would face many more traps in her future as the Queen of Swords.

OPEN SCRUB PLAINS, by the canyon, over an hour later

"You took your time getting here," Doctor Helm remarked offhanded.

"I had to insure that it wasn't a trap before I could arrive," replied 'the American.'

"Well then, surprise," Helm said, as Montoya's soldiers came out of hiding from behind the thicker sagebrush. Montoya and Senor Hidalgo rode out from behind a cluster of boulders mere moments later. 'The American' didn't curse the doctor as had been expected. "You'll find I don't do dead easily."

"Who are you," Montoya demanded of her.

Looking at the Colonel like a disobedient child, 'the American' answered: "I am Alberta Louisa Helm, who was orphaned by your doctor here."

While the soldiers knew better than to move their gaze from their target, Alberta, Montoya and Hidalgo had the luxury of being able to cast a questioning look toward Robert Helm.

"Latham, I take it," Robert guessed. Alberta nodded, her every move calculated and calm. "Perhaps you would," Robert Helm said, switching from Spanish to Welsh, "prefer converse in another tongue?"

Alberta took no offense at that. In the same language, she replied, "As you will. But you will still die."

"Latham was not my responsibility," Robert insisted. "He chose to go on a pig-headed quest to hunt me down. He's dead now, so you can leave right now. I'll even get these men here to not harm you." He figured that he could not speak for the Queen's actions.

"You know what the last thing he said to us was," Alberta asked him. Robert stayed stock-still as she said, "He said that the funny thing about vengeance is that--."

"It gets better with age," Helm interrupted her. "Yes, he told me the same thing."

"And yet here we both are, as alive as the day we were born." She pointed her gun at his chest. "But not for long." She tilted her head. "You should be thanking me, you know."

"And how's that," Robert asked, inwardly unhappy at having to stare down the barrel of another gun.

"The Helms are a noble race. We can trace our ancestry at least back to Hastings and the defense of that king. Yet here you stand, willingly getting your hands bloody in the entrails of peasants."

"Coming from an American," Robert replied, an appreciation of irony in his tone, "that lacks a certain sting."

Alberta narrowed her eyes, pulling back the hammer on the gun. "I had no say in the matter, little man. My parents were living in America when I was born and they denied me the right to return to the family lands."

Which ones, Robert was tempted to say...but he kept his peace.

"Latham killed my family in front of my eyes. I suppose I should be thankful that he didn't take advantage of me." Alberta sighed, then said, "The only reason he let me live was that his brother was killed by a man." Alberta closed her eyes, but Robert recognized the look on her face from those he'd served with, a person who could accurately fire a gun blindfolded. "I tried to hunt him down, but he'd already moved on, searching for more Helms to butcher. "So, without a family, with no money, not a thing, I improved my gunmanship. Then I hired myself out. At the time, there were Americans and French fighting the British Canadians. I figured that this was a win-win situation, get paid to fight by the Americans and ride a British ship back to my homeland."

"But things didn't go the way you planned, did they?" The ancient 'Helm Curse,' the singular piece of superstition that his family believed in. Alberta nodded, easing the hammer back down for now. "So what happened," he gently asked, inviting rather than pressing.

Alberta cracked her eyes open. "I was captured by the British, and was sat in judgement by an officer called 'Helman.' He sentenced me to Australia rather than a quick death. I still don't know if he was being merciful or a sonofabitch."

"And then you escaped the penal colony and tracked Latham down to here," Robert guessed. It was late. Why did so many women want to talk to him in the dusky afternoon? "Well good news, Latham is dead. He was killed by a crossbow," just in case she was the sort who hated to hear that an arch rival had died of natural causes.

"Good," Alberta Helm agreed. Her next action was to pull the hammer back up. "Then that just leaves you."

Robert Helm's eyes grew wide.

"Fire that," Montoya warned, speaking Spanish, "and you'll be dead before he is."

"You misunderstand me, Colonel," Alberta said in Spanish with a touch of humor to her voice. "I want to die...I just want to take somebody with me."

"Not today," Montoya answered. "Arrest her!" The guards closed in on her. "You cannot shoot them all," Montoya said casually, just in case she was contemplating it. She was quickly taken into custody, removed from her horse as well.

When everyone else was turning to head back to town, Montoya noticed that Senor Hidalgo's stallion was turned around to watch the horizon over the canyons. Montoya walked his horse over. "I think I'll stay a while longer, Colonel," Alejandro Hidalgo told him. "Admiring the view has always been a past time of mine." Predicting what was coming next, he added, "And don't think of leaving someone here to guard me. You're taking a criminal away and anyone else has long since been frightened off this plateau."

Montoya nodded reluctantly, and led both Helms and his soldiers back to town. He may outrank Don Hidalgo but he was not looking forward to the constant pestering and questions from the man!

Alejandro Hidalgo watched as Montoya and the others left, then he wheeled his horse around, heading for the hillside down.

OVERHANG, moments later

The Queen of Swords blinked her eyes as yet another biting insect landed on her. She could kick her legs or swing her arms only so much before either the noise or the movement attracted undue attention from the very people she was trying to watch. She saw everyone leaving, with the exception of the Don's father. When she returned her gaze to the spot where it'd all happened from making sure that none of the soldiers were doubling back, Hidalgo was gone...even his horse had vanished.

"You, I take it," said Hidalgo behind her, driving her to instinctively roll over to face him, "are the famous Queen of Swords?" He was still atop his horse, reaching for neither gun nor sword.

"Some would say infamous is a better word," she answered, slowly standing up, making a show of not reaching for her sword.

"Such an overrated word, that is," he said casually. "Go on now, get on your horse." When the Queen didn't move from her standing-still position, "God, to think that I was like this at your age. Go, leave here." In a lower tone, he added, "for I doubt you wish to be caught."

The Queen's eyebrows went up, but she dutifully mounted her horse, and prepared to leave. "Thank you, Senor."

"Meet me here tomorrow evening, Queen of Swords. There is something for you, a package." With that, he turned around to head back down the hillside; and from there, to the town. The Queen shook her head in disbelief, and headed for her own home.

DR HELM'S OFFICE, later that afternoon

There was a knocking on the door. Robert Helm sighed; sometimes some of his patients liked to knock on the door before they came in, which was normally a good thing. Right now, it was not because it meant that he had to stand up, walk over to the door, and open it, usually exchanging pleasantries with whoever it was. When he opened the door, there was a young man in the doorway - one young enough to almost not earn the term 'young man' itself. And this - boy - was dressed in the uniform of a man from the British Navy.

Well, Robert mused silently, I was wondering when they'd be coming for my hide....or is this just a court-martial? When the boy saluted Dr. Helm, he said, "At ease, Private," making a guess at rank, based on the boy's age. "I'm not a tribunal. What is it that brought you halfway around the world?"

The young man pulled an envelope out of his satchel, handing it over to the doctor. "I was ordered to deliver this to you, sir. The Colonel tried to stop me for questioning, but I managed to get away." He saluted once more, and left.

"Well aren't you the artful dodger," Robert muttered. He turned the letter over, saw who it was from. He put it down on his workbench, not paying it a second's further thought.

NIGHT, outside the bars to Alberta's cell

The night was like an inversion of daytime, with pale bolts of light cast about like shadows under the sun. The Queen used this setting to ease her way to the window outside of the prison. Checking one window, then another. By the third window, she'd found the one that would shed sunlight into the cell by day.

"Well, if it isn't a spectre," Alberta quipped, looking up from her cot. She swung her legs off the cot so that she could stand up. "Come to ready me for the next world, have you?" Alberta chuckled, slowly walking towards the barred window. "Or have you come simply to taunt me, to mock or tempt me?"

The Queen hesitated. Was this woman making fun of her, was she drunk, or were those her own beliefs? "Actually, I've come to talk with you about Dr. Helm."

Alberta snorted, an unladylike sound, and began to pace about the room, her speed depending on her tone and mood. "Robert Helm killed Ian Latham, Ian's brother came after me, I came here to seek justice."

"But Latham was after his brother's killer, and found death," the Queen said.

"No, he wasn't. He may have said that, he may have even believed it at some point. But by the time he arrived in the town that I lived in, his mission was simple: to slaughter as many men of the Helm family as he could....and if any women get in the way, oh well, too bad. Do you know one of the worst affronts to a lady's dignity?" Before the Queen could answer, Alberta filled her in, "Its being forced to watch as your family is shot dead right in front of your eyes. I doubt anyone like you has ever had their loved ones' blood spatter on your face, or watched the life fade from their eyes."

"I'm sorry for your loss, I really am," the Queen said. "I've lost loved ones as well but that doesn't excuse your trying to kill Doctor Helm."

Alberta chuckled, "I'm doing him a favor. He deserves more than this... its his fault that all this happened. So you see, I win on two fronts." She turned around, to head back for the cell's bed.

The Queen's voice stopped her, "When you kill him, how will that help you? Do you really think you'll feel better then?"

Alberta turned her head around to answer, "I honestly don't know. If I did, maybe I wouldn't have the need to do this. But it's a moot point anyway." Her next words were louder, "And keep out of it!"

In the next room, her jailer woke up from a fairly light sleep and decided to check it out.

NEXT MORNING, outside the jail

"What's going on," Tessa asked one of the men on the outside of the crowd that had assembled itself around what must be quite the event indeed.

"Somebody killed the prisoner before she could be executed," answered a beefy man with a lumberjack's arms.

"Does anyone know who did it?"

He shrugged his oxen-like shoulders. "Some are saying that she killed herself, others say her guard did the deed... and there are a few who suggest that the Queen of Swords did it!"

"I'm sure that those're just unfounded rumors," Tessa said, backing up. For better or worse, Tessa recognized, the Queen had been tied into a rumor regarding death. There was no way to undo it. Now the Queen had ghosts of her own. In backing up, Tessa bumped into the doctor. "You've got a quite a family there," she says, trying to keep it calm and casual.

Dr. Helm, on the other hand, had had it with people talking about Helms in that manner and he's not afraid to show it. "How many Alvarados are there, Senorita? I wouldn't doubt that I've killed a few in wartime. Hell, I'm sure there's a murderer or three in there, not to mention a pillager, or a--."

"I get the point," Tessa cut him off, wishing that she could punch people when she wasn't the Queen.

"Good. Make sure it spreads," Helm replied, walking off. Toward Montoya's estate.

OVERHANG, that night

There hadn't been any difficulty for her to be Tessa all day long. Heck, she'd enjoyed herself -- apart from joining the small collection of people who prayed in church following Alberta Helm's quick burial. She thought - but wasn't entirely sure - that she'd even seen Dr. Helm present at the services.

Perhaps, thought the Queen, coming here was a mistake. Perhaps Senor Hidalgo was in hiding with a troop of soldiers ready to ambush her -- just as 'the American' had been ambushed and arrested.

"Lovely night, is it not," asked a man's voice behind her. It sounded vaguely like Hidalgo's, yet different somehow. The Queen turned her head and shoulders to look behind her and her horse. There was a man there, his hair covered by a black cloth, and a solid black mask covering the majority of his face. It took her a bit to remember an old story she'd heard from Marta, who'd heard it from a woman even older than her. "Zorro?"

"I'm flattered anyone still remembers the name," he said. She understood why the voice was different, long disuse of a false accent. "Yes, I am Zorro. You, without a doubt, are the lovely Queen of Swords once more," he said, deliberately sequencing his words to imply that she had a more common identity.

One masked face looked into another for a period without time. Old and experienced met the young and eager. Zorro removed his mask, his motions slow so not to startle the Queen. His face was that of - "Senor Hidalgo," the Queen of Swords said respectfully, at the shocker. "I wasn't aware...," her voice trailed off as she wasn't sure how to finish. After all, wasn't that the whole point of a disguise?

The Don's father laughed. "Thank you, young lady. Truth be told, even my son doesn't know." The Queen reached up to remove her own mask, but stopped when Zorro shook his head. "No, you keep your secret. It's enough that I've gotten a chance to meet you, to know that justice will continue to wear a mask as long as people like us are needed," he said with a smile, holding out his solid black mask to her.

The Queen swallowed. Taking a man's legendary mask, even when it was offered, was a milestone. She had a sudden flash of her passing on a mask to whoever succeeded her, but then it was gone from her mind... but the mask of Zorro was still there. Feeling like she was desecrating something somehow, she accepted the mask. "I... its an honor," she tried again. "Thank you." There, that summed it up, didn't it?

"You're very welcome, Senora, and may you survive your own mask as well," before turning his horse around, black cape in the wind.

HELM'S APARTMENT

Robert Helm opened the envelope, his eyes going over every word in it --

"Dear Robert,
I trust that you are well living so far from the comforts of civilization. Are you in need of funds to support yourself properly? You remain always in our prayers here at Home, and we wish you a safe and speedy return.

I realize that I should not have sent you this message the way that I did, but cousin Hewlitt was preparing to captain his ship towards your coast anyway, so I requested that he would bring this letter to you. You do remember cousin Hewlitt, do you not, Robert? The sickly little boy who was three years your elder and yet smaller than you? He is now a hale and hearty man with many under his command.

Have you as yet divined the reason for the Americans and their ridiculous beliefs? In case you have not heard, the Americans believe that the British Lion wishes to add the land known as Alta California to the Empire. What a ridiculous rumor they have begun! I tell you true, the King has considered it, but turned the idea aside early on. What use is yet another desert to our people?

Mother and Father are doing well, although Mother still worries about you in that foreign clime. Father is, Father is still much the same as you remember him though the grey in his mane has increased. It is vanity that you have not made your peace with Father, Robert! Please, I beg you, come home and end this tiff you have with each other.

The Lodi Family has sent another letter here. I ask you, as a sister to a brother, to please, if you will not make peace with your own family, then at least accept the peace from those who would have been your family. They know you did all you could, and that it was not your fault. Can you accept that? She is dead, Robert, and you cannot wallow in your grief forever.

Loving always, your sister,
Yvonne Isabella Helm"

Robert sighed, and folded the letter back up, placing it in his desk. He just wanted to sleep.

HIDALGO HACIENDA, dawn

The older Hidalgos were checking to be sure that everything had been packed up. They had another stop to make before they could return to their own estates. Alejandro stepped out of the bathroom, toweling his hair dry. "Did you see her," his wife of many long years inquired.

"I did, dear."

"And," Elena asked.

Senor Hidalgo, once known as Zorro, looked out the window at the night. "She will do this land well."

THE END