DEVIL ON THEIR SHOULDERS, PART ONE

by JoLayne

enyajo@aol.com

VS Episode #306

RATING: PG

CHARACTERS: Tessa/Queen, Marta, Montoya, Grisham, Vera, Gaspar, Mary Rose Guevara, Anton Guevara, OCs Lorenzo Mazar, Colonel Balthazar Alfonso, Eladio, Carlotta Mazar, Sofia, Senor Prado, Alberto, etc.

SUMMARY: While Tessa is having thoughts of her father's death, Grisham is looking for opportunities elsewhere as Mary Rose is savoring the taste of revenge.

DISCLAIMER: They're still Fireworks'. Just playing, here.

NOTE: The beginning of this story might be familiar as parts were posted as challenge responses. Thank you so much Eliza for your expert eye. Adapted for QoS-VS by Paula Stiles. Thank you so much, Paula, for your great retouching.

~~~~~

As her hair flapped under her in the wind, she could feel her mask slipping up her sweat-slicked forehead. If she didn't do something quickly, Grisham might actually see her true identity. That damned captain's weight was heavy on her. One of his hands was pressing down on her neck and chin, forcing her head over the edge of Montoya's roof, while the other tried to wrench the sword out of her grip. If she could get leverage without toppling over the side, she could kick him where he lived. Fear that she'd fall to the stone balcony head-first made her not even try. Her body slipped farther over the edge. Her shoulders felt air as Grisham maintained an even pressure on her neck and chin. Leave it to Grisham to turn a sword fight into hand-to-hand combat. The world was upside-down as she ran out of breath. The bright midday sunshine was dimming.

The white curtain below her fluttered out of the window, followed by Montoya, staring up at her with piercing eyes. "Up there," he commanded his troops. She had evaded them earlier, in her escape from Montoya's secret room, but Grisham's appearance prevented her from getting to Chico and riding to the security of home. "Get her!"

Montoya climbed out the window and onto the balcony; he wrapped his fist in her hair and declared, "You will not get away again!"

"Colonel!" a female voice called out amidst the hubbub of soldiers scattered in the town square and clambering up a ladder to the roof.

Grisham's hand eased from her neck, letting her blood and breath flow again, and she saw an upside-down Mary Rose run up the steps to Montoya. "Now is not the time, Senora," he said, taking better hold of the Queen's hair.

Suddenly, his grip disappeared. Mary Rose said, "I do not care how much you hate that woman, I cannot allow you to treat her like an animal!"

She had to do something with this opportunity, fear or no fear. Since Montoya didn't have her hair and Grisham's attention had lessened, the Queen rolled her and Grisham over. She heard heavy footsteps behind her on the flat roof and knew there had to be at least five attackers honing in on her. Out the corner of her eye, she saw one soldier with his sword in the air just behind her, ready to take a swipe. The Queen rolled off Grisham and got to her feet as Grisham yelled angrily. She swung out at the offending soldier, then kicked at another soldier who fell back on another. As she ran to the side of the roof on the rose courtyard side, she looked back over her shoulder to see Grisham sit up, holding his stomach. "You idiot!" he screamed.

Knowing that the last place they'd all look was back in Montoya's quarters, she climbed partway down the trellis, slid through an open window , and scrambled under Montoya's bed. She could hear shouts and orders, and men making their way down from the roof. Then the noises started to ebb; with each passing moment, the Queen became more confident that no one would look in her hiding place. She tried to work out the kink in her neck and wondered if she had Grisham's hand marks on the bottom of her chin. "Well, look on the bright side. I actually have a reason to visit Doctor Helm...." she mumbled.

Not knowing when she should take the chance of moving from her hiding place, she decided to take a breather and stretched out her legs. When she lifted her head, the ropes of Montoya's bed frame snagged some of her hair. As she quietly untangled it, she wished she had a pillow, and remembered the soft, fluffy ones that Montoya had on his bed, just above her. Should I chance it?

Do not be ridiculous, the authoritative voice in her head told her.

Get the hell out of here, the fear in her moaned.

Go on, no one will catch you, the part of her that took risky chances called out.

I am too tired right now, the Queen told them all. There was a deep scrape on her knee that had to be bleeding, and her back was racked with pain. She couldn't wait to get home and have Marta tend her, take a bath with a glass of wine, then come back into town under the cover of night for Helm to examine her injuries.

The door to Montoya's bedchamber opened, and she heard two sets of footsteps enter the room. The Queen turned her head; from her vantage point under the bed she could see Montoya's black boots and a pair of light-suede, feminine knee boots. Their toe tips were pointed at each other near the bureau across the room. "Better luck next time, Colonel," she heard Mary Rose say with an intimate quality to her voice.

"I would have had her if you had not interfered. Give me a reason why you should not be spending the rest of the evening in jail for obstructing justice."

Mary Rose became all business. "You want your cannon, and I want El Risa del Diablo. We were to discuss how this will come to pass."

"El Risa del Diablo will most certainly have patrol boats sailing beside her."

"Our men should be able to handle it. Captain Mazar does not know his ass from a hole in the ground. That ship will be easy pickings, much easier than capturing one lone woman," Mary Rose needled him.

"The woman who is 'not an animal'? Ask Sargent Martinez, Corporal Armendariz, or any of my men whom the Queen of Swords has injured, as you cannot talk to the men who have died of their wounds. I will raise the reward for her capture or death. La Reina will rue the day she ever raised a sword against me."

"So, you will kill her, string her up and feed her body to the coyotes?"

"The sooner the better."

"It requires more courage to suffer than to die," Mary Rose said.

"What do you know of her suffering?"

The Queen wondered if the Colonel had ever once given a thought to the reason why she was driven to don black and play vigilante. She was struck by Mary Rose when the woman asked, "Something must have made her need to fight you, Colonel. What her driving force is, I can only guess. Have you ever thought about what makes her your enemy?"

The Queen hadn't known she had an ally, another who inquired the same, and wanted to hear Montoya's reaction, since he had to believe he was alone with Mary Rose.

"I do not need to waste my time on such matters. She is a criminal, pure and simple, who must be stopped, or she will topple the whole fabric of this community."

"The truth is rarely pure and never simple, Colonel. Since you are so feisty, give me that diamond necklace so I can get to work."

"Turn around."

Mary Rose's boots did just that, and the Queen saw Montoya's boots move toward his bureau, heard him open a drawer, and flip a latch. From the sound of it, there had to be a secret compartment there. Interesting. She'd have to search that compartment in the future. How many hiding places did he have?

After hearing the noises of closing the compartment and drawer, she saw Montoya move away from the bureau. There was a pause before Mary Rose's boots turned around.

"Wait," he commanded. "Why do I need to put up the bounty to hire the dregs of society in Beggar's Canyon?"

Mary Rose stated simply, "Your men need reinforcements."

"I meant, why are you not putting up anything to persuade them?"

"That is a beautiful necklace, Colonel, but do you really think it would be enough to tempt fifty men to go on a dangerous mission? I am putting up plenty of wealth. Your end was that necklace and your soldiers."

"All right, all right. I am not used to trusting you."

"And you do not have to after next week. Just as I will never trust you."

"Never underestimate a woman scorned," Montoya mused with a chuckle. "Poor Captain Mazar does not stand a chance against you."

"You are full of insight today, Colonel."

Mary Rose moved toward Montoya. She said, "I will call on you again in two days after I make the arrangements."

"My name will not be mentioned when you deal with those vagrants," he warned.

"Of course not." Mary Rose's lilting laugh colored her words. "They think they are going to come in and steal the ship out from under you and your men as you forcibly seize it from Mazar. I could not get them to do my bidding if they thought they were in league with you. After it all quiets down, you will receive your cannon."

"Cannons. I have decided one is not enough for what I am making my man do for you."

"You know what?" Mary Rose asked. "I do not care that you are changing the terms mid-stream. In fact, you can have all the cannon on board. How does that suit you? Just do not ask for more, or you will know first-hand about women scorned."

Mary Rose turned on her heels and walked out of the bedchamber. Montoya moved to the bed and sat down on the edge, making the Queen crawl back to not get sat on. "I already know about a woman scorned, Señora Guevara," Montoya mumbled.

The lump of where he sat lengthened, indicating where Montoya had lain down on the bed. The Queen's mind was reeling about the news of Mary Rose and Montoya's raid. El Risa del Diablo. A merchant ship? A supply ship? A pirate's ship? She needed to do some asking around. First of all, she wanted to go home and take a long, hot bath, or maybe call on Mary Rose, herself, to coax information out of her. That would remain just a wish as long as Montoya was in his bed. She might have to wait until dark, or dinner, or some emergency happened to pull him back to action and out of the way. For now, after the long day, the Queen just put her head on her folded up arms and closed her eyes.

~~~~~

Tessa skulked into her hacienda with pain erupting from every part of her body. The ride home had been horrendous. She not only felt every movement she had made during the fight with Grisham and some soldiers, she had been stuck in one position under Montoya's bed longer than any human should have to endure. He had not only had his supper brought in, but decided to retire early.

Only two things made the whole unbearable experience worthwhile. One, she had found out that Mary Rose and Montoya were in cahoots. After she talked to Mary Rose about this turn of events, she would know where Montoya's regiment was on duty that day. Checking that hidden compartment in Montoya's bureau was another item to put on the to-do list. Montoya had had an interesting meeting with Grisham. There were many times when she almost giggled out loud during their conversation of how to finally capture the Queen. Look by your feet, was one thought that had come to mind.

All doubts about whether or not Vera and Grisham were having an affair were put to rest when Montoya asked if Grisham would be able to use his lover as bait. Tessa would have to have a conversation with Vera as well. Not so much to talk her out of finding love on the side, but about her taste in men. Vera was still too ill from her miscarriage for more than perfunctory social interactions, and already, Montoya was trying to use her in one of his schemes. And to think that it had been his nephew who had gotten her pregnant in the first place....

Montoya had ordered Grisham to hand-pick one of his men to pose as a murderous hoodlum and 'kidnap' Vera to demand that the Queen of Swords exchange herself for the beautiful señora. Tessa was a bit annoyed when Montoya had commented, "I am positive the Queen's mind will whirl thinking of all the people who would have a score to settle with her."

I only fight back, never start one, and I only help those in need. Who does he think I am? she had thought.

She didn't have to wonder long, as Montoya's hatred for her ended with him giving a list of what sort of she-devil-in-black she was. If he hadn't been interrupted by the housekeeper with a message that had just arrived from Monterrey, Tessa was sure he would find a reason why the Queen was responsible for the lack of rain as of late.

Her stomach reminded her loudly that she had missed her dinner, so instead of lighting her way to her bedroom to collapse, she decided to forage in the darkness. I know this house by heart, Tessa thought, just before walking into a wingback chair and stubbing her toe.

"Madre de Dios!" Tessa wailed, along with a litany of words that colored the air blue. Marta entered with a lit candle.

"Tessita, you are finally home."

Tessa looked at the furniture arrangement of the drawing room. "You changed things around."

"I had to do something while you were gone so long."

"Could you have not put a note on the door to warn me? My toe was the only thing that did not hurt."

"I hate when you ride as the Queen."

"Well, it has to be done, Marta. You know I would prefer to just sit home and drink wine."

"So, what happened?" Marta asked, trailing behind Tessa, who had grabbed the candlestick from her and was trudging to her bedroom.

"There is a time for explanations, and there is also a time for sleep," Tessa said just before smiling coyly and shutting her door behind her. She opened it quickly to add, "Being stuck in Montoya's bedchamber for six hours has sapped my strength."

Tessa heard Marta's shocked, "What?!" as she pushed the door shut again. The pounding that quickly followed drowned out her laugher.

~~~~~

Tessa sat on a veranda chair, wrapped in a blanket to ward off the early morning cold. She sipped some coffee that she had perked herself. Her coffee was always too weak or too strong, never just right as Marta made it. Nevertheless, its warmth did the trick to take the edge off the chill in the air. As she looked over her orchard, at the sun slowly peeking over the mountains in the distance, and listened to the birds and horses in the stables, she decided that she did, in fact, live in paradise. It was so calm and peaceful in Alta California before the day really began, and Tessa took a moment to savor it. The innocents, the people needing justice, her father, they all were reasons why she dressed as the Queen of Swords, but during these moments of calm beauty, her land was also a major factor. This was her home, and she wanted to make it truly paradise.

She heard Marta stirring in the house and saw the lanterns of the worker's cabins being lit. A new day had begun. Tessa debated on what she would do first. She was still pondering yesterday's events. The reason she had been caught in Montoya's headquarters by Grisham was that she had been under the impression that Montoya would be making his quarterly trek to Monterrey for a face-to-face meeting with the Viceroy. Little did she know that Montoya had taken ill and decided to put it off another two weeks. Tessa chuckled. He cannot go next week. He is stealing some ship named El Risa del Diablo next week with Mary Rose. When did they become allies?

Tessa hoped that Montoya wasn't too ill; he had retired early and had supper brought to his bed last night. Not that she cared about his well-being, but she wanted to find out the truth about her father's death before Montoya kicked the bucket. She had dressed as the Queen with the thought that Montoya was on his way to Monterrey and she could search Montoya's headquarters to find evidence that he had a hand in her father's death. She usually checked his secret room and desk for items that might incriminate him, and she usually found something to use to her advantage. Alas, she kept coming up empty in placing blame square on Montoya's shoulders. Maybe her father did die of a fall from his horse. Tessa put the thought aside. It is so unbelievable! Papa was a great horseman. There has to be another reason. He was also buried very fast. Sure, Alta California is a hot climate and rapid burials are the norm, but oh, how I would have liked to have seen Papa one more time.

Marta pulled Tessa from her mentation with a fresh cup of tea. "I saw that you tried to make coffee; maybe you would like this instead," Marta said diplomatically.

Tessa chuckled. "I am not the best cook in the world, but I can make coffee. Sometimes."

"Very well," Marta said, sitting down in another chair. She made as if to take a sip of the tea.

"No." Tessa grabbed the cup from Marta and added with a shrug, "Since you went to all that trouble."

"There is an ulterior motive to my bringing you something decent to drink."

"Oh," Tessa asked with mock wide eyes, high voice, and sipping her tea with her pinky in the air. "What could that possibly be?"

Marta's eyes narrowed. "You successfully made me stay awake all night. Tessita, you were in Montoya's bedchamber for six hours?"

"Give or take a couple of minutes." Tessa tried to stop a giggle. She wanted Marta to needle her for information a little while longer.

"And?"

"The Colonel is not feeling well."

"And you were nursemaid, dressed as the Queen?"

"No, I was lying down the whole time."

Tessa laughed and almost spit out her tea from Marta's horrified expression. "What you must think! I was dressed as the Queen. Come on, Marta. I was lying down, but not on the bed."

"You were hiding behind a chair or something?" Marta retook her seat and took the other filled teacup.

"I was under the bed."

Marta hunched forward to whisper in a serious manner, "What does it look like?"

Tessa asked suspiciously, "What 'it' are you talking about?"

"His bedchamber. I would imagine it is quite nice."

"Well," Tessa paused to remember. "The floor is nice. He has an oriental rug by his bed. The baseboards are nice. I only had a fifteen-inch view...."

Marta swatted Tessa's arm. "Do not be coy. You have been in his bedchamber many times, and I never got the chance to ask before."

"It is nice; it is more fit for a king than a colonel."

"I wonder what the Viceroy would think if he saw it and knew that a colonel's salary could not furnish it."

"I wonder the same thing."

Marta's mouth lifted to an evil grin. "An anonymous note to the Viceroy is in order?"

"I have tried that, nothing came of it. Besides, I have other fish to fry."

"Do not use cooking clichés, Tessita," Marta tisked.

Tessa looked to Marta, a bit hurt. "One day I will make you a nice meal and all your barbs about my cooking will go up like smoke."

"Sure, you will." Marta gave her a comforting pat on the arm. "What fish do you have to fry?"

"I do not know if I should tell you, since you treat me this way. Scoffing at my cooking skills. Really!"

"If you had cooking skills, I would not scoff at them."

Tessa wanted to be upset at Marta, but one look at her smile made Tessa laugh out loud.

~~~~~

Mary Rose ventured outside to watch her son, Anton, exercising the horses in the field. She had thought about making the trip to Beggar's Canyon to bribe the goons into 'stealing the ship out from under Montoya,' but decided to wait until after dark, arriving with a big, home-cooked meal as an extra incentive for them to listen to her. If she asked them to work side-by-side with Montoya's men, none of them would give her the time of day. She would have to make a detailed plan and run it past Montoya so that everyone was on the same page and no mistakes would be made.

As Mary Rose made her way back into the house to put her plan to paper, she was surprised by the woman dressed in black searching her library. "What do you think you are doing?" Mary Rose demanded, as she saw the Queen of Swords sifting through her desk drawer.

The Queen shut the drawer and straightened, into a posture of control and strength. She warned, "Montoya cannot have those cannon."

"What are you talking about?" Mary Rose asked stoically.

"I know everything that goes on around here. Your plan cannot work if it ends with Montoya acquiring cannon."

Deciding to roll with the conversation, but still reeling from the shock of the Queen knowing about the plan that hadn't yet completely been organized, she asked, "Why not? Men need their toys."

"He will fire them at innocent people."

The Queen paced around the desk slowly, looking determined.

Mary Rose asked flippantly, "He will not fire them at me, so what do I care?"

"Can you be so sure?" When Mary Rose did not respond, the Queen continued, "He cannot be armed with such a weapon. What on earth could have made you his accomplice? It will not end well for you, Señora. You have to know that."

"I have something over Montoya. He would not dare cross me," Mary Rose said defensively, then immediately regretted it. What she knew was that Rafael Alvarado had argued with Montoya in his office just before the Don's 'riding accident.' With a little bit of asking the right people, she had found out that Montoya had called for Alvarado's execution and that Captain Grisham had been the one to pull the trigger. There were times when she was going to tell Maria Teresa Alvarado what she had found out, but what good would it do? It wasn't as if Montoya or Grisham would serve any time, or even be put out of office. They could bend the truth to fit their needs, and the Viceroy would certainly believe Colonel Montoya over the word of a female, particularly one he considered a pirate.

"What do you have over Montoya?" The Queen asked boldly, with unusual interest.

That would be the day that Mary Rose told the Queen anything. The Queen had told her not to trust Montoya, well, she couldn't trust the woman in black either. Her husband, Andres, had been very clear when he told Mary Rose many times not to trust anyone.

"None of your business," Mary Rose said. "In fact, get out of my house. You are not welcome here."

"I thought we were friends," the Queen said, with a bit of indulgence.

Mary Rose went to her desk and looked in the drawer the Queen had opened to see if there was anything missing. She made a mental note to keep private papers in the safe from now on. Who knew what riffraff could make their way in here? It was a good thing she hadn't started working out her plan for El Risa del Diablo yet.

Mary Rose looked at the woman dressed in black and wondered why she even bothered with a costume, hidden identities, and hidden agendas. Ever since her dalliance with Captain Mazar, Mary Rose hadn't had time for games. She walked to the Queen and ripped the mask off. "At least look at me with your face. Do not ever come to my house in costume again, Maria Teresa. Also, never come when you are not invited and go through my things. You can now leave."

"What on earth makes you think you can go into business with Montoya without it backfiring on you?" In order to turn the tables on the Señora, the Queen theorized. "I thought you were a smart woman."

Feeling the rise of anger, Mary Rose took a deep breath to calm herself. She had to concede, "There are times when a man in tight pants can make me lose my head. I am only human."

"Montoya? You are in love with him?" Tessa asked, as if it was at once laughable, as well as outlandish.

"Heaven forbid, no!" Mary Rose rocked with laughter. "I just need him to teach a lesson to another scalawag."

"Do you want to tell me all about it?"

"Of course not."

"Maybe you could use my help."

"Not likely."

"Who are you in love with?"

"Are we retiring to the drawing room with tea after dinner while the men drink brandy and play poker in the other room? Forgive me, Señorita, if I do not feel like baring my soul to a woman who feels she needs the cover of a costume. Go home, powder yourself, and wait for suitors to call."

Tessa retorted as she donned the lace mask once again, "I do like you, Mary Rose. You have kept my secret, and for that I am grateful. Think about what you are doing. Do not cross Montoya. You will live to regret it, if you live at all."

Mary Rose had only taken her eyes off the intruder long enough to sit at her desk in an authoritative posture. When she scanned her library for the Queen to tell her not to worry about her, the Queen was gone. Mary Rose searched the house to see if she was just hiding somewhere in order to sift through other things. When she glanced out the window of the living room, she saw that the Queen was riding her bay stallion up the hill at the edge of Mary Rose's property.

Do not cross Montoya.... What about crossing me? Have you ever thought of that? The anger and regret had been so overwhelming, Mary Rose hadn't been able to think straight since that pirate by the name of Captain Lorenzo Mazar had left her. Mary Rose made her way back to the library as she continued her train of thought. He didn't even have the decency to just leave when the novelty of their relationship wore off. No, he had to take Andres' gold watch with him.

Mary Rose was sure that the late Andres would be disappointed in her. He would have been the first person to tell her to exact revenge on the scoundrel. She sat back at her desk and took out a fresh sheet of parchment, then she soaked the tip of her quill in order to write out notes of what she hoped would be the perfect plan.

Montoya could get his cannon while she took control of El Risa del Diablo. She would search it for her husband's watch, let the thieves take whatever they desired, and then burn it. There was one important aspect to the plan that she had to make sure every person knew: Mazar must remain very much alive. That bastard would know that he shouldn't have stolen from her and taken advantage of the fact that she had been so lonely as of late.

Andres had been the one to build El Risa del Diablo, that he had christened The Mary Rose. He had outfitted it with every convenience available. It was a palace at sea. Mary Rose had spotted it docked as she sailed up the coast to Monterrey three months ago. She had thought much on its recovery, while she stalked the pirates who had terrorized the coastline so recently. It had a new mast and a new name, but she knew it was her Andres' ship. It might take a great deal of courage to set it afire after she was on board and everyone had pillaged what they wanted. She certainly didn't want it anymore; if she did, she wouldn't be able to think of anything other than it was her husband's prized ship, that he had lost with the flip of a couple of cards.

Mary Rose could almost envision Mazar's face as he lost control of the ship. Then, she thought of the rest of him. His thick mustache and constant stubble. His wavy black hair that reached the small of his back and had a mind of its own. His lean thighs were usually encased in tight dungarees. His eyes twinkled and his grin was knowing. His strong arms seemed to burst out of his shirts, which were usually rolled up to his elbows. His shoulders were broad; his chest was perfectly chiseled. His hands were rough and calloused, but his touch was soft and tender. His blithesome laugh caressed her ear, which was so different from his deep suggestive voice that could make her shudder when he whispered in her ear.

Mary Rose cleared her mind, remembering how he had stolen from her, and went to the safe to take out all the trinkets she thought would be grand enough for the hoodlums to be swayed to work for her on this one mission. An emerald bracelet that once belonged to Josephine Bonaparte, a ruby necklace that Mary Rose had inherited from a hated aunt, jade earrings she had won from Montoya, and the diamond ring Anton was to give to Carmina. Along with Montoya's contribution of his soldiers and that diamond necklace, fifty thieves, and Anton, Mary Rose would see fate come back to bite Mazar in the ass.

She watched the sunlight refracted through the diamond necklace, producing a prism on the wall as she put the jewels from the safe into a pouch. She wondered where Montoya had got that necklace, who had owned it, and what they had done to have to fork it over. Well, its past didn't matter. What was important now was what it would buy for her.

~~~~~

Señorita Maria Teresa Alvarado sashayed through the square of the pueblo with her mind on too many things. The capture of some pirate's ship was something that wouldn't have bothered her in the least if she had learned about it after the fact; a pirate deserved to have the tables turned on him, just as he had probably turned a few on others. She would miss neither Captains Voler and Hipplewaite, nor their 'hospitality' while she had been their hostage a month ago. And she certainly felt no hostility towards Mary Rose for blowing Captain Voler's ship out of the water and capturing Hipplewaite's. But the thought of Montoya acquiring cannon frightened her. And she knew that this must be very important to Mary Rose, if the taking of El Risa del Diablo was enough to make Mary Rose McIntyre Guevara go into business with Colonel Montoya.

Cannon! He will be acquiring cannon! was all she could think as she found herself at the fountain, not even realizing that it was where she had been heading to. She took a seat on the stone and brushed her hand through the water as she gazed up at Montoya's headquarters, and she wondered what was hidden in that secret compartment in his bedchamber bureau. If she were to be so lucky as to find herself in Montoya's room again, alone, she wondered if she would be able to find that compartment, and better yet, open it. Proof of papa's death and how Montoya was behind it could be in there. She gave herself the luxury to dream of it, then announced with bitterness, "Bah! And pigs will fly!"

Tessa was so wrapped up in her thoughts that Vera startled her. "Pigs? My goodness, Tessa, there has to be something or someone more pleasant to occupy your thoughts."

Vera's sly smile greeted her when Tessa turned to look at her silhouette against the strong sun. Shielding her eyes, she asked, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Just long enough to know that you need some company," Vera said sweetly as she took a seat on the stone circle. "At least to make you think of something more cheery than swine." She mimicked Tessa's action of making ripples in the water. "You walked right by me, did not even look up at my call."

"I am sorry, Vera. I did not see you." She felt guilty. Vera had been too ill lately to derive much pleasure from life. It was good to see her up and in a happy mood.

Vera's light laughter complimented her cool yet sexual presentation. "I do not hear that often." She dabbed some water from the fountain to her chest and announced, "It is so hot lately. I just ordered a carafe of wine at the cantina. Let us drink it." A shadow passed over her face for just a moment, but then she seemed to shake it off.

Vera hooked her hand on Tessa's arm and pulled her to her feet. She kept hold of Tessa's hand as they walked together to the cantina. Señora Hidalgo smiled at everyone on the way, and Tessa realized that she should do the same.

As they sat at a table on the porch of the cantina, the wine was poured in their glasses by the server. Tessa felt like her face was going to crack from the false smile she had held for so long. A third glass was being filled, and Gaspar soon joined them.

"So nice to see you again, Señorita," he said gallantly to Tessa, just after kissing Vera on the cheek.

"How did your meeting with the Colonel go, Gaspar?" Vera asked him.

"That man makes me so angry." Gaspar looked as if he would spit tacks if it were possible. He slammed his fist to the table and it shook his glass. "We had the discussion about taxes planned for ages, then he has a servant tell me that the meeting has to be rescheduled. A servant! Montoya makes me come all the way into the pueblo only to make me look like a fool. To a servant! What is the point of forming a Council of Dons if Montoya pays no attention to us?" He gulped down half the glass of wine and Tessa hurried to refill it. If he was in such a mood, she might actually get some information from him.

"Colonel Montoya did not even give you the time of day?" Tessa took out a handkerchief and dabbed some of the spilled wine from Gaspar's reaction to the Colonel from his sleeve.

The dons had decided to have one of them go to Montoya about not daring to raise taxes this season as had been rumored. Gaspar had been chosen as messenger. She hoped she hadn't prodded him too much with her words, but soon saw that Gaspar was on her side. The side that said that Montoya was not molding to their vision. He was a 'lowly military officer' while they were landowners. The dons, as well as Tessa, had decided at a gathering at Don Ricardo's last week that it was high time they started demanding things from the Colonel instead of the other way around, despite his recent threats to report them to the Crown as revolutionaries. Some Dons felt that Montoya's repeal of his recent tax increase was not enough; they wanted to prevent any future, unilateral tax raises.

"We are carving out prosperity in this savage land," Gaspar said after taking another gulp of his wine. "And all we get from the security force is 'I am the law.' Montoya will have a rude awakening, and I hope I am the one to deliver it!"

"Do not work yourself up so." Vera patted his hand reassuringly. "You did not sleep well last night."

"That is because of the necklace."

Tessa's ears perked up. "Necklace?"

"Yes." If it were possible for Gaspar to look even more angry, he did. "I bought my petal a diamond necklace the last time I was in Monterrey, a gift for our fifth anniversary, but I had to turn it over to Montoya."

"Why on earth for?" Tessa asked, but tried not to appear too interested. Could it be the same necklace he had given Mary Rose?

"To make sure my lands have round-the-clock protection from the rustlers," Gaspar explained. "I lost a quarter of my herd; I cannot afford to lose more. Montoya knew I would not deny him anything for the extra protection, and he demanded extra compensation. That necklace was the only luxury at hand that I could part with." He turned to Vera and in a calm, loving voice, he said, "I will make it up to you, petal. Next time I am in Monterrey, I will come back with an even larger one."

"I know," Vera replied sweetly as she sipped her wine. He smiled at her and patted her hand. Since Vera's ordeal, they had seemed to grow closer. Tessa was glad. Some husbands would have cast poor Vera into the street for her ''dishonor'.

"What sort of necklace?" Tessa asked. "Was it expensive?"

"Obscenely," was both of their responses. They shared a good-natured giggle at their solidarity.

Don Ricardo walked to the rail of the cantina and hollered, "Gaspar! What in the blazes are you doing out here? I came to the pueblo to wait for Montoya's answer. You are supposed to be meeting with him now."

Gaspar rose from the table, gave an affectionate pat on Vera's shoulder, and then walked to his comrade, Tessa assumed, to give him the lowdown.

Because the friends were again somewhat alone, Vera was more interested in talking of a fiesta to be held at the Padillas' in a couple of weeks rather than that necklace or anything to do with Montoya or Mary Rose. Tessa saw Captain Grisham exit Montoya's headquarters and walk past the cantina. He tipped his hat to them and said "Ladies," but Tessa saw the wink that he gave his lover on his way to the jail. If one were to look at Vera's face, one would never know that the two of them were lovers. If she hadn't overheard Grisham and Montoya plainly stating the fact, Tessa would still not be sure about their affair.

Well, now was as good a time as any. "Vera," Tessa began, but didn't know how to approach the subject.

"Yes?" she asked innocently.

Tessa hunched forward in case there were any ears listening to them at the other tables. "Are you and the Capitan...you know?"

"Yes," Vera answered matter-of-factly, and then added nothing more.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Still?"

"Yes." The same shadow as before crossed Vera's face. This time, it lingered.

"Why?"

"I need someone a little more exciting than my husband at times," Vera answered. "And Marcus is...kind, in his own way."

"Are you in love with him?"

Vera sighed heavily and sat back in her chair. She took another sip of wine as she obviously had to think that one over. "It depends on what you consider 'love'."

"Is he not...you know...."

Vera laughed lightly again. "No, Tessa, I do not know what you need to know."

"He's all wrong for you," Tessa said, with airs.

"I'd rather be with the wrong person for the right reasons, than the right person for the wrong reasons."

"And...who is the right and who is the wrong person in that summation?" And was, say, Dr. Helm the 'right person' for Tessa Alvarado? Tess shook off the thought.

"It changes almost daily." There was a stony silence after Vera said those words, but then she giggled as she pulled the bottle out of the ice and poured herself another glass. "Would you like more?"

"Details, and wine. Yes, please." Tessa knew she would never be so free with her body and soul as her closest friend, but she certainly wanted to hear Vera's take on the situation.

~~~~~

After a light dinner and making his rounds at the jail, Montoya went up to his bedroom to call it a night. He put on his nightshirt and lay back on his soft bed. He closed his eyes as he envisioned how the attack on El Risa del Diablo would take place. He could even imagine the tortured howls of Mazar's men, and savored the vision of Mazar in pain as well. The bastard deserved it. Montoya would finally be able to inflict pain on him.

Lorenzo Mazar had been a life-long friend of Montoya's as they grew up together in Spain. Mazar had gone through the military ranks on Montoya's heels. Montoya was convinced that Mazar only got where he did because Montoya taught him everything he knew. It was Montoya who had gotten Mazar accepted into the academy. It was Montoya who had smoothed over the time when their superiors thought Mazar had gone AWOL, when he had actually just spent the night with a don's daughter and lost track of time, then waltzed back into camp the next afternoon. It was Montoya who had shared his Christmas care package of fresh bread and cookies from home with the orphaned Mazar.

From the moment that Mazar had been given the rank of Captain before Montoya-one that he had felt he more rightly deserved--Montoya knew that he couldn't trust anyone. Then, just when Mazar had everything that Montoya had ever wanted, Mazar walked away. He really did go AWOL, taking a job as a ship's crewman because he was "tired of walking the straight and narrow with needle-nosed asses looking over my shoulder."

Now, their paths crossed again. Montoya didn't care a bit about what Mazar had done to the Irish widow with a mean streak and a way with a cutlass, but Mazar would surely rue the day he got what Montoya had worked so hard for, only to thumb his nose at it. Montoya lay on his bed and could taste revenge.

~~~~~

The Queen boldly walked to Montoya's window, confident under the cover of the night. The same white curtains were flowing out of the open window as they had when she hung precariously off the roof the day before. It was risky to come back so soon, but she couldn't rest her mind, curious of what was in that secret compartment. She also needed some reason to care about the taking of the ship, still not knowing if she should try to stop it or not. Mary Rose was a formidable woman, but she also had a sensible head on her shoulders. If she was for it, Tessa probably wouldn't mind it happening. The cad deserved what he got. But Montoya also wanted something and he would get them -- cannon. She couldn't allow that to happen. Another visit to Mary Rose about the sensibility of that outcome would have to wait until tomorrow, but for now, she needed to find what else Montoya was hiding apart from his normal hiding place.

She pulled back the curtain. Montoya was stretched out on his bed. His hand was over his eyes, and she didn't know if he was asleep or not. It surprised her, as she had assumed he would be burning the midnight oil, plotting out the ambush of a pirate ship. After their shared captivity aboard Captain Voler's ship, she understood full well his hostility towards pirates. If only he did not intend to acquire cannon from the venture....

Better not chance it, she decided as she leaned back against the wall of the balcony. It was stupid to even try. Maybe Doctor Helm is still up. My shoulder is still killing me. She smiled as she remembered Grisham passing the cantina that afternoon. His careful step, rather than his usual swagger, indicated that his stomach was hurting. Well, having been kidnaped by an angry, cuckolded husband only a week or two ago might do that to you. He couldn't have been hurt too badly. Despite their mutual hostility, Helm would surely have prescribed bed rest if he had to put in stitches.

Two soldiers came out from the livery and leaned casually against a parked wagon in the square to share a cigar. If they looked up, they'd surely see her. She couldn't move off the balcony or she would signal she was there. She looked back into Montoya's bedroom to see that he hadn't moved. She climbed hurriedly but silently through the window and rushed right to the Colonel with her sword raised and butted him over the head with the hilt. She waited, as she held her breath until she was sure that Montoya wouldn't pounce on her for entering his lair.

Montoya was still, but his chest slowly rose and fell, so she hadn't killed him. She had to work quickly. She looked over to the bureau that she guessed Montoya had stood before when he presented Mary Rose with that diamond necklace. The necklace was Vera's. It had no place being used as collateral for hiring hoodlums. She opened the bureau drawer that was the deepest and at waist-height. She guessed that Montoya had opened the middle drawer. From her view under the bed, she hadn't seen him reach high or bend low to open it. She and he were about the same height, so it was a good assumption that the middle drawer was her target.

She put her hand on the drawer pull, and it opened quite easily and silently. The drawer was full of ascots of various colors, and she sifted the contents to find a door with a latch at the bottom of it. She placed the ascots out of the way on the top of the bureau and flipped the latch. She couldn't see what was inside the compartment as it was too dark in the room. She couldn't light a candle as it could alert a soldier. She would have to use her sense of touch. When she put her hand in, she felt things, but couldn't make out what they were. She took her glove off and put her hand in again.

She pulled pieces of jewelry out cautiously and placed them on the pillow she had made of Montoya's ascots. A string of pearls. A diamond tiara. A jade brooch. As she had revealed each item, her hope of finding something to use against Montoya waned. A ruby ring. A diamond bracelet.

What is he going to do with these things?

A Japanese dagger with an ivory handle. A gold wedding band. Then she felt something that sent a shiver up her spine: the teeth of a hair comb.

The Queen took hold of it, and shakily raised the hair comb up to the light of the moon, letting the light play off the sapphires and diamonds. She remembered a moment from years ago, as if it happened that morning. Her father had given it to her mother on Christmas morning, and it was the most beautiful thing three-year-old Tessa had ever seen. When she told her mother how lovely it was, her mother had pulled little Tessa's hair back and placed the comb above her right ear. When Tessa had come back to Alta California after her father's death, she had been devastated that the hair comb wasn't in the hacienda. Her father must have given it to Montoya for.... She stopped her train of thought. Her mother loved that hair comb and matching brooch; it was the last gift her father had given her before she died. Her father would never have parted with it for any reason. He would have given over the whole hacienda before those two items of jewelry.

Fire burned within her as she wondered if Montoya knew that, and he had stolen it for that very reason. Her hacienda was unattended between her father's death and her own arrival, and had obviously been ransacked. Tessa had only been glad that the thieves hadn't found the secret room in the cellar where all her father's wealth had been. She put her hand in the secret compartment again, and sure enough, she pulled out the matching sapphire brooch.

She put all the jewelry into her pants, boots, and corset. There was no way in hell she would leave her mother's brooch and hair comb in that drawer for Montoya to use to get more weapons or God knew what else! If she took only the comb and brooch, Montoya wouldn't have to think too hard about who had the motivation to steal them. If she took them all, he wouldn't know where to start. She moved to the window, curbing the desire to walk to the bed and strangle the Colonel with her bare hands, and quickly climbed out without even looking to see if there was anyone around to catch her.

Thankfully, The soldiers had finished their cigar and were no longer by the wagon. She made her way to Chico on the other side of the livery, and rode out of town with her stolen stash. She laughed as she envisioned Montoya's reaction at finding his empty compartment in the morning. What pleased her more was knowing that he would have a hell of a headache. As she slowed Chico a thought came to her. Montoya would surely place the blame squarely on the only person present the last time he opened the secret compartment: Mary Rose.

~~~~~

When Montoya awoke before the crack of dawn, his mind was hazy and his body was stiff as he rose and sat on the edge of his bed. He felt as if he had been conked over the head. He rubbed his head and felt a nob on his forehead. Rushing to the mirror, he saw a lump on his forehead that was red. As he leaned forward to look at it closer and wonder who did it, as he hadn't been aware of it, he spotted the bureau over his shoulder. He blinked his eyes thinking he was seeing things in the moonlit room, then looked again at his bureau. The drawer was wide open! His ascots were placed willy nilly on the top of the bureau, some had fallen to the floor. Montoya made his way to the drawer and howled in anger when he saw the open, more than likely empty, secret compartment. "GRISHAM! ANYBODY! GET IN HERE!"

Montoya lit a lantern and carried it to the drawer. Only then could he see that all his possessions were truly gone. He heard the rustling of waking people in the house and footsteps came determinedly down the hall. Montoya slammed the drawer shut and turned to the door as Pedro walked in.

"Who has been in my room?" Montoya demanded.

"Sir? What?"

"Huh? What?" Montoya knocked him across the head and shoved him to the door. "Get Grisham, now!"

A soldier, Garza, walked in as he was still hastily dressing. Montoya asked, "Who was in this room tonight?"

"Just you, Colonel."

"Do not be snide! Someone was in here." He turned to not show the underling the wound on his forehead and his mind ran through the suspects of who could have taken his stash. And hit him over the head to get it. Was he or she trying to kill me? How could it have happened without my knowing? Who knew about this hiding place? Who had owned the jewels? Gaspar Hidalgo was one who came to mind right off the bat, but that bumbling tub couldn't have snuck in here. He must have had an accomplice.

The Queen didn't know of the secret compartment's existence. She was too busy breaking into his secret room or office downstairs, if she had the cajones to break in. There wasn't any way she could know about the drawer. Then, it dawned on him. A red fire of hatred exploded in him as he remembered being so lax as to bring Mary Rose into his bedchamber to give her the necklace. He admonished himself for trusting the woman and said aloud, "You cannot trust anyone."

Garza replied obediently, "Yes, sir."

"Prepare my wagon. I am going to pay a visit to that pirate. She will curse the day she was born when I am through with her. For the last time, get Grisham! Now!"

That Irish dame would know exactly what revenge was, and he would do it swiftly and above the board.

~~~~~

Mary Rose, still in deep sleep, was now remembering a few weeks after she had first set eyes on Captain Lorenzo Mazar. Anton had spotted a señorita, just after they had finished eating at a cantina in Monterrey. He had whispered, "I will meet you back at the ship, mother. Do not wait up for me," just before standing, his eyes locked on the lass, and straightening his jacket.

Mary Rose looked over her shoulder at the señorita with big eyes and an inviting smile. She took Anton's hand and said, "Be careful. She looks harmless enough, but I see fire under that cool exterior."

Anton grinned and winked at his mother, then walked to his prey. Mary Rose took a sip of wine when she heard, "Much the same could be said of you, Señora Guevara."

She turned to see Mazar standing to her left. He took Anton's seat without asking, but Mary Rose was filled with too much wine to complain. "I see you have not been blown into a million bits."

"I am too fast for the Colonel, and too smart for Lafayette." He raised his hand to indicate to the waiter that he wanted another bottle of wine.

Mary Rose scrutinized him. The 'just found my way out of bed' attire he had on board was replaced with an 'I am trying to prove I can clean up well' look. He did. His tanned-buckskin jacket set off his sun-kissed olive complexion well. His tight, black pants and knee boots were the only things about him that she recognized. His hair was oiled smooth and tied at his nape. He had recently shaved and his mustache was neatly trimmed. For some reason she didn't want to examine, she was glad she had put on one of her finest dresses, a light blue, crinoline lace number that she had had made for her for Don Hidalgo's wedding. "You were in quite a jam, last I saw you. Is my ship all right?"

"Better than you last saw her. She has been sanded and varnished." When she asked why, he replied, "The spoils of war."

"She got more than just dirty?"

"I had to replace a couple of planks. But she is built well. We were able to make a quick getaway."

"My husband built her."

"And he did a very good job. I neglected to mention it during our last meeting. You should be proud of your late husband."

"Of course I am." She finished her glass of wine and felt the dead silence. His eyes bored holes in her chest. The corset she wore did give her more cleavage than she even knew she had. If he wanted an eyeful, she got perverse pleasure in pulling her upper arms in tight and slightly leaning forward. "What do you want?" she asked without invitation, more as if to say 'suffer for what you can't have'.

The waiter arrived with a fresh bottle of wine. Mazar took it and the corkscrew from him and waved him away. "To share a glass of wine. Nothing more, Señora."

"I have had enough. Thank you, anyway." Mary Rose wiped her lips with a napkin and set it on her plate. She shifted the chair back, ready to go.

Mazar laid his hand over hers to keep her at the table. "So abrupt, Mary Rose. Do you hate me without even knowing me?"

"You have my ship."

That cannot be the only reason. I have had it for three years. Who knows how many hands it went through on its way to me. I have taken good care of her." He squeezed her hand, which had the effect on her that she assumed he wanted. She needed air. He said, "I am only being friendly."

"You are making too many assumptions," she countered. "It is not attractive." It was, but the last thing she wanted was to be obvious. What he did most was irritate her. She didn't want to even like that man who commanded her ship, not ever.

When she rose from her chair, he stood because she did, trying to be a gentleman, but kept hold of her hand. "If wine is not what you want, how about a walk on the shore?"

Mazar was standing so close, with a firm hold on her hand, that she felt she had too much wine and would swoon. At least she blamed it on the wine. "What is it about me that makes you so forceful?"

"Let me explain it to you while we walk."

Before long, they were arm in arm, walking along the pier. Mary Rose did have to say she liked the jealous looks of young, single women who saw her with Captain Mazar, and drank in the lingering glances of men as they walked past. It had been years since she felt 'pretty'. She realized, from the glances and Mazar's pushiness, that she cleaned up well, herself. Mazar was about the most handsome man she had ever seen, and felt bad about how she had treated him. So, he had her husband's ship. At least he seemed to love it as much as they had. It might have been the wine, but at this point, she no longer wanted the ship. But she felt flushed when she realized that what she did want was walking along next to her. She had her hand tucked on his elbow, and his hand rested comfortably on her. She could feel his muscle-tone under that thick jacket sleeve. She noticed an elegant cufflink on his white shirt.

Mazar had talked of his life at sea, but it was hard to make out some of what he said because of the waves crashing to shore, and her own thoughts about being so close to his power. His low, melodic voice bewitched her. She and Anton had shared two bottles of wine at dinner, and she was feeling the effects. When she stumbled on a plank of the boardwalk, Mazar had kept her on her feet, and tight against him. He put his arm around her and said, "I am afraid that shawl is not enough to ward off the chill." He nodded to a hotel off the boardwalk and down the block. "Shall we warm up by a fire?"

A hotel? You can dress a bounder up, but that doesn't change what he is. She didn't allow him to steer her to the steps off the boardwalk, instead pushed his hands off her and drew her white lace shawl tight around her. "You have not told me why you are on me like a dog with a bone."

"You are attractive. You are legendary. You are everything I assumed you would be. And, I am lonely. We might make a perfect fit if you give it half a chance."

"You want my wealth," she stated matter of factly, not giving him a chance to beguile her any longer.

His laugh rang through the air. "I would assume you have enough reales for your heirs to live comfortably, but I could buy and sell you. No, Mary Rose. It is not your wealth that attracts me. It is you. Your fire, your passion, and I have certainly heard of your duels. You have bested men I must admit I would have had trouble beating." He sat back and smiled. "You are about the only woman any of us knows who actually likes being on a boat."

He was a sweet-talker, she gave him that. He had zeroed in on her greatest love besides her son. "I feel as if I were born on one."

"We have so much in common."

He reached for her hand, and she swayed away and walked to the rail to look out at the choppy waves, wondering if it there would be a storm and it wouldn't be safe to sail in the morning. Mazar was right at her side, only this time, not touching her, his hands on the rail where she could see them. Some strands of his hair had broken loose from the tie and fluttered back in the wind. She could see him at the helm of her--his--ship, and the thought aroused her.

Mary Rose breathed in the salty air to stop the rising heat he stoked in her, but it didn't work. Instead of fending it off, she would accept it. "All right," she said. "Since you know so much about me, you know the location of my hacienda. We will have dinner on Friday night, with my son in attendance."

"Your son would not make a good chaperone. I will bring my daughter."

Your daughter?"

"Yes, maybe you saw her this evening. She was the innocent flower that your eagle-eyed son made a beeline for."

"Her dress was cut mighty low to be so 'innocent', Captain."

His eyes fell to her own chest, and turned away with a smile as she covered her cleavage with her shawl. "She dresses like her mother."

"And what a brave woman she is to be married to you." He hadn't worn a wedding ring, and his finger was bare, without a tan line where the ring should be. Maybe he never wore one.

"I have to admit it took the strength of ten women to put up with me. My dear wife is now six feet under an orange tree at the edge of her family's property."

That was really the last thing she expected him to say. Many a married man had made excuses for their marriage. "She does not understand me", "we live separate lives", "she has her hobbies, I have mine". Mary Rose saw the glimmer of regret in Mazar's eyes, and intoned, "I am sorry to hear that."

He nodded his head as he looked out at the ocean. His mouth was set in what she couldn't decide was either sadness or bitterness. "She has been gone for six years. She was quite a dame, but hated the sea. She preferred to stay on land, go to parties, wear nice clothes. I had to work hard to keep her properly attired."

"How did she die?"

"She was murdered."

Mary Rose's breath caught. "So was my husband."

"By whom?"

"I do not know. The culprit was never caught."

"In my wife's case, the culprit was never brought to justice."

She heard an undertone of loathing in those words; he did well to cover what must have goaded him all those six years. She could well understand it. In her case, there hadn't been a suspect in her husband's murder. How awful to have suspicions that had never come to fruitation. "Why not?"

"He was 'justice', and still claims to be." Mazar snarled. "Your friend, Colonel Balthazar Alfonso."

"You are joking."

"I do not joke about infidelity." His voice seared with hatred. "She was his mistress, and he killed her. I know he did it."

"Why?"

"The exact reason, I can only guess. One of the major reasons, I suspect, was to get back at me."

"No, I mean, why did she have another lover?" To have Captain Mazar in her bed and still look elsewhere? Some women were never satisfied, she guessed, but still at a loss. She wondered if it was his fault, if he had taken mistresses first.

Mazar looked surprised, and looked down at her by his side. "I guess I am not quite as revered as I like to believe."

He was unfolding like a flower. For that reaction, and the vulnerable look on his face, Mary Rose had to rethink her initial judgement of him. Her immediate hostility could have been from the shock of seeing The Mary Rose again, with a new name and commanded by someone other than Andres.

Mazar's eyes flitted beyond her and he said, "As much as I am taken with you, if your son hurts my daughter, he is dead meat."

Mary Rose turned around to see her son with Mazar's daughter, walking toward them. Their laughter now pierced the air, and Mary Rose, at first glance, thought they made a lovely couple. Anton had had a hard time of it after Carmina's death; it was just in the last year that he had started to look at other women.

"You have nothing to worry about," Mary Rose declared. "My son is a gentleman. Are you?"

"That is for you to find out, Señora." He placed a kiss upon her gloved hand after he tenderly lifted it to his lips. "Until Friday eve. I will look forward to it."

~~~~~

Mazar exchanged words with Anton, then shook his hand. With a backward smile to Mary Rose and a wave of his hand, he took hold of his daughter and they walked down the steps of the boardwalk to the hotel. Anton walked to Mary Rose, then turned around to wave goodbye to the girl who was looking back at him, absolutely glowing.

Mary Rose cuffed her son's head. "Did you enjoy your evening?"

"She is something."

"Much like her father, I assume. Did you know she was his daughter?"

"Not until she mentioned it."

Mary Rose brushed some lint from her son's black jacket and fingered his collar, which had a red smudge on it. "When did you have time to talk?" she asked with a grin. He looked so much like his father, and probably had that Mediterranean sexuality as well, even though she never wanted to think about it.

Anton covered her cleavage with her shawl and said, "I could ask the same."

"Oh, please. I am too old to for such things."

"Yes, you are," Anton said. She turned abruptly to him to see he was serious. He didn't need to agree with her! He told her, "You are my mother, after all. Act like one."

"Excuse me?"

"He is not for you, mother, and you invited him to our home? In order for him to take inventory?"

"Do not be ridiculous," she admonished. Sure, the thought had come to mind, just after she had invited the Captain, but he wasn't like that at all, she had found out. He didn't play fast and loose with women...did he?

She watched Mazar hold the door of the hotel open for his daughter, and look in their direction. After another wave, he was gone.

~~~~~

Mazar and his daughter had arrived in a plush leather and velvet carriage complete with gold lanterns. It was driven by the hulking brute that Mary Rose had assumed was Mazar's right hand man when they first met. She wondered if he was also a bodyguard. For a pirate as egotistical as Mazar, he had to have many enemies, and that man was just large enough to fend them off. But why did he think he had to bring him to her hacienda? A show of force? Did he need protecting during the long ride from the coast? There was so much about that man she needed to find out, and the prospect of it excited her.

Mary Rose's help had worked overtime making sure the pork was roasted to perfection, the best bottle of wine in her cellar was opened to let breathe, and fresh flowers were set in every room to sweeten the air of her hacienda, which had been cleaned from top to bottom.

The carriage stopped and the door opened. Lust kicked Mary Rose as Mazar's long leg appeared from the back. He was dressed to the nines for their dinner date. The smart, black suit gleamed silver in the moonlight, his hair was tied neatly at his nape, and it looked again as if he had shaved carefully around his mustache and goatee. He stood outside the carriage and held his hand out to help his daughter down the step and to the ground. She was wearing a demure, empire-cut pink gown with matching silk shawl. Her long black hair had been swept up with ringlets caressing her shoulders. Her smile was wide and friendly, as father and daughter met Mary Rose on the porch.

"You look beautiful, Señora," Mazar said as he bowed. "May I present my daughter, Carlotta. Carlotta, this is the legendary Mary Rose Guevara."

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Señora," Carlotta replied demurely as she extended her hand. "Thank you for inviting my father and me into your home."

"You are quite welcome."

Mary Rose shook the girl's hand and then felt her son's hand on her back. She moved aside as Anton took Carlotta's hand and said, "It has been too many hours since I have seen your lovely face."

"Down, boy," Mazar warned, and Anton stood straight with his eye on him.

"My son sometimes forget his manners in the presence of lovely señoritas. Forgive him. He really is a gentlemen," Mary Rose said, as she nudged Anton. She knew he was overacting for some reason. "Right?"

"Of course." Anton shrugged, but smiled at Carlotta, who laughed. The short time they had had together before might have been long enough for her to see how unmannerly Anton could be.

There was an uncomfortable silence between Mary Rose and Mazar. To break the ice, she said, "You clean up well. I forgot to tell you that last time."

"Are you sure you forgot, or do you have nothing better to say?" he chided her. "I gather that compliments usually do not roll off your tongue."

"I have plenty to say, such as 'come inside, would you like some wine, do you like pork, stolen anything recently?'"

"Yes, to all of the above."

Anton offered his hand to Carlotta, who took it and was escorted inside. Mary Rose indicated the brute at the reins of the horses. "Is he coming as well?"

"Fox? No, he barely speaks Spanish."

"What nationality is he?"

"I am not sure."

"You have not asked him?"

"Why would I? I pay him, he is happy, I am happy." Mazar yelled out to Fox, who was just getting down from the buckboard, "Water the horses. We will be inside."

Mary Rose offered, "I could have a plate of food sent out for him."

"That would be nice, Señora. Just do not let him use your best silver. You may not see it again."

Mary Rose turned to the house and felt his hand on the small of her back. She turned back to the pirate in order to make it known that it was not right, but at the same time felt a pleasant tickle sweep up her back. She watched Lorenzo Mazar in her home. Either he was good at covering his motives, or he wasn't in the least interested in her possessions. His eyes were mostly on her. She had invited him so fast, she hadn't taken his profession into consideration. As Anton had suggested earlier, Mary Rose had put her most treasured possessions away, just in case Mazar's eye fell on something he would decide he couldn't live without. Just to be on the safe side.

His eyes drank in the room with a quick glance, which didn't surprise her. Not that she was more interesting to look at, though she was, but the rooms were sparse. Mary Rose was at home on the sea and was only at the hacienda a few days here, a few days there all during the year. Why bother decorating to the hilt? Ever since Andres had died, Mary Rose spent even less time at the ranch, only coming to shore to see if her workers were, in fact, working. Ever since her right hand man, Geraldo, had been killed by Maria Teresa Alvarado, it had been hard to find someone she trusted as much to manage her affairs in her absence. She had been lucky after Geraldo was killed. She was able to find a married man, Manuel, who was doing a fine job of overseeing her land holdings and livestock, and whose family lived on her land. It was nice to have someplace to go on dry land, but she still had thoughts of selling the property to Manuel for a fair price.

Mazar produced a bottle of wine from under his coat, and Anton proceeded to pour it for the four of them as the cook entered to softly announce that dinner was ready. Mary Rose told her, "Keep it warm. We will be in to dine when we are ready."

"I see you do not beat around the bush with anyone, Señora," Mazar said, as he made himself perfectly comfortable in a wingback chair in the parlor. "So, I shall not take your directness personally."

"Me? Direct? As opposed to you?" Mary Rose lightly laughed as she took her glass of wine from Anton. "You, Captain, are the most outspoken boor I have ever met. What you are doing in my home is really beyond me."

Carlotta spoke up. "Do not think he has not heard that before." Father and daughter exchanged a glance and smile. "She has you pegged, Papa." They clinked glasses and drunk their wine. "Thank you, Señora. It is not every day a land owner invites my father and me to dinner."

"You usually enter through the back door, under cover of night, when the owners are asleep or away?" Anton asked, without hiding his disdain for the pirate.

Mazar looked down his nose at the youngster and scoffed. "If that is what you choose to believe. I will have you know, your father was no different than I."

"Oh, he was different," Anton argued, but held back his fury at what he must have imagined was an insult. "I have heard stories about you, Captain. Or should I say, AWOL Captain. Either the military would not have you, or you just fled."

"Or, I walked away from the violence," Mazar suggested.

There was a pause, as Mary Rose looked at the pirate in a somewhat new light. He couldn't take the killing, so he left the military to forge a new life? Just the thought of it made her chuckle, as she had, of course, heard stories of his pillaging ships and colonies on three coasts. Pretty soon, the whole room was filled with laughter.

Mazar said, "Anton, it was something between those two assumptions, as with most things in life. I will not provide easy answers for anything you wish to know. Now, if you do not mind, I am famished. Can we go eat that pork I smell?"

~~~~~

Dinner went well, with Mazar and Carlotta being gracious for the abundant food and hospitality, while Mary Rose tried to make them feel more welcome, aside from Anton's occasional, well-masked put-downs. Lorenzo Mazar acted much differently in the company of his daughter. The spark she felt for him when she had invited him to dinner, was nurtured as each passing moment showed more of a passionate, and even romantic, side of his initial boorishness.

Anton, stomach full, slid back his chair, took his gold pocket watch out and clicked it open. Mazar's eyes fell upon it immediately. "What an interesting watch," he said. "May I see it?"

"It was my father's," Anton told him as he held it so Mazar could see the Spanish flag etched on the front. Andres had that watch for years, and after he died, Mary Rose had gifted it to Anton as a remembrance of his father.

"Very nice, indeed," Mazar concluded, having not tried to touch it. "Where did your father get such a watch? Only military men were given them, after years of service. Andres was in the war?"

Anton closed the subject when he pocketed the watch and asked Carlotta, "May you allow me to show you the horses?"

"You have talked them up so much," Carlotta said, as she giggled. "I am expecting nothing less than horses fit for a king."

"You be the judge of that." He took Carlotta's hand in a gentlemanly manner, helping her from her chair.

Mazar said, "Fox is right outside." Mary Rose didn't know if that was for Carlotta's benefit or Anton's.

Carlotta grimaced and sighed. "I know, Papa. I will be fine. I do not need a chaperone."

"Let Fox be the judge of that," Mazar said, with humor, as they left.

After the young couple had gone, there was an embarrassing pause between them, with only the sound of the grandfather clock's ticking. Mary Rose fumbled with the lace on her dress as she watched Mazar out the corner of her eye. It was best to see how a man acted if he didn't know he was being scrutinized. He seemed casual as he sat silently, and then she realized he was doing the same with her. "Would you care for some brandy?" she asked, her voice cutting the silence.

"Yes, please."

She escorted him from the dining room to the salon and poured them both snifters of brandy as he slowly paced the room, his hands hooked behind his back. So mannerly. Not at all interested in taking or even touching anything. Mary Rose smiled and shook her head. Who was he kidding? She couldn't let the thought that he wanted something out of her head. Something more than just her. She handed him the snifter, and his finger brushed against hers. His dark eyes twinkled in the soft lantern light, indicating that he was thinking. What he was thinking, she could take a guess, when his eyes drifted down to her cleavage. Maybe all he wants is me after all.

She opened a humidor and offered him a tiperillo. He bowed gratefully when he accepted it and took the flint from the box to light it. He laughed when she held another cigar in her hand, to her lips, and wanted a light as well. She inhaled the sweet smoke and exhaled it away from him. She swirled the brandy in the glass as she took a seat on the settee.

"You never cease to surprise me, Mary Rose. You command a ship, you drink like a man, smoke cigars. Will there be no end to your talents?"

"I am just a woman who knows what she wants, and usually gets it."

"How do you get men to work for you onboard ship?"

"It is not easy. Most men are pigs and think they must only take orders from other pigs. I have to pay my men more than you do."

"Is there gambling, drink and women on board your ship?"

"That is why there is shore leave."

"When will you be setting sail once again?"

"Right now, my men are careening my ship and repairing a few sails."

Mazar stretched out on the lounge he was sprawled upon and loosened his coat. "My crew is finding fresh supplies of water and food for our next voyage. Why do you do it? It cannot be easy for you. What is the attraction of life at sea when you have this home, the land, and horses?"

"I was born for it."

"It is weeks of boredom searching for prey, then short bursts of excitement as a ship is overtaken. Hopefully, it is not your own. During the dry spells, it is hard to keep the men under control. I do that by fear. What means do you use?"

"Respect. They know they will get more reales from me than from you or any other man out there."

"Ah, yes. The code. My men live and die by the code, how about yours?"

"Of course. Sailing men together in close quarters for months on end, they have to find a way to get along, and how the bounty is split fairly."

"Out of twenty shares, I take one and a half, what do you take?"

"Why? You are wondering if you are taking too much?"

"Or too little. You are successful. Tell me this, have you ever had to maroon one of your men?"

"Heavens, no," Mary Rose replied, shocked at the concept.

"Last year. I had to leave my boatswain on an island in the Caribbean."

Reacting to her shock, he said, "Not alone. I left him a bottle of powder, a bottle of water, and a dagger. He was using my ship as a sideline for his own smuggling operation. I was going to go back for him after he learned his lesson, but I forgot where I left him."

"Did you decide to do that on your own?" He was arrogant enough to have made that dire decision without the vote of his crew. But then again, it was quite a statement to his men that if they tried anything like it, it could happen to them.

"Of course not." Mazar sipped the rest of his brandy and set the snifter on the side table. "All my men have an equal vote in all things. The crew were angry that they were not getting a percentage of his take as well. It was a pity, really. Ricardo had sailed with me for over a decade."

"Friends be damned, huh?"

"There are no friends at sea. There are mates, and there is prey."

"Is that what I am?"

"Sure," he said but didn't expand on it until she was about to throw him out on his ear. "I was hoping we were mates."

"What do you have in mind? What do you want from me?"

"The same as you want from me."

Hoo boy. As much as she wanted to hate the man, she couldn't find it in her heart and loins to do so. Stranding a man who had sailed with him for so long on some uninhabited island seemed extreme, but at least he didn't make him walk the plank in shark-infested waters or 'dance the hempen jig', slang for being hung in public.

"What do I want, since you know me so well?"

His eyes covered her whole body. If he admitted it was her, she would lower her guard and try to find a way to tactfully ask if he intended to spend the night, which would be all right with her.

Carlotta stomped into the house and slammed the door behind her. "Papa, it is time to leave."

Anton hurried in and just hovered by the door, as Carlotta was boiling. "I know you are a cad, Papa, but I do not have to endure another moment of Anton asking me how I could possibly be your daughter, and he will not stop asking me about how my mother died."

All eyes went to Anton, who just shrugged. Mary Rose was shocked that he would needle Mazar's daughter about something she had told him in private. He explained his behavior only with, "There is a story there, mother."

"Only if it is told. Do not pry where you are not welcome, Anton."

Mary Rose had not asked Mazar about why Colonel Alfonso had killed his wife, his mistress, but hearing about the handsome man's wife and demise might only dredge up thoughts of her own beloved husband's murder. Anton was so like his father. He had to know everything about anyone who was let into their home, business dealings, and most of all, heart.

Mazar stood and took her daughter's hand. "Can we leave now, Papa? I know you are enamored by that woman, but I find Anton a terrible bore. I would like to go back to the hotel."

Carlotta pretty much dragged her father out of the house. On the porch, Mary Rose was sorry to see Fox bring the carriage up and Carlotta hurriedly enter it. Mazar had given her a long look, and smiled. "Thank you for dinner, and I am sorry about the brashness of my child."

Carlotta grumbled something from the carriage, and Mazar laughed. Mary Rose could see Carlotta's gloved hand reach for her father's arm. He said, "I bid you a good night, Señora Guevara. Anton." Mazar just sighed to her son. She had felt a bit rushed and let down that he was leaving so soon as well. The smug look on Anton's face didn't bode well for her either. Had he planned to get rid of them and needled the poor girl to want her to get away? Instead of using the method of kissing her or worse, he had just used the tactic of putting down her father. It worked; he should be proud. Mary Rose, on the other hand, felt a bit sick in the stomach as the carriage rolled away.

~~~~~~

Pounding at the living room door roused Mary Rose from her sleep. She could hear Anton and Montoya shouting but couldn't make out words. She groaned about having relived the seeds of the Mazar affair, as well as being roused from it before she got to the best part of Lorenzo Mazar. When she had woken up in his arms, she wanted to stay there for the rest of her life. Satisfied contentment wasn't a customary feeling for her; she hadn't felt it since Andres died, or after Mazar left her.

The racket from the living room drew closer to her bedroom door. Since she wasn't wearing anything, she started across the room to her robe and would see what the Colonel wanted. If Montoya was in such a mood, he wouldn't just leave until he aired his distress.

Before she reached her robe, Montoya burst into the room. Anton right behind him hollered, "You cannot just barge into our house, Colonel!"

"I can do what I damn well please," Montoya's raging stopped suddenly. Mary Rose knew he saw her naked and hurriedly place the robe in front of her. She knew he got quite the peek of her, and yet he didn't register anything but anger on his face.

"What in the hell do you think you are doing?" he demanded of her as he shoved Anton back into the hall and slammed the door so they were alone.

"I am getting dressed. Get the hell out of here!"

"Not until I tear you apart, limb from limb."

"Someone got up from the wrong side of the bed this morning?" Mary Rose fumed as she yanked the tie of the robe around her waist.

He drew the lapels of her robe together with his fist and pulled her close to his face. "Mark my words, your plan will not work."

"Of course it will, but only if everyone does what they are supposed to do. I put the finishing touches on the plan last night."

"Your plan! Bah! Your secret plan has been discovered, Señora Guevara."

The Queen. Of course. She had to have found out, somehow. Did she get to the banditos at Beggar's Canyon before they could be bought? But, why would she tell the Colonel? What was that little turncoat's game? Mary Rose couldn't get the fact that she might have gone to Montoya out of her head. Mary Rose chuckled. As Maria Teresa or as the Queen of Swords?

Montoya's fist was planted at the base of her neck as she was flat against the wall so hard that she feared she would choke. No one, not even Colonel Montoya, treated her in such a way and got away with it. Mary Rose pushed him away and strode across the room to her cutlass. She pulled it out of its sheathe and held it threateningly between herself and Montoya. "Maybe we should settle this the old-fashioned way."

"Grisham! Get in here!" Montoya commanded, just after he laughed.

"You cannot fight your own battles, Colonel?" Mary Rose needled him, slowly moving to his left, his vulnerable side, with the tip of her blade near his nose. "Are you getting so soft that you need your Capitan to come to your aid?"

Grisham entered, and raised an eyebrow when he saw Mary Rose fully intending on following through with her challenge. Montoya pushed her blade down and said, "You stole from me." He gripped her blade with his gloved hand and pulled her toward him. He looked at her hilt and announced, "And you knocked me over the head in order to do it!" He pulled the cutlass from her hand and ordered Grisham, "Take her away. Put her in the stockades with the other scourge of humanity."

"Very well," Grisham said and took hold of Mary Rose's arm.

"What is the meaning of this?" Mary Rose argued. "You barge into my home and-"

"Take her away!" Montoya ordered and started going through her drawers. "Search every inch of this hacienda, and if that brat of hers makes any moves to stop us, shoot him. I am not particular as to where."

"Montoya!" Mary Rose shouted as she kneed Grisham. When he bent over holding his crotch, Mary Rose continued, "Will you just tell me what you think I have done? I do not have a 'secret' plan!"

Montoya moved close to her. "You know what you stole. You stole it all."

"What?"

"The necklace, the-"

"You gave me the necklace."

"Where it is?"

"In the safe."

"Open it."

Grisham stood upright and sneered at Mary Rose. They followed him to the study and Grisham broke open the safe with little trouble. He had to have had practice. He pulled the pouch she had put her treasures in and presented it to Montoya. The Colonel eagerly went through it, and then dumped the contents onto the desk. "Where are my jewels?"

"I do not know what you are talking about." The look on Montoya's face told her that he wouldn't be satisfied until every stone was unturned. She didn't need his mind set on betrayal, whatever happened to him. She hadn't done anything, they wouldn't find anything, she had done what she needed to do. "Be my guest," she told Montoya and his men. "Satisfy yourself in the only way you can be satisfied. Search my home. By all means, do not leave any room untouched."

Mary Rose and Anton sat on the sofa while Montoya's men went through her house. Cleaning up the mess would take time, but it could be worse. It was a good thing she didn't bring a lot of her possessions to the house. The head maid, Sofia, gasped every time one of the soldiers broke something or emptied drawers on the floor. If Mary Rose hadn't allowed this, she would never hear the end of it, and just might end up in jail for some offense she had no part of. As she looked at her son, she knew that it took next to nothing to be jailed. Montoya would never let whatever burr was on his saddle go. The bureaucracy might not be in her favor. It wasn't as if she was totally innocent in everything in life, he could easily make up an offense and make it seem credible to society and the Viceroy.

Anton looked at if he were going to explode or start punching, and Mary Rose laid a hand on his to stop him. "What did you do?" he whispered to her.

"Nothing."

"I find that hard to believe."

The men were thorough, that was certain, as they pulled out drawers and let the contents fall to the floor in order to sift through them. The few pictures she did have hung were taken down and checked behind. Heavy furniture was toppled to look for hidden compartments. It was only when Grisham took out a dagger to cut open the cushion of a wingback chair did Mary Rose decide it was time to call things to a stop. She yanked the cushion from him and said, "Does this look like it was been recently stitched?" She shoved it back in his face. "Montoya! Enough of this nonsense. You have come up empty, except for that man," she pointed at one of the privates, "who found my lingerie drawer!"

"We did come up with nothing, Señora." Montoya stalked to her, pleased with how his men trashed her hacienda, "But that does not prove a thing."

"Why do you think I stole something from you? Why do you think I was the one who hit you over the head? You think I am the only one who does not like you? Colonel," Mary Rose chuckled as she said, "you are not exactly the neighborhood cut-up." She flipped her hand in Grisham's direction. "I would bet that he would not even be counted as a friend. When you act like this, you will lose whatever comrades you have. Stop it. Come to your senses, or I will call the whole deal off."

"Oh, the deal is off, Señora."

"Fine." A new deal had been made to each other's satisfaction, as they stared at each other toe-to-toe. She said, "Take the necklace. I do not want a thing to do with you. I will seek my revenge in my own way."

Montoya stared at her in such a way that made her think he could look right through her. She gathered her robe around her, as they had not given her the opportunity to properly clothe herself. She had the thought of flashing him, but with the pipsqueaks in the room, she didn't want to give them a peep show. He was thinking something, and she really wondered what that was, and what had got him so damned riled. He finally spoke, to Grisham. Short and sweet, he commanded, "Leave us."

Grisham bowed his head to his Colonel and grabbed Anton's arm, giving him a shove to the door. "Mother?" Anton asked, as he was escorted out.

"Go cooperatively," Mary Rose told her son. "I do believe the Colonel and I need to have a chat."

When they were alone, Montoya stepped over the contents of her humidor, spread out all over the floor, then stooped to pick up a handful. He pocketed them and faced her.

"Go ahead, take them all. Does that satisfy you?" Mary Rose needled. "What exactly does satisfy you, Colonel?"

"I will only be satisfied when I have my cannon. I will get them and do not need you to do so."

"Just leave Mazar alive."

"So you can kill him?"

Mary Rose just shrugged. Montoya chuckled. "What it is he did to you is something I can guess at, but the real story must be more than fascinating. It could not just be the age-old story: Boy gets girl, boy takes from girl, boy leaves girl, girl wants blood."

"There are only seven plots in the world, Colonel."

"Oh, I know that for a fact. People are so easy to read." Montoya took a seat next to Mary Rose on the sofa and she moved over when their shoulders and legs were touching. "Why did you have Mazar move his ship?"

"I had what?"

"His ship has been moored a mile off shore for over a week. I received word from an acquaintance that it sailed late last night."

Mary Rose halted her facial expressions from Montoya, as this was all news to her. She had assumed that Mazar had arrived in the area to goad her into doing something, thinking he could overtake her and her men. Little would he know that was exactly what she had planned to do, hire more men and have the added advantage of the military to storm his--her--ship. Where did he go? Why did he go? What was he planning?

Looking back at Montoya, who was staring her down with his piercing, gray eyes, she turned away again and said, "I cannot possibly imagine what he has planned. Which acquaintance is this?"

"A fellow Colonel who also has been interested in the comings and goings of that coward pirate."

It had to be Balthazar, Mary Rose determined. Colonel Alfonso had been on Mazar's tail since before she had met him three months earlier. She had had no idea that Montoya knew Alfonso, but then again, they were comrades with equal footing.

She looked back at Montoya, who was still staring at her. She closed the collar of her robe and asked, "Are you going to help me clean up this mess?" as she indicated the chaos in the room.

"I will clean up the mess that is Lorenzo Mazar." Montoya chuckled and said, "I am still wondering what charge I can levy on you to put you behind bars where you belong."

"I did not bonk you over the head," Mary Rose said softly. She lightly rubbed the small remnant of the hit on his temple, wanting to soften him up, but he took her hand and placed it back on her lap.

Her voice stronger now, with a hint of exasperation, Mary Rose proclaimed, "So, you thought I made that mark on your head, stole some jewels, and made off with Mazar last night?"

"Or would meet up with him."

"I will only meet up with him to kill him."

As Montoya stood and straightened his uniform coat, he said, "Do not let me stop you." He walked outside and ordered his men to mount up. As she heard the pounding of the soldier's horse's hooves, she looked around her messy house. Anton walked in and asked, "What is going on?"

"I do not know."

"It has something to do with that pirate."

"Of course."

"I should have killed him while I had the chance." Anton shook his head bitterly as he picked up a painting he had given his mother for her birthday three years before, which had fallen out of the frame when the house was ransacked. "To think you allowed that man into my father's bed. For three months, he was taking stock of everything you had."

"He only took the watch."

"That we know of. Really, mother. Your taste."

"Anton," Mary Rose declared. "Do not ever talk to me in such a fashion again! I am your mother, and I demand respect. We have both made horrible mistakes. Get past it! I am going to. Help Sofia clean up this mess. I am going to get dressed and then go for a morning ride."

The banging of her bedroom door accentuated her anger at Anton, Montoya, Mazar, the world in general at that moment in time. The sounds still reverberated in her ears as she paced her bedroom a few times. She couldn't believe the news that Mazar had just turned tail and ran; he must be planning something. As she sat on the edge of her bed, she went through all the reasons for his departure. None that she came up with made any sense at all.

~~~~~

Marta had been working for over an hour in the hot sun. She had to keep one step ahead of the weeds in her garden, or the delicate herbs would certainly die. As she knelt between the rows of basil and anise, she saw a black form off in the distance. She wiped the sweat off her brow with the back of her dirty hand and looked up to see if she could make out what it was. A large man on horseback was riding slowly from the direction of the sea. He was so large, it looked like the horse was carrying more of a burden than it was used to. Not that he was obese. The man's long legs were out of the stirrups and hung farther down than any normal man's stature would. She thought to herself that he must be rich and wasn't used to riding horses, as he wasn't doing a very good job of it. She shook her head, thinking that he must have been raised in wagons and carriages all his life, as she went back to pulling one stubborn root from the ground. When she had completed that row, she noticed that the man hadn't gotten very much farther along in his travel. What she had at first deemed lack of skill now seemed to be more trying to hold onto the reins. The horse wasn't going that fast; how inept a horseman could that stranger be?

She heard Tessa's foreman, Eladio, bring hay into the stables behind her, and called to him, "Look at that. It is not every day you see someone ride a horse so badly."

His eyes went to the form in the distance that she pointed to, then his initial smile fell. When Marta looked back at the rider, he clutched his side and fell off the horse. The horse stepped over him and then came to a halt and started to eat from a mesquite tree.

"Get the wagon," Marta ordered Eladio as she raced to the man. "That man is hurt!"

As she ran to the rider, she felt bad that she hadn't seen his distress earlier. When she arrived at him, Marta was overwhelmed by his size. She had a flash that the man was Roman and fear gripped her heart. He was turned away from her and Marta didn't want to know that this was a man she had loved but who had to leave for his safety. He had told her that he would be back. "Please! Do not let it be Roman!" she cried out, as she gathered the strength to turn the man onto his back.

That the man wasn't Roman, and the sight of the blood covering his stomach made her gasp. The blood had flowed down his white shirt under the black jacket and onto his grey pants all the way down to his left brown leather boot. Marta thought he was dead already and closed her eyes to say a prayer for him, but she felt him grasp her hand and put something metal in it.

The sound of the horses pulling the wagon to them drowned out what the man was saying as she looked at him. She leaned down so her ear was just at his ear when she heard, "...I failed. Mary...."

Eladio had jumped off the buckboard and joined her at the man's side as the man took his last breath. Eladio took over opening his clothes to see the wound and what he might do to help the man as Marta opened her fist. She saw a gold watch, with a Spanish flag etched on the casing. It was smeared with blood, as the man had probably held it to his wound.

Eladio felt for a pulse at the man's neck as Marta saw the deep cut wound on his stomach and wondered where it had happened, how he could have traveled on horseback with it, and most importantly, why. He didn't appear Spanish to her, and there was an accent to his few words that made her think he was European, probably German.

Marta and Eladio looked to each other in sorrow, as there wasn't anything they could do for the man. Eladio started looking through the man's pockets. Marta took one of his hands and asked, "What are you doing?"

"Trying to find his identification."

Marta let him continue his quest and saw Tessa ride to them on Escaldo, wearing her riding habit. Tessa dismounted in a flash and said, "I was going to pick up Vera; we were going for an afternoon ride. Who is this? What happened?"

"You know as much as we do," Marta said, standing as she looked at the watch. "He was riding along slowly and faltered. He has been stabbed."

"What is that?" Tessa took the watch from Marta and inspected it.

"Mary," Marta mused. "He did not say Maria, but Mary."

"He said something? What did he say?"

"'I failed,' and 'Mary'."

"Mary Rose? She is the only woman who does not go by Maria in these parts."

Eladio stood and said, "A foreigner should have traveling papers, at least." He held up a folded piece of parchment and handed it to Tessa. "He only had that watch and this."

Tessa opened the parchment to find it was a hand-drawn map. Marta looked at it as well. There was a jagged line, probably indicating shoreline, down the left side of the parchment, an X which seemed to be on the water side, and two other X's marked on the land side. One of the X's was surrounded by caret markings that probably indicated mountains. The initials SE were by one of the land X's. "Santa Elena?" Tessa asked. A small arrow was pointed at the other X, which had been drawn between the X and the shore.

Tessa looked at the face of the dead man. "Mary Rose's hacienda is about where the other X is situated on the map."

Eladio said, "We should bring him into the pueblo."

"Yes, the Colonel should, of course, be notified of this death," Tessa said. "But, let us just wait a little while longer."

When Eladio reacted with horror, Marta felt a flutter of anxiety. Tessa's workers thought her a law-abiding, somewhat-afraid girl. For her to not follow the letter of the law in this matter would be considered extremely strange to Eladio.

"Señorita Alvarado," Eladio exclaimed. "We must tell the authorities that a man has been murdered."

"We will. Just...later." Tessa soothed him. "There is not anything that can be done for this man. He is already dead. Montoya will know, just...not yet. I would like to show this to Mary Rose to see if she knows anything. Once Montoya gets his hands on the body, who knows what will be covered up?"

Marta asked with wonder, "What does Mary Rose have to do with this foreigner?"

"She is a foreigner, as well," Tessa pointed out. "But, there is some connection, and I am going to find out what that is."

Marta sighed and couldn't take her eyes off the dead man. Tessa rubbed her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I am just concerned."

"About what? That man has nothing to do with us."

"How can you be so sure?" Marta asked her. Once again, Tessa's actions almost turned her blood cold. She had seen the moment of fear flash on Tessa's face, then saw the instant resolve of demanding justice. Tessa was too young and too noble to have to be the symbol of rightness. She should be able to take an afternoon ride with a friend. That was another thing Marta was going to have to talk to Tessa about one day: Who her friends were. Tessa determinedly put the map and watch in her pockets, mounted Escaldo, and rode quickly in the direction of the Guevara hacienda.

Marta looked at Eladio, who had concern written all over his face, as his eyes flitted from the dead man to her. "Do not worry, Eladio. We know what we are doing. Get the wagon into the barn. The sun will not be kind to this man's body."

We know what we are doing, she repeated to herself. It was amazing how Tessa's forthrightness could suck her in even though Marta would rather she not get involved in all the escapades she did. After she and Eladio got the man into the back of the wagon, covered him with a tarp, and rode back to the barn, she couldn't help wondering what dangers laid ahead. She had a feeling, as she had lifted the feet of the dead man, that Death was not finished there. Marta knew that, before long, there would be at least one more body.

Marta asked Eladio to just go about his business and not think about the body, then she went into the house to get out her tarot cards. If ever there was a time to read what could be coming, now was the time.

After looking closely at the formation of cards in front of her on the table, Marta sat back and sighed nervously. The Death card held a prominent position in the layout, which she hoped meant the dead man in the stables. On closer inspection, she saw the Hermit, The Lovers, Wheel of Fortune, and Temperance cards in a peculiar pattern. The entire layout spoke to her. This was a warning, not a reason for past happenings. Marta clutched her heart when she realized that someone was going to die.

~~~~~

Montoya never liked being in Grisham's quarters, but sometimes one did what was essential. He wondered if Grisham ever washed some of his clothes, and certainly his bedding. As he sifted through the bed, he smelt the same perfume that Senora Hidalgo wore. He really should be more careful in covering up the affair or Gaspar could find out. To think, a simple request to seduce the young senora to see if he could glean information about the Dons turned into a full-fledged affair. Vera had turned out to be one of the best informants Montoya had ever had. He didn't want Grisham mucking up the arrangement.

After turning the mattress onto the floor, Montoya was let down to not find the stash of jewels in an obvious hiding place. After replacing it on the frame, Montoya walked behind the screen that separated the one room quarters into two rooms and started to look through the bureau drawers. Even though Montoya was disgusted by what he found, no sense of order in placing items in the drawers, he took it as a good sign. Grisham would never know the place was gone through. His soldiers were more messy and the tearing apart of Senora Guevara's was more theatrics after Montoya had seen Mary Rose's face of anger, not guilty surprise.

Montoya opened another drawer when he heard the door open. Thinking quickly of an excuse to be in there, Montoya kept perfectly still.

"We have to talk," Montoya heard Vera Hidalgo say. Her voice made him keep even stiller.

"I did not expect to find you home, but since you are, now is as good a time as any to tell you what I have been going to for quite a while." She continued in a hurried fashion, as if what she had to say was something she had rehearsed many times and had to get it out before something, or someone, could change her mind.

"We cannot see each other any more."

No, no, no, that will not work with my plans, Montoya thought, and stepped out from behind the screen. Vera was a mistress at hiding her surprise, and immediately rolled with it. Montoya appreciated that in her, and smiled to ease the unpleasant tension in the room. "Senora. Capitan Grisham is not here, which is a good thing. What did he do?"

"He did not do anything, Colonel," Vera said fanning herself and moving from the window just before someone passed by. "Maybe that is the problem. My husband worships me, and I should not carry on this lie any longer."

"Gaspar 'worships' you because he cannot believe his luck and finding and marrying you. Senora Hidalgo, it is more gratefulness than love. Surely, you can see the difference."

"I should leave my husband?"

Montoya had the attention of her big blue eyes and could see why she was still the most sought after woman in Santa Elena, even with the wedding ring. Many a man was charmed by her. Best of all, she seemed to actually be asking his advice. She was a wonderful ally to have in his pocket, but at times he wished she developed more of a spine and stick to agreements.

"Of course not," Montoya said soothingly as he moved to her and patted her shoulder. "Why give up half of what you enjoy? Gaspar and Marcus give you everything women want, do they not?"

After she nodded shyly and continued to look at the floor, Montoya asked, "What made you think you must behave so irrationally as to break it off with Grisham?"

"I do not think living this lie should continue. I had a dream about my mother last night."

"Ah, your dear departed, saintly, mother."

"Yes. She would not be happy with me."

"Your mother was an honest woman, yes. She had steadfast morals and lived a 'clean' life." Vera seemed about ready to cry. Montoya continued, "She also did not leave a hovel, cared for six children, worked her fingers to the bone, and would have killed to wear a dress such as this," He said fingering the lace around Vera's cleavage.

"She would not have killed anyone."

"Which means, she never would have received such a gift as this silk, this lace, these ribbons. Why would you deny yourself? Would that make her happy, to have you have less than what you can possibly get?"

"So I should stay with my husband, and stop the affair with Marcu?"

"Hidalgo provides the finery, and Grisham provides another service. If I was in your shoes, I certainly would not deny myself anything I had."

"But, you are not in my shoes, Colonel."

Montoya sighed. "Just think before you leap, Vera. Do not regret anything."

~~~~~

Tessa walked back out into the hot sun and turned to wait for Mary Rose, as she would change into her riding habit and they would share an afternoon ride. Anton was nowhere to be seen, which pleased her to no end. Tessa hoped that one day they could bury the hatchet, but Anton seemed intent on keeping the bad feelings going. She hadn't brought up the dead man at her hacienda yet, as Mary Rose was more intent on asking the questions. Tessa hoped that she would relax during the ride and Tessa could ask her about him. If for no other reason than to warn her that a murdered man had a map to her hacienda in his pocket.

Sofia walked out with an armful of broken materials and sighed. "Colonel Montoya's men were not in the least delicate, were they?" Tessa asked.

Sofia only shook her head and continued on her way to the garbage heap at the corner of the property. Tessa knew that servants hardly ever talked to guests, even when spoken to directly, and sometimes, hardly even to the masters of the house. Tessa wanted to have a more lax operation at home, but knew that if it became too lax, she would have laziness or disrespect. Marta had told her, over and over again, that customs were important. Once you let rules slide, you would never be able to recoup them.

"Señorita." She heard a male voice say behind her and Tessa swung around to face the man who had seemingly snuck up to the porch. A tall, muscular man with long black hair and mustache approached her and she wasn't at all comfortable.

"Do you work here?" she asked as she backed to the door of Mary Rose's house.

The man replied urgently, "I am Captain Lorenzo Mazar. I need to see Señora Guevara. Is she at home?"

"She-" Tessa started, but the door slammed wide open and Mary Rose burst out of the house.

"What, in the name of the Virgin Mary, are you doing here?! How dare you show your face here!" Mary Rose charged at him.

He rushed to the porch and grabbed Mary Rose's fists before she could do probably permanent damage to the Captain. Tessa tried to help in some way, but didn't know what to do or how to go about it. Just as she clamped her hands on theirs to pull Mary Rose's hands free, Mazar pushed forward and all three ended up on the porch deck. Tessa rolled away as Mazar kept hold of Mary Rose. "You have to listen to me!" he ordered as she struggled under him.

"Señor!" Tessa said, pulling his long hair back roughly. "Enough of this! Get off of her!"

Mary Rose shinnied out from under Mazar and slapped him hard across the head. "You have nothing to say to me and I have nothing to say to you--except, of course, 'stand still while I run my blade through your gut!'"

"How dare you be the angry one!" Mazar got to his knees and reached out to grab Mary Rose's leg before she was out of range. "Did you have anything to do with it?"

"With what?"

"My little girl has been kidnaped! That is what!" He leapt to his feet and took advantage of Mary Rose's surprise by backing her against the house. "I got a ransom note--my ship for her."

"That is why the ship set sail?"

"Oh, so you know that. What else do you know?" Mazar shook her. "Where is my daughter?!"

Tessa took hold of his hair again, but Mazar took hold of Tessa's hand and pulled her into the fray. "Did you have something to do with this, Señorita? If not, get the hell away from me."

Mary Rose pushed him back and said, "I am sorry about Carlotta, but I did not have anything to do it. In fact, I have not had anything to do with you since you left with my property!"

"I told you where I was going, it was all for you, and me."

"You did not! I should have listened to Anton's warnings!"

"I left a note!"

"You did not! Do not lie to me anymore!"

"Yes, I did--"

"Yes, he did," Anton said as he slowly made his way up the porch steps from the other side of the house. He was holding his head in pain, and a lump on his temple was clear. The large man that Tessa had seen walk a horse when she has arrived was walking with him. "I tore it up, Mother. Good thing too, as he just hit me over the head."

"I did no such thing," Mazar said through clenched teeth. "Although it sounds like an excellent idea, you little brat!"

"Your ship for Carlotta? That is why the ship sailed?"

"So, you know about it. How could you have done it?!"

"Enough!" Tessa shouted. She didn't know Mary Rose well, and Mary Rose had kidnaped Marta. But, kidnaping Mazar's daughter wasn't part of the plan that she had overheard and it seemed ridiculous that Mary Rose would have done it. "No one is going to understand anything if you just snipe at each other. Calmly talk this out." When she got everyone's attention, she said, "I have news to add to this mess." She was going to mention the dead man, but Mazar attacked Anton and soon they were rolling around in the dirt after having fallen off the porch.

Mary Rose quickly disappeared in the house. Tessa looked at the large man, who was smiling at the ruckus at his feet. "Do something!" she ordered him.

Anton had gotten the better part of the fight and was choking Mazar as his body weight was on top. The large man took hold of the back of Anton's collar and lifted him into the air as if he were just a puppy. He told Anton, "Shame on you, tearing up your mother's correspondence."

"Let go of me, you ape!" Anton moaned, kicking out to hit Mazar's head with his boot as the Captain got to his feet, holding his throat.

"Fine," the large man said, and dropped Anton.

It was only then that Tessa recognized the bear of a man. "Señor Prado?"

Prado nodded to her. "Greetings, Señorita Alvarado." He turned to Anton as he got to his feet and brushed the dirt off his clothes and seethed at Mazar. "I will take the palomino, but only if I get to witness the end of this...controversy."

Tessa chuckled at the old hermit, who had kept to himself since his wife, Louisa, had died the year before. Her father had liked him very much and told stories of the hulking man, who would crumble like a leaf when he looked upon his lovely baby girl. Tessa also wistfully remembered her father adding, "Just as I do, my querida."

Anton held his head, as it had to have been ringing after the fight when his head had already been conked. The bright sun had done nothing to diminish the large bruise. Mazar took hold of him again, but saw that Anton wasn't fighting back and paused.

A shot rang out, and all jumped and turned to the door. Mary Rose was holding a smoking rifle in her hands. "You," she pointed at Anton, "get back to work. You," she pointed to Prado and said, "find which horse you want to buy and leave the reales in the stable. You," she indicated Mazar with just a tilt of her head as her hands were busy refilling the flint in the rifle, "Go to Hell, and you," she focused on Tessa. "Let us ride. I have a lot of aggression to work off. Lord help my Arabian."

"Querida," Mazar said softly as he walked up the steps to her. "We must-"

"We have nothing to discuss," she said as she pointed the freshly-loaded rifle at him.

Prado patted Anton on the back and said, "Let them talk. What harm will it do?" and nudged him in the direction of the stables.

Mazar just scoffed at Mary Rose's aim and pointed the tip of it away as he walked closer to her. Tessa went to the left, out of range of the rifle's new angle, and continued down the stairs. Even if that gun went off accidentally, she didn't want to have to see Dr. Helm for a gunshot wound, especially not as Maria Teresa. He would never let her hear the end of it.

Mary Rose's and Mazar's argument drifted past her, and she decided to wait until cooler heads prevailed. Just as she was watching Prado saddle up the same palomino that she had seen him walking when she had arrived, a shot rang out. She spun around to see Mary Rose's eyes widen, and she slowly slipped to the porch in Mazar's arms. "Mary Rose!" he declared as the rifle fell, and he tenderly laid her down.

Tessa ran up the steps and dropped to her knees by Mary Rose's side. She pushed Mazar away to look at the wound, any wound, as she obviously had been shot. Her right side was bleeding. Tessa yelled at Mazar, "Get the wagon. She needs to get to the doctor." When he didn't move, she yelled, "NOW!" She stopped him when he got to his feet, clearly rattled, and said, "Give me your shirt. I need to stop the blood loss."

He stripped off his shirt quickly and Tessa piled it against Mary Rose's side as she said to her, "You will be all right. We will get you to Doctor Helm. Just hang on. It does not look that bad." But, mostly, Tessa was saying that to herself.

She heard a horse behind her, and turned to see Prado dismounting and running up the steps to them. "She has been shot! Help Mazar get a wagon to take her to the doctor."

"Si," he said, as he turned on his heel and ran.

~~~~~
Mary Rose was gulping air, as she had to have been in great pain, and trying to sit up. Tessa laid a hand on her shoulder to keep her still and flat. "If only Marta were here," Tessa told her.

"Yes," Mary Rose weakly said. "That gypsy could save my life. Tell her...."

"She knows," Tessa said, quieting her. "Just stay still. It will be all right."

"Mother!" Anton shouted as he ran to her. "He tried to kill you! I knew he would!"

"Stop," Tessa warned. She didn't want Anton jostling Mary Rose as he looked as if he would, as he knelt beside her.

Mary Rose tried to speak, but slowly lost consciousness. Mazar and Prado came with the wagon, pulled by two horses, and Mazar flew off the driver's seat to Mary Rose. Anton punched him in the nose. "You stay away from her! You have done enough!"

Prado broke the two of them apart and patted Tessa on the shoulder, indicating that she should move. With little effort, Prado lifted Mary Rose into his arms and carried her past the two men, who stood quietly with tears in their eyes. Tessa rushed to the back of the wagon and helped Prado lay Mary Rose down. Mazar ran to the driver's seat and grabbed the reins as Anton climbed into the back. Sofia appeared with a blanket and crossed herself. Tessa nodded to her as she took the blanket and Anton quickly took it and covered his mother up. The wagon was in motion as Prado got onto his palomino and shouted, "I will ride ahead to warn the doctor!"

Tessa, having not been able to get on the wagon before it took off, saw her saddled horse and ran to it. As she ran, the split-second events went through her mind and she tried to make sense of it. She wished she had paid more attention to what Mary Rose and Mazar had been saying, but she couldn't remember any of it. It just seemed to be the same accusations repeated. As she mounted Escaldo, she wondered how Mary Rose had been accidently shot from the rifle. It had to have been an accident. She didn't know Mazar from a hole in the ground, but besides his not getting any benefit from shooting Mary Rose, he seemed to care for her. Could she have tried to shoot Mazar-she was angry enough--and he turned the rifle on her?

As Tessa started to ride to Santa Elena, she saw the rifle on the porch. She stopped Escaldo and had a thought. She didn't remember what Mary Rose and Mazar had been shouting about, but now that she thought about it, the gunshot didn't sound as close as when Mary Rose had fired it when making her entrance. The shot seemed to have come from farther away. Horrified that it seemed logical, she waltzed Escaldo around so she could scan the perimeter. Up a hill at the edge of the Guevara property, a lone man on horseback was riding as if he were on fire.

"Yah!" Tessa yelled as she kicked Escaldo's sides, and soon she was charging after the man on horseback, riding in the direction of the shore.

Continued in Devil On Their Shoulders Part Two