ENCOUNTER 8
THE EMPRESSES

By JoLayne
EnyaJo@aol.com

RATING: PG
CHARACTERS: H, M, T/Q, CM, G, OCs The other queens, Carmella
SUMMARY: After Helm's attack by the imposter Queens, Marta is worried, Tessa makes a discovery about the Queens, as Montoya has to figure out if the Queen that he truly wants dead, is.
NOTE: Thanks Eliza!!

~~~~~

1817

Tessa's head fell against her shoulder, waking her up. The room was dark, just a bit of moonlight streaming through the window, but who's window? She rubbed her eyes as she sat up, only then realizing that she was sitting on a chair. The first thing she saw for sure was that there was a body laying on the bed in front of her. Then it came back to her. It was Robert Helm. He had been attacked, by two of her lookalikes. Also, he was Marta's secret lover. Marta was asleep in the chair on the other side of the bed, her head resting on her crooked arm on the side of the bed, her hand holding Robert's upturned one as he was laying on his stomach. Tessa was more than a little surprised by that news, but soon other thoughts rushed in her head. Why was Helm attacked, why were women impersonating the Queen, how many more victims there were out there, where had the fake Queens been hiding? She needed to find out some answers. Since she wasn't going to be able to fall back to sleep on that uncomfortable chair with those unanswered questions, Tessa decided the cover of night would be a good time to do some investigating.

Tessa carefully got out of the chair, careful not to make a sound to wake them, and laid an afghan over Marta, and then tiptoed to the door. When she dressed, she didn't dress as the Queen. She wore the Queen's pants, but put on a white blouse and different boots. As she looked in the mirror tucking in everything, she thought she looked just like Mary Rose, a woman who enjoyed riding her horse like a man in jodhpurs.

Not taking the time to leave a note for Marta as she didn't want to lose the darkness, Tessa just went to the stable, saddled Chico and they rode off to where Helm had been attacked. As the events of the evening came back to her, she hoped she hadn't killed either of the two women. Having them suffer for what they'd done would be a good thing though. Imagine the gall of them! How did they know so well what the Queen looked like? Had she saved them in the past? Had they seen her as she fought? Were they wives or lovers of soldiers she had fought? Did Montoya hire them to cause trouble? A smile floated across Tessa's face as that thought sounded completely plausible.

The women weren't in the area where Helm was attacked. As she dismounted Chico, she saw the blood stain still on the hardened dirt. Helm's blood. How close they had been to losing him. She knelt down to study the largest stain and realized that there were others. Tina and Annie they had called themselves. She remembered the unfair fight she had come upon. With renewed satisfaction, Tessa was confident that most of the blood stains had come from one of the women, the one she stabbed in the leg perhaps.

There were far too many hoof tracks in the area for them only belong to Queen, Helm and the imposters. They had come from the west in formation, from the direction that she had watched Grisham and his men yesterday. They moved on to the east toward town. Grisham and his men must have come across them.

Then she realized that if she could see the tracks in the moonlight, Grisham would certainly be able to see them in the sunlight. She maneuvered Chico to walk on the shrubbery away from the area and looped his rein to a tree far off from the fray. She used her foot to cover Chico's fresh tracks, as well as any tracks that lead to and from the direction of her house. When she had covered a good distance, she considered it a job well done. There couldn't be a way for Grisham to pick up a trail that had about a half a mile missing. She walked only on sagebrush and weeds back to Chico and then rode off in the opposite direction from her hacienda.

Miles away, she decided it was probably a good time to check out Beggar's Canyon. As Chico paced on the bluff above, Tessa saw only a couple of lit campfires, one about ready to go out. The sun was starting to come up and soon it became easier to make out the men who laid on the rocks and under blankets and tents that formed their camps. There was a compound far from the others, but she didn't see any people. Tessa nudged Chico toward it. She kept an eye out for anyone who may belong to the encampment and would be returning, but saw no one, not even when Chico walked up to the fire ring that hadn't been used that evening.

She was quiet in case they were sleeping inside the tent, but after Tessa bucked up the courage to peer inside, it was empty. She saw three backpacks and a saddle by an oval formation of rocks that formed the fire ring. The cook pan and implements were clean, very clean. She looked back in the tent again and lit an lamp that was set on a little table, flint alongside of it. This was a very well tended and organized camp! After she got a little light on the subject, Tessa saw a dress laid on the floor. Three hairbrushes laid on top of folded clothing in an open trunk. Tessa picked one up and saw long red hairs entwined in the bristles. This has to be their camp. Three brushes? Well, one of them is dead.

She went back out to the campfire ring and opened one of the backpacks. In a side pocket was a folded piece of paper. When she opened it, the first thing she saw was a sketch of the woman. She brought it back to the tent to see it better in the light. As Tessa scrutinized the rough sketch, she realized that it was a sketch of the Queen! This was a different one than the one used in Santa Helena as a reward poster, where she was riding Chico. She thought they made her hips too narrow, her hair was too long, it flowed almost to her knees. Whoever had sketched it got her sword and whip looped at her waist correct. She couldn't make out the headline or the words of the article as they were in English, but some words she did know. 'Queen of Swords, fight, justice.' Someone had seen her in action and wrote it up in a newspaper. Tessa smiled that she was famous. She tried to figure out where the paper was from and saw Boston Reporter written along the top edge. Boston... that is on the east coast! Boston is a city on the other side of North America! They know about me in the east?

Tessa sat down on the ground and let it sink in. The paper was dated just weeks after she and Marta had arrived in Santa Helena after her father's death and she had started her fight for justice. Someone had seen her work and wrote it up, along with the artist's rendering of her likeness, and they printed it in a newspaper on the other side of the world! Her giddiness turned to anger when Tessa realized that the women who had impersonated her had seen the article and had decided to dress as her to rob people who would normally trust her. Perras! All of them! That was how they knew what she looked like, they weren't from the area and had seen her. They specifically had come to Alta California to scam the settlers.

Tessa went back into the tent and looked through the trunk. She found bolts of black fabric, black lace, black corsets, red cloth to make more sashes, needles, thread. She had also found a black blouse with a bloody hole in the arm. Not only had one been killed, one of them had been injured before. They certainly were careless. It was pretty easy to overpower them.

Then she saw a piece of paper that had been taken out of the trunk and fallen to the ground. It was a list of names. Heche, Nogales, a few others. Tessa saw one that she couldn't miss, Alvarado. They may have been on their way to rob her when they attacked Robert Helm instead. At the bottom of the trunk was a large bag. It was solid when Tessa poked it. It was heavy when she lifted it out. Tessa knew what it was before she opened the drawstring. Reales. Thousands of them. There was another bag in the other corner of the trunk under more cloth.

She looked at the names on the list again and saw that five names had been crossed out and her blood boiled. There was only one thing to do. She had no idea how much the thieves had taken from each, so she separated the stash into five shares and wrapped each in cloth and tied them to Chico's saddle. Before leaving the camp, she was so mad at the women that she almost knocked the lamp over to burn it all. The only reason she didn't was because she didn't want to call attention to herself. She would instead return the gold to the rightful owners, Don Nogales first.

It was daylight when she arrived at the bluff overlooking Don Nogales' hacienda. She saw that the workers were once again in the fields and corral. She had to be careful, as the girls were probably still in the house and Tessa didn't want to be seen. She left Chico at the bluff and slowly walked down to the yard, then to the front door with the bag of reales, keeping clear of the windows. On the stoop, she left his share along with a note that read, "I kept 100 reales. You owe me nothing." As she got back to Chico and mounted, the pull of staying there to once again have a peek at the young Don was strong, but she had work to do. There will be time for watching later, she thought as she urged Chico forward with a light tap of her heel, a smile full and bright on her face.

~~~~~

Marta's head snapped up from the bed and she saw that it was morning. A bright sunny morning. She had overslept. Then she saw Robert, she was still holding his hand. She had been up late worrying about him and was surprised that she had gotten any sleep at all. He was so still. Too still. She laid a hand on his back and was relieved to feel his chest rise and fall. He was just asleep. He had made it through the night. Marta finally took a relieved breath. She didn't see Tessa, who had fallen asleep as they were talking about the women who had attacked Helm, and how Marta and Helm had become intimate. As much as Marta was willing to tell her, anyway. She sat back in the chair and stretched, working out the kinks that had tightened her neck, shoulders and back.

Then she noticed someone standing in the doorway. A young girl held a bowl out and said, "Mama sent me here with this."

"Carmella." Marta smiled to her, but said, "Dr. Helm can not eat solids yet."

"It's for you," Carmella corrected her. "Mama wanted to make sure that you and the Senorita had a good breakfast.  She said that you would not be cooking because," she looked at the sleeping man,"you were worried about Dr. Helm. We are all worried, Marta."

"That is very kind." Marta stood and accepted the bowl of porridge.

Carmella said, "There is another bowl for the Senorita in the kitchen.

"Thank your mother for Tessa and me. We will certainly eat it."

The girl looked past Marta to the sleeping doctor, laying on his stomach. A sheet only went up to his waist. Because he wasn't wearing a shirt, his bruises and bandaged stab wound were visible. "Will he live?"

"Yes," Marta stated, even though she hadn't really believed it. "Dr. Helm will be good as new in no time." I hope... "Thank you, Carmella."

After the girl left, Marta put the porridge on the bureau and stretched again. She wondered where Tessa was if Carmella hadn't seen her this morning. She couldn't have over slept also. Marta was going to investigate when Helm groaned.

"What?" Marta rushed to his side. Hiking one knee on the bed, she leaned close to see his face, ran her fingers through his sweaty hair. "Robert? Are you awake?"

"Hm?"

"Open your eyes." She was thrilled that he was awake and not babbling about maneuvers and orders, reliving his days in the war, as he had all night. His color looked better; he wasn't as pale as she thought he was last night while going through cold flop sweats.

"I heard what you said," he croaked from his dry throat. He opened his eyes and looked up at her. "You're right. I am not going to die. Your curse did not work."

"It was not my curse, and do not belittle it," Marta snapped. She didn't want a repeat performance of their last conversation, just before he left and came back wounded. She was going to get the bowl of porridge for him to see if he wanted to eat since he was awake, but he grabbed her arm before she could leave.

"I'm not," he said. "I would never do that, and really mean it. You took me by surprise when we argued. I didn't realize that you believed so strongly. I'm sorry about that. I'm not a religious man, so it amazes me to find that people have any kind of faith." He buried his face in the pillow and Marta could tell that he was trying to get up. The pain was too much, he collapsed back onto the bed.

She told him, "No, do not get up. Just lay there and rest. Are you hungry? Can you eat? There is a warm bowl of porridge that you can have."

She was going to get it again, but he kept his hand on her arm. "What you probably saw was the attack or me laying here now, not dying. Not dead. I'm not going to die."

Marta smiled, so wanting to think the same. She leaned down to kiss his cheek, but he turned his head to get her lips full on his mouth. It caused him pain when he reached for her, so she pulled away. He asked, "What did you see?"

"Do you really want to talk about that now?"

"Yes," he stated clearly, a little edge to his voice that stung her. He turned over on his side to facing her. "Tell me what you saw."

She made herself more comfortable on the bed, sitting down fully alongside him. She took the hand that he held her arm with and caressed it between her hands. She slowly said, "I read the Tarot. I wanted to see your future. It was probably not a good idea."

"I agree," he said, smiling.

"No, I mean that... one shouldn't read another's fortune when you have too much invested in that person."

"I like the sound of that," he drawled. "What could you have possibly seen to make you turn your back on me?"

"The Empress card," she guardedly said. "It could only mean one thing."

"Only one thing? What is that?"

"The Empress is Senora Reboso."

Helm smiled and lightly shook his head. Marta was concerned that he was dismissing her once again. He asked, "You name your tarot cards?"

"Senora Reboso is the woman who cursed me."

She could see he remembered their conversation and she didn't have to say any more. He got it. She was glad when he asked, "How do you know that the Empress is her?"

He was taking her seriously. She had been so sure when that card turned up knowing exactly who the card represented. "An educated guess."

"So it could be someone else."

"No." Marta was adamant, for a moment. He hadn't died, he seemed to be strong, but having the aftereffects of the stabbing to the back. Maybe she had over-reacted, and he would be fine.

"It could," he gently said, arguing with her.

Marta thought about that. The Empress card could have meant something else. Someone else. She didn't know his life well enough to know off hand who it could have been. Or what it could have truly meant. Then it worried her, the Empress could yet make her appearance in Helm's life. He could still be in danger.

Helm tried to sit up, but searing pain forced him to collapse back on the bed, almost as if the wind was knocked out of him. Marta rolled him onto his stomach and rubbed his back. The blotches that were red before were now purple and yellow. That was familiar, she had seen it before! Her mother had been a medicine woman. Whenever she would tend to an ill member of the band, Marta was her apprentice. She rushed to the kitchen to mix up the remedy.

She heard him holler to come back, but all she said was, "Trust me."

~~~~~

The only thing that made this day more special for Colonel Montoya was that he knew something that the Queen of Swords didn't want him to know. She was alive. That Heche lad had better have been telling him the truth while he had been in his office. The Queen was alive. Heche had seen her. The Queen was alive. What was she up to? Hiding out, just waiting to strike, all the while thinking that he didn't know that she was alive? This was going to be so easy. He told his butler to get Grisham. Now.

Montoya had finished a full breakfast of fruit, bread and oatmeal, before Grisham finally came to the meeting. The colonel was wiping his mouth with a linen napkin as he asked, "I called for you long ago. What took you so long?"

"There's a lot going on this morning, Colonel."

"Tell me."

Grisham picked an apple out of the bowl and sat in the chair across from Montoya, rubbing the fruit on his jacket. "The women I brought in last night are both hurt. One has a welt that looks like it came from a whip, while the other had been stabbed in the leg."

Montoya stared at his underling. "Women? Hm?"

"Oh, it was a long night, Colonel." Grisham bit into the apple and took the time to chew, irritating Montoya to no end. Before Montoya could kick him in the leg to speak, Grisham continued, while chewing. "After maneuvers yesterday, we found two women laying out in the desert. They'd been in a brawl of some kind. We brought them into town. They're secure in the jail."

"The jail? Why?"

"Just doing my job. They're thieves."

"How do you know that?"

Montoya saw the wicked smile, the one that he always flashed when Grisham knew something he didn't. Annoying. Montoya sat back in his chair, his fist resting on the table, waiting. Grisham said, "Colonel, there seems to be a surplus of Queen of Swords around here."

"Queens of Swords," Montoya corrected him. "Queens?"

"Two of them. Three if you count the dead one. Four, if you count the real one. Maybe five, there could be more out there somewhere. Unless one of the women we have is the real one, but that's unlikely because they both have red hair. We found their wigs when we found their bodies. I don't know who the Queen is or was, but I know she didn't wear a wig."

Montoya snapped, "What in the hell are you talking about?!"

Grisham paused, wide-eyed. "You weren't informed last night?"

"No!"

Grisham grunted. "God! You give orders to people and they just ignore them..."

Montoya had a feeling that Grisham hadn't ordered anyone to do anything. What was Grisham up to to keep him in the dark? "Two thieves, dressed as the Queen. Exactly like the Queen?"

"Really good costumes, Colonel. Imagine my surprise when I saw them."

"Imagine my surprise that I still have you around. When something as important as this happens, you tell me! You tell me!"

"They were unconscious for a while," Grisham quickly explained. "You were meeting with the Dons. We couldn't find Helm. One of them woke up a little while ago. The one who was stabbed was still out cold when I came here." Grisham took another bite of the apple. "I'm taking care of it, Colonel."

"Taking care of what? They are injured? Has Helm seen them before I even knew they existed?"

"No." Grisham finished the apple and tossed the core on Montoya's plate. "We can't find him. He's not in his office, no one knows where he is. No one knows about any medical emergencies in the area, no babies need delivering. The last time anyone saw him was late yesterday afternoon with he rode out of town wearing a suit. He hasn't left town for good, has he?"

"He had better not. I own him for the time being."

"Really?"

"Of course. I found him, brought him here, set him up with equipment and an office." Montoya stood and looked out the window to the pueblo below. "I will see the women now."

"You can see them, but the one that woke up isn't talking."

Montoya looked back at Grisham. "That will change."

As Montoya walked to the jail, Grisham fell in step alongside him. Montoya thought about all that Grisham had said. Wigs. Red hair. "That dead Queen... did she wear a wig also?"

Grisham said, "No. The hair was real. I remember when pulling her out of the wagon. That was no wig."

Montoya thought that Heche could have seen one of the prisoners, not the real queen. The real queen really could be dead. Those women could have dressed up as her after the real queen died... to carry on with her fruitless quest? But the burglaries had started before the Queen was killed. Could the real Queen have actually have been a thief also? Could the women have been in business before the Queen was killed? Could they have been the one to kill the Queen? She could have found out that she was being impersonated and was killed in the brawl? Montoya immediately got rid of that thought. He had fought the Queen of Swords himself. If she could get the better of him, two women couldn't kill her. Unless they fought dirty... Two against one. Three against one? He dismissed that quickly also. The Queen had taken out twenty of his men at a time. Two or three women, who are now injured, would be nothing to conquer.

The pair of guards, who were playing cards at the desk, stood at attention as Montoya entered the jail. "I will see then now," Montoya said, not even looking at them. He halted his stride to the cell block only long enough for one of the guards to lead the way with the key ring. They were the only prisoners in the jail at the time so Montoya could speak freely, without any criminals to overhear. They had put each woman in a separate cell, across the block from each other. Montoya saw the one, crying as she lay on her cot holding her leg. He saw the other one who had a swollen and red forehead, sitting on her cot with her head in her hands. Her long auburn hair flowed over her shoulders and onto her lap. He was surprised to see two Queen uniforms. From his eye, they looked like perfect replicas. Maybe there had been three or more all along working as a team against him.

Montoya indicated to the guard the he should unlock the cell so he could enter it. As soon as the woman heard the clank of the key in the lock, she jerked up and pulled her long hair over her head and stared at him. Montoya saw her red, swollen forehead from the injury that Grisham had correctly identified. A whip scar. They could only have fought the real Queen and she was alive, out there somewhere, planning to get the better of Montoya. At least she could try. Montoya had evidence of her survival now. He stepped forward into the cell and closed the door behind them. The loud clank from the slam of the door make her even more nervous. Good. That was just what he wanted. Nervous women never could hold their tongue.

He paused, enjoying playing with his prisoner, who looked about ready to jump out of her skin. He easily said, "Well, well, well. Look who we have here." He pointed to the other Queen across the cell block. "And there. What a pair." His smile was light, inviting, as he looked at the prisoner.

The woman looked at the other Queen, who now had stopped crying and was sitting up on her bed. Montoya spoke to them both, "You know who I am?" He waited for them both to solemnly nod their head. He focused on the one in the cell with him. "What is your name and, more importantly, what is your purpose here?"

She wouldn't speak. She sat back on the cot and averted her eyes. Montoya waited. There was no answer. He hadn't really expected one, but gave them the courtesy to start this politely. He looked over at the other one, who had laid back on the cot, her body facing the wall. He waited for the one in front of him to answer his question. And waited. He had given them the option to be a willing witness. He didn't have time for insolence.

A sharp blow alongside the false Queen's head caused her to fall back on the cot. Montoya was somewhat pleased that she was holding her head, that slap had connected with her injured forehead. He looked back at the other one, who had turned over to look at them both. "If you have heard anything about me," Montoya said pleasantly, "you will know that I do not play games. You are criminals. I will have my answers."

Since the other one had started moaning, whether from fright or pain in her leg, Montoya didn't care, he focused on the one in the cell with him, clearly the leader of the two. He leaned down in front of her and set his hands on his knees. "I have all day. I am not going anywhere. But I have to warn you... Senorita... I only have today for this nonsense. If you refuse to answer my questions, you will be swinging from the gallows by sunset."

"We are here for no reason," the woman finally said. "We have done nothing wrong."

"Really?" Montoya chuckled deeply and kept the smile on his face. "Where and how did you and your friend become injured?"

"We were fighting each other," she said, not looking at him.

Montoya took her chin in his hand and moved her face so she had to look at him. "You are toying with me. You think you can lie your way out of this... predicament... that you are in? You think I will believe you when you lie? You think I will not fulfill my promise?"

"You can not hang us," she bitterly said. "We have done nothing wrong. In fact, we are hurt. We should have a doctor look at both of us."

Montoya let go of her chin and she sat proud, looking down her nose at him. This was going to be a pleasant day... she will try his patience, but he was convinced that by sunset he will know exactly what was going on. He told the guard, "Get me a chair. I have a feeling it is going to be a long day." He turned back to the red haired imposter. "I might as well be comfortable."

~~~~~

Continued soon...