"You did well, Tessita," she said. "I am sure that this man Jésus will now rest in peace."

"I wish I knew more of what really happened to him," Tessa sighed.

Marta patted Tessa on the cheek. "Some things are not to be known on this earth. Come have dinner. Despite all the excitement, my paella turned out well, after all."

Now, Tessa sat by her father's grave and wondered if he, too, was at peace. She watched the sun rise. It looked as though it would be cool today. Once the sun cleared the mountains, she patted the grave, stood up and brushed her skirts.

"Happy All Saints' Day, Papa," she said. "I will see you again tomorrow morning." She headed down the hill back to the house without looking back.

Montoya almost wished that he believed in the Devil, because then he could summon the man and sell his soul to get rid of this terrible headache. It really did not seem fair that he had to suffer so much, even after Dr. Helm's "treatment". But, speak of the Devil (and why did he have to look like an Englishman?), here came Dr. Helm. Montoya thought he saw the good doctor wince as he bounced in through the door to the office and up to Montoya's desk, but it was still too difficult to see, for him to tell for certain.

"Good morning, Colonel," Dr. Helm said in an altogether too cheerful voice. "Feeling all better, today?"

"Aside from feeling as though I have been kicked in the head by my own horse, I am quite well, Doctor, thank you," Montoya gritted.

Helm clucked his tongue in mock sympathy and flung himself down in a chair, entirely without permission. "I can give you some of my birchbark tea, if you like. It works for headaches as well as fevers."

"Thank you...no." At this point, Montoya could not trust the man not to spike the tea with something even more unpleasant than he had just suffered. Damn that creature Jésus Herrerez. The man was very fortunate to be dead. Montoya tried to busy himself with the paperwork he had felt too ill to read for the past hour. "How can I help you, Doctor? As you can see, I am quite busy. My illness had put me behind in my work."

"I just came by to see how you were doing." The doctor looked innocent. Montoya did not believe it at all. "Oh," he reached under his vest and pulled a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket, "and to discuss this, of course."

"What is that?" Montoya said, too sharply, as pain stabbed behind his eyes.

"Oh, nothing. Only your sworn statement releasing me from that little agreement we made in Cadíz, years ago. You remember that, don't you? The one where I promised you four years of my life? And oh, look, two years on and you've graciously released me--in exchange for your life, of course. I trust that you remember that other paper you wrote out. The letter. You were quite in the confessional mood the other night, weren't you, Colonel? Now, that letter, I intend to keep safe. And it will be safe, as long as I remain unharmed."

Montoya went very still. Even the headache seemed drowned out by the buzzing in his head. "Whatever do you mean, Doctor?"

Helm leaned forward, carefully unfolding the paper. "Look," he said. "It's quite legal. I made certain of it." He held the paper out in front of Montoya, so that Montoya could read it. As Montoya read the words, they echoed oddly in his head. It was his hand-writing, shaky as it looked. It was dated, and it was signed, and it was his signature. He felt sick. "I'll leave you to guess what the other one contains." Montoya did not need a reminder. He remembered what the other paper contained very well.

"What are you trying to tell me, Doctor?" he said, at a loss how to procede beyond that one question.

"I mean," Helm said quietly, "that I am free. Free of you, free of this place, free to leave any time I want." Montoya reached out for the paper, but Helm snatched it back and refolded it. "Oh, no, Colonel. I am holding on to this. You would have to kill me to get it away from me." He smiled. "And neither of us wants that."

He leaned forward again. "However, I may be willing to make a bargain with you, one that we both can live with."

The headache was coming back full-force. Montoya almost wished for his initial shock again. "And what bargain is that, Doctor?"

"I'll stay, but on my own terms. To the people out there, it will be as though nothing ever happened between us. But if I decide to leave, I can, any time I want to. And you won't stop me." He stood up. "Oh, and by the way, I'd like a raise." Montoya glared at him, but Helm only chuckled. He made an 'o' with his fingers, as if pinching a coin between them. "Just a small one. Don't worry. I'm sure you won't mind paying me as much as Grisham, considering that I'd be harder to replace than he might be." He backed towards the door, but did not stop watching Montoya. Yes, this one was dangerous, very dangerous, and always had been.

"And the other paper?" Montoya asked, ice cold.

Helm shrugged. "What paper? Was there another paper? I don't remember. It's been a very confusing holy day for me, I'm afraid." He smiled. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have many patients to see, after yesterday's festivities. Please don't bother to get up, Colonel. I'll see myself out."

Montoya sat in his office, listening to a fly buzz in the corner, and tried to tell himself that he had got off far more easily than he had expected, or hoped. The headache did not help to reassure him of that fact.

The first person Helm saw as he came down the steps from Montoya's office was Tessa Alvarado. She looked rather well, considering that she had spent yesterday rushing around Santa Helena, trying to save the town from itself.

"Hullo, Señorita Alvarado," he said cheerfully. "I didn't expect to see you here this morning." He resisted the urge to reach out and touch her hair. Here, in the middle of the square, was certainly not the place to do that, and might never be.

She smiled at him, shaking out her fan and fluttering it against her bosom. "Dr. Helm, you are looking much better than yesterday, I must say." Under the coquettish manner, he sensed the very real relief, and felt a stab of guilt. Someday, he would explain to her what he had done and why. But for now, he must keep quiet. Now was not the right time, not until he had proof.

"Yes, I am feeling much better today," he said. "I was able to sleep it off, so I must have had less of a dose than the others who suffered from that poison that was going around." Thank God he'd had the sense to only pretend to gulp down the drink from that cursed bottle. What little he had tasted had made him sick enough, and given him bad dreams. "Did you ever find out what happened to that man at the mine?"

"I believe that the Queen and Capitan Grisham were able to stop him from implementing his plan to make off with a very valuable artifact that a colleague of his hid at the mine a few years ago. Apparently, he fell to his death while he was trying to escape them." Ahh. So that was what had happened to dear old Jésus. Well, Helm, for one would not mourn him. "I really don't understand why he felt he had to poison half of the town just for an opportunity to get into the mine by himself."

"Yes, well, I only met him for an hour or so, but I didn't get the impression that he was nearly as subtle as he thought he was." Poor Jésus. He had been out of his league from the very beginning. Between Tes--the Queen and Grisham, he hadn't had a chance, in the end. "His 'colleague' wouldn't have been a man named Jaime Sanchez, would it?"

Tessa fluttered her fan, her face twisting, under the pretence, with genuine pain. "No. It seems that was the mine foreman, Inigo Garcia, whom he murdered. The other deaths were only meant to create confusion so that he could get into the mine."

"So, there's no real motive for the early poisonings?"

"No, and several of the others appear to have stemmed from his putting the same poison in the horse trough in front of the cantina." Yes, he had heard about that. That had caused several deaths and a near-riot, put down by none other than Señora Hidalgo. "However, Colonel Montoya's own poisoning still seems very mysterious to me, since Jésus had no opportunity to get at him."

"Yes, it does. Odd, that. Colonel Montoya is a very lucky man. Like me, he got off rather easily." But not for the same reasons, of course. Helm felt quite sure that Montoya had not been faking his illness last night. Personally, he suspected Grisham, not Jésus, of being behind that.

As if hearing Helm's thoughts from across the square, Grisham came out of the officer's quarters and headed out to the barracks. Was he limping? It was hard to tell from this distance. Tessa watched him go, a thoughtful look on her face. Helm did not like it at all.

"And you, Señorita, how did you fare last night?" he asked. Hopefully, Ramon's death had been the worst of the damage. She could ill afford more, after what Montoya's taxes left her.

"Relatively unscathed, compared to some. I understand that most of the workers at the mine are still missing." Tessa looked spooked. Helm didn't blame her. He didn't like unexplained disappearances. He'd suffered more than one, in his time. She started, as if remembering herself. "I should go. I am supposed to meet Señora Hidalgo for lunch."

"Yes, of course." In a low voice, he added, "It wouldn't do for us to linger together in such a public place."

"No," she agreed. Then, in an even lower voice, "But tonight...."

He smiled politely and nodded. "Of course."

"Dinner?" Her voice was recklessly seductive.

"Oh, yes." Down, boy. Not here.

"Until then, Doctor." She closed her fan with a coquettish flourish and turned away. She had the sense not to look back. She could be discreet when she absolutely had to be.

Helm stared thoughtfully after her, but did not call her back. Her new rapport with Grisham was a complication, but not one that he could do much about, for the moment. He knew now, for a fact, that Grisham had murdered Rafael Alvarado, but he had no proof, despite Montoya's "confession". He strongly suspected that Montoya had ordered the murder, rather than simply covered it up after the fact as he had claimed last night, but there was nothing to back that up. Montoya could even deny what he had written as the ravings of a poisoned mind. How could Helm tell Tessa something that would alter her life, possibly destroy it, when he could not give her any proof? Oh, yes, he had Jésus' assertions and Montoya's babblings, but what did that add up to? Nothing for which he could upset Tessa's life. She was obsessed with finding her father's murderer. He must not give her false hope, or destroy the real thing.

But one thing he did have, a very important thing--his freedom. He went back into his office, took the folded paper out of his vest, unfolded it and smoothed it out on his workbench. It was his own release from bondage, with Montoya's signature, made in the middle of Montoya's confusion last night.

It was worthless, of course, without the Colonel's acknowledgement of it, in the full light of sanity and of day. Helm hadn't known whether he could get Montoya to do it. In the end, though, Montoya had been more afraid of his guilt over Rafael Alvarado's death coming to light than of freeing Helm from his life debt. Perhaps he no longer found it necessary, or preferred to work with Helm as a free agent, since Helm did not really obey him, anyway. Helm knew he would have to remain alert for treachery from the Colonel. Contract or no contract, Montoya would try to find other ways to control him. And if Helm did not want to hurt Tessa by revealing what he had found, he dared not let Montoya even suspect it. Montoya did not allow threats to survive. Rafael Alvarado had discovered that.

Helm folded up the paper and put it back in his vest, under his shirt. He would keep it close, just in case. The other paper was hidden in another place entirely, and not likely to be found by accident. He did not trust this new contract, or even Montoya's confession, completely, but he intended to keep and use every weapon he had against the Colonel. He had an advantage that Montoya did not: his own past was a blank to most of the folk of Santa Helena. Montoya was a blank, himself, but his character was not. Helm supposed, if he were honest with himself, though with none else, that he showed a different face to the world than how he felt. It was not for lack of trying to be different. He wanted to be honest and guileless, and he even could show himself that way. But he was not. Inside, he was as dark and devious as he always had been, perpetually seeking redemption, and not at all certain of his success. Was this progress down the road? He did not know, but he did know that he loved Tessa Alvarado, the Queen of Swords, and that he would protect her, even if it meant his own, eventual damnation.

Watch for the next exciting adventure, Two By Sea, part one - Episode #302, starting on November 3, 2002.

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