Through the telescope, she could see the dust rising on the trail,
heading toward her. The black-clad woman crouched lower into her
covert on the ledge, to await the coach now approaching the narrow
canyon she had selected for her ambush. The trail wound between high
walls along the canyon floor, just wide enough for the wagon and an
outrider.
Her mouth dry with terror and excitement, Marta waited on a low
outcropping above the trail. She unclenched her hands, and wiped her
sweaty palms on her black trousers. The coach was only a quarter mile
away, and coming on at a good speed. The driver, Pietro, looked warily
at the rock walls, and down the trail as it twisted through the
canyon. The first soldier rode ahead of the coach, cantering easily.
The second outrider kept a longer distance behind the coach, trying to
stay out of the dust kicked up by the wagon wheels. *Only three,*
Marta thought with relief. *Maybe I have a chance.*
As the coach drew nearer, Marta crouched, ready to spring. When it was
under her ledge, she leapt across the space, timing her jump to land
on the coach roof. Her momentum on landing rocked the coach and Pietro
looked back. His eyes widened and mouth opened with a startled shout.
The soldier behind the coach saw the Queen of Swords suddenly appear
on the coach roof and he yelled to Pietro while pulling out his
pistol.
Marta hung on for dear life as the coach swayed, striving to grab onto
the roof railing so she wouldn't fall off. Pietro reached for his own
pistol, while trying control the horses. Marta moved quickly forward
to disarm him, wrestling for the gun, when a shot rang out from
behind. Pietro cried out and slumped over, having been hit in the
shoulder by his own man. The shot alerted the outrider in front and he
turned, shock washing over his face as he saw the Queen of Swords on
the coach, holding the reins, and Pietro laying across the bench.
Marta veered the coach toward his horse and it leapt away, unseating
the rider. He fell heavily and rolled for several yards, then lay
still.
It was all Marta could do to control the frightened coach horses. They
sensed danger and broke from their mile-consuming trot into a full
gallop, rocking the coach wildly as it careened around the canyon
walls, narrowly missing the boulders strewn near the edges of the
trail.
The rear guard urged his mount into a gallop, trying to catch up with
the coach. Marta looked back. He was gaining on her. She turned back
to the trail and noted with dread that it had opened up onto a wide
plain, plenty of room for the soldier to get beside the coach. He
pulled even with the coach and sprang onto the side, hauling himself
up on the door, and then reaching for the railing that surrounded the
roof. Marta felt the coach sway and turning, saw him attempting to
lift himself onto the roof. She dropped the reins and crawled back to
the soldier, who was having a hard time getting over the edge.
As she neared him, observing his fingers clenched around the roof
rail, his face contorted by the effort of hanging on, she felt a
momentary pang of regret. "Sorry, senor," she said with a rueful
shrug, "there is only room on this coach roof for one," then, planting
her foot firmly on his chest, pushed hard and launched him off the
coach. He tumbled awkwardly and landed hard. In a second, he was back
on his feet, shaking his fist and hurling curses that Marta was glad
she couldn't hear.
The frightened horses showed no sign of slowing down, and the reins
had fallen from the coach seat onto the ground, dragging between the
traces. Marta made her way back to the bench, to find Pietro was
coming around. He seemed dazed and in pain, but when he saw her, he
was galvanized into action suddenly. Pietro reached for his sword,
struggling to maintain his balance while the coach rumbled across the
plain. Marta unsheathed her own sword before he could grasp his, and
held it at his throat. *Only the Queen kills,* floated through her
mind as she looked into his terror-filled eyes. *But I am not the
Queen,* she thought wryly, lowering the sword.
Pietro's face paled, his confused eyes tried to focus, then he
fainted. Marta sighed with relief. *Thank God!. I don't want to hurt
him any more than he already is.* Turning her attention to the horses,
she realized they were finally slowing, winded and labouring from
their headlong dash. When the coach came to rest, she climbed down and
opened the door. Inside were piles of canvas-covered packages,
satchels and pouches. Which one has the gold, she wondered. Hefting
each package, she soon determined which contained the treasure she had
fought for.
She whistled loudly and Chico, who had been following the coach,
trotted to her side. Marta lifted the heavy pouch and tied it to the
saddle. She was about to mount when she hesitated, then climbed up
onto the coach. Pietro's breathing was harsh and the wound was
bleeding profusely. She pulled a linen handkerchief from his pocket
and shoved it into the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding. He
groaned but remained unconscious. The sound of hoofbeats alerted her
it was time to go. One of the soldiers had regained his mount and was
charging toward the coach. She sprang from the coach and leapt into
the saddle, galloping across the plain towards the sacred valley. The
soldier did not pursue her. Instead, she noted with satisfaction,
looking back, he went to the aid of his injured comrade, Pietro.
*********
Chapter Twelve
*We're in for a storm,* Tessa thought uneasily, as she gazed at the
dark, unsettled ocean. The ship rocked and pitched as high waves
pounded the prow, pouring sheets of water across the deck. The voyage
from Spain to California had been rough at times, especially rounding
the Horn, so she was not too concerned about the ship's ability to
weather a storm. She was more concerned about the scene just enacted
in the captain's cabin and her mind was as disturbed as the turbulent
sea.
Holding tightly to the taffrail, she reviewed the dinner and its
strange aftermath. It had been two days since her attempted escape,
and ever since, she had been under the relentless scrutiny of the
sailors who were ordered to watch her in case she tried again.
Constantly under surveillance with no privacy anywhere, she felt her
temper rising toward the flash point. The explosion finally came after
their dinner that evening. Determined to get to the bottom of the
mystery of her kidnapping, Tessa had asked the captain some very
pointed questions and he had tried to be evasive.
"At first, Capitan Stoner," she had said, "I thought you were ordered
to kill me and toss my body overboard somewhere out on the ocean. I
have seen this is not the case. Nor is the ransom the real reason I
have been taken hostage, is it? Money is not the true motive here. But
what is? If not murder or extortion, what do you want?"
The captain shrugged and said, "As I told you before, I am sworn to
secrecy. You are not to be harmed. That is all I can tell you."
"How many days am I to be held on this ship?" Tessa hammered the
table, jiggling the wine glasses dangerously. She stood up abruptly,
angry and confused, and began to pace restlessly about the confined
space of the cabin. "It has already been nearly a week! What are you
waiting for?" Her voice rose as her temper exploded. Coming up behind
the captain, she pulled the knife from her boot and with a quick move,
laid the blade just under his jaw. "If you don't think I will kill
you, you are a fool," she said in a harsh whisper near his ear.
"Now let me tell you what you will do. We will go on deck and you will
order the helmsman to steer a course back to Santa Helena and then you
will surrender to the authorities there." She pressed the knife
against his throat and he winced but remained utterly still. "Let's
go."
"If you do kill me, then you are the fool." He remained seated, his
hands splayed on the linen tablecloth. He turned his eyes to hers, and
Tessa was shocked by the complete absence of fear in those cold grey
eyes. He had faced death many times and it held no terror for him.
Still holding her gaze, he added, "Consider this. If you kill me, you
remove the only restraint that holds Blake and the others from doing
their worst to you. I think you know what I mean." In spite of
herself, Tessa shuddered, as a cruel smile flitted across his mouth.
"Blake is an animal. I barely keep him under control. Whenever we have
taken a ship, he goes mad with bloodlust and kills without mercy. What
he does to women is not for your delicate ears." The hoarse whispering
voice and her own imagination created a vision of horror that made her
tremble. There was no escaping this nightmare; it must be played out
to its end.
With a scathing Rom curse, she pulled the knife away from his throat
and hurled it at the wall where it stuck, vibrating. The only sound in
the cabin for several seconds was the ticking of the clock and her own
laboured breathing.
Finally regaining control, she said, "At least tell me when this will
end. At least that much."
The captain regarded Tessa thoughtfully for a moment, then he replied,
"The ransom was to be paid a week from the date the note was
received. That will be the day after tomorrow. My man will collect it
and if successful, he will light a signal fire at a prearranged place
on the cliffs above the shore. I will send you ashore with the boat
that goes to collect the money." He shrugged. "You were wrong,
señorita. It was about money after all."
"And if the ransom is not paid, you will kill me?"
"I am convinced it will be paid. Now, if you will excuse me, I have
some work to do. Buenas noches, señorita." Dismissing her, the captain
got up and sitting at his desk, began to riffle through the leaves of
his logbook, not even turning when she left the cabin.
Now standing with her feet firmly planted on the upper deck and
hanging onto the rail, Tessa tried to find some meaning in it all.
Where did this fit into any grand plan? Marta always said everything
happens for a purpose. What purpose was being served by her being held
hostage on this accursed ship! Her thoughts turned to other events in
her life that seemed unnecessarily harsh and purposeless. Like
Antonio's death, only a few months ago. It was still a raw wound, and
Tessa suffered a sudden wrench in her heart, thinking of him.
*Antonio's touch was like flame. I was on fire to have him, his kisses
drove me mad with desire. I have no illusions...I would have given
myself to him when we were in Spain, whether he was willing or not.*
She turned her heated face to the cooling winds. *But for Marta being
near, I would have known what it was like finally, to be loved by a
man, by Antonio. Marta preserved my virtue, but at what cost?* She
drew in a long unsteady breath. *We could have had at least that, but
Fate intervened as always. Was it Antonio's fate to die for me? If I
had stayed in Spain, so many things would have been different. I would
have married Antonio and we would have been happy together.*
An unsettling thought swept away this picture as Tessa recalled the
antipathy between Marta and Antonio. Marta would have had to go if she
had married Antonio. He would not have wanted Marta in his household.
*I would have had to make a choice between them. I am glad I was
spared that – I don't know how I would have chosen.* The image of the
Gypsy woman floated into her inner vision and Tessa felt the familiar
sweet warmth flow through her that Marta radiated by her presence.
Staring out into the churning waves, Tessa recalled her own turbulent
childhood, as buffeted by unhappiness as this tiny ship was by the
sea. *When I first saw Marta,* Tessa thought with a soft smile, *I
thought she was fascinating...and a little frightening, with her
untamed hair and those vivid colours. So exotic to my young eyes. But
when she held me as I needed to be held, I sensed a connection, a
rightness to her being there, like we belonged together. She seemed so
solid, so self-contained and so loving. Even more than my own mother
who was always so cool and distant with me.* Tessa tried to picture
her mother's face but all she saw was the portrait that hung in the
villa. No trace of her mother remained in her heart or memory. *So sad
not to have known your own mother,* she thought. *But if I had grown
up with my mother, I would not have learned the many things I know,
never have become the person I am now. What kind of woman would I have
been? Like my mother, I suppose, a Spanish gentlewoman, probably
married with several children by now.*
She shook her head ruefully. *Is that what I would have wanted? Maybe,
if that is what I was taught to want. But Marta taught me to search
inside myself for deeper meanings for my life, to think for myself,
not to worry about conventions or what others thought. She allowed me
so much more freedom than other girls of my age. I never even
appreciated it until I saw close up how confined and restricted my
friends were in their homes and lives. In some ways, I have been very
lucky. I could have grown up a shallow and vain girl like Luisa, only
thinking of her next romantic conquest, her next gown or party.*
*Luisa, my best friend — my only real friend other than Marta —
introduced me into Spanish society and took me with her to balls and
parties, meeting the nobility that my father had wanted me to mix
with. But I found, after a while, there was no excitement, always the
same people, gossiping and intriguing for each other's lovers. Not for
me. My heart was set on Antonio then, and I felt like an outsider
anyway. Like a foreigner in a strange land. Growing up with Marta and
her gitano ways, I found myself torn between the two cultures, but
more drawn to the gitano. I believe I am almost as much gitana as
Spanish.* She chuckled at the thought, how scandalized her aunt and
her cousin would be to see her now. *I have Marta to thank for most of
what I am.* Tessa frowned slightly, compressing her lips and sighing
heavily. *I never told Marta that, and should have. So many things I
should have said to her. Is it too late now?*
Tessa laughed shortly. *If Papa only knew that besides the society he
wanted me to be part of, I was also very much a part of a different
society – the gitano. Maybe he wouldn't have minded. Sadly,* she
thought, *he really didn't know me at all. His little angel, as he
called me, had her devilish side too. He never saw that in me. I wish
I had told him everything — about the year with the gitano, the
fencing lessons. I could never be the son he wanted, but maybe he
would have been proud of me for those things as well as being his
little angel. But when he appeared in my dream, he seemed to know
everything and expected me to do something with my skills – to become
his avenging angel. Would he still be proud of what I have done – the
lives I have taken for justice? If I were his son, he would be, no
doubt, but his daughter? Yes, I think so. Even though he hasn't
appeared again, I feel his approval in my heart.*
The strong winds blew salt spray in her face, whipping her clothing
like the sails, but Tessa held onto the rail, lost in her thoughts. At
length, she became mindful of the chill and damp. The feeling evoked
another memory of being on the ocean, or rather in it, and being
chilled almost to death. And of the taciturn man who came to her
rescue. Dr. Helm's face swam into her mind with that look of wry
amusement he always wore – except when she vexed him, as she seemed to
so able to do. Tessa chuckled, recalling their first meeting – his
stealing the apple she had been about to take for herself. What
appalling manners, she had thought then. He was brusque and prickly at
times, but also gentle and caring. And that kiss! It had warmed her
completely though she was half-frozen from the cold sea, as it was
warming her now, just thinking about it. What was there between them,
she wondered. *He doesn't seem to like me, or the Queen of Swords, so
what hope is there? Still, there is something that draws us together.*
Tessa felt a little breathless suddenly as she remembered the cool
smoothness of his skin against hers as he helped her swim back to the
shore that night. The memory of that intimacy made her skin tingle
with sudden heat, warming her body with guilty pleasure. *I didn't
want to die, not really, I just left things in the hands of Fate, and
Fate send me Dr. Helm. Marta would say our destinies are entwined
somehow.* A smile played across her lips as she remembered their many
encounters, not all friendly. *But he kissed me; that means
something.*
Tessa shivered, and weary of her thoughts, she made her way to the
lower deck and went into the mate's cabin. Stripping off her damp
clothes, she climbed into the bunk, and for a long time, lay searching
for peace, and letting the rocking of the ship soothe her into sleep.
Chapter Thirteen
Marta tensed as a stealthy sound alerted her to someone behind her in
the villa kitchen. Holding the knife more firmly, she turned abruptly
and exclaimed, "Oh, it's you!" Advancing with the knife, she spat,
"Where is Tessa? What have you done with her?"
The man backed away, wary of the knife. He was a scurvy-looking
creature, with lank dark hair, his cheeks grizzled with several days'
growth of beard and rheumy blue eyes that widened in fear as Marta
waved the knife toward him. He was the same man who had delivered the
ransom note the week before. "I come to collect the ransom, señora,"
he said. "When we get the money, you get the girl. That was the deal."
"If anything has happened to her, I will find you and I will cut out
your heart!" She lowered the knife, her face pale with the effort to
control her rage, her breathing audible and harsh. "I have the money.
How do I know you will deliver it to your master, and not just run
away with it? It is a lot of money."
With more bravado, the man said, "I guess you don't. You have no
choice but to trust me. Now hand over the gold. The sooner I get it,
the sooner your girl will be released."
Marta glared at the man, his arrogance grating her already flayed
nerves. "I curse you all!" she said in a harsh whisper, advancing
toward him threateningly. "If anyone has harmed my baby..." Visibly
quaking, he swallowed hard, too frightened to move. Composing herself
with great effort, her voice hoarse, Marta said, "The money is hidden.
Meet me at the stable, and I will give it to you there."
Relieved, the man hurried out of the villa, finding the stable without
difficulty. In a few minutes, Marta joined him, carrying a heavy
satchel which she reluctantly handed over. "Muchas gracias," he said
with heavy sarcasm, then he mounted his horse and galloped off. The
moment he was out of sight, Marta led Chico out and leaping into the
saddle took off in pursuit, keeping enough distance that she could see
his dust trail, but he could not see her following him.
For several hours, Marta kept up the chase, always maintaining her
distance, as the man seemed to be following the coastline to some
destination. Eventually, as the day wore on, he slowed then stopped
near the top of a cliff overlooking the ocean. Marta halted, hiding
behind some rocks, and using Tessa's telescope, tried to see what he
was doing.
From her covert, Marta watched him through the glass as he busied
himself with collecting kindling, then branches as if for a fire. A
signal, she thought. He is going to light a signal fire. Sudden hope
flared in her breast as she thought she might soon see Tessa again.
But what did Mary Rose say, the pirates would likely kill Tessa as
soon as they had the ransom money. If they had not done so already.
Forcing herself to concentrate on her quarry, she waited and watched.
He had finished building the woodpile, and seemed to be waiting for
darkness to light the fire.
Going to the saddlebag, Marta pulled out the Queen of Swords costume
and put it on. As dusk turned to darkness, she left Chico, tying his
reins to a bush, and began to edge stealthily toward the site of the
signal fire.
The man suddenly struck a flint, sparking the tinder, and soon the
woodpile began to blaze brightly. He continued adding more fuel to the
fire as the sparks rose high into the night sky. Marta closed the
distance, careful not to alert him to her presence. He seemed unaware
of any danger as he worked on the fire, pushing more wood in, piling
more on. Marta was sure the light must be visible for a great distance
so large was the fire. She could already feel its heat as she crept up
to within twenty yards of the man.
Pulling out the pistol from her belt, she stepped into the firelight
and shouted, "Move away from the fire, and keep your hands where I can
see them. I will shoot you if you do not obey me."
The man yelped with sudden fright, and the whites of his eyes showed
vividly in the firelight as he turned and saw the apparition in black
confronting him with a gun. "Who are you?" he stammered. "What do you
want?"
"The money. And I will kill you, if I have to, to get it. It is your
choice." The urge to shoot almost overpowered her as Marta moved
closer to the man; her finger hovered over the trigger, twitching with
almost a will of its own to squeeze out the shot and give her revenge
for the agony of loss she was enduring. She took a deep, steadying
breath, and said, "Lay down on the ground and put your hands behind
you." One look in her eyes convinced him. He dropped immediately, and
Marta pulled a cord from her pocket, tying his hands securely behind
him. She found the money satchel still attached to his saddle. Taking
his horse's reins, she led the horse to the prostrate man, and said,
"Get up. We are going for a ride."
**********
Chapter Fourteen
Helm paced the deck, restless after days on board with very little to
do. The storm had abated and the sea returned to calm just after
midnight. He couldn't sleep. Somewhere in that vast darkness a band of
cutthroats held Tessa captive. Was she still alive? Unhurt? His
stomach curdled at the horrific thoughts that floated through his
tired brain. He'd seen firsthand what men could do to helpless women.
Brushing his hand over his eyes, he tried to steer his thoughts away
from those scenes, and returned his gaze to the ocean. He disliked
being at sea. *Give me a horse anytime,* he thought. *At least you
have some control over it, unlike the elements.*
He looked up, above the chattering sails, into the dark sky. The thin
moon seemed to be rushing across the sky, towing streamers of clouds,
hurrying towards dawn. Helm drew a deep breath, gripping the rail, a
sudden stab of anxiety catching him off guard as he thought again of
Tessa, her ship coasting these waters somewhere out of sight. Why did
he care so much? He knew what she was, what she was doing. But as much
as he tried to push her away, keep her at a distance, he also longed
to hold her close, as he had the night he rescued her from the sea. A
wry smile stretched his thin lips, almost unwillingly, as he recalled
that eventful night. A peaceful evening stroll had turned into quite
an adventure, its aftermath unexpected. He had held her lithe body
close, felt the cool softness of her breasts against his chest. It had
seemed as natural and inevitable as breathing that they should cling
to each other for warmth, for support. The sudden explosion of passion
had shaken him; the ardour of her kiss had nearly undone him. Even
now, staring up at the sky, Helm felt his pulse racing, his whole body
heated with desire.
*I should know better,* he thought, gritting his teeth. *She'll bring
nothing but trouble. Getting mixed up with someone like her can only
lead to disaster. She's taken to the life of a vigilante, a law unto
herself. Sooner or later, her luck will run out, and I won't be able
to help her. I'm storing up heartache for myself, worrying over her,
wondering what mischief she's up to, what scrape she's gotten into.
Damn! Why can't I just stay away from that woman, stick to the
business of doctoring and leave her to her own devices.*
He rubbed his hand through his unruly hair, and over his lean features
as if to scrub away the memory of that lovely face, those snapping
dark eyes that haunted him from behind that lace mask. *Why her, of
all women? What is it that attracts me so much? She isn't like any
other woman I've known. Is it the element of danger that hangs about
her like a veil? Is it the Gypsy influence of Marta that makes her
seem so exotic, so enchanting? She almost seems as much Gypsy as
Spanish.* The thought pleased him, making him smile.
Helm leaned his elbows on the rail, staring sightlessly ahead. *Why
can't I just let her lead her double life, and stay the hell out of
it?* He shook his head resignedly. *Because, old man, she's gotten to
you. From the moment you saw her, it was all over. Admit it, Helm.
You've fallen in love!* He laughed bitterly at this last thought. *Of
all the women to fall for, she has to be the worst. Farewell to peace
of mind so long as she keeps up this mad quest against Montoya.*
He turned his weary eyes to glance over the ocean, then caught his
breath and stared. *What was that light? A beacon of some sort, or a
lighthouse?* At almost the same moment, a sailor in the crow's nest
shouted to the watch, "Light, ho! Call the captain! Light ho, on the
landward side!"
As if by magic, the ship seemed to burst into activity. Mary Rose
rushed onto the deck and snapped open her telescope, standing next to
Helm. A broad grin spread over her face. "It's a signal fire." She
turned to Helm, and said heartily, "We have them. They'll be going
toward that beacon on the shore, and then we'll have them." She
clapped Helm so hard on the shoulder, he was breathless for a second.
*This is her element,* Helm observed. Her eyes sparkled and she
radiated excitement. She began calling out orders to the sailors to
give the ship more sail. "Helmsman, set our course toward that light."
She laughed with delight at the prospect of the battle ahead. The
doctor only dreaded the casualties he would soon face.
******
The sea was quiet again as Tessa emerged from her cabin and strode to
the rail. Only a slight chop remained of the huge waves of the
previous night, and the winds had lessened to a warm breeze. The sun
was coming up over the ocean, a vivid display of pinks and reds edging
toward the high clear blue of the sky. As Tessa scanned the water, she
suddenly drew a quick breath. The early light caught something near
the horizon. It looked like a sail. She gripped the rail hard to
steady herself. *A ship!*
As quickly as the hope flared in her heart, it died again. There must
be many ships on the sea. It would be nothing to encounter one near
the shipping lanes. Still, as Tessa watched the sail, she wondered. So
far, she thought, glancing at the empty crow's nest, she was the only
one to see the sail. She prayed hard for that ship to come nearer,
almost willing it to turn in their direction. If it came close enough,
perhaps she could signal her distress somehow.
*******
"Sail, Captain, off the starboard bow!" the sailor in the crow's nest
hollered down to the woman pacing the quarter-deck. Mary Rose snapped
out her telescope and aimed it across the ocean. She handed the glass
to Helm. "It's the Avenger. I'm sure of it. I'd heard that Captain
Stoner has been plying this ocean but much further south." She laughed
shortly. "He had been a privateer on the Atlantic side, but things got
too hot for him, so he has been trying his luck around the Pacific."
She grinned broadly, and added, "I'd say his luck just ran out."
Helm studied the ship in the telescope for several seconds, trying to
imagine Tessa there among those villains. Had she been treated well?
What would he find? He swallowed hard, keeping his thoughts to himself
as he handed back the telescope. "They're pretty far off. Can we catch
them if they see us?"
Mary Rose sent him a look of amused tolerance. "My ship is the fastest
on this ocean, Dr. Helm. And, we may have the element of surprise.
They won't be expecting anyone to come to her rescue by sea.
Especially if what I suspect is true. That this kidnapping was no
chance encounter. It was set up by someone. Someone who lives in the
area and knows Maria Theresa's habits. Someone who knew she rides
every morning along the shore. If we find that someone, we will find
the brains behind this abduction."
"What about the ransom money? Isn't that the whole point of this
miserable exercise – to extort money from Señorita Alvarado?"
"Five thousand reales is a significant amount of money, Doctor, that's
true. The whole crew of the pirate ship could retire in comfort on
that. The question is, Dr. Helm, why kidnap Maria Theresa? She is not
known for great wealth. In fact, from what I have gathered, she is
having a struggle just to keep ahead of the taxes. So, why kidnap her
and ask such an astronomical ransom?" Mary Rose shrugged. "There is
more to this than the money, though I can't figure out what." She
subsided into an introspective silence while Helm stared over the
ocean in the direction of the sail. It was more distinct now. They
were getting closer to it with the fair wind behind them.
