APRIL 15, 2001 CHALLENGES

TRIO: hairbrush, silver coin, seals

QUOTE 1: "The graveyards are full of indispensable men." - Charles de Gaulle

QUOTE 2: "No sane man will dance." - Cicero

Authors:

brig, Dea, Eliza, Jim, Julie, Maril, Rodlox

by brig
[email protected]

Trio challenge, quote challenge #1

RATING: G

Feedback is always welcome. :)

~~~~~

You wake long before the sun rises.

It's always the same; you can't remember when you last had even a thought of sleeping in. Well, what does it matter? In this place you're just another hard working member of the community.

Breakfast is sketchy and brief today because your schedule is full. You eat while brushing your hair, attempting to bring order to unruly locks, muttering under your breath. Dressing takes more time, mainly because you have to struggle to make everything fit properly . . . In a pocket you find a silver coin and a few broken seals, the remnant of some forgotten letter, no doubt; it wasn't a personal letter, you know that much. You haven't had one in quite a while, nor expected to. Who would write you anyway?

There's something rather pathetic in that realization, but you refuse to think about it right now. Instead you shake out the wax crumbs and then tuck the coin back in place. Perhaps it might bring you some luck. Heaven knows with recent complications like the Queen you need all the luck you can get.

Humming a tune under your breath, you head for your office and the myriad duties awaiting you.

The first pale rays of sunrise filter in through half-shuttered windows as you sit down at your desk. This is a moment you always wait for, a chance to savor the peace of early morning; no demands on your time, no need to listen to endless requests for help . . . only the quiet march of sunlight.

All too soon it is time to assume the mask you have created with such care.

"The graveyards are full of indispensable men," you remind yourself when a knock sounds at the door.

And so the day begins.

END

By Dea
[email protected]

CHALLENGE: silver coins, hairbrush, seal

As much as I enjoyed writing "Mission: Ridiculous," my Helm muse was a little put out that I made him seem like a character out of the movie "Dumb and Dumber." :) So....to appease him, I've written an alternate version of Helm's confronting Tessa about the mask. It takes place right after the end of "To Tell the Truth."

~~~~~

He was about to take it around back when he noticed something fluttering in the breeze beside his door. Crouching down to look at it, he inhaled sharply as he realized what it was. A black lace mask. Reaching down he picked up the delicate bit of material in his hand and shut his eyes. When he opened them again it was to stare in the direction Tessa Alvarado had gone.

~~~~~

Robert Helm examined the black lace mask as it slid gracefully between his long fingers. He'd been sitting at the small table in his office most of the day, staring at the flimsy piece of material. It looked like it might be uncomfortable but in actuality it was quite soft. Bringing it closer to his face he caught the faint scent of lavender. It was amazing to think that this delicate thing was all that hid the Queen's true identity--an identity he was now certain of. Tessa Alvarado.

How could he not have seen it sooner? He was more than a little disgusted with himself for not coming to the conclusion without the aid of the mask the senorita had inadvertently dropped on his doorstep. But now that he knew the truth, it somehow all made sense. It was quite simple actually. He'd heard the rumors of the so-called accident Don Alvarado had been involved in. What better way to flush out the real cause of his death than by donning a mask of justice and becoming a vigilante?

Suddenly a thought assaulted him that made him uneasy. What about Montoya? Did the colonel know who the Queen was? Or was he as dense as he himself had been about the whole subject? Surely, he was unaware that Maria Theresa was the Queen or he would have acted on his hunch by now. Then again, it wouldn't be prudent, or wise, for Colonel Montoya to accuse the daughter of a don of such outrageous extracurricular activities without the proper evidence. Evidence such as the lace mask Helm now held in his hand.

When the initial shock wore off, the doctor mentally kicked himself for his treatment of Senorita Alvarado. How could he have been so attracted to the Queen, yet so disdainful of Tessa? She played her part of the spoiled aristocrat much too well. He had definitely been fooled. To him it only made her appear wiser for knowing so skillfully how to detach herself from her alter ego. Part of him was thrilled that he finally knew the truth, while another part was as confused as ever. How would she react to his knowing the truth? Would she hold his attitude toward Senorita Alvarado against him? He certainly hadn't made it easy for her.

He remembered that day after he had killed El Serpiente. She had come to him offering her understanding and compassion. What had he done? He had dismissed her like some bothersome child. He had told her she didn't know anything about life and death. Now he realized she knew plenty. Helm slowly brought the mask up to his face and for a moment, he saw what the world looked like through the Queen's eyes--the poor, the weak, the helpless. For some reason she'd taken it upon herself to make it all better. But at what cost?

The way he saw it, he could now do one of two things. He could destroy the mask so that no one would ever find it and continue to play his role in Tessa's charade, or he could call her on it. He could ride out to the Alvarado Hacienda and confront her with the evidence in his possession. Not because he wanted to expose her, but to let her know that he knew, and that she didn't have to pretend around him anymore.

With that decision made Helm shrugged into his long duster and tucked the piece of lace in his pocket.

~~~~~

He reached the Alvarado Hacienda just before dusk. The evening mists were rolling down from the mountains as well as from across the sea. The sun was just peeking above the far horizon now, and the half-light that shadowed the large adobe building gave just enough illumination for Helm to tether his horse out front and make his way up the steps to the double doors.

He knocked and waited. A few moments later Marta opened the door.

"Dr. Helm," she greeted pleasantly, "what brings you out here this evening?"

"I'm here to see Senorita Alvarado," he replied. "Is she available?"

"I'm afraid she is... out at the moment, doctor," Marta explained. Out planning to stop a shipment a gold and silver coins arriving from Monterrey, she added to herself.

"Oh," he said, the disappointment evident in his voice. Disappointment not only that he'd missed her, but that she was most likely out somewhere in a dangerous situation disguised as the Queen. Should he just let Marta know that he was aware of her mistress's secret? No, he wanted to speak to Tessa first. "Will she be back soon, do you think?"

I certainly hope so, Marta thought. For the sake of my nerves, at least.

"She should be coming back soon, doctor," she said. "Would you like to wait for her?"

Helm met her gaze. "Yes, I would like that very much."

"Come in, Dr. Helm," she instructed as she stood back to let the man pass. "Have a seat in here. Can I get you something to eat or drink? I've just made fresh sweet rolls."

He couldn't stop his mouth from watering at the prospect. He hadn't eaten much that day and it was catching up with him.

"That sounds delightful, senorita," he replied with a smile. "Only if it's not too much trouble."

"No trouble at all," Marta assured him as she headed for the kitchen. Before she was completely out of sight she called over her shoulder, "I will bring you something to drink as well."

When she'd gone, Helm surveyed the large living area he was in. Beautiful, expensive-looking paintings and tapestries hung on the whitewashed walls. Lush carpets rested on polished wooden floors. The window draperies still hung open letting in the coolness of the evening breeze. It was all very homey and inviting. Helm's eyes traveled above the hearth to see the imposing portrait of Don Alvarado.

Oh senor, he said to himself, have you any idea what your daughter is doing? The risks she's taking in the name of justice? I think she may be doing this because of what happened to you. I certainly hope you are watching over her.

Getting no response from the deceased don, Helm moved about the room as he waited for Marta to return. He could hear faint sounds coming from the kitchen--pots, pans and silverware clanking lightly. He'd reached the end of a small hallway when his eyes glimpsed the open door of a bedroom. Looking back over his shoulder he casually strolled in that direction.

What are you doing, Robbie? his conscience asked as he neared the open door, You've sunk to creeping about in women's bedrooms uninvited?

Ignoring the chiding voice in his head, Helm crossed the threshold into a room he soon discovered to be Senorita Alvarado's. He came to this conclusion upon seeing several recognizable dresses hanging in an open wardrobe. She must have left in a hurry to leave the door open, he thought absently. No costumes of black though. But of course she would keep those hidden from prying eyes. `Like mine.'

The bedroom was just as warm and cozy as the living area had been. Soft looking carpet underfoot, portraits on the walls, polished wooden furniture. There was an ornately carved dressing table in one corner boasting a beautiful beveled mirror. On top of the dresser was a red silk scarf that cushioned an ivory-handled hairbrush. He smiled, remembering how soft and shiny the Queen's--Tessa's--hair always seemed to be. Turning around he was greeted by the sight of a luxurious four-poster bed, draped in sheer, blue curtains.

Fit for a queen, indeed, Helm mused as he fingered the blue material.

"Dr. Helm! Is there something I can help you with?"

Helm spun around to see Tessa Alvarado standing in the doorway to the bedroom. Her long hair was slightly disheveled and her face was flushed as if she had been running. Hands on her hips, she looked a bit perturbed to find him in her room.

"He was waiting for you in the living room, Tessa," Marta, who was standing behind her mistress, felt compelled to explain. "I didn't know he was in here."

"We need to talk, senorita," Helm said, unable to completely keep the color from his own face at being caught in his reconnaissance.

"Marta, get some lemonade for our guest," Tessa said, her eyes not leaving the doctor's face.

"That's what I was doing," Marta replied a little too forcefully in Helm's direction. "Apparently he couldn't wait."

Helm sent Marta an apologetic look before she turned and left the room, leaving him and Tessa alone.

"So, doctor," Tessa said crossing her arms in front of her chest. She couldn't deny that she had imagined having him in her bedroom frequently, but somehow this wasn't how she had planned it. "What do you want to talk about?"

Sighing, Helm simply said, "I know."

"You know what?" Tessa asked with a nervous laugh. "You've never been one to talk in riddles, doctor. You've always been quite straightforward about your feelings... at least to me."

"I think this belongs to you," he replied, pulling out the black lace mask from his pocket and holding it out to her.

Tessa froze. She'd been worrying all day about losing that damn mask! Of all the people to find it! Still, what did it prove? "That's the Queen of Swords' mask!" she exclaimed, acting as though she were afraid to touch the thing. "Where did you get it?"

Helm's shoulders drooped. "Tessa..."

The sound of her name on his lips was oddly comforting, even though she was anything but comfortable at the moment.

"You can keep up this charade if you like," he continued softy, "but not with me."

Her survival instinct refused to surrender without a fight. "I'm sorry, Dr. Helm," she insisted as she walked past him toward the bed. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. You find the Queen's mask and you automatically assume it's mine?"

"It was on my doorstep this morning after you left.."

"So anyone could have dropped it," she rationalized.

"Only the Queen would have had it to drop," he replied exasperated.

"Maybe it was dropped by the Queen. She certainly visits you often enough, doctor!"

"And how would you know?" he demanded.

Tessa opened her mouth to respond and realized he'd caught her in a lie. Closing her mouth, she just stood there stubbornly, daring him to say the words... to say that she was the Queen.

Helm was tired and frustrated. She was behaving like a child--and this time it wasn't an act for the pueblo's benefit. If she couldn't trust him enough to neither confide in him, nor even admit the truth when she knew that he knew...

He looked down at the mask in his hand as if he'd forgotten it was there. Reaching out he placed the black lace in Tessa's hand and closed her fingers over it. "You'd better keep this in a safe place, your highness. If Montoya had been the one to find it, I sincerely doubt he would've given you his seal of approval."

With that he turned and walked out of Tessa's bedroom, leaving her alone with his revelation.

END

By Eliza
[email protected]

I did it! I worked a Quote in! There are spoilers for the episode (obviously) and I have ignored the opening of the tag scene. Actually, I had completely forgotten about it until I rewatched the ep to check some facts, by then I liked my ending better. --Eliza

~~~~~

Colonel Montoya pushed aside the blind that protected the interior of the coach from the dust of the road just in time it see Captain Grisham be surrounded by the cream of Santa Elena society. The women seemed to have their hands all over him. Most surprising was the fact that Grisham did not look like he was enjoying the attention.

Montoya followed the captain's stare and thought he saw the black thorn in his side--the Queen of Swords--disappear between the buildings. He had better find out what had been happening in his pueblo while he was in Monterey kowtowing to the new viceroy.

"What a tremendous welcome home! I never expected such a reception. I am truly touched." Montoya managed to reign in his sarcasm so that the only person that caught the full force was the one looking into his eyes. Grisham winced, and Montoya wondered exactly what his captain had done this time.

"Colonel Montoya," Gaspar Hidalgo began, ignoring the colonel's remarks. "On behalf of the rest of the dons, I recommend a commendation be given to Captain Grisham. He has managed to save not only our lives," Hidalgo indicated the gathered dons, "but the whole town from the hands a ruthless brigand."

Grisham seemed to become even more unnerved as Hidalgo gave him a slap on the back. Montoya was bemused by the whole scene, even as he was suspicious of his captain's discomfort. "If that is the case, then I heartily concur. However, I will need to hear the whole story in order to insure the captain gets suitable recognition."

The whole story, from Krane's arrival at the party to the release of the dons, was told to Colonel Montoya in many voices and with a number of conflicting facts. The only way for the colonel to stop the deluge was to ask the obvious question, "Where is the outlaw now?"

There was silence and all eyes turned to Captain Grisham. The captain blinked for a moment then straightened his stance and said decisively, "This way please, Colonel."

Please?! You are very worried, aren't you, Marcus? Montoya had the captain precede him, then noticed that the gathered crowed was also following them. Since he had the strong feeling that Grisham was bluffing, Montoya thought this was best dealt with in private. He addressed the crowd, "Gentlemen, it seems that you have had a very trying few days. The sight of the captured desperado may not be pleasant. I think it best for you to take your ladies home, as not to cause them further distress."

Montoya moved no further until the crowd reluctantly disbursed. He then caught Grisham in a chilling glare. "You have no idea where he is, do you?"

Grisham looked grim. "I'm not certain, but I am hoping," he said as he led the colonel into the passage way between the church and cantina and then into the garrison plaza.

Montoya stopped short at the sight at the entrance to the hotel stable and felt Grisham halt close at his back. All the conformation Montoya needed was in the relief in the captain's voice as he explained, "Krane. We served together in the same regiment. He blames me for his court marshal and the subsequent attempted hanging."

"So your past had come back to... What is the phrase?... Bite you in the ass. This presentation is complements of the Queen of Swords, I assume." Montoya looked sideways at Grisham, who just shrugged.

Krane was standing on the side of a barrel, his hands tied behind his back, and a noose snug around his neck. He was doing an admirable job of maintaining his balance and even managed a sneer, as Montoya came into the barn to get a good look at the almost hanged man.

"So you've decided to remain a captain have you, Grisham?" Krane was almost laughing despite his precarious position. "Colonel Montoya, I assume. Be careful, Colonel, you wouldn't be the first commanding officer that the corporal... excuse me, captain here has eliminated should you become inconvenient. Loyalty is a word that doesn't seem to be in his vocabulary."

"Maybe not," Montoya replied. "But prudence does not seem to be in yours. Trying to take over my pueblo! You should really learn more about your enemy before advancing."

"I know Grisham far better than you, Montoya. Before that masked bitch with the sword showed up, I had him dancing to my tune."

"To that one, I am certain no sane man will dance voluntarily." Montoya chuckled at the bravado of the man so near death. But he didn't find the proprietary tone of his comments amusing. Nor did Grisham, from his expression. If this was the quality of the men that he had been exposed to during his early career, then it was little wonder that the captain had such a poor sense of the subtleties of leadership.

Montoya decided to correct this man's perception and, maybe, influence the captain in the process. "You knew him, Senor. The boy has been under my tutelage and has learned a considerable amount. He has gained discipline, forethought, and an excellent sense of what I would consider appropriate action for a situation. For example, show him how we deal with insurrection, Captain."

"With pleasure, Colonel." Grisham kicked the barrel out from under Krane's feet and smiled into the man's darkening face before ramming a knife into Krane's chest.

"I believe the word is overkill," commented Montoya as Grisham stepped back to view his handiwork.

"He survived the noose once before. There's no point in tempting fate." The cocky grin was back, the captain must be feeling confident in his position again. The desperado had been captured, by whom was irrelevant, and executed, therefore unable to impart any uncomfortable information. The colonel could see why Grisham would be pleased at the way the day had turned out.

Montoya nodded and headed back to the main square. Another of Krane's comments kept echoing in his head; the one taunting Grisham for deciding to remain a captain. Montoya was not surprised that Grisham would go along with a plan to be rid of him, it wouldn't be the first time, but what did that plan entail? And why didn't he go through with it? Could he actually be gaining some idea of loyalty? Could Marcus Grisham finally be realizing that his life is much better in a brilliant commander's shadow rather than out in the hot sun on his own?

The colonel made a careful examination of the man walking beside him. The grin had faded and the guilty expression was back. He was also brushing at his uniform, at what looked like scorch marks in the wool. Why would he be concerned about a bit of soot? Unless... "I understand Krane not knowing that I am fully aware of your past, Grisham, but he seemed to think that your loyalty to me was in question. What would give him that idea?" Again Grisham's hand came up to brush his coat, as the colonel could see him searching for an explanation.

Then Montoya noticed the scorched ground and the burned end of the fuse. He picked it up, pulling up the cord as he followed it to the spot where his carriage had been. "When I have this spot excavated, what am I going to find?" asked the colonel coldly, already certain of his answer.

Grisham was studying his boots and the sand around them. He looked up to answer, "Dynamite."

Montoya didn't bother keeping the anger out of his voice. "You were going to blow me up?!"

"Not me -- Krane." Grisham must have realized how this sounded, pointing the finger at a dead man. He continued to explain, "Krane made me set the trap and light the fuse. His men were on every rooftop, armed, watching my every move. I had no choice! I managed to put the fuse out before it was too late."

The confusion on Grisham's face at the smile that Montoya gave him was almost worth the attempted murder. "Pragmatism. That is what I admire most about you, Grisham. You can make the best of any situation, and when the situation changes so does your actions. Should I be thanking you for saving my life then?"

"I wouldn't go that far, sir," said Grisham, looking slightly embarrassed but very pleased with himself.

"Neither would I." Montoya almost laughed at the slumping shoulders as Grisham realized he was far from off the hook. "There is still the matter of the Queen of Swords." Montoya motioned for Grisham to follow and did not look back as he started to his office, confident that his captain was close at heel.

THE END

By Jim
[email protected]

DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks etc
RATING: G

~~~~~

The warming morning sun pushed the coastal fog back into the Pacific Ocean as Maria Teresa Alvarado took her daily ride. Today she would take a different route. Normally she rode south but today Tessa would ride the northern part of her property.

As she came to a hill above the beach, she spied a man throwing something into the ocean. It looked like he was skipping stones and it looked like fun. She was too far from the man to recognize him, but this was her property. As she found a path to the beach, she heard a barking sound.

"Chico, we don't have many dogs around here, what could that be?"

As she road closer to the sounds, her eyes traveled out to sea and rested on a small island of brown rocks. Suddenly the rocks started moving.

"Of course, Chico. Not dogs but seals. Why didn't you tell me they were seals you silly horse?"

Another bark and she saw that a young pup was in a tide pool and couldn't get out. The mother was barking at the pup to no avail. Tessa slipped off Chico's back and carefully walked to the tide pool. She entered the pool all the while talking calmly to the frightened pup. Picking the pup up was no easy task.

"You're no light weight pup, size can be deceiving."

With a gentle but steady push, she got the pup out of the pool. Then she realized that she was standing in a hole four feet deep. A whistle brought Chico over. Fortunately she had let the reins dangle to the ground and she had no trouble reaching them. Chico backed off and Tessa was free.

"Marta's going to kill me. Look at these clothes Chico." Chico neighed.

She watched the pup and mother head for the sea when the pup stopped and headed back to Tessa. He came about five feet away, set back on his hind flippers and clapped his front flippers while barking again. Then he went back to the sea.

"You're welcome," laughed Tessa. "Chico, did you see that, he's almost as smart as you." Chico snorted.

Ignoring Chico's snort, Tessa held the reins and walked down the beach toward where the man had been seen. He was gone. A glint from the sun caught her eye and she spotted something in the sand. Stooping down she picked up two silver coins. They were not Spanish. One side was a Chrysanthemum and the other side said 100. There were other markings that she could not read.

"Find something interesting?"

Startled, Tessa turned to see where this male voice came from.

"You. What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"This is my property. That is something that you can not say. You are trespassing."

"One does not own the land. Man only holds it in trust."

"Be that as it may, you haven't answered my question. Are these yours?"

"Si, but come let us sit down over here on this log and I will tell you a story." They walked over and sat down. "Those are Japanese Yen. Years ago, when I was younger, I met a girl named Michiko Kaneko. She gave me those as a remembrance of our time together. I received a letter today that she had recently passed away from consumption. I sent the yen back to her homeland across the sea. Skipping them across the ocean."

"Not very logical but understandable. I am sorry for your loss. I will say a prayer for her today at church. Now I must go. You are welcome to come here to find solace anytime. Adios."

"Vaya con Dios, Senorita, and gracias."

True to her word, Tessa visited the church a few hours later and said her prayers as she had promised. As she left the church she heard a voice. "Senorita, I thank you for your prayers. You are most gracious. I have a present for you."

He handed her a small package. It was a hairbrush, elaborately inlaid with mother of pearl. "I picked it up on the last supply ship while I was thinking of Michiko. You are as lovely as she was and I wish you to have it.

"Gracias, I don't know what to say." She came close to him and kissed him on the cheek. "I must go now."

Her cheeks were blushing and as she turned toward her carriage she thought, Every eye in this pueblo just saw that. That will get the tongues to wag. With a devious smile on her lips and the hairbrush in her lap, she headed for home.

THE END

By Julie
[email protected]

~~~~~

Marcus heard the knock and looked around. Everything was ready. Perfect timing, for once.

He gathered up the bouquet he'd formed and hid it behind his back before cracking open the door. She stepped through quickly, worried about being seen. On impulse, he dropped to one knee and presented the flowers. "For you, my dear. Though the roses' beauty pales in comparison to yours."

"Oh Marcus," she cooed, accepting his offering and rubbing the soft petals against her cheek. "They're beautiful."

"They're for you. They're all for you." He stepped back and gestured around the room. Vera's eyes grew wide as she took in the sight. Roses everywhere - bouquets on the table, petals on the pillow, loose roses strewn across the bed.

"Oh Marcus!"

He grinned like a schoolboy. He loved the look of delight in her eyes, and he'd do anything to hear that soft "oh Marcus." Every time she said his name, he went weak in the knees.

He bounced down on the bed and scooped up a handful of the flowers. "I cut off all the thorns so you can wear them without any scratches on the perfect skin of yours. Now come here, darlin'."

She walked over and leaned close, allowing him to slide one of the roses into her corset. She put her hand on his cheek and gave him a worried look. "Did you take these roses from El Coronel's garden?"

Marcus grinned smugly and pulled her to his lap. "El Coronel won't be back from Monterey for a week."

"And what happens when he comes back? You know how much he values his garden." She put her arms around his neck and stroked his hair.

"He'll never find out it was me. Even if he did, what would he do? They're just flowers, and I'm indispensable to him."

"Oh my darling Capitan. The graveyards are full of indispensable men." She was worried about him, but knew her warnings would have no effect. She turned to actions which would have an effect.

~~~~~

Grisham heard a commotion outside and opened his eyes slowly. It was a good hour past dawn, later than he usually woke, but he considered this week something of a vacation.

Vera had gone long ago, but the smell of roses reminded him of her. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, enjoying the memories of their tryst. The roses had been a stroke of genius.

He decided he'd better check out the cause of the commotion and was just putting on his trousers when he heard the banging at his door.

"Capitan! Capitan, hurry. There has been a terrible crime committed. My garden has been vandalized."

Montoya. Why couldn't that man stay on a schedule? Grisham started hopping toward the door, his pants only part way up, when he realized there were rose petals everywhere. He looked from the door to his own half-dressed state to the abundance of fragrant evidence.

"Damn, damn, damn," he muttered to himself as he stumbled around the room, stashing roses in draws, shoving loose petals under the sheets. He had to buy time. "I'll be right there, Colonel!"

Calling out had been a mistake. With his presence confirmed, Montoya just let himself in. "Captain Grisham, I do not have time to ..."

The Colonel's voice trailed off as he took in the room. Grisham was standing by the rumpled bed, one hand holding up his pants, the other behind his back. Grisham forced a smile to his face, hoping just maybe he could salvage this situation. And then one tell-tale petal drifted to the floor behind him.

END

By Maril
[email protected]

DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks, etc.
RATING: G
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT: This piece was inspired by brig's lovely and enigmatic vignette
FEEDBACK: Always welcome

~~~~~

The sun angled through the window, one shaft highlighting her wild tangle of hair, as she set down her hairbrush. She grimaced at her reflection, giving up on trying to tame the unruly curls. She turned to survey her room--everything was neat and tidy, her bed made, clothing folded and put away. Her own things surrounded her in this big room, though it was sparsely furnished. She found an odd satisfaction in the bedroom's meagre adornments--the accumulation of a lifetime all gathered in one place, one solid place. She smiled at the thought. If she had remained with her people, she would have had none of this. All her belongings would have been crammed into a wagon that never stayed in one place very long.

Guiltily, she glanced at the letter on the table near the window. It seemed to beckon her with its demand to be read again... and answered. Her brother, Rafael, had written to her from somewhere in Andalusia. The red seal was broken though the letter had been refolded. What could she say to him? In his halting scrawl, he wrote to remind her of her duty to her own people. She felt the pull of the blood toward them. It was a constant in her life, this mystical union with the gitano. Like part of her own body, she was always aware of them; unconsciously she carried them in her mind. Now, Rafael wanted her to return and take her place as the healing woman for the band. The woman her mother had been training to take her place had married and left for another troupe. They needed her, Rafael said. Her mother was getting old; her days were numbered.

Marta sat at the table, taking up the letter to read it again. What can I say? Am I selfish to want to stay with someone I love? Am I abandoning my people to follow the destiny of another who needs me too? She thought of the small hoard of silver and gold coins she had saved. I have enough for my passage to Spain. I do not need to ask Tessa for it. I can go anytime I want to. She would never try to hold me. And yet, the thought of that parting made her heart heavy. And she was frightened to think of Tessa, here alone, facing the dangers she so recklessly plunged into. Marta shook her head, chilled at the thought. I could never forgive myself if anything should happen to her while I went back to take my place with the gitano. Which is the greater good? If I left her, would she continue to wear the mask, risk her life for justice? Marta sighed. She knew the answer. Even without me, she would do it.

She unstoppered an ink bottle near her hand and picked up a quill pen. After several more minutes of thought, Marta dipped the pen into the ink and began to write on a clean sheet of paper.

"My dear brother, I am pleased to find in your letter that Mama is well. I send you both my most heartfelt love. You are never absent from my thoughts and prayers. I have read your letter many times, and weighed my duty to my people against my duty to Tessa. This has not been an easy choice to make. But I am needed here more. I cannot explain why, but trust me, Rafael, when I say the band will survive without me, but Tessa may not...."

Later, as Marta folded the letter, she heard the sounds of someone else moving about the house. Tessa was up, probably getting her breakfast. She smiled to herself as she arose from the table. She doesn't need to know about the choice I have had to make. But I think, it was the right one, and I can live with it.

--Maril

By Rodlox
[email protected]

SPOILERS FOR THE LAST NEW EPISODE SHOWN IN THE U.S. - The Hanged Man

This is actually my second challenge reply - the first is almost done...thanks to my beta!

NOTES: Yes, the title's from two different sayings. Spoilers for Naming of a Grisham and 1819, as well as the last third of The Hanged Man.

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ALVARADO HACIENDA

Marta opened the package that'd come with the letter in the mail. A package that her brother had sent her, with something from her cousin Simon's realm in the south.

Unwrapping the ribbons and wrapping carefully, Marta then opened the box...and saw it. Pulling it out from captivity, she brought it up to the light, admiring the feel and the lovely light brown color. It was a fur overcoat.

Once a Bolivar hits nineteen, Marta reflected, we don't grow any more. Knowing that, it must have been simplicity for him to know what size to send.

The oddly sensual feel of the soft fur conflicted with what little Marta knew of where this thing had come from - an infant fur seal. Part of her was upset that it had been killed, though the polite part of her knew that a letter of thanks would be better. Perhaps I can word it just so...

But, either way, Marta knew, she had to make a decision.

~~~~~

MONTOYA'S OFFICE

Isadore had left mere days before Krane and his bunch had come - a fact which Marcus Grisham was infinitely thankful for! She may be annoying, but she's still family.

"It would seem that you have been very busy in my absense, Capitan," Colonel Montoya said, now that he was back in his pueblo, in the place where he commanded.

"You could say that, yes," Captain Grisham agreed.

"Am I correct in understanding that you were assisted in this noble act by no less a personage than the Queen Of Swords?" Montoya asked.

Grisham froze. He'd been at the crossfire before, but he still didn't like it - even when it was only verbal. "She dealt with Krane, yes sir....one man."

"Whereas you single-handedly put a stop to the evil horde," Montoya appended. The senoras had been most adamant that Capitan Grisham had been the lone gunman, the single fighter. "Honestly, Capitan, if it was this easy, what took you this long? Were you simply waiting for a dramatic moment for maximum theatrical effect?"

"Colonel, you wound me. Putting a stop to the remains of Ruego's men has always been a high priority for me," while I was here anyway...and don't you dare mock my extracurricular interests! "That it took this long...well, they're dealt with." ...not that I expect one silver cent in a raise.

"Yes, quite true," Montoya agreed. "They are to be executed at dawn...provided that the Queen of Swords does not interfere again." She's saved some of Ruego's men before..

Somehow, Colonel, Grisham thought, I can't imagine she'd do that.

"And now," Montoya said, "I can display my the full extent of my true benevolence, free from threat by Ruego's men."

~~~~~

ALVARADO HACIENDA

Tessa stood in front of her bedroom's full-body mirror, clad only in her corset and undergarments. She first placed her red dress in front of her, seeing how she would look, then replaced it with her blue dress.

She'd overheard Doctor Helm remarking on how many of the arrested soldiers and bandits had been clobbered - `from behind, no less' in his own words. Tessa smiled. She didn't mind letting the Captain take the credit for dealing with the ones in the town...particularly if Vera and the others were of like mind.

Looking from her dresser to her reflection again, this time with the dresses on her bed, Tessa mused on if her hair really needed a brushing that badly.

She had to be careful, she knew: the Queen was starting to go easy on Ma- Grisham, she mentally corrected herself. Heck, I even came close to smiling through the mask when he was jumping on the fuse...and I don't think that was entirely humor, Tessa thought; Pride, maybe? she wondered.

There was a knock at her bedroom door, and Marta's voice said, "Tessa, there is something I need to talk to you about."

END