CHALLENGE for the week of 04-29-01

TRIO CHALLENGE: A pouch, a card, desert sand

or

QUOTE 1:"It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." - Alfred Lord Tennyson

or

QUOTE 2: "Opportunities multiply as they are seized. " - Sun Tzu

AUTHORS:

Dea, Jim, Jo, Maril, MnD, Rodlox

By Dea
[email protected]

RATING: PG
SPOILERS: The Hanged Man, The Pretender
CHALLENGE: pouch, sand, card

~~~~~

Tessa Alvarado strode through the pueblo with a huge smile on her face. The sun was warm on her shoulders and her heart was lighter than it had been in a long time. She felt she and Dr. Helm had at last come to some sort of understanding regarding the Queen. Remembering how he'd welcomed her in his bedroom that last night made her wonder when she'd start calling him by his Christian name. It seemed strange to keep calling him `doctor,' but she admitted to herself that it had become a habit. And of course, in public, it was the only proper address. But in private...

On that pleasant note, she picked her way through the thick crowds of people who had gathered in the square for the celebration. To Tessa's surprise, Colonel Montoya had acquiesced to the dons' insistence that a party be thrown in Captain Grisham's honor. The dubious fact that his Capitan had saved not only the town but also the lives of several of its most prominent citizens seemed to make Montoya slightly wary, but a fiesta was a wonderful way to curry favor with the people of Santa Elena, and the Colonel had apparently grabbed at the chance.

Tessa always enjoyed a good fiesta. They reminded her of her childhood in Spain before her mother died... of the times she accompanied her parents into town for sweet bread and sugary candies and lively music. Tessa smiled and turned to the woman beside her.

"Isn't this lovely, Marta?" she asked her companion. "The decorations are so colorful, and just listen to the musicians! And what is that incredible smell?"

Marta chuckled softly at the sight of her young charge. She looked like the little girl she first met in Spain. Not for the first time, she thanked God that he had brought the two of them together. Marta knew that little Tessa had not been the only one in need of a friend.

"It is delightful," Marta said, "Although I do not think that Grisham would agree."

Both women looked up to see Montoya and Grisham standing on the balcony of Montoya's office. The captain was surrounded by dons patting him on the back and touting his bravery. Grisham indeed looked uncomfortable and very out of his element. Despite all his bravado with his soldiers it was obvious that Grisham wished to keep a low profile and the praise of the dons unsettled him.

"I still can't believe Colonel Montoya threw him this party," Tessa said.

"Yes, I wonder what he asked of Grisham in return?" Marta asked slyly.

"Maybe a promise to finally catch the Queen of Swords," Tessa suggested under her breath.

"Bite your tongue, Tessita," Marta replied.

Tessa grinned at Marta and the older woman announced, "I'm going to buy some spices. I am making paella tonight."

"Oh I love your paella, Marta!" Tessa enthused.

"I know," Marta said as she headed toward the market stalls.

With a small wicker basket over her arm, Tessa tightened her grip on the small leather pouch of coins she'd brought with her and set out to explore the many wares and crafts that had been set out for the fiesta. As she neared the center of the square the music coming from the Rose Courtyard intensified. A harmonious guitar melody mixing with the lively step of flamenco dancers with castanets wove its way around the tables and chairs that had been set up in the garden. The vibrant sounds made Tessa want to dance.

On either side of the main street were stalls and tables piled high with food and other goods. The smell of freshly baked bread led Tessa to one stall in particular. When she saw the jelly-filled pastries lined up like jewels she quickly purchased two. She placed one in her basket and bit into the other. Delicioso! she thought, licking the sugary glaze from her fingers.

As she walked on, she noticed some very interesting glass jars filled with sand. The sand had been dyed different colors and poured into the small jars creating beautiful patterns and designs. As she stopped to examine them she heard a familiar voice say, "The desert sands never looked more inviting."

Tessa looked up to find Robert Helm standing beside her, hands casually stuffed in his trouser pockets. She smiled as she silently admired the deep blue vest that fit snugly over his chest. The crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, showed off his nicely toned arms and if Tessa had been carrying her fan she would have had to use it.

"Good day, Dr. Helm," she said politely, trying not to appear too eager beneath the watchful gaze of the senora selling the glass jars of sand.

"Are you enjoying the fiesta, senorita?" he asked, returning her guarded response.

"Very much, and you?"

"It definitely has its good points," he replied. Cocking his head to one side, he seemed to be staring at her mouth.

"What are you looking at?" she asked nervously.

"You have, uhm," the doctor said, pointing to his own mouth, "it looks like... jam of some sort..."

"Jam?" she questioned as she daintily wiped at one side of her mouth with her finger.

"Yes, jelly," he clarified, shooting furtive glances at all the people milling about. "Other side."

She swiped at it again but missed it entirely.

This tiptoeing around is ridiculous! he thought to himself.

"Oh what the hell," he muttered and reached out to wipe the jelly from her mouth with his thumb.

Surprised at his bold public display, Tessa replied almost shyly, "Thank you doctor."

"Care to walk?" he asked motioning to the street. At her nod, he placed his hand at the small of her back, barely touching her as he led her away from the stall.

They walked in silence for a few moments, each taking in the sights and sounds of celebration in Santa Elena. Helm noticed that some of the dons were gathered at a table in the cantina playing cards. He smiled ruefully as he remembered the last time he had played poker with them. They hadn't been aware of his skill at the game. He decided that must be the reason why he was never invited back.

Keeping his gaze ahead of them, Helm ventured, "I've missed you."

Tessa turned to look at him profiled against the bright sky. It had been two days since she had left his office after finally revealing herself to him. She'd come to town as the Queen twice since then, but recalling his warnings about Montoya she had forgone any nighttime visits.

"Have you missed me or the Queen?" she asked impudently as she tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

"One and the same," he grinned, meeting her eyes.

"Not to Montoya," she replied softly.

"Thank goodness," he agreed, sidestepping one of the many laughing children who seemed to be everywhere enjoying the fiesta.

"Tessa!"

Tessa looked up at the sound of her name and saw Marta leaning against a stall beneath the shade of an umbrella. When she caught the younger woman's eye she motioned her over.

"Excuse me, doctor," Tessa said brightly and turned to go to her friend.

"Now that's a very pretty sight, isn't doc?"

Helm turned to find Captain Marcus Grisham standing at his side, arms crossed over his chest as he watched Tessa's form glide away from them.

"If it isn't the guest of honor," Helm replied tightly. He was still smarting from the fight they'd engaged in a few days before. Grisham wasn't exactly someone he wanted to see that day... or any day for that matter. "The dons get tired of coddling you?"

Grisham laughed quietly. "Well, at least they know who the real men are in this town."

Helm's mouth drew into a thin line but he kept his tongue.

"Too bad you were out of town when Krane was here," Grisham went on with a smirk. "I'd have enjoyed seeing you behind bars with the others. Then again, I doubt he would have bothered with you, doc. It's not like you have anything to take."

"And I guess you were just lucky the piece of scum knew you personally," Helm replied casually, refusing to rise to the bait. "I wonder what else is going to come crawling out of your illustrious past."

"I could say the same about you," Grisham said smiling. "Latham really livened up this place for awhile."

From across the square Tessa could see that Helm was glaring daggers at Grisham. Marta had called her over ostensibly to ask her opinion on some spices for the paella, but she had quickly asked how it was going with Helm. She had assured her things were going very smoothly, but now she worried what would come of the confrontation between the two men.

Hoping to diffuse the situation she made her way back to them and beamed, "Captain Grisham! Congratulations on such a selfless and brave act! Thank goodness you were here to save the dons. I'm sure that Colonel Montoya is very proud of your actions."

Unlike the dons' gratitude, Grisham soaked up her praise like a sponge. He made a slight bow and replied, "I was only doing my job, Senorita Alvarado. Now if I may be so bold, could I interest you in a dance in the Rose Courtyard?"

Tessa cut her eyes to Helm who looked a bit shocked by Grisham's invitation. Shaking her head she began, "Captain, I..."

"I only want to see you enjoying this fine celebration," he continued. Then with a look in Helm's direction he confided, "and frankly I just don't see that happening right now."

"Actually, Senorita Alvarado has already accepted my offer of a dance in the Rose Courtyard," Helm informed the captain. Turning a gaze to Tessa that said, I hope, he gallantly presented his arm.

The gesture brought a smile unbidden to her face and as she placed her hand on his arm she replied, "How kind of you doctor."

Grisham rolled his eyes as he stood there with his hands on his hips, watching the two of them walk away together.

"What just happened here?" he asked himself out loud. "I don't understand."

"What is the matter, Capitan?" Colonel Montoya asked as he came up behind Grisham. "Are you, how do they say, losing your touch?"

Not bothering to hide a grimace, Grisham replied, "I thought Helm didn't even like her. He's certainly brushed her off enough. Now suddenly they're all warm and cozy? How did I miss this?"

"Do you find it so difficult to believe that the doctor has simply succumbed to Senorita Alvarado's not insignificant charms?" Montoya nearly purred. He was not unwilling to admit that he enjoyed his Capitan's distress. Especially after he had been planning to blow up his coach.

"That was some quick turnaround," Grisham persisted. "Wonder what his Queen would say if she saw him getting so friendly with another woman?"

"Perhaps you should tell her the next time you see her," Montoya mocked. "Maybe she will be so bereft she will simply surrender herself to you."

Grisham opened his mouth to reply but Montoya silenced him with a look. "You have more important things to do than pick fights with the town doctor. Let him have his fun with Maria Theresa. Sooner or later he will be in contact with the Queen. And when he does I will be there."

Montoya started to walk off, then stopped. Without turning around he added, "Besides, next time you start a fight with him, I may not be there to rescue you, Capitan."

As Montoya strode away, Grisham could hear him laughing.

END

By Jim
[email protected]

CHARACTERS: Q/T M CM G
SYNOPSIS: The Queen learns from history
DISCLAIMER: The characters are Fireworks, the story is mine

~~~~~

Tessa was in her father's study reading when Marta walked in. Marta picked up the book Tessa was reading and looked at it. "Sun Tsu's The Art of War. Now that is a strange book for a lady to read."

"But not a strange book for the Queen of Swords."

"Possibly, but what can you learn from it? You are not leading an army."

"I am an Army of one. Listen, Marta, to what Sun Tsu has to say. Opportunities multiply as they are seized."

Shaking her head Marta continued, "Speaking of opportunities being seized, I overheard two soldiers talking in the cantina while I was in Santa Helena this morning. There is an arms and gold shipment coming in from Monterey tomorrow."

"Then the Queen rides tomorrow."

"It is a trap."

"When isn't it?"

"There are two wagons. One will be guarded by many soldiers and come by the main road. The real shipment will be guarded by a handful of soldiers and come by the coast rode. Captain Grisham and twenty soldiers will meet the second wagon towards the end of Sabino Canyon."

"That canyon is 10 miles long. I will have to intercept it before it gets to Grisham."

"Tessa, I have something for you. I want you to pin it to the inside of your blouse. I hope it will protect you."

Tessa accepted a pouch and opened it. Inside was a small gold crucifix. "It's beautiful, Marta, Thank you."

"I can't ride with you but He will."

~~~~~

That night, The Queen of Swords made a trip to a cave where she kept a cache of weapons that had been liberated from Montoya.

The next day a wagon surrounded by forty soldiers made its way through El Serpantine Canyon, named because of the windy road. Half way through the canyon, the soldiers discovered a landslide blocking the road. As they attempted to turn back, a second landslide was heard and the soldiers were boxed in. They drew their weapons and waited for the attack, which was sure to come.

An hour later a second wagon guarded by five soldiers and ten drivers plodded along Sabino Canyon. Three miles into the canyon they came across a landslide. This part of the canyon was wide enough to turn a wagon around. As they started retracing their steps they realized that the Queen of Swords blocked their path.

"Senores, you are surrounded by many rifles. Look to each side if you doubt me."

Forty rifle barrels could be seen in the under brush and pointed at them.

"Put your rifles and swords and rifles in the wagon and back away and you will not be harmed." The soldiers complied, as there was nothing else they could do. "Now sit down and don't move. If you attempt to come after me, you will be cut down.

"Reina, that is our payroll. We have not been paid in two months. How are we to support our families?"

"You have a point, Sergeant. Take out enough reales to pay the garrison. Start the wagon and don't move for twenty minutes or your widows will get your pay."

Thirty minutes later, Captain Grisham rode up on the other side of the landslide. Picking their way through the blockade, Grisham and his men discovered seven men siting on the ground.

"Having a picnic, gentlemen? Where is the wagon? No let me guess, The Queen of Swords."

"Captain, we are surrounded by many rifles."

Grisham looked around then walked to a rifle barrel he had seen. He grabbed it and inspected it. "Yeah, you're right many rifles, but no one to fire them. Damn, the breaches had been destroyed. Let's go after her. You gentlemen get to walk back as you have now joined the infantry."

Grisham and his men raced down the canyon and soon found the wagon. On the seat was a Tarot card. The horses, the weapons and the gold were all gone. Following the tracks of the horses was not easy. Brush had been tied to the horses and the tracks in the desert sand were being wiped out.

"Good trick Queenie, but you forgot about the dust cloud."

They set off after the dust cloud. They did not pay attention to where they were going; they just followed the clouded until it subsided. The soldiers sped around a curve in the trail and came to a halt on the outskirts of Santa Helena.

Colonel Montoya was mounted on his horse, just waiting for Grisham. "Lose something Captain? I could swear that when these horses left, they carried men and pulled a wagon."

He turned his horse back towards the pueblo. Without turning his head he called out: "Oh, Captain, it is bad enough to lose a squad of men, worse to lose the guns but unthinkable to lose the gold. I suggest you find the men, the guns and the gold or you will be walking as an infantryman and a Corporal at that."

THE END

By JoLayne
[email protected]

TRIO CHALLENGE: A pouch, a card, desert sand
QUOTE 1:"It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." - Alfred Lord Tennyson
NOTE: Julie's response, Roses, from a couple of weeks ago inspired this in some way. :-)

~~~~~

Grisham entered his apartment with an eager smile, a full heart and hot loins. It had been three weeks since he had been able to spend time with Vera, since that cousin of hers came to visit. But now, the visitor was gone, Vera had signaled him that morning in the pueblo square that she would arrive at their usual time, and he had work to do getting ready for her. He had genuinely missed Vera in her absence. Grisham hadn't realized that he had truly loved Vera until she wasn't available.

After shutting the blinds at the windows, he opened his uniform jacket and gently took out the three roses that he had snatched from Montoya's garden so the thorns wouldn't do anymore damage to his side. He rubbed his wounds as he remembered being careful to take blooms from the back of the bushes; Montoya would never know that they were missing. Grisham stood with an easy smile by the bed, picturing how lovely Vera would be, almost smelling her, envisioning how she would gently kiss the thorn pricks on his ribs to 'make them better'. She liked to play nursemaid, to mother him, and oh how he loved it so. He pulled back the covers on the bed and started to pluck the petals of the roses, letting them flutter to the mattress. When the last petal fell, he spread them out evenly across the length and width of the bed, wishing he had had the guts to swipe more from Montoya to properly fill the surface.

He took a bottle of wine from the shelf and set two glasses on the table. Taking off his uniform jacket and loosening his shirt, he slip back one blind to see if Vera was on her way to him yet. She wasn't. There weren't many people in the area; she did have to be careful not to be seen. After hanging his jacket up in his closet, he opened a drawer and took out a pouch and card that he had prepared to send to the Hidalgo hacienda after he was sure that Gaspar wouldn't be home to intercept it. He opened the drawstring of the pouch to see the sparkling diamonds inside. He lifted out the necklace that he had pillaged from an outlaying ranch. The father had been arrested for robbery and had the gall to fight the inevitable. That necklace was found by Grisham in the wife's jewelry box. It was the least that they could pay for breaking the leg of one of Grisham's officers, resisting arrest, and being generally annoying. The necklace was probably stolen anyway. The minute that Grisham saw it, he visualized it around Vera's neck. He couldn't wait to give it to her. He was glad that he would be able to see her face as she opened it and would allow him to hook the clasp as she held up her long, blond hair. He debated on whether or not to give her the card, since he would now be able to give it to her in person. The message on it was short but sweet declaring his sadness at not having been able to see her. He hadn't wanted to give away too much of his feelings away in such an impersonal manner. To reveal any of his own thoughts was tough enough when Vera was right there. He had always just enjoyed himself with her but not talk about the future, their situation of having to sneak a couple hours a week. He scrunched up the card and threw it in the waste basket deciding to show her just how much he had missed her, how happy he was that they could finally be together again... that he loved her. He actually loved her. Absence made his heart grow fonder. Vera out of sight did nothing to wipe her from his mind. Vera was all that Grisham had thought about the last three weeks.

He looked again out the window to see her just approaching his door. He ran to opened it. Vera slipped in then he shut the world outside with a quick slam of the door. She was leaning up against the wall looking at him. Grisham wrapped his arms around her and breathed her in. It had been so long. He had missed her so much. Her body fit so perfectly against his. He cupped her face to kiss her, but she pulled away.

"Marcus," she quickly said. "We have to talk."

"And I have something for you," he said as he kissed her neck and spun her over to the bed. "Later."

Vera pulled away from him and seemed to gasp when she saw the rose petal strewn bed. She stood far away from him as she said, "I can not stay long, Marcus. I came to tell you that--."

"What are you talking about?" Grisham interrupted her. "You just got here. Let's not waste time."

"Marcus," Vera said, averting his grasp when he walked toward her. She gently pushed him onto the bed and stood straight, fighting against his pull to bring her onto the bed with him.

He sat up and grumbled. He forgot that she liked to talk before getting down to action. He smiled up at her with his hands on his knees. "What is it?"

It took her a while to finally say, as she held her hand to her gut, "I can not see you anymore. I felt I needed to tell you in person. I was going to send a card."

"What are you talking about?" That was the most ridiculous thing he had ever hear her say. He was convinced that she felt the same way about him, but he hadn't been able to realize the depth of his feelings before he couldn't have her for a while.

"Gaspar and I," she said with a wondrous smile. "Are going to have a child."

"You're what?" Grisham evenly asked.

"A baby." Vera's smile could have lit up all of Alto California. Grisham felt as if he was just on the receiving end of a fist full of desert sand. "Gaspar and I are going to have a baby, Marcus. So, I can not see you anymore. I am sorry. I have my family to think about now, my husband, my child. You have meant a lot to me and I hope that we can remain friends--."

"Remain friends?" Grisham whined and shook his head to clear it. What just happened? She can't possibly be with child... by Gaspar! He walked to her and put his hands on her shoulder. "Vera... you are really going to have a baby?" When she nodded, excitedly, he asked her, "How can you be so sure that it is Gaspar's? You said you weren't..." he shrugged. "You know... you and Gaspar weren't... doing..."

"We have," Vera said, bowing her head with what Grisham took as shame.

She should feel guilty! She made me love her!

Grisham started to speak but Vera cut him off. "Please do not make this more difficult than it already is. I am married to a wonderful man who loves me and who I love. I always will. We are going to have a baby, Marcus. I can not see you anymore. Please understand."

Before he could even comprehend that she had spoken, Vera had quietly left his apartment. He looked at the shut door, at the petals on the bed, the wine on the table, the pouch that held the necklace that he had stolen for her. Grisham was numb. He had lost it all, and he didn't even realize that he had it while he did. He felt himself start to tear up and knew that that would never be wise. Only girlie men cried after being dumped. Grisham had never been dumped. Never. Until now.

He couldn't sit and wallow in that room anymore. He quickly put on his uniform jacket and walked outside, buttoning it. There was a prisoner somewhere who needed a beating and Grisham made sure he would find him and deliver it. He had to get rid of the pent up frustration, bitterness and disappointment. //Someone is going to pay!// He saw Montoya coming out of his courtyard and motion to him.

Grisham wondered if he was going to get orders to apprehend the thief who had stolen some of his beloved roses, and Grisham would gladly arrest a patsy. He was determined to make someone feel as crappy as he did at that moment. Montoya, instead of moaning about his missing blooms, smiled at Grisham and looked up at the bright sunshine. "Fine day, isn't it Capitan?"

Grisham grunted and stood at attention next to Montoya looking out at the citizens that they controlled. Grisham audibly gasped when he saw Vera exit the market and with the gentlemanly aid of her driver, climbed into the carriage. She was so beautiful. She had so recently been his. She was sleeping with her husband. She was going to have a child, a child that should have been his... He lost her.

Montoya nudged Grisham, who wiped away that tear that had formed without his knowing it. Grisham turned away from the Colonel to collect himself. Montoya put his hand on Grisham's shoulder. "You and Senora Hidalgo," he began. Grisham was waiting for Montoya to ask if they had been intimate, but instead said, "Are no longer?" Grisham turned to face his superior, a little more than surprised that Montoya had never mentioned that he had known about their affair. "I could see in the way she looked at you. I could also read her body language and how you are reacting that... it was her idea."

Grisham nodded, looking away, head held high. Montoya said again, "Capitan. It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."

Grisham evenly looked at him. "Who came up with that crock of shit?" He walked away, looking for someone to beat up.

~Jo

By Maril
[email protected]

RATING: G
DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks still owns them, but they are really ours. <G>
FEEDBACK: definitely
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I was inspired by the mysticism in "The Dragon" to write this. Hope you like it. The character, Joachim, came from a previous story, "The Kachina", and is an Indian shaman. Some folks may not have read this story, or remember the character.

~~~~~

Tessa snapped the whip over the horses and drove off in a huff. It had taken all Marta's persuasion to get her to go to town alone. "I have too much to do, Tessa, to go into town today." Marta had said. But the younger woman had been almost relentless in her insistence until Marta had firmly said no. Guiltily, she watched the wagon disappear in a cloud of dust. I will make it up to her later with my paella. She always loves that dish.

As soon as the wagon was gone, Marta went to the stable to saddle her mare, and lead it out. Mounting quickly, she turned the horse toward the distant hills and the appointment she had made for that morning. She urged the mare into a trot, enjoying the smooth gait as she sank into its rhythm. Ahead were the hills and canyons, one either side were the fields where the workers were already labouring under the remorseless California sun. It promised to be another sparkling clear day, no clouds on the horizon to offer a respite to the heat and dryness. Marta tried to moisten her mouth. It was as arid as the trail she rode over. Her canteen was tied on the saddle, but she ignored it as her destination grew ever nearer. In spite of the heat, she shivered with dread. Her stomach clenched with sudden apprehension. Why am I doing this? she wondered.

At the foot of a high rocky hill, Marta reined her horse. She tied the mare behind a large rock which afforded some shade for the sweating animal. With a quick pat on its flank, she began to climb toward a cave about halfway up the cliff. The loose gravel made the ascent difficult and several times she slipped back a few feet. At last, she clambered over a ledge and stood before the cave entrance. She turned to gaze over the landscape; it was a spectacular view from this ledge, a sweeping vista of rolling hills, scrub brush, and the winding trail leading to the hacienda. Around the villa were the fields, the only verdant colour in that sere land. A warm sense of pride pervaded her as she took in the scene. Only a year ago, those fields had been barren, abandoned. Now they were fertile again with waving stalks of grain for the cattle. Further up the hills on the other side of the villa were the vineyards, once more producing the best grapes in the territory. Marta smiled with satisfaction. We did this, Tessa and me, she thought.

Returning her attention to the cave, Marta stood uncertainly at the entrance. By going in, I accept whatever happens, she thought with a sense of foreboding. I can turn away from this step, and go on as I am, or I can go in and see where this will lead me. She drew in a steadying breath and stepped across the threshold, from the blinding brightness of the sunny ledge into the dimness of the large cave. Once inside, she looked around. The cave was only a few feet higher than her head and she could see that it was deep, and branched off in two directions. Other than the light from the entrance, there was no illumination to guide her. Marta moved further into the cave, surprised to find soft desert sand under her feet. As she had been instructed, she removed her shoes and left them near the entrance. She adjusted the pouch on her hip and began to walk forward into the blackness ahead. All her innate fear of dark enclosed places assailed her at once, and she froze, unable to move. She could hear her own ragged breathing echoing in the cave and the pulse of her racing heart hammering in her head. I can do this, she said to herself, over and over as she willed her feet to move. It was no use. She couldn't go on. Tears of frustration arose behind her eyes as fear held her in its thrall. She trembled, clenching her fists so hard, the nails bit into her skin.

She closed her eyes, trying to find that centre of peace, trying to overcome this terrible fear that she had always had. Where had it come from? she had often wondered. It was as palpable a force as a wall, keeping her from going forward. She would break through somehow. Stilling her breathing with long deep breaths, Marta began to relax. A sense of calm spread through her, and she took an uncertain step forward. The black abyss ahead threatened to swallow her up and she halted again. Another deep breath and another step, then another. Soon she was completely enclosed by the utter blackness of the cave. Sudden panic gripped her; she felt disoriented, like she was falling, weightless. Her hands flung out to either side, searching for something solid. She knew she could not return as she did not know which way. As she felt for the cave wall, her hand encountered something soft, warm, human. She screamed and moved back, hitting her head on the rocks.

A torch flared suddenly, blinding her momentarily. Joachim grinned at her when he saw her look of relief. In the weeks since she had first met him, he had become a dear friend, and teacher. Though Joachim was mute, they had learned to communicate through hand signs. He also spoke to her sometimes in her dreams. Now, he held out his hand to lead her further into the cave. Somehow, his strength assured her as she allowed herself to be led forward into the darkness with only the feeble light of the torch to guide them. Her terror of this place made her feel suffocated. Only the warmth of Joachim's hand kept the icy dread of those tomb-like walls from freezing her steps again.

Finally, he stopped. The torchlight revealed the remains of a cold campfire. All around on the walls were pictures, painted in earth tones, of birds, animals, fanciful shapes she could not recognize. The hair rose all over her body. This was a place of power, a sacred place. She could feel its energy all around her.

Joachim let go of her hand. He began to assemble a campfire from the sticks and firewood placed near the cave wall. Using the torch, he lit it and soon, the fire was crackling and bright, its flickering light illuminating the cave pictures and making them seem animated.

Using the sign language he had taught her, Joachim gestured to a pool a short distance away. He wanted her to disrobe and bathe in the pool, to prepare herself. He set the torch into a crevice in the rock wall, and sat down cross-legged near the campfire with his back to the pool.

I can still go back, she reminded herself as she walked toward the pool. I don't have to do this. The eyes on the cave paintings seemed to stare at her as she took off her clothing and stepped into the water. It was bracingly cold and shallow. She had to plunge under to fully immerse herself. She climbed out and put on the gown which had been placed there for her. The soft cotton warmed her chilled skin. The dress was covered with designs of stylized animals and other sacred signs; a ceremonial gown that he had made for her. She was moved by the care that showed in every detail of the garment. She remembered an old proverb her mother had told her: "When the pupil is ready, the teacher will come."

Am I ready? she questioned herself uneasily as she glanced at Joachim's solid back. Marta moved to the campfire and sat beside her mentor. He nodded approvingly and gestured to the pouch which she held in her hands. She opened it and pulled out the card--her card, the Queen of Cups.

~~~~~

Joachim gestured that she should put the card into the fire. For a long time, Marta stared at the card, unwilling to burn it, to destroy the symbol of her beliefs. The Indian waited patiently, not watching her. Marta sensed his presence as a steadying supportive force; he would not rush or coerce her to do anything she was not prepared for. At length, she laid the card on the fire; it burned from the edges inward, then dissolved in a puff of black ash. Marta almost felt bereft, as if part of her soul had burnt away with her card.

He closed his eyes and began to hum, quietly at first, then more loudly until the cave reverberated with the sound. It was hypnotic, filling Marta's head with its rising and falling cadence. Suddenly, he stopped and picked up a clay cup which was incised with intricate patterns. He offered it to her, signing that she should drink it.

"What is it?" Marta asked as she took the cup.

Manit, he signed. It is our sacred drink, used to bring dreams and visions. It is made from a plant that grows here.

"I do not know this plant. Show me the leaves so I may learn what it looks like."

Joachim reached inside a large pouch near his side and pulled out the branch of a plant. This is manit, he signed to her.

Her hands shook slightly when she saw the plant. Datura! she thought in alarm. In the wrong dosage, it is fatal. Aloud she said, "I know of this plant, and its dangers. It is also called Jimsonweed. But, Joachim, I trust you." With that, Marta swallowed the contents of the cup.

Joachim reached across and gripped both her hands. Marta suddenly felt cold and nauseous, her head seemed to be expanding, her mind blanking. She held onto Joachim like a lifeline as consciousness fled. Then she was in a dark place, and falling helplessly into an abyss. In another instant, she was in another cave, faintly lighted and someone was waiting for her. Someone she had not seen since she was a child.

A sob broke from her as she recognized her father, still as she had last seen him, darkly handsome with a wide smiling face, intense and intelligent eyes that twinkled when he laughed. He was dressed in a white shirt trimmed with colourful edging, a dark vest and trousers. He held out his hands and she rushed into his arms. The scent he always had about him rose into her nostrils--the horsey smell of someone who trained and healed horses. Her heart felt near bursting with the remembered love she had for this strong man; it had been so long since she had been so close to him.

Suddenly, she was a child again, and he was holding her tightly. She could hear his heart beating fast and loud against her ear. He held her away and said urgently, "Go with your mother and brother. Take care of them, mi corazon. Hurry!" Marta felt herself being drawn away by hands that gripped painfully. In the dark, she could hear loud sounds, shrieks, angry yells, and screams. She tried to escape those hands dragging her from her father, and she turned to look as lights danced in the forest, and dark shapes loomed into their camp. She sensed terror and danger, then felt herself being picked up and someone running with her into the darkness. Her mother held her so tightly she could hardly breathe. The horrific sounds receded and she was set down. She could hear her mother panting, sobbing. Others were nearby though she could hardly see them in the dark. She broke away from her mother and ran back toward the noises and the lights--back to her father. Finally, she saw him illuminated in the brilliant light of the fires that were burning their caravans. He was fighting with another man. When he saw her, he pushed the other man into a burning caravan and ran to her. Picking her up, he found a hollowed tree stump and pushed her inside. "Don't come out no matter what you hear, querida. Wait for me to come for you." Then he was gone. Marta covered her ears against the noises. The smoke stung her eyes and she shut them tight and hid in the dark.

Marta moved away from her father slightly and gazed into those black eyes. "I remember everything now, Papa," she said brokenly. "That night has been hidden in my memory all this time. I never knew what happened. Mama wouldn't speak of it. Nor would the others. It was buried in the forest like your body, and I had lost those memories until now." She shook her head, almost too overcome to speak. "Why did you bring this all back to me? It is too painful." She pressed herself against him again.

"It is better to know the truth. If you understand your fears, you can control them." His deep voice resonated against her ear. "I am very proud of you, Marta."

She pushed herself away suddenly. "How can you be proud of me, Papa? I have turned my back on my people, brought nothing but pain to my mother." She took a deep breath and continued, "I ran away and married a French soldier. Are you proud of that? I left Mama when she needed me. She was training me to be her apprentice, to succeed her as the healing woman. I left that behind me too. What is there to be proud of? It would have been better for everyone had I not been born."

"Look, Marta," her father said softly. An image formed in the darkness. A little girl sat weeping by a fountain. The young Gypsy girl stopped to look, then passed by. The child's aunt came out, scolded her and took her back inside the villa. The image changed to the inside of the villa and the child was now a young woman. Her dark eyes were angry, resentful. "What a nerve, Tia Damona!" she said. "He actually proposed marriage to me. That fool Enrique. Who would want such a simpleton?" Her aunt, a portly woman dressed completely in black, came to her side. "You have done the right thing, Tessa. His family is a disgrace. I have someone else in mind for you. A young man from Madrid. His name is Antonio de la Cruz, and his family is illustrious and wealthy. Antonio's father has wisely invested in French businesses. I will arrange an introduction." Tessa turned to her aunt, her eyes uncertain. "Tia, do mean that Antonio's father is an afrancesado? A collaborator with the French?" Her aunt tapped Tessa's hand with her lace fan. "Of course. The important thing, Tessa, is to ally yourself with the winning side. Always remember that." The scene changed again. Tessa, now older, was in California. Her hacienda was a shambles, looted and abandoned. She turned as a handsomely dressed military man dismounted from his horse. "I am Colonel Luis Ramirez Montoya," he said as he gallantly kissed her hand. "I am sorry for you to have such a welcome." Tessa looked him up and down, calculation in her eyes. "My welcome had left much to be desired, but that has now been rectified, Colonel Montoya." Their eyes met and an understanding passed between them.

The images vanished and Marta's father smiled at her. "You have made mistakes, mi corazon, but they were made from love, not hate. And the good you have accomplished, do you not think it balances those mistakes? You have taken a child into your heart and raised her as your own. Think what a difference that has made in the world."

"I have given Mama much pain. And very little else." Marta turned away and looked into the darkness that surrounded them.

"Your Mama will join me soon. But for now, she has been training your brother, Rafael's daughter to be her successor. The girl is learning quickly and seems fitted by nature to be a healer. Had you stayed, Amelia would not have had this chance to learn the healing arts. Fate has directed your steps, Marta. You could not have done other than you did. Your mother forgave you long ago. When will you forgive yourself?"

Marta was silent for a long time. The image of Tessa growing up vain and spiteful like her cousin, Elena, disturbed her. Had it not been for me, that would have been her fate. To be a cold and calculating woman like her aunt. Marta shuddered at the image of Tessa allying herself with Montoya--always be on the winning side, her aunt had counselled. She smiled to think of little Amelia, now grown up, and learning to be a healer. Rafael must be so proud of her, Marta thought with a rush of warmth. She felt her father's eyes watching her, and turned back to face him.

"I understand now why I was brought here, and the lesson I had to learn. Will I ever see you again, Papa?" she asked in a hushed voice. He smiled sadly and held out his arms.

"You will see me again, Marta. Now I must go." He held her closely and darkness enclosed them both. Marta closed her eyes against the sudden pain that threatened to suffocate her.

When she opened her eyes, she was alone in the cave. The faint light was fading and she knew she must hurry to get out before the light was gone. There was one tunnel leading out of the cavern and she rushed into it only to confront again the terror that held her from taking any more steps. Suddenly, a large black bird came from the darkness and landed on her shoulder. A raven, Marta mused as she recovered from her shock. The bird of augury and death. Its talons dug into her shoulder, and as it leaned against her head, she could hear its heart beating rapidly, its warmth and solidity gave her courage. She reached up and stroked the bird's glossy feathers. It squawked loudly and fluttered. She began to move forward. The bird's eyes brightened and all at once, there was a weak light to guide her, enough that she was able to find the way out.

She stepped out into the brightness and found herself still sitting in the cave holding Joachim's hands so tightly her knuckles were whitened. His soft brown eyes regarded her with understanding and fondness.

He placed his hands on both sides of her head and leaned his head against her forehead. She heard his voice in her mind. "Did you meet your Dream Helper?"

"Yes," Marta thought back. "It was a ..." Her thoughts seemed to meet a blankness as he shut her out.

"Your Dream Helper is a sacred being, known only to yourself." He released her and, with some difficulty, stood up. "Now, it is time to return to the world, Marta," he signed to her. Carefully, Joachim put out the campfire, then picked up the torch. Without warning, he doused it, plunging them both into complete darkness.

Panic seized her at once as the light disappeared. She could hardly breathe. Or move. What did I learn here? she thought morosely. The terror is still there. What was it her father had said? If you understand your fear, you can control it. Marta forced herself to remain still, and searched for that understanding. My fear came from that terrible night when my father was murdered by superstitious villagers. He hid me to save me, but I have been hiding ever since from that memory. The sights and sounds of that night arose once more in her mind. A tear slid down her cheek as she saw that last glimpse of her father before he hid her in the hollow tree trunk. A knifelike pain seemed to slice her heart as she heard it all again. From somewhere ahead, she saw a faint glow, like two tawny eyes in the dark. She started toward them and kept moving. Soon she saw a brightness before her and knew the end of the tunnel had been reached and she was near the entrance of the cave. As she stepped out of the tunnel, she saw Joachim already there, waiting for her.

The cave has two exits, he signed to her with a wide pleased smile. I kept a candle in the other one to find my way out. I do not have the eyes of a bat. His laugh sounded like a wheeze as he regarded her with a mixture of amusement and pride. You have found your own way, Marta. If you let them, your guides will never fail you.

"Must I give up my ancient beliefs to adopt these new ones," she asked anxiously.

Your beliefs and mine are the same. Your people and mine share a deep kinship. We are all one people, he signed.

He took Marta's hand and placed it against his heart. She felt the bond grow stronger, something beyond words. She smiled, too moved to speak. At length, she stepped away and turned to her clothing that lay near the pool. She gathered it up and placed it in her pouch. Then, going back to him, she kissed both his cheeks and went out onto the ledge. The climb down was easier and soon she was at the bottom where she had left her horse. She came around the rock and out into the plain.

To her surprise, she found Tessa seated on the wagon, waiting for her. A bemused look crossed the young woman's face as she watched Marta leading her horse, preparing to mount. "Where you up there in that cave, Marta?" Tessa asked, incredulity edging her voice.

"Yes," Marta replied with a secretive smile. She climbed on her horse, and turned toward the villa. "Why are you back so soon, Tessa?"

"I didn't go to town. I felt bad about our argument and came back to apologize. Rosa told me you had gone out on your mare, and she pointed the direction to me. I have been searching for you. I was worried. What were you doing in that cave? I thought you were afraid of such places."

"I am, but I had something to learn there." Marta kneed the horse into a trot, and Tessa got the wagon moving, keeping pace with her.

"What is that strange gown you're wearing? It looks like a ceremonial outfit," Tessa called over the din of the wagon.

"I may explain it to you later, Tessa. For now, I prefer not to speak of it." She looked across at the younger woman, how the wind made her black hair flow behind her head--like a raven's wing. The signs are everywhere, if we have eyes to see them, she thought with a full heart.

THE END

By MnD
[email protected]

TRIO CHALLENGE: A pouch, a card, desert sand

QUOTE: "Opportunities multiply as they are seized." - Sun Tzu

** * I N E E D S U G A R - A R G H - I N E E D C A N D Y - I A M L O W O N MY S A C C H A R I N E I N T A K E A N D I A M G O I N G I N S A N E - M W A H A A H A A A** *

Grisham and Montoya walked down the street side by side as the Colonel tried to explain to his underling his latest plan in ripping off the Dons. A new tax was to be instilled, this time, on living quarters; each Don would be charged according to the number of rooms they had.

"Um, no offense, but that sounds just a little too obvious, even to me." Grisham waved his sword around, bored with the conversation.

"Opportunities multiply as they are seized, Grisham." Montoya said airily, "The Dons have accepted the tax I placed on their livestock, so they will accept this one as well, in due course. If they do not accept it, they will be fined for disobedience to military powers." Grisham just shrugged, slightly depressed that Montoya's plan required no hangings.

"And what about the Queen?"

"What about the Queen?" Montoya spat.

"She'll hear about this and come after you. Again."

"No she won't." Montoya paused and looked at the Captain. "She is the savior of the peasants, the poor. The Dons are rich. They can afford these taxes. I haven't touched the peasants for months, so we will be left in peace." Grisham swiped at a low hanging tree branch and watched as Montoya tramped over the fallen leaves.

"You're so sure about that?"

"Yes." Montoya continued to walk, moving in front of Grisham so that his smile was hidden from view. "You're going to make sure of it." Grisham rolled his eyes.

"Why did I know you were going to say something like that?" He jerked back and caught the pouch that Montoya had tossed over his shoulder. "What's this?"

"Open it."

"Sugarcane?"

"Bravo, Grisham. I wasn't sure you'd figure out what it was." Montoya tossed at him, sarcastically.

"What am I supposed to do with sugar cane?"

"Give it to some brats. Tell them this�"Montoya said something in an undertone to the Captain, and Grisham grinned, finally understanding what would take place�.

*I L I K E C A N D Y I L I K E S U G A R AN D I N E E D S O M E N O W *

"Momma! Momma!"

"Juan? What is it?"

"La Reina! She's coming after me!"

"What? La Reina? Why would she do that? What did you do?"

"She asked me for some pesos, but I didn't have any, so she took out her sword, and�" The child was carried inside, tears streaming down his face and a piece of sugar can clutched in his tiny fist. Grisham watched from behind a rock. He chuckled, then turned away, methodically ripping a tarot cad into tiny pieces and letting them drop to rest on the desert sand.

Continued?

By Rodlox
[email protected]

BTW, this is [at least partly] a response to last week's Challenge.

Jo's Note: The Hessian can be found on Rodlox's author page on the Cart.

~~~~~

Tessa and Marta joined the crowd assembling around the front of the pueblo Catholic Church. "What's going on?" Tessa asked an equally excited Vera, standing next to her husband.

"The padre recieved something today, a gift from an artist on the Rhine."

The heavy crate in question was pried open and the crowd gasped, mostly from shock. The padre was excited though.

"What is it?" one peon child finally voiced.

"It is a gargoyle," the padre replied. "I've sent request after request for our church to get a gargoyle, but it is only now that we get one." To the Colonel, "Thank you, Colonel, and senora. This means a lot to the Church."

"What does it do?" Tessa asked.

"According to stories, it keeps away the demons and wicked."

Gaspar remembered back when he had visited Madrid, going to their zoological gardens. There had been a thing there from the jungles of Africa, a Chimpanzee; a most remarkably manlike animal, though the feet were anything but manlike, with how long the toes were, and the way the big toe splayed off the others.

This winged gargoyle did not have arms, but the legs were every bit like the chimpanzee's.

The head...the face was a sad old man, wrinkled jowls and crows feet.Marta felt the curse from the wretched rock. She was Gypsy, she knew these things.

~~~~~

THAT EVENING...

Luis peeked into Ingre's room, watching her sleep so peacefully. He'd always loved watching her sleep, the hypnotic inhaling and exhaling...

It'd taken some time for him to calm her after thwarting her attempt to impale doctor Helm with a trowel. The only thing on hand he'd had at the time had been his copy of Sun Tzu's work THE ART OF WAR, so he'd reflexively flicked it into an intercepting path. The trowel had embedded itself deeply into the text, not flesh.

After that, and Montoya's warning look getting Helm to leave, Ingre had been angry-upset...and unintelligable, her words making no sense either alone or in context. But Luis now had a suspicion.

He only wished that he still had soldiers to act on that hunch.

~~~~~

NEXT MORNING:

Doctor Robert Helm walked across the road from his office, and down the next road that led to the pueblo's central water fountain...and saw that the fountain was not alone.

It was a pity, because he'd just wanted some time to think, with the sound and feel of running water to wash away the darker, more disturbed thoughts. He only wanted to come clean, but somehow had always felt that confessional in Church was not the way to go, not even for an English Catholic peasant like himself.

It was a moot point anyway, as one look at the statue was enough to make him swear off fountain water for the rest of his life. The statue was of a young woman in the prime of her life, caught in bronze. But this was no noblewoman by her looks; a broken nose and mussed hair pointed away from that conclusion. On her knees and feet, as well as her hands scrubbing the floor - a bronze plate just thick enough to support the rest of the statue - with her dress pushed back a bit, enough to keep part of it from being 'soiled' on the floor.

"Look mama," one young peon called, pointing his grubby finger towards the bronze. "She's cleaning, like you do for the Aguleras," with a measure of pride in his tone.

Robert envied the boy his innocence, and wished that things were that easy to see for a veteran. Those eyes, not attentive for dirt; they were wide and blaming, hurt and angry. The posture, not leaning to work better; more of fallen over, pushed or knocked, virtually helpless.

"At least they got the symbolism right," Helm muttered, unheard by anyone as he walked back to his office to drown his sorrows with chemistry; "always cleaning....like me, for what I did," so softly he barely even heard himself.

On his way back to his office, he had to conciously keep his pace from devolving back into a lockstep or marching. That old habit still hadn't died hard yet.

~~~~~

THAT AFTERNOON:

Marta saw the fountain's statue as she was heading from the market towards Dr. Helm's office. Tessa had sprained her ankle to a painful degree - particularly to hear her scream (bloody) murder when Marta tried to change pillows - while riding as the Queen last night: trying to stop a low-level turf conflict between the Aguleras and Reys.

Her wide eyes rivetted on the statue, she involuntarily dropped the basket of market goods. Marta paid no heed to the breaking of several eggs, instead, she whispered, "Who could make such a thing?" her throat tight.

Marta later on wasn't sure just how many minutes she'd just stood there, unable to break her gaze from the unspeakable cruelty inherent in the fountainside statue. To her, it held the same feeling that the Church's new gargoyle held.

~~~~~

THREE NIGHTS LATER:

She had spent the day going over written reports scribbled by the various men who had once been under Luis's jurisprudence, nearly all of them focusing on a bandita dubbed - somehow, not explained - the 'Queen of Swords.' Ingre shook her head, as the name meant nothing to her.

But the actions and behaviors described were enough for her to begin work on a new statue. Ingre had always been good at portraying actions and intent in statuary; now she would use an extension of that, using more symbolism than anatomically accurate.

"Yes," Ingre murmured to herself. "Justice is not blind, for worse or not." Stifling a yawn, she put the sketch pad in it's drawer, locked the drawer, and headed for bed.

~~~~~

That night, an inquisitive Queen - her ankle still wrapped for safety, limping mildly - came by to see just what it was this woman wanted in Santa Helena.

Littering the room were various busts in different stages of completion - and decay, Tessa noted, seeing the disarray of features on one bust. But with those exceptions, the room was completely neat and well-kept; only a writing desk and three sturdy chairs kept her from thinking she had the wrong window.

Simplicity itself for a pro such as herself to pry open the locked drawer, wondering what secrets she would find in it.

Within there were scraps of paper with odd symbols on them - one of which she pocketed, figuring Marta would know what Gypsy meaning they held - as well as numbers stacked in no order and pieces of anatomy. By and between these were pens and pencils, erasers and rulers. And a thick pad of heavy paper.

Tessa picked up the pad, examining the topmost image on it. The portrayal of the Queen gave her four arms, each of which had a different ending - a fist, a large grip around a moneysack, a sword, and a whip - and her hair was whipped about by the wind to form a finger lifting off her blindfold.

But it was the man lying around the drawn Queen's legs that really made Tessa's gorge rise. Beaten and bloodied to within an inch of his life, life fluids were coming convincingly out his mouth, ears, and nose. Not only had his throat been crushed, the act of strangulation, but the slit in his cheek was an obscene second mouth next to the real one. Both the shirt and pants pockets were turned out, empty.

It took no genius to guess what the meaning here was.

TBC