CHALLENGE for the week of 06-10-01

TRIO CHALLENGE: brick, medicine bottle, a piñata

QUOTE: "Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever. " - Napoleon Bonaparte

QUOTE 2: "Anyone can hold the helm when the sea is calm." -Publilius Syrus

AUTHORS: Cecilia, Dea, Eliza, Greg, Jo, Julie, Lisa, Maril, Rodlox

By Cecilia
[email protected]

RATING: PG for violence and implied sex
FEEDBACK: Please
DISCLAIMERS: Not mine, Fireworks owns them.

TRIO CHALLENGE: a brick, a medicine bottle and a piñata

Special thanks to Maril for beta reading this and for all her words of encouragement.

~~~~~

Under cover of the tumultuous activity of the festival, Vera and her lover slipped off to his quarters unnoticed. As he drew the curtains over the window, Captain Marcus Grisham paused, taking in the sight of the town physician across the garrison plaza, watching over some of the poorer children as they swung a big stick in the air trying to puncture a small piñata.

"Who does that hypocrite think he's fooling?" he muttered under his breath.

He hadn't noticed that Vera had slipped up near him and her soft voice startled him as she peeked around his shoulder. "Who are you talking about, Marcus?"

"Him," he gestured with his head. "Dr. High and Mighty, Better than Everyone Else Helm. Look at him, pretending to care about the people out there. He's just out for what he can get like all of them."

"He always seems very nice to me."

He cocked his head to the side as he looked down at her. "Come on, Vera. I never figured you for naïve. He's a fake, like all doctors. Look at the way he patches up my soldiers so sympathetically, while he's holding hands with the Queen of Swords. Montoya was right to throw him in jail. He needs to let me finish him off. God, I hate doctors."

"Why, my capitan?"

He threw the curtains closed and headed toward the bed, grabbing her hand. "A long story for another time, sweetheart. Right now I have more enjoyable things on my mind." He smiled his most engaging smile at her.

~~~~~~~~

Some time later, they lay cuddled next to each other.

"Marcus?" Vera queried, drawing out his name like a dove's call.

He knew what that tone meant. She wanted to talk. "What is it?" he asked with a sigh.

"Tell me why you hate doctors so much."

"I really don't feel like talking about this."

"Please?"

Grisham knew he would get no peace until he told her. He didn't want to bring up old pain, but he recognized her determination to have the story. Vera could be very stubborn and not affectionate at all when determined. "It was a long time ago. I was a kid, about twelve years old. My mother and I lived in New York City�."

~~~~~

His mother was late again. Young Marcus Grisham was starting to worry. It wasn't unusual for his mother to be late, but recently she hadn't been looking well. She always looked tired, working twelve hours a day cleaning and cooking took its toll; but this was more. He breathed a sigh of relief as he heard her key turn in the lock of their tiny apartment.

"Ma, I'm so glad you're home. I was getting worried. It's after nine o'clock!" He ran to his mother and threw his arms around her.

"The doctor came back into town and laundry and ironing needed to be done before I left. I'm sorry you worried." Maureen Grisham smiled at her son. "How is my fine young man, today? How was school?"

"Fine," he answered shortly. "Ma, school is a waste of my time. I need to quit and get a job. The boys say Finnigan will give me one. I'm strong, fast and big for my age. I could earn good money. You wouldn't have to work so hard."

"Marcus!" his mother's voice was sharp. "What did I tell you about hanging around with those hooligans? You stay away from them and you are not quitting school. You're going to make something of yourself, do you under--." She broke off in a fit of coughing.

"Ma, are you ok? I'm sorry. I'll do whatever you say." Marcus helped his mother to a chair. With terror, he noticed that there was blood on the handkerchief she held to her mouth. "Let me get a doctor, Ma."

He started to the door, but she grabbed his arm. "No, my boy. I'm all right. It's better now. We don't need to waste money on the doctor."

Marcus took care of his mother, hardly noticing the reversal of their roles. He coaxed some supper into her, cleaning up afterwards. Just as she always did for him, he heated a brick in the stove, wrapped it in a towel and set it in her bed to take the chill off. Then he bundled her to bed. The night was cold, and once she was sleeping he slipped the blanket from his pallet and wrapped it around her thin form. Putting on his jacket, he lay down and tried to sleep.

Sleep eluded him, though. What was he going to do about his mother? He was afraid that she was much sicker than she let on. What if she died? No. He wouldn't let himself think about that. His mother was all that he had. His father had left for work one day when Marcus was four and never came home. Marcus didn't even remember the man. It had been just his mother and him for eight long years. They hadn't been bad years. Maureen Grisham did everything in her power to make Marcus's life enjoyable. Up until this past year, he had hardly realized just how poor they were. His mother was invincible, nothing got her down. She would be better in the morning. She had to be.

She wasn't though. Marcus watched her. She could barely get herself out of bed. He fixed breakfast for the two of them, but he couldn't get her to eat. He was surprised when she dressed herself for work.

"Ma, you're too sick to work. Let me go to the doctor's house and tell them that you're sick. He's a doctor, he has to understand that people get sick."

Maureen looked at her son sadly. "Marcus, I have to work, or I'll lose my job. There are plenty of others who would jump at the chance to take it. If I'm sick, the doctor will just hire someone who isn't. You and I are not his concern."

"It's not fair," he almost screamed.

Maureen smiled at him fondly. "Oh, my beautiful boy, who ever said that life was fair? We do the best we can in this life and God will give us joy in the next."

"I don't want anything to do with a God who would let all these bad things happen to somebody like you," he thought defiantly. He wisely kept his comment to himself. He kissed his mother good-bye, and she headed off toward the other side of the city and work.

That afternoon when Marcus came home from school he was surprised to find his mother there before him. She was laying on her bed in tears.

"Ma, what's wrong? Are you sicker? Do you need me to get a doctor?"

"Oh, Marcus, my darling lad, I'm so sorry. I tried my best, but I just couldn't hide it. They found out I was sick and they fired me. Listen to me, Marcus. If anything happens to me, go to Father O'Malley, he will make sure you are taken care of." She closed her eyes, her breathing hoarse and labored.

Marcus reached out to stroke her hair, noticing how hot her skin was. "Don't cry, Ma. It will all right. I'll take care of you. You'll get better." Tear streamed unheeded down his face as he stretched his arms around his mother. "I won't let you go, Ma. It's you and me against the world, remember?" She lay unresponsive, asleep or unconscious, he wasn't sure which. He began to pray softly, "God, let her be ok and I'll be good, I promise. Just let her be ok and I'll do anything."

He continued praying almost incoherently until his mother stopped breathing. Gently, he unwrapped his arms from around her and stood up. He went to the dresser and took his mother's prized silver hairbrush and carefully brushed her hair. He thought about putting her into her best dress, but he decided that would be more than he could manage. When he was finished, he tucked the blanket carefully around her chin, kissed her forehead and left the apartment. He stopped to ask Mrs. Malone, their downstairs neighbor, to send for Father O'Malley. Marcus didn't believe there was a point to it, but he knew it was what his mother would have wanted.

His last obligations to his mother finished, Marcus left the apartment building and his childhood behind without a second glance. He was filled with rage that called out for vengeance. Marcus headed uptown to pay a doctor a housecall.

It was dusk when Marcus arrived at the estate of his mother's former employer. He crept around and looked in through the window. Doctor Wallace was throwing a party. Marcus watched the doctor, his pretty wife and well-fed children. His anger grew. He hid in the bushes until the guests left and the house grew dark. Using skills learned from his neighborhood pals, Finnigan's boys, Marcus slipped open the lock on the window of a room that looked like the doctor's office. It was time for some pay back.

He began by taking the doctor's files and tearing them to shreds. Next, he began emptying the contents of the medicine bottles on to the floor. The fumes from some of them were making him a little dizzy and his sleeve caught a glass beaker as he moved away. The beaker fell to the ground with a smash, and Marcus moved quickly to hide behind the desk.

The office door opened and Dr. Wallace peered in, wrapped in a silk dressing gown. He lit the lamp just inside the door and took in the condition of his office. "What the bloody hell is going on here?"

It didn't take him long to see Marcus hiding behind the desk. "You there, come out. What is the meaning of this?" he stormed. "I'll see you in jail, you hooligan."

Marcus stood up, defiant. "Gee, Doc, I just thought I'd let you know that Maureen Grisham is dead."

"Who?" The doctor seemed at a loss. "Oh, you mean the Irish maid. What does that have to do with me?"

Marcus lost any sense of restraint or reason. "What does that have to do with you? She worked for you for eight years for almost nothing. She cleaned and cooked and did your laundry and wore herself to the bone. Then, when she gets sick, do you take care of her at all? No, you fire her and leave her to die. What kind of doctor are you? Would any of this," he gestured at the bottles laying empty on the floor, "have saved her? You killed her. You just let her die after you used her up."

Marcus had been advancing toward the doctor without even realizing it. The doctor took a step back from him.

"You stay away from me, boy. I'm getting the police." The doctor turned and moved toward the door.

Marcus saw red. He grabbed a scalpel from the table and jumped on the doctor's back. "Don't you turn your back on me!" As his hand slid across the doctor's neck, he barely noticed the scalpel bite into it. The doctor dropped to the ground, a horrible gurgling sound coming from his mouth. Marcus had cut his throat.

The boy stepped back, in horror, realizing what he had done. "You deserved it," he whispered. "You killed my mother." He slipped out the window and into the night. Finnigan would take him in.

~~~~~~~~~

Marcus looked at Vera and decided the short version would suffice. "My mother worked for a doctor. She got sick and instead of treating her, he fired her and let her die. The doctors I saw in the war were butchers. I've had enough of doctors to last several lifetimes."

"Poor Marcus," Vera cooed, pulling him closer. "Let me make you feel all better."

END

By Dea
[email protected]

CHALLENGE ITEMS: piñata, medicine bottle, brick

~~~~~

Robert Helm descended the steps of the Colonel's residence with a healthy dose of satisfaction. To be sure, Montoya had done his level best to coerce him into remaining in Santa Elena, but he definitely felt he had come out on top of the situation...for once.

And why on earth did he insist on bringing up that little misunderstanding in LaRosa? He'd done all he could to save that man's life; surely his brothers understood that. Then again, maybe they hadn't...

As he crossed the main street he became aware of the sound of footsteps running behind him. He turned around and was nearly barreled over by a little girl of about 5 or 6 years old. It was almost a reflex for him to scoop her up into his arms and situate her against his hip.

"Dr. Helm!" the child beamed as she threw her chubby arms around his neck. "Mira! Look! My arm is all better!"

"It certainly is," Helm replied as he made a show of examining her elbow. "Didn't I tell you it would be?"

He had stitched it up several weeks ago after the girl had fallen from the tree in which she and her brother had been playing. In her fear she had cried as if the devil himself were after her, but he had given her some of the sugary hard candy he kept on hand for just such situations and the tide of tears had ebbed.

Now she nodded bravely and smiled beneath her dark lashes as the doctor continued to walk towards his office, carrying his precious burden.

"My birthday is tomorrow!" she told him proudly. "Papa said I can eat all the candies from the piñata!"

Helm chuckled. "If you do that you'll have to come see me again, this time for a tummy ache."

When the girl made a humorous face at that suggestion, Helm realized with a start that he wouldn't be here tomorrow. For the party or the tummy ache. He studied the girl's expression as she watched him, small round face glowing with rapt attention. She would soon lose that all-encompassing trust. He would most likely be the first of many men to desert her.

"I'll bring you some candies, doctor," she promised, innocently patting his cheek with her tiny hand.

"Thanks," he mumbled averting his eyes from the sight of her misplaced adoration.

"Sela!"

Both doctor and child turned at the sound of her name being called.

"Mija! Why are you bothering the doctor?" the dark-haired woman fretted as she crossed over to them, hands holding her skirts. "I'm so sorry, Senor Helm. I was buying vegetables for dinner. I turn my back for a moment and she is gone!"

"It's no problem, Senora Juarez," he assured her as Sela reluctantly allowed him to hand her over to her mother. "She was just telling me about her arm."

"And the party!" Sela reminded him in a stage whisper.

"And the party," Helm amended with a small chivalric bow.

"You stop by tomorrow, yes? I'm making empanadas for the party," the woman smiled as her daughter nodded enthusiastically.

"Oh, I don't know Senora," he explained hesitantly. "I may be very busy tomorrow--"

"Please, please, pleeeease?" Sela begged, squirming in her mother's grasp.

'Good lord, I can't say no,' Helm realized. Even if it is a lie.

Finally he inclined his head. "I will see what I can do."

Sela's face lit up as her mother turned to take them back to their wagon.

He watched Sela wave at him happily as they were swallowed up by all the townsfolk in the square. Why did a decision that came so easily in the heat of anger become so much more complicated in the face of joy? Trying to push the thought of the girl from his mind he headed in the direction of his office.

No sooner had he resumed his stride than his path was blocked. A young senorita with dark hair and even darker eyes stood before him, a shy smile on her face as she looked up at him.

"Rosa, how are you feeling? Have the headaches eased any?" he asked as he took her lightly by the arm and led them out of the way of some children running around the busy square.

"Yes, Dr. Helm, I am feeling much better," she beamed. Then she brought out a glass medicine bottle from under her black shawl. Holding it out to him she said, "I take your medicine and my headaches get better. I bring this back to you."

The sight of it brought back the memory of the whole fiasco with Grisham and the laudanum. After he'd returned from the desert he'd sought her out and after carefully explaining that the other medicine had been watered down, he presented her with a new bottle.

Helm now took the half-filled bottle from her hand and said, "I'm glad you're feeling better, Rosa."

"I have you to thank," she insisted. "I had the headaches a long time before you arrived here. Nothing else helped, until you came."

He opened his mouth to argue with her but she went on, "We are all lucky to have you here."

The look of genuine gratitude on Rosa's face nearly undid him. His already guilty conscience was now cursing his rash behavior and the decision that stemmed from it. If only things in Santa Elena weren't so...abnormal! He could have a nice little practice here. He could care for his patients and feel as though her were doing something worthwhile with his time and talents. But what kind of doctor could he be if he was always looking over his shoulder for the next pistol or sword aimed at him?

"I appreciate that Rosa," he said, willing a pleasant smile to his face while gripping the medicine bottle so tightly in his hand that he feared it would break and he'd have to stitch himself up. "Now, if you would excuse me, I have some business to attend to?"

He really hoped he hadn't appeared rude in his abrupt departure, but he just couldn't face her any longer. Was it his imagination or was someone trying to tell him something? Someone who had a bit more authority that Colonel Luis Montoya. Not that he'd ever gone in for such talk about an almighty power guiding you through life and all that. Best to just hitch up the horse and go. Before he could change his mind.

He turned toward the stables and jogged to the entrance. His horse was in her stall waiting for him. As he neared the animal he saw that someone was standing on her other side brushing her down. Jose, a young man who worked in the stables as a groom met him with a grin.

"She is such a fine animal, doctor," he said, smoothing the brush down the shiny flanks.

"Yes, she is, but you don't have to rub her down for me," he chided gently as he approached him.

"I don't mind," Jose replied, continuing the even strokes. "When my papa fell and hit his head, you were there to make him better."

"That wasn't my doing," Helm reasoned. "Luckily you're father's head was hard as a brick."

The young man grinned showing his agreement with Dr. Helm's assessment of his father's tenacity.

"Still, he most surely would have died if you had not been there," Jose insisted, turning to look at the doctor. "And for that, I take care of your horse. Will you be needing her today?"

It was an excellent question. Would he?

TBC

By Eliza
[email protected]

RATING: G
BETA: Please
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, etc, etc.

QUOTE CHALLENGE #21

~~~~~

"A moon lit beach, Doctor. I never knew you were such a romantic."

"If I had any hope of a reaction that didn't result in a mouth full of dust and a view of the back end of your horse, I think you'd be surprised what I could come up with," was the doctor's sarcastic reply, then he became serious. "Lie down. The moon is bright enough for you to be spotted."

Helm watched the Queen of Swords stretch out beside him in imitation of his pose -- on her stomach, resting on her elbows, looking over the edge of the cliff to the beach below. He stayed silent, observing from the corner of his eye her battle with her curiosity. He could see her well enough in the moonlight to judge the emotions crossing her face. She had a very expressive mouth. He followed speculation, to impatience, to acceptance, to annoyance, to...

"There are better ways to spend an evening then on the top of a cold, windy cliff," she snapped.

Helm smirked, both at her temper and at the timing of outburst. "You're right. And there is one of them." He pointed out a boat making its way through the waves and the surf. There were four men at the oars to help it keep its course through the rough water.

"Why...?" she began.

He cut her off. "And the party is complete." A wagon could now be seen along the beach accompanied by two riders. One of the riders made a careful study of the edge of the cliffs. When the moonlight illuminated his face, the Queen let out a gasp.

"Grisham!" She turned to Helm, remembering to keep her voice low. "Montoya is sending the taxes to Monterey by ship! When did this start?"

"When did you start missing the tax shipments?"

"Three months ago. But I just thought that Montoya was just getting better at keeping the route and schedule a secret." She still sounded amazed by the whole idea.

"He was, and there it is. I ran across this little operation last month. It didn't take much to figure out the timing û shallow cove, high tides, full moon."

"Great. Let's go," she said and started to get to her feet.

Helm stopped her with a firm grip on her arm. "Go where? The gold is already in the boat."

"So let's go get it."

"With these winds? Neither one of us are good enough sailors to go chasing around after experienced seamen on a night like this."

She gave a small sigh, as if she accepted this judgement. However, when she spoke her voice conveyed a stubborn determination. "I made it out to Wentworth's ship all right."

He gave a small, derisive snort, and looked back out to the waves as he said, "Anyone can hold the helm when the sea is calm."

He had expected some kind of response to continue the argument, so when none came he turned to face her. She was looking at him, her mouth pursed in that adorable way he had come to recognize as a contained smile. Then the smile escaped and filled her face. He was caught off guard by the beauty of the sight but recovered quickly as she turned away from him, her hand at the side of her face blocking her expression from view. He heard what sounded suspiciously like a snicker.

"What's this all about?" he asked, for the moment bemused at the situation.

"Nothing,"she managed to choke out before resting her head on her arms and completely giving in to a case of the giggles.

Helm wasn't sure how to react. He had the feeling she was laughing at him, but couldn't figure out why. It also didn't help matters that she had a very attractive giggle. He sat up, enjoying the view as the laughter shook her body. He tried again to get her attention as he placed a hand on her arm and said, "It's very rude not to share the joke."

She grinned up at him, and he had no choice but to smile back. Apparently in control again, she sat up and took a calming breath. "Don't worry about it, Doctor. We'll test your theory another day."

"And which theory was that?" Helm was confused. The way this woman's mind worked sometimes baffled him. He continued to stare at her from his seat on the cliff as she rose to her feet.

She gazed down at him, and he could practically see the giggles threatening to rise to the surface again. "The one about holding the helm when it's calm," she said before she bent down to quickly kiss his cheek.

Still mystified, he watched her walk to her horse and heard her laughter. Then everything clicked into place. He lay back on the grass, groaning over the horrible pun, and for once not seeing his usual view of Chico's tail as she rode away.

END

By Greg
[email protected]

TRIO CHALLENGE: brick, medicine bottle, a piñata
NOTE: I have been lurking in the QofS Fanfic for a while and been enjoying the stories. This is my first attempt at a fanfic. This vignette takes place in Dea's world where Dr. Helm has discovered the identity of the Queen of Swords and started getting to know Senorita Alverado.
SPOILERS: None
FEEDBACK: Please
DISCLAIMERS: I don't own them. If I did they would still be working.

~~~~~

"This is wonderful news. I must go see Tessa at once."

Don Gaspar Hildego looked at his wife and with a twinkle in his eye stated matter of factually, "Remember, my petal, Tessa still has a hacienda to run and can't just receive visitors at the drop of a hat."

~~~~~~~

"Are the rumors I hear true, Dr. Helm?" Miguel, the pueblo's general store owner, asked.

"What rumors have you heard?" Dr. Helm asked as he carefully placed some salve in one of his glass medicine bottles. "Next time watch where you are going so you don't trip over one of the bricks the workers left around after your store expansion. To answer your question. You may want to stock up on piñatas. Make sure you keep that cut clean.

~~~~~~~~

Colonel Montoya was sitting at his desk when Captain Grisham enter. "Life in our pueblo has just taken a most interesting turn hasn't it, captain?"

"It has. That meddlesome doctor has stolen my meal ticket. I thought I was going to be the happiest man in California," Grisham replied.

"Maybe I will donate some of my roses to the event."

~~~~~~

Tessa swept into Dr. Helm's office just as he was cleaning up after his last patient of the day. "I see, Senorita, you still have not learned to knock." Dr. Helm stated with just enough of a smile in his voice to take the sting out of the words.

"Robert, if you keep putting restrictions like that on me I may have to retaliate."

"You wouldn't!"

"Only if you force me to." Tessa replied.

"It appears that our secret is out. Miguel just asked if the rumors were true."

"I guess the serious planning will have to start now. Marta will be happy. Keeping this secret was killing her." Dr. Helm looked at the simple piece of paper that had caused such a stir in Santa Helena. A huge smile erupted over his face as he reread the words.

Senorita Marie Teresa Alvarado and Dr. Robert Helm request the honor of you presence at their wedding on....

END

By Jo
[email protected]

TRIO CHALLENGE: brick, medicine bottle, a piñata

Still trying to make this three paragraphs.

~~~~~

How long do I have to live? Yesterday I would have asked myself that question and rightfully assumed that I still had decades left as I'm still a relatively young man. That all changed. Yesterday a took a brick and slammed it on the head of a soldier who was violating my daughter. I didn't know he was a soldier, he was dressed in civilian clothes. What I did care about was that my Maria Louisa was crying and trying to fend off a drunken man. Who can blame a father who rescues his daughter?

All I can do is wait. I sit on my cot with hopelessness overtaking my soul. I kicked something that clinked across the hard, dirt floor. Getting onto my hands and knees, I see that it is the small medicine bottle that Dr. Helm had given me to soothe my headaches. Just the thought if it makes me laugh. I'm to die before sunset and Dr. Helm gave me something for my headache this morning. Well, it was all he could do for me. I saw the look in his eyes as he bandaged my wounds that I received during my arrest. I've never seen such kind eyes in a stranger. Just having a bit of humanity in this time of darkness will help my soul go on to the next life. When he had asked me, "Did you kill that soldier?" I had to admit that I had. But I also told him the reason for it, quietly so none of the other guards who wanted my blood could hear. I don't want to rile the guards. I can see the gleam in their eyes as they all wait for me to swing from the gallows for taking the life of one of their own, no matter what he had been doing.

Suddenly the door to the jail swings open and a woman clad in black charges in. I've never seen such a sight! Her long hair floats behind her with each quick movement she makes, the sword in her hand shines from sunlight as she expertly swings against the guards who came suddenly to attention. This is the Queen of Swords! I've never seen her before, but I'm thrilled that she has come for me. She has come for me, right? There is no one else in the jail. She's come to save me! She deftly kicks and swings her sword, slamming her feet and fists at them guards as if they were piñatas. The third guard falls and she turns to look at me. I stand back from the cell door, my heart caught in my throat. She tells me, "Delago, once you leave here, you must never return to Santa Helena. Your family is waiting for you out at the old ruins. Do you know where that is?" I can only nod my head as a grateful smile ignites my entire body. Hope fills my soul. She unlocks my cell door and pulls me to freedom, stopping short at the outside door to look out both ways. "There's a horse waiting for you around the corner," she hurriedly tells me. "Ride and don't look back. I'll create a diversion in the square. Just keep riding, Delago, and good luck." With that, she pushed me out the door and ran in the other direction. I find that horse and mount quickly. As I ride out of town, I hear behind me, "The Queen of Swords! Get her!"

END

By Julie
[email protected]

RATING: G
DISCLAIMERS: Most of the characters belong to Fireworks (or whomever the judge decides). Mention of one of Maril's original characters.
FEEDBACK/BETA: Yes, please

TRIO CHALLENGE: Pinata, Medicine Bottle, Brick

~~~~~

Maria Theresa Alvarado surveyed the town square from her perch atop the wagon. All was peaceful this morning, and the only evidence of the Queen's latest skirmish was the brick layer making some repairs at the jail and the girl at the cantina sweeping up some debris. Tessa felt a twinge of guilt. Her fight with the soldiers had resulted in the destruction of the pinata meant for tonight's fiesta.

Tessa started the horses and took the wagon around to the church when she saw Marta emerge. "You're looking cheerful. Must have had quite a chat with Father Martinez."

"Confession is good for the soul, Tessita. And for the disposition." Marta climbed onto the seat next to Tessa and settled in for the trip back to the hacienda. "You should try it sometime."

"I can see it now. Maria Theresa comes in to confess and begins by telling of her lustful thoughts for a certain doctor and then how she lost Marta's medicine bottle and fibbed when asked if she'd seen it."

Marta started to respond with a lightly chiding remark, but fell silent as the young woman's face grew dark. Tessa sighed and snapped the reins, eager to leave the pueblo. "And then, oh yes, there's the little issue of killing a soldier the other night, one who was supposed to be married next month. I can't risk it, Marta. I can't go to confession without confessing the Queen's sins, too."

"Father Martinez is a good man. He would never violate the sanctity of the confession."

"But if he knew, he would never be able to look at me the same again. Then someone would notice. Montoya would notice. I swear the only reason that man attends mass is to watch the parishioners. I can't risk it."

"Confession need not take place in a church with a priest. There are many places and many ways in which one may talk to God."

Tessa looked sharply at the older woman at her side, worried that perhaps she had been spending too much time with Joachim learning of his ways. But Marta had always been a good Catholic, had always guided her well, hadn't she? The two women were silent for the rest of the trip home.

~~~~~

Maria Theresa Alvarado surveyed the mesa and the ocean far below. She had found the spot without difficulty and agreed with Marta that it was a holy place, radiating peace and calm. Solemnly, she knelt and made the sign of the cross. "Bless me Father, for I have sinned ..."

END

By Julie

RATING: G
DISCLAIMERS: The characters belong to others. Angst belongs to everybody.
FEEDBACK/BETA: Yes, please

QUOTE CHALLENGE: Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever

~~~~~

A stiff breeze was blowing in from the sea as Colonel Montoya walked Salan along the beach. He appreciated the relief from the heat of the pueblo as well as the solitude of the sea as he exercised the stallion. He had attended a soldier's funeral this morning, and the image of the man's weeping fiancé and the hateful stares she had directed at him would not leave his mind. He had known little of the man. New to the regiment, he had not distinguished himself in any way, though Grisham said he had shown promise with a rifle. But it didn't matter now. He was just another dead soldier consigned to obscurity.

Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever, Napoleon had said. And was your own Napoleonic quest for glory the cause of that man's death?

Montoya frowned at the voice which had crept unbidden into his mind. "The Queen of Swords killed that man. She is the one who should bear the guilt, damn her!"

His words fell onto the sand, and the fundamental question still hung in the air. The Colonel stared out at the great expanse of the sea and spoke as though challenged. "Why should I not pursue glory? You are the one who gave me this mind and this body and these talents, and in so doing, did you not also give me this ambition? And would it not be sin to bury my talents and pursue a life of obscurity?"

No answer returned to him. There was only the steady beat of the waves against the shore. He spoke again, more softly now. "Yes, that man died to serve the cause of my glory. Such has always been the case, since the beginning of time. The weak and the poor and the ignorant die to serve the ambitious. Who am I to change the natural order of things?"

END

By Lisa
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TRIO (brick, medicine bottle and pinata) and the Napoleon QUOTE.

What is it they say? No names, no pack drill?

~~~~~

What had once been a small house now stood open to the scorching sun and relentless wind. The traveler's foot kicked against one of the scattered adobe bricks and he looked down. Something sparkled in the morning light. He stooped, and his fingers scratched briefly in the dirt to unearth his prize. Not a diamond after all, he laughed to himself: only a curving shard of glass, by its size and shape the neck of a small medicine bottle. Should he take that as an omen? He threw it back amongst the detritus of forgotten lives spread out in the dust like the unclaimed prizes of a broken pinata.

"Glory is fleeting," he murmured, "but obscurity is forever." And wasn't that what he was seeking? Obscurity, anonymity, quiet usefulness. Somewhere he could forget what he had seen, what he had done, who he had been. Oh, he had had enough of glory. In this new world he would no longer be the young officer whose daring and resourcefulness were mentioned in despatches and praised by generals who chose not to recognize what "daring" entailed. Now he was merely that odd chap (what was his name?) who had chucked it all, promising military career, family and fiancee, country, everything.

He pulled out his map and squinted at it. If this was Agua Poquito, then he had a relatively short ride ahead of him. He would be there by well before nightfall. He replaced the map carefully in his pocket, next to the polite and yet somewhat imperious letter from Colonel Montoya offering him the post of physician. Then he walked back toward his horse and remounted. He had heard that when one of Napoleon's entourage realized the desolate place of final exile for which they were bound, she despaired and threw herself into the ocean. And here was he, so eager for this other Santa Helena. The traveler smiled at the irony and urged his mount along on the trail that led to his new life.

END

By Maril
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RATING: G
FEEDBACK: yes, please
DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks has the copyrights, but doesn't own their souls

QUOTE: "Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever. " - Napoleon Bonaparte

~~~~~

"Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever." Helm snorted softly as his finger traced the thin blue line underscoring the printed words. All through the book Montoya had lent him were such telling lines beneath Napoleon's aphorisms. 'He has no idea how much he has revealed about himself in this book. It is more about Montoya than Napoleon,' he thought as he closed the thick volume. The sudden waft of air caused the lone candle to flicker over the dark leather. It glinted on the hand-tooled gold lettering of the cover. Helm smoothed his lean hand over its pebbly surface, and leaned back against the cushions on his narrow cot.

'What's he trying to tell me with this book?' Helm wondered as he watched the dancing light on the ceiling of his bedroom. 'Is he trying to enlist me in his crusade to create an empire in California? Get me onside against the Queen? Montoya is devilishly clever and never does anything without a reason. What is it? Looking for understanding, comradeship?' Helm smiled wryly. 'As if someone who has tried to murder me twice could ever become a trusted friend. Preposterous!' And yet as Helm thought about the colonel, he had to admit a grudging admiration for him. 'Damn,' he thought with a mirthless laugh, 'I think I even like the guy. I must be going crazy in this isolated little place. Next thing you know, I'll be proposing marriage to Señorita Alvarado!' He laughed aloud at the thought. 'What a catastrophe that would be! She'd never give me a moment's peace. Though,' he mused, seeing her lithe form in his mind's eye, 'there would certainly be some interesting compensations.'

Guiltily, he dismissed the thought as another face, half covered by lace arose in his mind. He sighed heavily at the hopelessness of their situation. A few tender moments together and a single kiss. That comprised their entire romance. It would never be more than that as long as she continued her own crusade for something called 'justice'. He could not espouse her cause any more than he could Montoya's.

Helm set the book down on the floor and quenched the candle. He settled comfortably and stared at the ceiling for a long time. 'Two enemies, one I love and the other I hate, both wanting me to be their friend. An irreconcilable situation. All I can do is stand between them and try to stop them from killing each other. At least in war, the enemy is well defined. Until the war is over, then we become friends again. It's crazy.'

His thoughts moved to his brief stop-over on St. Helena with the British army. He had caught a glimpse of Napoleon there among his retinue of sycophants. The Great Man lived in luxurious exile, revered even by the British inhabitants who were in awe of him. His empire had shrunk to one obscure island somewhere near Africa. 'If Montoya wants an empire, he should be satisfied with his own Santa Helena. It's about all a man can manage in his lifetime.' He yawned widely. 'As for me, I'd be satisfied with just enough space for a certain woman to lie beside me every night.' He pulled his pillow tight against his chest and fell asleep.

THE END

By Maril
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RATING: G
FEEDBACK: beta, yes please
DISCLAIMER: Fireworks created them, we're keeping them alive

QUOTE CHALLENGE 21

~~~~~

"Why should I return to California now, Marta? With both my parents dead, there is nothing to go back for. Why should I leave everything that is familiar to go into the unknown?" Marta mused over this conversation with Tessa as she watched the younger woman now pacing impatiently on the quarterdeck, waiting for the longboats to be loaded. The sailors sweated under the relentless sun, slinging the barrels and trunks over the side onto the waiting boats. Already they had been rowed ashore several times with the cargo and come back to be reloaded.

Marta returned her gaze to the blue Pacific, flowing gently to that bleak shore. It looks like a desert, she thought with some misgiving at the rocky coastline with hardly a hint of green. Maybe I should not have convinced Tessa to come here. She recalled the long debate with Tessa over this trip. The news of Don Alvarado's death had devastated his daughter, and she had leaned heavily on Marta for support.

In her emotional state, the younger woman had vacillated between longing for her home in California and determination to sell it and remain in their villa in Madrid. At one point she had said to Marta, "I will hire an agent to sell my hacienda for me, and stay here." Marta's own sharp reply had started a firestorm of anger, but had accomplished its purpose. In exasperation, Marta had said finally, "Why don't you just advertise for someone to rob you blind?"

Tessa had sulked over that remark, but eventually agreed to return to California, if only to see to the legalities of her inheritance. She had no death certificate and was unable to obtain any funds other than the annuity which her father had set up for her maintenance in Madrid. There was not enough to buy passage for the two of them. Tessa's uncle, Alejandro, had come to the rescue. He had arranged for a family to lease the villa in Madrid, and they had given a year's rent in advance. Marta sniffed angrily at the memory. I could have got twice what he agreed to. The man has no head for business.

She shook that annoying thought away and concentrated on the present. Watching Tessa now, she sensed the tension that had been building all during this long, arduous voyage. The Atlantic crossing had been uneventful, but the trek through the Isthmus of Panama had been hard on everyone. In the steaming jungle, attacked constantly by hordes of mosquitoes, eating unknown foods and drinking contaminated water, many had become sick. One child had died. By the time they had arrived at Panama City, the long mule train, with its native bearers and sickly passengers, was exhausted. But the Panama shortcut had saved months of travel by the safer route, around Cape Horn. She recalled Tessa's disappointment when they arrived to find no ships waiting in Panama's harbour. Two weeks had passed before a northbound British merchantman had sailed into the port. At least, we were able to regain our strength for the last part of this journey, Marta thought as she watched the long breakers splashing onto that unknown shore.

The memory of the voyage up the coast made Marta smile. Tessa had been impatient and bored. At one point, she had asked the captain if she could stand on the upper deck with him. The captain, a middle-aged man, was quite smitten with her, and suggested she take the ship's wheel. When Tessa had protested, he had said, "Anyone can hold the helm when the sea is calm." Marta chuckled when she remembered how alarmed the superstitious sailors were, watching a woman at the wheel.

Marta leaned on the taffrail, enjoying the gentle rocking of the ship as it rose and fell rhythmically. The waves rolled onto a long white shoreline, on which she could see a cluster of people standing amidst the baggage. Waiting for the ship. I hope we will find someone waiting for us. Tessa had sent a message to Don Federico, her godfather, that she would be arriving as soon as she could get passage on a ship going to Panama. It is more likely the message will arrive after we do, Marta thought wryly, smiling to herself.

She felt someone grab her arm and turned to see Tessa, her eyes alight with excitement. "They're finally debarking the passengers! Come on, let's get in the boat." She hugged Marta and whispered, "We're home, Marta. Thank you."

END

By Rodlox
[email protected]

CHALLENGE RESPONSE #21.

SERIES: perhaps...the sequel will be 'The Quiet War'.
SUMMARY: A Duke arrives in town, and someone falls. {no, not Job}.

With special thanks to Vicky and Al, you guys did great!

~~~~~

"Senorita," Montoya said, and Tessa stopped walking, dismissed Marta to finish getting groceries. "A word, if I may."

"Of course, Colonel," Maria Theresa told him. "Now, what would you like to talk about?" A pause, pretending to think. "I heard a rumor that the Queen robbed another stagecoach full of gold."

Montoya nodded. "And the driver of the coach may not pull out of his coma, so badly beaten was he."

"The Queen hit him?" an astonished Tessa asked, not remembering throwing that many punches.

"When one is thrown into a pile of granite, senorita, fists are not needed."

Maria Theresa made the appropriate sound of shock. "That's horrible, Colonel. I think I'll say a prayer for him as well, thank you for telling me -- speaking of which, why are you telling me this?"

Montoya shrugged. "I was on my way to Church, to say a prayer for his soul, when I saw you, and thought to ask you something."

"Well, ask away."

"Are you planning on marrying at any point in the near future, senorita?"

"Why Colonel, are you proposing?" Please no, please!

"No, senorita, I was simply curious. After all, do you know who becomes the owner of your hacienda if you have no heirs?"

Montoya's face was angelic innocence. Tessa was suspicious. "The - state?" she guessed.

El Colonel nodded, and Tessa refrained from groaning. "Quite correct, senorita." The Church bells began to ring. "And now, I truly must be going. Pleasant day to you," and he headed toward Church.

~~

Later On, though not yet night, Tessa decided to pay a visit to Dr. Helm. Tessa hoped that the stagecoach driver didn't wake up - she didn't want him to recognize her.

Senorita Alvarado had been bracing herself all day, getting herself ready to confess the truth to him. She rapped on the wooden door.

In less than a half-minute, Doctor Helm had the door opened, his eyes widening, and he pulled her inside, shutting the door behind her. "Have a seat, senorita, he told her. "Or would you prefer to lie down?" with one hand against her forehead."

"I feel fine, doctor," she told him.

Robert looked skeptical at that.

"Really, I do. But why - why did you do - what you just did?"

"You knocked on the door," he said, as that was all the explanation needed.

Tessa shrugged. "I had something to tell you."

"Something important enough to knock for," he commented, impressed. "Okay, what is it?"

"I am the Queen of Swords." Robert started to chuckle. "Really!"

"That's a good one, senorita. I wasn't aware you knew any jokes."

"But I am!" Realizing how that might be interpreted, "I am the Queen!"

"Riiight. And I'm third in line for the British Crown. Now, if you don't mind, I need to clean my instruments; the Queen of Swords's been abusing more of Grisham's soldiers lately, and I don't get paid for treating government employees."

"That doesn't sound fair." Typical Grisham.

"'Fair'? Of course it's fair - it's what I agreed to in my contract."

Montoya suckered you into that sort of stupid deal? Tessa very nearly said that out loud, at the last minute remembering that the Queen would say something like that, not Maria Theresa....Speaking of Montoya... "Doctor Helm, you are a man whom I trust implicitly."

Not sure how to take that sort of compliment, "Thank you," he said hesitantly; "though most people feel that way about their doctor."

"If you knew it would help me, would you marry me?"

Robert chuckled. "Senorita, the widow Gavina is about to be run out of her home because she can't pay her rent; I'd say she needs my help more than you do."

"Montoya's kicking her out?" Tessa asked with indignation perhaps more suited to the Queen.

Helm shook his head. "Not Montoya. Don Vasques," his English mispronouncing the name slightly, "squeezing his peons for more money than even Montoya's asking for. And, to top it all off, the Queen's put her only son into a coma....so much for 'coach drivers having a safer job.

"Now, what do you have that I could possibly want?" Okay, being a woman, that's one.

Tessa tried being defensive slightly. "My family has connections in the Royal Court." Everybody thought that was important, right?

Helm snorted. "Which one? One of the ones in exile, or one of the ones comprised of Napoleon's yes-men?"

Tessa almost sniped at him, but was cut off by the sound of a trumpet. "Who's that?" she asked, though Dr. Helm's attention was already gone, as he went first to the window, then to the door, opening it...

Tessa followed him outside, curious as to what was going on.

Her eyes widened as she saw several men on horseback, clad in what were likely expensive garments, surrounded by men with advanced muskets of sorts. "Who are they?" Tessa whispered to Robert.

"The Dukes of York, Montgomery, and their aides."

"Which is which?"

"The second one on horseback is the Duke of York, the one behind him the Duke of Montgomery," and said duke turned his head in their direction...

And then Tessa got a good look at the duke's face...

Had Tessa not been so high-born, her jaw would have dropped. She opened her mouth to say something, but only a squeak came out.

~~~

"...and then he led his horse over to me, and got down, and took my hand and kissed the back of it," Tessa said, still feeling the electricity that that one gentle peck had brought. She got shivers just thinking about it, good shivers at that.

"And what did you say to him?" Marta asked, humoring her ward. Tessa had just come back only a few minutes ago, and had rambled non-stop. Finally, Marta had asked Tessa to just begin at the beginning.

"I - er, well, actually...I didn't say anything." Wisely, neither did Marta, and she kept her smile hidden. "Colonel Montoya was gracious enough to introduce us...

"And his shoulders, Marta, you should have seen his shoulders. Even his neck...."

"Tessa, you have seen Montoya for months now, and have never commented on his neck before.

Tessa gave an exasperated sigh. "Not the Colonel - the Duke."

Marta sighed, more out of having to put up with Tessa like this. "From your description of him, Santa hElena is being visited by Adonis."

Tessa sighed, remembering how he looked. "Better than Adonis," thinking 'that statue never did anything for me. "More handsome, a nicer smile..."

Marta refrained from saying anything. She had a feeling Tessa was going to be essentially useless for the next few days. Finally, "Did you at least find out his name?"

"Mar-ta!" Tessa said, but nodded. "Ronald Eagbert Sefton." She sighed. "Such a noble name."

Marta tried not to be too obvious in raising an eyebrow. 'Eagbert'?

~~

And Meanwhile, at that very moment, the Duke of Montgomery was seated at an outdoor table of a local restaurant. The meal on the plate before him was quickly cooling in the desert air. "Maria Theresa," he breathed, repeating the name that the local Colonel had given to the vision of pure loveliness.

Captain Grisham nodded, wishing that the duke would hurry up and eat, though knowing that he didn't dare say something like that; there were certain protocols even he wouldn't break.

"Alvarado," Ronald said, tasting the exquisite texture of the name. "What can you tell me about her?"

"A whole bunch. She owns one of the largest grants of land out here, though half of it is nothing more than pure desert; she can be ditzy when she wants to be, but she's a shrewd negotiator. And..."

"And what else?"

Grisham made a face. "She wouldn't let me court her. I don't know if that's because I work for Montoya, or just because of my opinion of her father." Explaining quickly, "She seems to be under the impression that her father was murdered," Grisham explained.

"Was he?"

"I did a thorough investigation, both under the Colonel's supervision, and on my own time. Neither revealed any indication of murder, aside from one man who'd been drunk when the don died and was still drunk when I talked to him."

A polite and gentlemanly cough behind him, and Grisham stood up, taking his leave. The Duke of York, Edmund Hillary, sat down, and the waiter came by to take his order.

Once the server was gone, Edmund asked, "Have you made plans? Our British King's health is weak right now."

"The crown should pass to you, in the event something happens to our Sovereign King," Ronald said calmly.

Edmund of York shook his head. "Your blood tie to the King is stronger than mine. Besides, you would make a fine king."

"It is not a title I would like."

"Who better?" Edmund asked. "You are no Napoleon to take titles he does not deserve. You deserve to be king within your lifetime." A thought as he stroked his short and thick beard. "Hmm, but you would need a queen."

~.~

In Church that evening, Tessa was kneeling and thinking. 'Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever.' Tessa never before understood what that Napoleonic phrase had to do with her.

Now, now her mother's glib line made sense. She had to make sure the family line continued, or all the hard work of herself and her father would be dust in the wind.

Tessa smiled. She knew the perfect person to continue with,....but did he feel the same about her?

~.~

That Night, the Queen of Swords was hunting. Hunting in Montoya's bookcase. "Where is that book?" the Queen whispered to herself. She was positive she'd seen it in passing before, on her way to rob Montoya blind...or at least into glasses. Now where was it?

"Aha!" she said a tad too loud considering the late hour. She froze in place, and waited........Montoya did not come, with or without gun. The Queen took the book, and a few others that she thought would come in handy.

Later, as she started to go through the window, she felt something. Something light and gentle. A tap on her shoulder. Turning around to see who it was, she saw the Colonel. "All you had to do was ask," he told her, an enigmatic smile on his face.

~~

Between Mid-Morning And Noon, of the next day, Grisham was escorting the Duke of Montgomery to Colonel Montoya's office-residence.... "It would appear that the people are preparing for a celebration," Duke Ronald observed. "What they are raising - a pin ya tah, yes?"

"A piñata, sire, yes," Grisham answered. "They're celebrating how a common-born soldier who was brutally attacked is finally out of his coma."

"Who would abuse a peasant who works for the provincial government?" Ronald asked. "Some irate tax collector, a wolfhound breeder?"

"While I'm not sure about the latter, the Queen Of Swords often robs the tax shipments we send up to Monterrey."

"A brigand." Grisham nodded. "Then it is a good thing that I am about to do this." 'If there is one thing which I cannot stand, it is this sort of offense registered upon innocent peasantry,' the duke thought to himself; 'but for now, shift the conversation to better things.' "Do you recall our reaction to the Spanish Ambassador's piñata when we were boys?"

Grisham nodded, inwardly chuckling. "You threw the brick, I got the blame, and that horde of alleykids got the candy and coins." And he saw somebody he need a quick talk with. "If you'll excuse me a minute, your Majesty," Grisham asked, and was dismissed briefly. Grisham headed over to where the doc was beating the tar out of some poor and unsuspecting rug much like the Queen beat up soldiers on a regular basis - Grisham filed away the suspicion for later. "Hey doc."

Helm jumped, having not heard or noticed Grisham coming. "What do you want?"

"Hi, how are you, lovely weather we're having," Grisham joked. "I just thought to stop by, say hi to a fellow patriot, and thank you for helping with Lt Gavina as much as you did."

"I was just doing my job," Helm said... "And I'm not an American!"

Grisham shrugged, starting to smile; Helm got nervous. "I never said you were. Matter'o'fact, neither'm I."

This got Helm to start laughing. "Riiight. Captain Marcus Grisham -"

"Sir Micheal Clancey Peter Killiad Grisham," he interupted, correcting, "loyal servant of His Royal British Majesty."

"You're joking," Helm remarked. "Good one - you nearly convinced me."

"I do not joke," Grisham's voice returning to his natal Thames accent, "particularly when it comes to loyalty, or to my fellow British citizens."

"And why are you telling me this?" Particularly now?

Grisham tilted his head, looking at Helm in an amused fashion. "You sure you were in the military?"

It clicked. "Because this way, if anyone calls you by your real name, you'll know who leaked it."

He patted Helm on the shoulder. "You see, you're not as dim as you act sometimes."

"Hold on," Helm said before Grisham could walk away. Darting inside, Helm returned and placed a medicine bottle in the Captain's hand. "For the Gavinas." Grisham nodded and left...

He rejoined Duke Ronald at the entrance of Montoya's office-residence.

"For the third time, sir," the guard said, "nobody's allowed in there for any reason."

"I am here to see Colonel Montoya," the duke said.

"Sorry, but the Colonel said No Visitors."

"I am the Duke of Montgomery, soldier. English nobility," having seen the N word get people moving before.

"The Colonel said before - that England and Spain were not - not ...." and grimaced, having forgotten the rest of it.

"- were always there to lend assistance whenever possible," Grisham corrected helpingly to the soldier. "I'll take over. Go see to your family."

"Really?" asked an excited soldier.

"Really. Now go," and watched him run away. Opening the door, "After you."

"That was frighteningly easy."

Grisham nodded. "I know. Unfortunately, what few of the best and brightest this desert churns out quickly get beaten senseless by the Queen of Swords."

"Hrmm," was all Ronald said, and they made the rest of the journey to Montoya's quarters in silence. Grisham knocked.

"Enter," Montoya's voice said, sounding a tiny bit annoyed, but knowing how the colonel was at hiding it, Grisham felt sorry for whomever it was directed at.

The doors open, they saw that the Colonel was standing next to his little round table. "It would seem, Capitan," Montoya greeted, holding up one of those dammable cards, "that home security systems leave much to be desired."

"So it would, sir," Grisham said.

"Perhaps I can be of some assistance, Colonel Montoya," the Duke suggested. "I, Sir Ronald Eagbert Sefton, Duke of Montgomery, and servant of His Royal Majesty, have a business proposition for you," and paused.

"Do not hesitate on my account, good sir," Montoya said. "Please, continue."

"I wish to buy this territory from you, Colonel," Ronald said conversationally. "Shall wesay," and named a figure that nearly made Montoya's jaw drop.

~~tbc.

And no, the figure wasn't Lucy or Kami.

~~~~~

PART 4

Before The Conversation Could Progress Much Further Than Price, there was a knocking at the door. Again. Montoya wondered internally what he'd done to make him so popular today; after all, nobody'd been hung yet. It knocked again.

'Now what?' Montoya wondered. "Enter," he instructed. To the Duke, "If you would pardon me a moment?" and got a nod of permission. Going to the door which was opening, a soldier handed the Colonel a tube. Montoya recognized this one as Monterrey's favorite errand boy.

Fishing a reale out of his pocket, Montoya tipped the exhausted lad and dismissed him.

The duke stood up. "Well, Colonel, I would not want to keep you from important things, so I will return at a later time; this is acceptible?" Confused, Montoya nodded. What was going on here? Was there some sort of plot going on to unbalance, unhinge him?

The duke headed for the door, with Grisham actually opening the door for somebody other than Senora Hidalgo. Curiouser and curiouser, Montoya mused.

"Afternoon, Colonel," Grisham said with a suspicious amount of sincerity as he too left.

When the door closed, Montoya was alone. Seeing nothing else to do, as the Queen had taken the book he'd started reading yesterday, he opened the tube, removed the message, and read it...

Montoya's eyes grew very wide.

~~

Meanwhiles At The Alvarado Hacienda, Tessa was poring over the books that she'd borrowed from the Colonel's personal library. Half of the books were opened, and those which were not, were heavily bookmarked - mostly Tessa's.

Marta looked at the crowded table and sighed frustratedly: she'd just cleaned that off, and now it was covered again. "At least it is not mud," she quietly consoled herself with.

"What?" Tessa asked, lifting her head from the book, pausing in her attempt to translate this English phrase into comprehensable Spanish. "Marta, did you say something?"

"No, Tessa, I did not." I am thankful Montoya is experiencing a lull now; I do not think the Queen could put in an appearance even if the situation required it. "What are you doing now?"

Tessa sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "Trying to read English laws. For example, did you know -" and provided an example that made no sense to Marta, though it was faintly familiar:

"Tessa, I speak only Church Latin, nothing more."

Tessa's face fell. She hadn't even realized she was switching languages. "I'm sorry, Marta."

"It's okay. I was on my way out anyway," she reassured her ward.

"Okay," Tessa said, returning her attention to the books. He was worth it; she was sure of it.

~~

Walking Away Outside The Office-Residence, Captain Grisham asked his superior, "If I may inquire, sir, do you know what was in that message roll?"

The duke nodded. "I have a strong suspicion, yes." To keep Grisham from figitting, "Before coming here," Ronald told Grisham, "I made a stop in Monterrey, where I learned that the Viceroy was planning on withdrawing all soldiers from this area, and leaving Colonel Montoya alone."

Grisham's eyes went wide briefly. "The Colonel was going to get to keep Santa hElena?" Man, some guys get all the breaks.

"Indeed, and I believe he will accept my purchase of what is presently his."

One thing puzzled Grisham still. "But why buy the town?"

Ronald stopped walking. "You said that Senorita Alvarado's parents were both dead, correct?" and got a nod. "Is there someone with whom I might begin negotiations to gain permission to court the Senorita?"

If Grisham'd eaten recently, he would have choked on the food. "You're going to use the pueblo as a - an engagement gift?"

The duke shrugged. "A small token."

Grisham envied women their ability to faint with such ease. "Umm, well, there's the senorita's duenna, Marta." A gypsy, but you don't need to know that. Stall! "Can I buy you lunch, sir?"

The duke shook his head. "No, that won't be neccessary, though thank you for the offer." He then flagged down a carriage.

~~~tbc

author: now, if this were a normal ep, the Duke might try to take advantage of Tessa, then the Queen would show up and give him a stern talking-to, chasing him outta pueblo {town}, etc....and reaffirming to Tessa that she can't have relationships.