THE QUEEN AND THE JACK
By Neil Burns
[email protected]

CHARACTERS: H,M,CM,G,TQ,J (Jack Stiles)
SYNOPSIS/COMMENTS: Queen of Swords/Jack of All Trades crossover. An older Jack Stiles visits Santa Helena


"In 1801,
the Revolution has been won,
and Uncle Sam's favorite son,
had a job he needed done."
-opening theme to JACK OF ALL TRADES

It was a blistering hot day and Sol was glaring mercilessly on Jack Stiles riding on his white stallion through the sun-baked California desert. He had been riding three days trying to find Monterey; his former partner/lover Emilia Rothschild had succumbed to consumption there and he wanted to pay his last respects. God! Eleven years she and I worked together. Didn't seem that long ago. Jack took out a mirror and briefly examined himself. Not bad for 59. Still in shape and sharp as a tack. He found a pueblo looming in the distance and decided to stop there for a rest and see if anyone had directions to Monterey.

Robert Helm left the cantina having finished his lunch break. On his way back to his office/quarters, he saw a man riding by on a white horse.

"Yankee Doodle went to town," the man sang, "riding on a pony."

Helm smiled. "Stuck a feather in his cap and called it macaroni." Helm finished the line.

The man turned and smiled back at him. "Yankee Doodle keep it up."

"Yankee Doodle dandy."

"Mind the music and the sep and let the girls be handy." Both finished at once.

The two men sang the other two verses ingoring odd looks passersby were giving them. Jack dismounted and shook hands with Helm.

"How's it goin', bub?" Jack crooned like a car salesman. "Jack Stiles. Former agent for the United States Secret Service."

"Nice to meet you," Helm replied in amusement. "Robert Helm. Former soldier in His Majesty's Army and town doctor for Santa Helena."

"Nice to meetcha, Bobby boy. Where's Santa Helena?"

"You're standing in it. I heard about your exploits with Lady Rothschild."

"I'm flattered. I heard about her assing and thought I'd pay my respects."

"She was awonderful woman and an old friend of the family."

A voice caught the men's attention. "Jack? Is that you?"

Both men turned and saw Captain Grisham approaching. His eyes lit up in joyous disbelief as he and Jack embraced each other.

"Grizzly!" Jack exclaimed. "How the hell are you? What brings you here?"

"Long story. How about you? Still chasing every skirt in America?"

"Not as much as Magic, but I get around."

"Not to interrupt this reunion," Helm interjected, "but who is Magic and Grizzly?"

"I'm Grizzly," Grisham replied. "I wrestled a grizzly bear while I was a cadet."

"His brother Malcolm was 'magic' with the ladies," Stiles smiled. "As well he enjoyed performing for the troops."

"An interesting hobby," a smooth, cultured voice purred in lightly accented English from behind Helm.

Colonel Montoya had been watching this tet-e-tet in amusement and decided to join in as he was on his way for a medical examination.

"Howya doin' bub," Jack grinned as soon as he saw Montoya approach them. He stck out his hand jovially. "You the big cheese here?"

"Colonel Luis Ramirez Montoya." Montoya announced shaking hands. "Military Governor of Santa Helena."

"Nice plae ya got, Lou. How're the babes?"

Montoya's eyes narrowed at Jack's familiarity. Insolent gringo! He is worse then Grisham. He was about to answer his question when Tessa and Marta happened by Jack immediately sidled over and slid in between them, coiling a friendly arm around both. Helm rolled his eyes in amused disbelief.

"Well, Heaven must be missing a couple of angels because you two are here."

"Buenos dias, senor," Tessa smiled politely, a little unsure of the American. Marta shot him an icy glare.

"Jack Stiles, toots. Your knight in shining armor. Who might you be?"

"I am Maria Teresa Alvarado, daughter of Don Rafael Tobias del Leon y Alvarado. This is my duena and friend, Marta."

Marta glared wordlessly as Jack kissed both their hands. Tessa actually found herself liking Jack. It was true he lacked the subtlety and polish like Grisham, but she found his roguish charm actually appealing. She also smiled because, thanks to months of patient tutoring by Dr. Helm, she could speak fairly passable English, though she found Jack's rapid-fire delivery difficult to follow. She suddenly found her bottom being fondled.

"What say," Jack chirped jovially, "we find the local watering hole and throw back a few? Later on, we can have our own 'fiesta', if you get my drift."

"Would you excuse us, senorita?" Helm interjected as he extracted Jack non-too-gently.

"Be right back. Don't run off, darling," Jack slapped Tessa behind playfully, garnering a disbelieving shriek and a few dirty looks.

"Look, Jack," Helm said when they were a safe distance away from the laides. "Maybe your adolescent antics are amusing to other women, but Senorita Alvarado is the daughter of a prominent Don and a very proper Spanish lady."

"Indeed, mi amigo," Montoya interjected hiding his disgust. "We Spaniards take social propiety very seriously and have a very dim view of one who would regard someone in the senorita's position as a mere puta."

"Relax," Jack smiled assuredly. "I am always a gentleman. If Magic hadn't been killed at Talahasse by a Brit, he'd confirm."

"Lady Rothschild told me of your 'frivolities'," Helm smiled, "and she said that 'gentleman' was not one of the adjectives."

"Something else." Montoya glanced at Grisham who was feeding his stallion. "The Captain seems to have, how you say, staked the senorita out as his territory."

Tessa walked over and offered her arm to Jack, smiling broadly with an almost wicked gleam in her eye.

"I thought we were going to 'throw back a few' as you say."

"Right this way, Terri. See ya later, gents," he said waving to the men.

Jack and Tessa walked off toward the cantina with Marta. Grisham glared disapprovingly while Helm chuckled in amusement. Oh my dear Jack.You have no idea what you are in for.

Montoya's guests were enjoying a performance of Wolfgang Amadeaus Mozart's LE NOZZE DI FIGARO (The Marriage of Figaro) The well-heeled audience knew French and Italian as well as their native Spanish. Grisham was trying to stay awake, but was losing the battle, not knowing any Italian. Marta shifted uncomfortably in her chair, her face a mask of confusion. Tessa and Helm were watching with rapt attention while Jack was leaning against Tessa snoring loudly. At the post-performance reception, Helm and Tessa decided to call Jack out on his "cultural ignorance".

"Well, Jack," Tessa smiled gently. "I see you liked the opera."

"It seemed to disturb his and Grisham's naptime," Helm chirped dryly.

"Just closed my eyes a second," Jack retorted with mock hurt.

"Jack. You snored throughout the bloody opera."

"It's boring. Who wants to see people traipse around on stage dressed like clowns screaming at the top of their lungs?"

"You do not like opera?" Tessa chided gently.

"Why didn't Wolfman write the stupid thing in English? Would be a helluva lot easier to understand."

"That's the way Mozart wrote it, Stiles," Helm scolded. "Besides, he English wasn't that good. I know because my father and I met him before he passed away."

"Well, excuse me if I don't give a damn. Another thing. What's so great about that shithole Seville anyway?"

All conversation stopped as Jack found himself staring at a sea of glares. How dare this arrogant gringo! It was bad enough he disturbed a wonderful performance and belittled one of music's geniuses, but now he had the temerity to insult Seville.

"I beg your pardon?" Tessa's voice dropped a few degrees in temperature.

"No offense, Terri, but let's face it. It's a dump. It's dirty. Dusty. The food's unedible. The people there are bastards and crooks. The oranges suck. Now take New Orleans. The Big Easy. Now, that's a city."

"Which you stole from Napoleon," Helm interjected.

"Fifteen million for the whole Purchase? Damn right!"

"I have relatives in Seville, Senor Stiles," Tessa scolded icily.

"With all due respect, doll. American cities are better. Even the limeys got better cities though London ain't my idea of a happening place.

Suddenly a group of bandits stormed in shooting recklessly, some waving swords. The leader stood on the table.

"Everyone! Hand over all your valuableds now if you value your life!"

The bandits began rotating through the crowd collecting valuables unaware that Tessa and Jack had slipped out unseen. Montoya was outraged.

"How dare you!" he fumed. "What do you mean, barging in here like this?"

"Keep your mouth shut!" the leader belted Montotya.

Suddenly a voice sounded above the bandits.

"Do you have an invitation, Senor?"

"The Queen of Swords!" Montoya groaned. Oh no! How humiliating!

The Queen leaped over the balcony and landed on one of the bandits, snapping his neck in the process. Rolling to her feet, she dispensed with another with a dagger to the throat. The bandits attacked, but the Queen danced and parried with panther-like grace and ease. Suddenly--

"HI-DE-HOOOO!!!" A cheerful voice caught everyone's attention. "There's no need to fear. The DARING DRAGOON is here!"

Everyone looked up and saw a figure clad in a white shirt and black pants, boots and tri-cornered hat. His face was covered by a soild black maske and a black cape flowed from his shoulders. He leaped from the balcony onto one of the tables. The table collapsed and the large punchbowl was launched into the air and landed on one of the bandit's head.

"Have a drink, pal," the Dragoon quipped pulling out his sword. "All right! Who wants some?"

"What the hell are you doing?" the Queen demanded wondering who this idiota was.

"It's called I'm the 'calvary', sister."

Two bandits attacked the Queen and the Dragoon at once. The Queen kneed them down low and the Dragoon grabbed their heads and rammed them together.

"Meeting of the minds," he quipped.

The Dragoon spotted a flamenco dancer and an idea struck him. He casually sauntered up and ripped her dress off, to everyone's shock.

"Need this, doll. I'll return it.

He began waving it in front of the bandits.

"Toro! Toro! C'mon! Toro!"

One bandit charged him and Jack stepped to one side and planted a solid kick in the pants, forcing the man into the fountain.

"Take a bath! You stink!"

The Queen could not believe what she was seeing. This gringo was making a game of this with shameful behavior, haphazard strategy--or lack of--and irreverent comments. The Dragoon grabbed a guitar and jumped on a table, fencing with a bandit before slamming the guitar over the man's head.

"Music to my ears."

Helm stood at the edge of the room taking it all in. The Dragoon was certainly luckily adept. Jack grabbed another guitar and smashed it over another bandit's head.

"Talk about a sour note."

The Queen and the bandit leader were in the midst of a furious contest, both equally skilled and both determined to win. Thrust. Parry. Counter-parry. Counter-counter-parry. Errol Flynn and Basil Rathbone had nothing on them.

Suddenly the bandit felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Smile," the Dragoon smirked as he dropped him with a right hook to the face. He then tied him up in a tablecoth and dragged him over to Montoya who watched the whole affair with a mix of shock and bemusement.

"Well, Louie. That about wraps it up. Glad to be of service."

The Dragoon took his sword and slashed two Ds in the tablecloth ala Zorro. He then climbed the balcony.

"A good night to you all," the Dragoon chimed proudly. "Hi Ho, Dragoon. AWAYY!!"

There was the sound of a man jumping onto a horse and the horse neighing. Then there was the sound of a man falling to the ground.

"DAMN IT!"

The Queen smiled as she walked toward Montoya, a pitying, yet triumphant, expression on her face.

"It would seem we saved your life, Colonel," she mused.

"A joke of the gods." Montoya replied sourly.

"Either way. You owe us one."

"I will still have your head, my dear. I promise you."

The Queen of Swords saluted as she casually dropped her trademark Tarot card. She then left to search for a certain Dragoon and give him a talking to.

The Daring Dragoon limped toward Robert Helm's office/quarters, his ankle severely twisted. Thank God for Madame Beauregarde's trick riding lessons. I was able to leap off as the stupid horse reared. The night, otherwise was a success. The thieves were apprehended and Montoya and his guests were treated to seeing a real legend in action. Of course, the Queen of Swords wasn't too shabby herself.

He suddenly saw a black-clad figure riding up to him on a large chocolate-brown horse.

"Senor Dragoon?" her voice was a mixture of pity and amusement. "Dr. Helm's office is closed for the evening."

"Isn't that just lovely?" the Dragoon replied sarcastically.

"Get on." she motioned with her head to join her on Chico.

"Why?"

"I'm taking you home to treat your injury."

The ride out of Santa Helena was quiet and uneventful as the masked pair was cooled by the nocturnal zephyrs. Luna smiled on the pair as they made their way to Hacienda Alvarado. The Dragoon looked at the opulent residence in cofusion.

"This is Terri's pad. You live here?"

The Queen said nothing as she helped the Dragoon off and guided him to the front door. Marta admitted the two and led them to the couch. Helm was already there and pulled off the Dragoon's boot and felt the ankle.

"That must have been quite a fall, Jack," he smiled with little pity.

"Senor Stiles?" the Queen asked in shock. "Is that you?"

"Guilty," Jack took the mask off, revealing his handsome features. "I was just trying to help you, Queenie."

"How do you know who Senor Stiles was?" Marta asked Helm.

"Lady Rothschild," Helm stated. "She told me about all of Jack's exploits as the Dragoon. The plans he thwarted. The women he 'saved'. The crummy jokes."

"Si." Marta made a face. "Those need work."

"Especially the 'Toro', 'Toro', Jack," Helm shook his head. "Bullfighting is a passion to these people, not to be made fun of."

Jack gently rested his foot on the couch as Helm wrapped a wet cloth around his swollen ankle.

"I'm afraid you must stay off your feet for a few days."

Jack shrugged as he sipped the lemonade Marta gave him. He began to sing "GREENSLEEVES" and Helm smiled and joined in. The Englishman's rich baritone blended smoothly with Jack's tenor, creating a beautiful harmony as they sang the tune of unreciprocated love.

"Well done," Helm smiled impressed.

"Used to sing it with Emilia all the time." Jack raised his lemonade glass in the air. "Here's to you, Em. Wherever you are. Thanks for eleven wonderful years."

Helm seconded the toast, "To Lady Rothschild." The two men clinked their glasses.

The Queen watched the two men bond and, without a word, she removed her mask. Jack's face locked into a mask of surprise.

"Terri?!"

"Si, Senor Stiles," Tessa smiled. "Your heart was in the right place and your intentions were noble, but you could have gotten yourself killed."

"Look who's talking, Queen of Hypocrisy," Helm laughed. "Youre the one who risks your neck every night and you tell him to be careful?"

"I can defeat Montoya and Grisham, doctor. I do not think Jack can."

"Wait a minute," Jack interjected. "What are you talking about? What about Lou and Grizzly?"

"Senor Stiles," Tessa said. "Colonel Montoya is a greedy, corrupt dictator. He taxes the people into starvation with the Dons doing nothing to help. He imprisons or kills those who would speak out. Captain Grisham is his, as you would say, 'muscle'."

"Bullshit! Grizzly's a fine soldier and an honorable man. A real American."

Helm sat down and patted Jack's shoulder with something resembling compassion. He sipped his lemonade.

"If Grisham is a 'real American', then why is he here wearing a Spanish uniform, commanding Spanish soldiers and taking orders from a Spanish officer?"

"I don't know. He's a liasion to Monroe?"

"No," Marta stated. "From what I hear, he's on the run from the Americanos for fraudulent orders and killing the commanding officer."

"Oh, stop," Jack waved his hand to them all. "Grizzly wouldn't do that."

"Ask Montoya," Tessa told him. "He holds Grisham on his leash."

"In the meantime," Helm coiled a friendly arm around Jack. "The senorita has shown you her secret identity and is trusting you not to mention it."

"No prob, Bobby boy," Jack oozed his charm. "My lips are sealed."

Tessa leaned forward and cupped Jack's face in her hands, gazing into his eyes with gentle firmness, her expression a solemn mask.

"I certainly hope so, Senor Stiles. Montoya wants to hang the Queen of Swords and if he found out I was her, I would, as you say, swing from the gallows."

Jack liked her hands on him, her face not that far away. A little kiss would be appropriate to him. But he saw the determination in her dark, expressive eyes, the absolute trust.

"I'm a model of discretion," Jack told her.

"Good," Helm put in, "because if Marta doesn't cut your throat, I would certainly have something to say about it."

The next morning, Montoya was in a foul mood. It was bad enough the Queen of Swords ruined his party. To make matters worse, she was accompanied by some masked payaso carrying on as if the robbery attempt was some game. Wonderful! I am now cursed with two fools with misguided senses of justice! Captain Grisham entered, saluting Montoya respectfully yet a smiled played at his lips.

"Good morning, sir," Grisham greeted. "Did you sleep well?"

"Like a baby," Montoya replied acidly.

"Another successful soiree."

"I hope Mozart did not keep you or Senor Stiles up," Montoya's voice dripped venom.

"I apologize, sir. I gues I'm not really an opera buff. It was nice the Queen of Swords was on our side for once." Grisham could not resist twisting the knife a bit.

"Do not remind me."

Montoya poured himself and Grisham glasses of cognac. Grisham observed this with amusement. The Dragoon must've really got to him. Montoya never shares cognac with me. Montoya emptied his glass in three swallows and refilled it, his eyes burning with fury.

"And, to make matters worse, there is this Daring Dragoon?!" Montoya growled. "Who does this peasant think he is?! He ruins a perfectly good 'spread', as you call it. He rips some poor woman's dress off and insults our culture by mocking our bullfighting heritage. He is insolent. Rude. Insulting. He treated last night's disaster as a joke! At least the Queen of Swords is respectful."

"True," Grisham conceded. "He did seem to have a good time."

"Grisham, I get the sense you know this man."

"I might," Grisham smirked coyly.

"Well, who is he?" Montoya snapped impatiently.

Grisham took a few contemplative sips then drained his glass and refilled it before answering a very unamused Montoya.

"I'm not sure, so don't hold me to it. The only one I can think of who would have the balls to do something like this is Jack Stiles. When Jack and my brother were in the Academy, Jack would pretend to be Zorro, 'Defender of Justice and Protector of Womanly Virtues'."

"Meaning he bedded every woman he could find."

"All of Lansing and half of Battle Creek," Grisham added.

"So why is he doing this nonsense here at my pueblo?"

"He probably heard about the Queen and decided to help her out. Two heads are better than one."

"Not while I am in charge. Come." Montoya grabbed his riding gloves and crop while draining his glass.

"Where are we going?"

"To pay our respect to Senorita Alvarado and see if she has any knowledge of this Daring Dragoon. I do not expect it, but if we happen to find Senor Stiles there--" Montoya saw Grisham's eyes narrow somewhat, "--we can arrest him for improper behavior, disturbing the peace and insulting an officer."

"Excellent idea, sir."

"Besides, it would seem he is trying to take Senorita Alvarado away from you."

"Over my dead body," Grisham smiled ominously.

Grisham called for a group of soldiers to accompany him and Montoya to Hacienda Alvarado to arrest Jack Stiles/The Daring Dragoon. The group rode grimly thorugh the sun-cooked desert.

Meanwhile, Jack was telling Tessa, Marta and Dr.Helm a story about when Napoleon tried to marry Emilia Rothschild and he played her dead husband, scaring the French emperor. Jack guffawed heartily while the others listened in polite amusement.

"You should've seen it! Poor Leon. That Frog was pissing his breeches he was so scared. And there was Em, trying to keep a straight face. I thought she would die!"

"It's amazing Lady Rothschild tolerated such an infantile person such as you," Helm smiled. "I am surprises she didn't slap you silly."

"Believe me, Bobby boy. She thought about it. Actually did it a couple of times. But, hey. Who can resist this gorgeous hunk of man?"

Tessa and Marta glanced at one another with eyebrows arched ceilingward, Tessa giggling at the Americano's lack of modesty. She had definitely taken a liking to him and found him much more charming than Grisham.

"Senor Stiles," she began.

"Please, Terri. Call me Jack."

"Jack. What was that nonsense about ripping that poor woman's dress off and pretending to be a matador? That was very insulting to those men."

"Didn't mean anything by it. Just something I made up. Besides, when I think of a bull, I think steak not sport."

"Still. The woman was very embarrassed. Could you not have used your cape?"

"Didn't think of it," Jack shrugged. "I just wing it."

"Sounds like somebody I know," Helm interjected dryly.

"I do not rip other people's clothes off, Robert," Tessa spouted, her hands planted on her hips.

"No, you don't," Helm conceded. "You do improvise, though. It bugs the hell out of you that Jack is doing the exact same thing you are."

"Why would that bother me?"

"Because he is invading your territory. This is your home. You protect it. Yet, here is an 'Ugly American' playing Zorro and doing the exact same foolishness that you do every single night."

Suddenly, the door was kicked open and slammed against the wall. Grisham, Montoya and the soldiers stormed in. Montoya was about to offer a outraged Tessa an explanation when he spotted Jack sitting on the couch. The two officers waltzed over to where Jack was sitting, his twisted ankle propped onto an Ottoman and wrapped in ice. With a grim smile, Montoya lifted his leg and set the heel of his boot on Jack's ankle, grinding down on the bone while Jack bit back a scream.

"Good morning, Senor Stiles," Montoya sneered with an acid smile. "Whatever has happened to your poor ankle?" he tisked. "Such a tragedy."

"He twisted it when he fell off a horse this morning," Helm replied, outraged at Montoya's uncharacteristic rudeness. Even Tessa was unpleasantly surprised at the normally polite Colonel's behavior.

"Lou," Jack chided. "What's the story here?"

To his shock, Captain Grisham stepped forward and backhanded him across the face making blood splurt from his nose. Hurt and stunned disbelief stamped themselves on Jack's face as he rubbed his cheek.

"Grizzly! What the hell are you doing?!"

"Sorry, Jack," Grisham replied with little remorse. Grizzly's dead. It's Captain Marcus Alexander Grisham, Aide-De-Camp to Colonel Luis Ramirez Montoya."

"You're working for Lou?"

"My dear Senor Stiles." Montoya ground his boot in deeper. "I am not one of your drinking comapnions. I rule this district and demand respect! Grisham!"

"John Thaddeus Stiles," Grisham officiously stated. "You are under arrest. Soldiers. Bring him."

Jack was suddenly foraced onto his feet, the ankle giving out from under him. Unmoved the soldiers bound him. Grisham grabbed Jack's shirt and pulled him toward his face.

"Another thing," Grisham hissed. "The senorita is mine. I found her first."

"This is an outrage!" Tessa gasped in shock. She marched up to Jack and slapped his face. "How dare you barge in and try to take advantage of a poor defenseless woman!"

"Play along," Helm, who stood next to Grisham, whispered in Jack's ear. "She knows what she's doing."

"Is that so?" Jack replied arrogantly, getting into the spirit. "Well, excuse me, Ms. Rich Bitch Spic. What do you learn in those fancy finishing schools? How to get laid?" he planted a kiss on her lips.

"ANIMALE! MONSTRO!" Tessa let fly another viscious slap. "How dare you! Captain Grisham! Please take this--THING from my home at once!"

"My pleasure, ma'm."

As Captain Grisham and the soldiers were leading Jack outside, Tessa was giving an Oscar-winning performance as the helpless senorita beset upon by an Ugly American trying to take advantage of her.

"Thank God you came by!" Tessa fluttered her hand. "I do not know what he would have done if you have not!"

"Well, he is in our custody," Montoya smiled. "He will be sereverely punished for his actions. Good day, Senorita Alvarado."

"Good day, Colonel. And thank you again."

Colonel Montoya lifted Tessa's hand and brushed the back of it with a mock polite kiss as he winked. Tessa glared at Montoya's retreating back as he left while Helm was chuckling as he facetiously applauded.

"Bravo! You, my dear, missed your calling in the theater."

Please forgive me, Jack Stiles. I will get you out of this.

The cell floor was drenched with blood seeping from the welts on Jack's back left by Montoya's whip. Fifty bloody lashes left their vibrant mark as the Colonel sadistically flogged the American. Jack's screams echoed throughout the jail with each lash of the whip. Jack's face was a bloody mess courtesy of one Marcus Grisham, his eyes nearly closed and his lip swollen. Girsham washed his hands as he enjoyed the show. Montoya stopped and casually sippes a glass of lemonade.

"So, Senor Stiles," Montoya smiled unpleasantly. "You would make a fool of Montoya, si?"

"Bite me!" Jack croaked. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"Come now. Grisham mentioned you might be this Daring Dragoon?"

"I don't know anything about a dragoon. All I know is that Queenie saved your sorry ass the other night. What a mistake that was."

"This is for your own good, Senor. Daring Dragoon or not, this pueblo's goings-on are not your concern. For the sake of your health, I would suggest that the minute you are completely healed, you take the swiftest horse and leave for somewhere that might appreciate your infantile antics. Say England or Canada."

"What're you gonna do? Screw the people up, down and sideways? Sorry, Lou. Crackpot Georgie's tried the Tough Guy approach and got his ass kicked. The same will happen to you."

"For one in such a state," Montoya glanced at Grisham who shook his head in amazement, "you show a lot of spirit."

"Gotcher spirit right here!" Jack's hands were tied above him so he could not grab his crotch so he settled for spitting (what little there was) in Montoya's face. "Say hi to those Redcoat bastards Cornwallis and Hutchinson in Hell when you see them!"

Montoya nearly snapped Jack's neck in two with the viscious backhand that he gave him. He took out his hankerchief and wiped the offensive spittle off his face as Grisham once more made Jack a human punching bag, assaulting his bruised or broken ribs as Jack's agonized moans once more echoed around the cell.

"Should listen to the Colonel, Jack," Grisham tried the brotherly approach but Jack found it hard for someone to be brotherly while beating the crap out of someone. "He's offering you your life! Just walk away and forget all this."

Grisham walloped Jack a few more times before delivering a couple of particularly hellacious right crosses. He then grabbed the back of Jack's hair and pulled him to his face.

"You especially forget about Senorita Alvarado," Grisham hissed ominously. "She is mine! Find another bimbo to seduce!"

"What's your story, Grizzly? Why are you helping this guy?"

"You probably heard about my men getting ambushed and later, falsifying the reports? That is true. Regrettably, the CO was going to spill the beans--"

"So you killed him?!"

Grisham nodded. What difference did it make for Jack to know? He was a dead man anyway.

"I had to hightail it. Otherwise, I'd be either shot or lynched for murder and treason. That's how I came to work for Montoya. So the choice is simple. Leave town or hang in the square. Makes no difference to me."

Suddenly, a whirlwind clad in black blew in and knocked Grisham and Montoya to the floor. Montoya tried to get up, but was greeted by four knees to the crotch and a right uppercut. Grisham tried to rise, but was knocked back to the floor with a chair breaking across his back. Stunned, both men looked up and saw the Queen of Swords standing above them glaring with her sword and dagger drawn. She quickly cut Jack down and handed him her dagger while supporting him from collapsing to the floor. Jack's eyes burned with fury as he grabbed the bowl of lemonade and poured it down his throat, not caring that he was drenching himself with it. The tart-flavored liquid soothingly flowed down his windpipe and strengthed him. Jack threw the glass bowl against the wall, breaking it, then turned back to Montoya and Grisham holding the dagger, his face twisted into an icy glare.

"All right, you bastards!' he growled, his voice strengthened by the lemonade. Playtime is over! Like Figaro says, 'you wanna dance, you dance to my tune'! The next time we meet, time to pay the fiddler!"

The Queen said nothing, but silently helped Jack out of the jail while Grisham and Montoya got up, still in stunned disbelief over what had happened. Even more shocking was that Jack threatened them and seemed, at that particular moment seemed quite capable to carry it out. New respect started to dawn in Montoya. So Stiles does have a spine. It would also appear that he and the Queen have formed an alliance. That would be a formidable alliance indeed. Grisham seemed to read Montoya's mind.

"At West Point," the ex-patriate stated, "Jack was the second best swordsman and marksman in his class. Next to Malcolm."

"So, that means he is actually a capable soldier."

"He was given commendations by Washington and Jefferson themselves."

"Indeed. What about this Dragoon? You still think he is Senor Stiles?"

"Maybe. But I think it's time to end this nonsense."

"How do you plan to do it?"

"Lure the Dragoon out by staging a hanging. We hang a Gypsy. When the Dragoon comes to rescue her, you and the men eliminate him."

"And if he wants a pice of you?" Grisham was curious to see how the Dragoon (Jack?) would handle the Colonel who was no slouch with a sword himself.

"Then I show the insolent gringo how a real swordsman handles a blade."

"What about the Queen of Swords?"

"A double execution, Grisham," Montoya smiled. "Let us prepare to end this once and for all."

It was a warm day and a gentle breeze danced outside Hacienda Alvarado. Tessa was at her desk writing Governor Juan Reyes about Colonel Montoya's abuse of power, giving various examples including the recent whipping and beating of the Americano Jack Stiles. This is outrageous! Montoya has done cruel things before, but this goes beyond all human decency! Tessa looked compassionately at Jack lying in her bed while Dr. Helm was checking the heavy bandaging. With a grim smile, Tessa also wrote that she knew about Reyes and Montoya's personal relationship and, if he did not wanted the Spanish Court to know about it, that he had better do something about Montoya and do it soon.

Tessa walked over and sat on the edge, caressing the Americano's cheek.

"Senor Stiles? Are you feeling better?" Her soft Charo/Salma Hayek-accented voice tickled his ear.

"Don't worry, doll-face," Jack smiled, his voice getting stronger. "It'll take more than what Lou's dished out to keep this boy down."

"Well, I would suggest another few days," Helm interjected. "We do want the wounds to heal, don't we?"

"Gotta admit, Bobby boy. You're a helluva quack."

"Thank you so much." Sarcasm dripped from every word.

"Quack?" Marta queried entering. "Dr. Helm is not a duck."

"It's a term for 'doctor'," Helm explained. "And not a flattering one at that."

"Montoya's outside," Marta said, her voice full of disgust.

"Well, show him in." Tessa smiled acidly.

The Gypsy left and then soon returned, followed by Colonel Montoya dressed in his riding clothes and wearing that familiar reptilian smile. The sun shone in his gray serpentine eyes.

"Buenos tardes, mis amigos." He was the picture of cultured smoothness. "Are we well today, I hope?"

"Buenos tardes, mi carino Colonel," Sarcasm drenched Tessa's salute, her eyes wandering to Jack in bed watching all this. Montoya's face registered shock. "Most of us are doing well."

"Senor Stiles!" Montoya had the decency to affect concern. "I did not know you were there. How are you feeling?"

"All things considered, I'd rather be in Philadelphia." Jack quipped.

"Excellent. You still have your sense of humor."

"What's up, Lou? Didn't get enough the last time around?"

"Actually, I am here to apologize. This nonsense with the Queen of Swords is most stressful and, regrettably, you were a convinent target to take it out on, as Grisham would say. Allow me to make it up to you by inviting you and the senorita to dinner tomorrow night."

Eight eyebrows arched at this unexpected invitation in disbelief. Helm tried to choke back his laughter while Marta visualized a slow painful death for Montoya. Tessa smiled in disbelief.

"Your offer is most gracious, but I am afraid I must decline," Tessa replied with polite correctness. "Perhaps another time."

"I understand. Senor Stiles?"

"I get the crap beat out of me, then invited to dinner? Sorry, Lou. Sounds fishy to me, too. Gotta take a say ixnay as well."

"Very well. Never let it be said that Montoya was never wrong and was above making up for his error. Until later, good day."

Montoya took Tessa's hand and brushed the back of it with a gentle kiss. As the door closed behind Montoya, Helm and Jack began laughing while Marta scorched the room with Rom oaths.

"Of all the bloody cheek!" Helm exclaimed.

"I don't know about you," Jack put in, "but if that ain't covering your ass, then I'm Henry VIII."

"Oh, Montoya has that perfected to an artform. He plans something. If it goes wrong, he pretends that he has no knowledge."

"Terri, I think you should tell the Gov that Lou's so full of shit he can fertilize the whole Mississippi Valley."

"He knows that, Jack," Tessa smiled at the rather graphic visual.

"Enough talk. Let's fix Lou and Grizzly's wagon!"

"Good idea," Helm smiled as he changed a bandage. "First, rest and heal thyself." He's got such enthusiasm. No wonder Lady Rothschild like him as a partner.

Nodding in agreement, Jack laid back into a comfortable position and began snoring loudly. Marta rolled her eyes, having to put up with it for a week straight. Tessa planted a gentle kiss on Jack's cheek before returning to her desk to finish up her letter to Governor Juan Reyes.

SEVERAL WEEKS LATER

It was a blazing hot day and Jack was in the barn with a practice dummy armed with a sword. He had been practicing and catching up on his swords skills since the night he helped Tessa/The Queen of Swords thwart that robbery. Then there was the night he was whipped and beaten to almost unconsciousness. He swished away and hacked the dummy pretending it was Montoya or that so-called "friend" Grizzly, aka Marcus Grisham. As he practiced, he was unaware that he was being watched.

"Your arm is down and your are dragging your foot," a gentle voice cooed behind him. Jack turned and saw Tessa wearing a white shirt and black breeches and boots. She was also carrying a sword.

"Gotta say, Terri," Jack smirked wickedly. "Pants become you."

"Thank you. Keep your arm up. You might be able to defeat Grisham--"

"Honey, I can beat him in my sleep blindfolded."

"But Colonel Montoya is a far superior swordsman," Tessa finished. "I will teach you how to defeat him. Come at me."

Jack saluted and charged, parrying and hacking away, driving Tessa back before she sidestepped him, causing him to fall.

"You are still dragging your foot. Try again."

Jack tried again and again. He was temporarily in command before Tessa sidestepped and took over. The exercise continued and Jack suddenly remembered the form that made him the Academy's second finest swordsman. He put on a clinic and Tessa was impressed with Stiles and the simplistic American fencing style. Jack drove her to the wall when he found something sharp against his neck. He looked down and saw Tessa was holding a knife to his throat.

"Hold it, sister!" Jack slapped the hand away. "That's dirty pool. What happened to one sword apiece?"

"A lot of people fight this way. Element of surprise," Tessa replied surprised that Jack did not know this.

"Well, screw surprise. I like the cards on the table. Your sword against mine. Period. I win, fine. You win, fine. None of this hidden knives crap."

"Shall we continue?" Tessa sighed gently. How did he survive so long?

The rest of the day and the following days saw Jack being schooled in Spanish circle swordplay as traditional British style, courtesy of Robert Helm who was the Welsh champion for six years straight when he was young. With this, Jack's skills returned and grew until it was time to give Montoya his comeuppance one and for all.

On a rare and pleasantly cool morning, Captain Grisham was supervising the construction of the gallows in the middle of Santa Helena Sqaure. Montoya decided to make this a special occassion by having tables of food nearby so the spectators could eat and drink while watching the execution. Montoya was chatting with some of the Dons while the soldiers were bringing out a Gypsy girl around seventeen caught for robbing soldiers and resisting arrest.

The Gypsy was led to the platform. The noose was hung around her neck as a number of the spectators were enjoying a mid-morning snack.

Montoya was about to order the hanging to proceed when--

"For shame," that familiar alto voice. "She is not allowed a last meal before execution?"

Everyone looked up and saw the Queen of Swords perched on the roof of the church, her face in that gentle mocking smile. She did a forward flip and landed on one of Montoya's soldiers, snapping his neck in the process. As she fell forward, she flung her dagger into the hangman's throat killing him instantly. Grisham and the soldiers attacked, but the Queen's panther-like grace and almost inhuman skill was almost too much for them.

"HI-DE-HOO!!" Another voice called from the rooftops. "There's no need to fear. The DARING DRAGOON is HERE!!"

Sure enough, the Daring Dragoon stood on top of the blacksmith's shop which happened to be right above Montoya. The Dragoon leapt and landed on Montoya, forcing him into the table, sitting on top of him. RRRRRRAAAAAAAPPPP!!! A rude beefer erupted as Montoya tried to force the Dragoon off.

"Wow!" the Dragoon waved his hand to dissipate the odor. "Talk about raising a stink!"

The Queen had to laugh at the quip and very amusing spectacle of Montoya being stuck under the Dragoon. RIIIIIPPPAAAAAAATTTT!!! Another ripper.

"Damn Spanish food! Does that all the time."

"I think," the Queen chirped, "he is telling you how he feels about you as leader of Santa Helena." Girlish giggling followed.

Montoya finally forced himself up and withdrew his sword, throwing the scabbard aside. The Dragoon smiled cockily, knowing he had gotten under the Colonel's skin.

"Forgive Queenie and me dropping in. My invitation must be in my other cape."

"I have had enough of you, CABRON!" Montoya growled. "Let us end this."

"Well, don't sing it. Bring it."

The Dragoon saw soldiers coming. He picked up a chunk of cake off the table and nailed one soldier in the face.

"That's called having your cake and eating it too."

He planted another piece in another soldier's face.

"He sure got his just desserts."

The Dragoon kneeled two soldiers in their crotches and held them.

"What say you put your heads together?" With that, he rammed their heads against each other. The crowd was finding the Dragoon quite entertaining.

Three other soldiers attached the Dragoon with their swords drawn and the Dragoon played with them before, to everyone's shock, slashing their throats and watching them die.

"I guess they got the point."

The Queen smiled grimly as she was occupied with Captain Grisham in a life and death struggle. Parry. Counter parry. Neither one finding and advantage and neither one giving up. The Dragoon planted his blade against Montoya's neck as Marta stole onto the platform and freed the Gypsy girl.

"Looks like it's you and me, Lou. Care to dance?"

"The name, senor," Montoya said as he knocked the blade away with his own, "is Luis Ramirez Montoya. You will learn to say it as you die, Gringo."

The two men crossed swords and a duel unfurled. Both men were well-skilled and almost evenly matched. Everytime Montoya had an advantage, Jack would fight back and take it away and vice versa. Montoya was impressed with the Dragoon's swoardsmanship.

"Hey, Lou," Jack called, a thought crossed his mind.

"Do not call me that!" Montoya was getting perturbed.

"You really suck as Governor, or Regent or whatever you call yourself. How did you get this job? Bend over for the Governor?"

How did he know?! Did that bitch Queen of Swords tell him?! Montoya began to slash like a miniac while the Dragoon smiled at the reaction.

"Well, I guess I hit a nerve. So that's how you became the head of a town. Playing a little 'hide the salami' with ol' Juan?"

"How dare you!" Montoya snarled. "Do you know who I am?"

"Yeah. Some pompous loudmouth Spic who likes it up the ass."

People gasped at hearing this and murmurs spread throughout the spectators. Was it true? Was Montoya indeed intimate with Governor Reyes? Montoya's attacks were becoming less strategic and more beserker as he hacked away atthe Dragoon dancing and taunting him. The Queen glanced back occassionally and smiled at Montoya's humiliation. The Dragoon was outfencing Montoya and the metal warfare was taking its toll on him as well.

"I noticed you were light on your feet," the Dragoon taunted. "Now I know why."

DAMN THE QUEEN OF SWORDS! I WILL HAVE HER HEAD FOR THIS! Montoya visciously hacked and slashed, only hitting tables of food. The Dragoon stole little nibblets of food while holding Montoya at bay. The Queen followed suit, fencing eith Grisham and stealing little morsels to sample. Almost at the same time, both Queen and Dragoom disarmed their respective opponents finally and kneeing them in the nether region. The Dragoon pointed his sword at Montoya's crotch and removed his mask.

"Stiles!" Montoya gasped in disbelief.

"Bingo! Looks like I beat you."

"Very well. Kill me and be quick about it."

"Sorry, Lou. Don't believe in one man being judge, jury and executioner."

Jack slashed a DD in Montoya's vest and started to head for the front gate when the sound of advancing fifes and drums thundered up the street. A large group of men and women were dancing and marching up, a number of men dressed in American Revolutionary War uniform. The fifes and drums played a variant of "Yankee Doodle" when--

"In 1801, the Revoultion has been won," the men chimed gathering around Jack. "And Uncle Sam's favorite son had a job he needed done."

"Which brought Jack to a lady," the women sang while dancing with Jack and other men in the crowd, "both beautiful and smart. She found his mix appealing. A scoundrel with a heart!"

Jack then strutted to the front of the group with a baton in his hand and began to lead it, dancing and marching around the square.

"FROM THE HALLS OF MONTEZUMA," the group thundered, "TO THE SHORES OF TRIPOLI! THERE WAS NEVER A LEATHERNECK BRAVER! A DARING DRAGOON IS HE! HE'LL STOP THE BOLD ADVANCE OF NAPOLEON'S ATTACK! THERE AINT A FRENCH OR PIRATE ROGUE WHO DON'T KNOW JACK!"

The crowd was getting into it as this was far more entertaining then some gauche hanging. The Queen and Helm rolled their eyes and laughed in disbelief. Jack was having the time of his life.

"FROM THE HALLS OF MONTEZUMA TO THE SHORES OF TRIPOLI! SAIL AROUND THE BLOODY WORLD TO DEFEND DEMOCRACY! SO IF YA THINK A BETTER MAN YA TRUST TO WATCH YA BACK! JUST ASK THE BLOKE RIGHT NEXT TO YA! DAMN RIGHT! IT'S JACK!"

The crowd applauded as Jack removed a bag of gold from Montoya's vest and climbed onto a table.

"Thanks, ladies and germs," he chirped. "I had a ball fighting for justice, but now it's time to ride into the sunset. Not to worry. Queenie here," Jack gestured to a surprised Queen, "is taking up the mantle. Keep up the good fight, kid. Now let's all head to the cantina and get loaded, get laid, GET DRUNK! Lou's buying!" Jack held up the bag of gold to emphasize the point. The group began the JACK'S BALLAD chrous again as they lifted Jack onto their shoulders to carry him to the cantina. The Queen, Helm and Marta also found themselves being carried off by the happy mob. Montoya got up and brushed himself off, ignoring the stares.

"If you do not wish higher taxes or to 'disappear', I would suggest you say nothing," Montoya stated quietly. The menance was there though. "A person's private business is nobody else's concern."

Montoya then gathered Grisham and the two quietly walked back to Montoya's office resigned that they had once again been defeated by the Queen of Swords. This time also by an aging American Zorro wannabe.

The next day, Tessa was helping Jack load a carriage of supplies for Monterey. God, what a fun two months this was. I'm gonna miss Terri and Bobby boy. Tessa embraced Jack while kissing his cheek.

"Take care, Jack. I am sorry that Marta and Dr. Helm are not here to say goodbye."

"No harm. They're probably looking for a salve using cat turd or something."

"You are an interesting man. It has been quite an edifying and entertaining experience. If you see any of Senora Rothschild's relatives, please convey my condolences."

"Will do. Gotta split."

Jack held Tessa tight and rammed his lips onto hers and locked on tightly. Tessa found herself enjoying it and returned the kiss. Finally, with a final affectionate bum fondling, Jack climbed aboard the cart and left.

"Vaya con dios, mi amigo! Good luck, Senor Jack Stiles!"

Jack gave a final wave before disappearing in the sun-cooked desert. Tessa stood there contemplating the very interesting experience that was Jack Stiles. Former Secret Service Agent for the United States of America and Daring Dragoon. Smiling and humming Non piu andrai from Marriage of Figaro, Tessa went back to resume her sword practice.

THE END