Disclaimer: The characters in this story are copyrights of Paramount and Fireworks Productions. No infringement is intended. The story plot is original and copyright to the author, Maril Swan.

The Hunter
by Maril Swan

Part One of three

The sound of hoof beats distracted him and he turned his telescope away from his quarry to peer into the canyon. A lone rider was galloping down the canyon toward where he lay perched atop a rocky outcropping. He recognized her immediately. The Queen of Swords! Caramba! What luck! He brought his rifle to bear on her and sighted down the barrel as he waited until she was in range. His finger twitched on the trigger, and his heart pumped hard as his target neared. He squeezed the trigger and a loud explosion rent the air; powder and smoke stung his eyes. He grabbed his glass and peered through it. A loud whoop broke from him and he laughed jubilantly.

She was down!

As the hunter began to move off his perch, another rider appeared at the far end of the canyon, making straight for the inert woman on the ground. If he thinks he's going to snatch my reward from me, he has a surprise waiting for him. Hastily, the hunter began to reload his rifle, carefully packing the lead bullet, putting gunpowder into the flash pan, and rechecking the flint. From the corner of his eye, he watched the rider leap from his horse and rush to the woman. He noted the black bag on the man's saddle. A doctor, probably. Well, he's the one who will need a doctor in a minute. No need to hurry, he thought, as he watched the other man lift the woman's head. His rifle loaded, he checked the scene below through his telescope. He saw the blood on the doctor's hand as he pulled it away.

Perhaps, she's not dead yet. Maybe I can get a bigger reward for a live Queen of Swords. But first, I have to get rid of the doctor. He raised the rifle and aimed at the back of the doctor's head. My sight must have been a bit off, when I shot the woman. I'll compensate for it and aim for his back. Should get the heart or lung from this distance. And he is obligingly not moving much.

He took a deep breath and was about to squeeze the trigger when a low growl nearby alerted him to the puma standing a few yards away. The puma sprang as he brought the gun around and fired. He missed and the big cat leapt upon him. Its claws raked his leg and he grabbed for the pistol in his belt. He fired again as the puma opened its jaws, and clamped onto his other arm. A direct hit to the brain. The creature seemed to sigh as it collapsed its whole weight upon him. For several long seconds, he panted with relief, unable to move.

Below, Helm heard the shots and glanced around in near panic, looking for the shooter. The danger of this exposed location galvanized him into action. He picked up the unconscious woman and rushed to his horse. Placing her on the saddle, he leapt up behind and started down the canyon trail. Her horse followed at a distance as Helm tried to hurry his tired mount out of this ambush to a place of more safety.

The woman in his arms roused and groaned. She seemed surprised, dazed. But as they neared a certain place in the canyon she said, "Go in behind that big rock."

Helm dismissed her advice as raving, as he tried to pass by the monolith, but she grabbed the reins and steered his horse toward the huge boulder. As they proceeded behind it, Helm could see it was a narrow defile between the high rock walls. He felt her relax against him and knew she had passed out again.

****
Grisham held up his hand as the echo of gunfire resounded down the canyon. One shot, then minutes later, two more. He waved the small troop of six soldiers forward and they raced down the trail toward the sounds.

The captain hauled his mount to an abrupt halt when he saw what looked like a pool of blood on the ground. Leaping off his horse, he quickly moved to the site, and bent to examine it. Fresh blood, not even completely dried yet. Grisham stood up and surveyed the area. Rough rock walls climbed upward on all sides, leaving only a narrow strip of the vivid blue sky visible. Someone had shot something and it had fallen here. What was it, human or animal?

"Dismount and search the area," he said to his men. "There may be a wounded human or animal around here somewhere. Be careful, either one is dangerous."

The men fanned out and began to warily move through the canyon, their rifles at the ready. From above, a voice hailed them and a lone man stood up, his hands raised. He wore a wide-brimmed hat that shaded his swarthy, whiskered face. Covering his clothes was a long dark duster coat. The man staggered as he made his way down through the rocks toward them. As his coat flapped open, a ragged gash in his trousers revealed a blood-stained leg.

"Go help him," Grisham yelled to the two nearest soldiers.

Supported by the two soldiers, the hunter eventually came to stand before Grisham. A closer inspection of the man showed him to be in his early forties, tall and muscular. The wound on his leg bled profusely from three long deep slashes and his shirt sleeve was sodden and red.

"So what have you been tangling with?" Grisham asked with a broad smile. "A wild cat?"

"Exactly. I shot it. It's up there," he added pointing to the bluff above.

"If it's up there, how did the blood get on the ground down here?" Grisham's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"After I shot the puma, I came down to look for my horse. I heard the sound of riders and hid up there. You can't be too careful in these parts."

Grisham regarded the man for a long moment, then said, "Yeah, you're right. By the way, did you see any other riders in here? A woman wearing a black costume for instance?"

"No, Capitan. I was rather busy and didn't see or hear anything."

"I haven't seen you around here before. What's your name and what are you doing lurking around canyons, shooting at big cats."

The hunter drew himself up and said, "My name is Julio de Loggia. I am a big game hunter and trapper. One of your local dons hired me to kill the pumas that have been attacking his cattle and sheep. I tracked one to this canyon and shot it." Almost as an afterthought, he added, "The puma would make a nice rug for your floor, Capitan, and its head could grace your wall. I will sell it to you for ten reales."

A loud guffaw from Grisham accompanied this offer. "Where do you think I could get ten reales to waste on a flea-bitten cat skin?" He gave the hunter a considering look, then said, "However, Colonel Montoya might want the puma. He likes to collect trophies, and the cat might just take his mind off our missing the trophy we were after today."

Grisham pointed to two of the soldiers. "Go up and bring the puma down here. We'll take it with us."

"You will have to put it on a travois, Capitan. The horses will bolt if you try to make one of them carry it. They would be terrified of the scent of even a dead puma," the hunter pointed out reasonably.

The captain called up to the two soldiers now carrying the heavy puma down the rocky sides of the canyon. "Make a travois of whatever you can find. We'll meet you in town. Be careful with it. It's for the Colonel."

The hunter suddenly slumped against one of the soldiers and his face paled. He was losing blood fast and nearly passing out.

"We'd better get you into town right away. There's a doctor in Santa Elena. He'll fix you up." Grisham gestured to the men and they remounted. One of the soldiers took the hunter onto his own horse and the troop trotted back up the trail toward the pueblo.

I'll just get to a spot that's wide enough to turn around and get back on the trail. I think the Alvarado hacienda is the nearest. I'll take her there, Helm thought as his horse picked its way through the rock-strewn defile. The crevasse turned to the right, and Helm saw an opening. As they stepped out through it, his jaw dropped.

Before him was a large green meadow, as green as the hills of Devon. His eyes filled with the sight of the short grass rippling in the warm breeze like the waves on a lake. At one side of the meadow was a large pond, and a herd of antelope watched him warily as they milled together at its edge. On the other side was what seemed to be a small sod hut. He nudged his horse toward it.

This must be her hideout, Helm thought in awe as he neared the hut. It was crudely constructed but seemed to be in good condition. He dismounted and carefully lifted the unconscious woman from his horse and carried her inside the hut. The interior was cool and permeated with the dank scent of earth. A single window provided some light, as did the door. On one wall, a woman's gown hung from a peg driven into the earth wall. A small cot occupied most of the space in the tiny hut. He gently laid her on it and stood up, stretching his back muscles in relief. She's no lightweight, that's for sure, he thought.

Going outside, Helm untied his medical bag and returned to the masked woman. She hadn't stirred and he was worried. Had the bullet lodged in her skull? He set his bag on the earth floor, and knelt to examine her head. He turned it to the side and began to move the long black hair out of the way to find the wound. The mask was in the way. A hand clutched his arm suddenly, and he found himself staring into a pair of angry dark eyes.

"Don't even think of it!" she grated hoarsely, her fierce grip relentlessly forcing his hand away.

Montoya groaned as he saw the troop straggle into the pueblo. Two of the soldiers were missing but they had another man with them, held up on the saddle by one of the soldiers. He shook his head and compressed his lips into a grim line. What did I expect? He made his way down the steps as Grisham drew up in front of his office.

"I see you have captured a prisoner, Capitan. But somehow, he doesn't resemble the Queen of Swords. Of course, you might have been confused by his dark coat."

Grisham kept his face blank as he snapped a smart salute, hoping to allay the colonel's wrath. "We had been closing in on her, Colonel, when we heard shots. When we arrived at the scene, we found this man severely mauled by a puma. He managed to kill it and the rest of the men are bringing it here for you."

"For me? What would I want with a dead puma?" Montoya said sharply as he glared at the captain, then at the rest of the troop. Their eyes dropped and shoulders sagged. Montoya felt a bleak satisfaction in their fear of him.

"Its head would make a nice trophy for your wall, Colonel," Grisham said with a forced smile. This was not turning out as he hoped. "And the skin could be used for a hearth rug. I could get the tanner outside of town to do it for you."

Montoya considered the possibilities then said, "All right, Grisham. But see that he does a good job of it. I don't want a smelly dead animal in my parlour."

The hunter slid from the saddle and leaned against the horse for support. "Colonel Montoya, I am Julio de Loggia. Perhaps you have heard of me. I have hunted big game in Africa and India, and captured wild animals for circuses and zoos."

Montoya glanced at the hunter's torn and bloody leg. "It's a wonder you've lived so long, Señor de Loggia, if this is the level of your skill." He turned to Grisham. "Take him to Doctor Helm's office and have his wounds seen to." Returning his attention to de Loggia, he said, "When you have been tended, please come to my office, señor. I would like to speak with you."

Grisham pushed open the doctor's door and found Marta standing there. Her mouth opened in surprise, but she composed herself quickly. "Capitan," she said, "I was just waiting for the doctor. Is he somewhere in town?"

"Don't know, señora. I'm looking for him too. This man needs some medical attention right away." Grisham stood aside for the two soldiers to assist de Loggia into the office.

Marta moved forward quickly when she saw the dried blood congealed on his trousers and the red stream pouring from his leg. "Bring him into the examining room. I can at least clean up the wounds and stop the bleeding. The doctor can do more for him when he gets here."

The soldiers set de Loggia on the examination cot and left the room. Grisham gave Marta a quick salute and exited, leaving her alone with the hunter. She went to fill a basin with water and found some clean cloths. Back in the examining room, she laid everything out and gingerly moved the torn trouser material adhering to the wounds. She heard him suck in his breath sharply, and moved by his pain, tried to be as gentle as possible.

"How did this happen?" she asked as she took a damp cloth and began to cleanse the red gashes on his lower leg.

"A puma attacked me and I shot it. But it nearly got me," de Loggia said. His face was pale and he was shivering slightly from pain and shock. He gripped the cot and clenched his jaw tightly as the Gypsy woman poured some salve over the wounds. A muted cry escaped him.

Marta took his hand and squeezed it gently for reassurance. In her mind suddenly, she saw a flash of light then a masked woman falling from a horse. A wicked triumphant laugh echoed through the chaos of the vision. She dropped his hand and gripped the table for support. A terrible chill overcame her and she felt frozen inside and sickened by the thought of touching this man.

"Are you ill, señora?" de Loggia asked. "Perhaps if the sight of blood upsets you, we should wait for the doctor."

Recovering, she said, "No. I will tend your wounds as best I can. It could be some time before the doctor returns. He may be attending a birth somewhere. That can take a long time." Methodically, she returned to the task, though her whole being rebelled at the thought of helping someone who might have killed her Tessa. All the while, she wanted to ask 'what happened to the woman you shot? Did she escape?'

De Loggia limped up the steps to the colonel's office, amused by the sight of the two stone lions guarding the entrance. I've seen and killed the real thing, he thought smugly. His wounds smarted though the Gypsy woman had put something on them she said would make them hurt less, and stop the bleeding. He wondered about her. A strange woman. I must ask the colonel who she is.

The soldier showed him into the colonel's private office and, looking around, de Loggia was impressed. The colonel knew how to make a good show. Armour and military banners, a large collection of books, and military pictures and portraits on the walls. And all the most expensive furnishings and draperies. A splendid display, especially for a minor official in such a tiny territory. His impression of Montoya went up a few notches.

Montoya did not rise from behind his desk, but merely gestured to a chair in front. De Loggia sank into it gratefully with a stifled groan. He waited for the colonel to come to the point of why he had asked to see him.

The colonel studied him through narrowed eyes for a long time, then said, "So you are a big game hunter, Señor de Loggia. I wonder if you also hunt quarry of the two-legged type?" Montoya saw him twitch and the hunter's eyes flicked away in surprise for a second. It was what he needed to know. "I have a proposition for you. We have a certain outlaw in this area who has eluded all our efforts to catch her. The vigilante known as the Queen of Swords." He watched closely as the hunter's eyes betrayed nothing, his face was neutral and his manner composed. Montoya thought with satisfaction, he is a cool one. No wonder he can track and kill wild cats. It takes steel nerves and patience. He seems to have both.

"I have never heard of this outlaw, Colonel. I am new to these parts. What is it you want me to do?" De Loggia's dark eyes observed the other man, waiting for him to make his move. It was always best to be patient.

"I want you to find her and kill her," Montoya said bluntly. "For that, I will pay you one hundred reales."

The bastard, de Loggia thought, as with an effort he maintained his composure. Inwardly, he was seething. Does the colonel think I'm an idiot? The reward is for five hundred reales. He hopes to trap me into agreeing to kill her for four hundred reales less, and keep the remainder for himself. Since I told him I don't know about her, he has me trapped for the moment. De Loggia thought quickly.

"I would agree to do this, Colonel, but I am otherwise engaged by Don Alvarez to rid his hacienda of pumas. That may take some time. And of course, he is paying me well." De Loggia smiled and began to rise.

"Do not be so hasty, my friend," Montoya stood up suddenly and came around the desk to place his hands on de Loggia's shoulders to restrain him. "We could work out an arrangement that would be more lucrative for you. What would you say to two hundred reales? Surely, Don Alvarez cannot be paying you such a princely sum to kill pumas. He could buy a whole new herd of cattle for that amount."

"It is a matter of honour. I can hardly abandon my client in his dire need. But, thank you, Colonel. It has been a pleasure meeting you." De Loggia pushed himself out of the chair and limped to the door. "Buenos dias, Colonel Montoya." He smiled to himself as he left, congratulating himself on how easily he slipped out of Montoya's trap. I can still find her and kill her, then get the full reward. I have made no deals with that shifty colonel.

Helm rocked back on his heels, studying the prone woman in exasperation. "I already know where your hideout is. Surely, you can trust me with your identity."

"This isn't my hideout," she replied evenly as she looked him in the eye.

Helm gestured to the dress hanging on the peg. "And I suppose that belongs to some grizzled old hermit!"

The Queen laughed, then winced in sudden pain. "All right, I use this place sometimes. But it isn't mine. I found it by accident."

The doctor arose and glared down at her. "I wish you would stop lying to me! I'm not a fool!" Helm sighed heavily, then said, "Do you have any idea who shot you?"

She turned away quickly, and Helm could see she was distressed. "No," she said quietly. "It couldn't have been one of the soldiers. They were all a long distance behind me. I thought I was safe."

"So, you were coming here to this hidden valley ...which isn't your hideout. Who else could it have been? Perhaps Grisham set up an ambush and you fell into it."

Tessa laughed derisively. "If I thought he was that clever, I would be really scared."

"And you're not?" Helm rubbed his hand through his unruly hair, and shook his head. After several seconds, he said, "The shooter might have been someone who just happened to be in the right place at the wrong time. He recognized you and saw a chance for a big reward."

Her eyes, when she turned to him, were frightened. It wrung his heart. After all she had done for these people, all the risks she had taken, to think someone would be callous enough to kill her for the money. Rage seethed through him. The urge to protect her, to shield her from harm steeled his determination. There was something he needed to tell her.

He took a deep breath, summoning up his courage. "I know who you are."

"You bastard! You removed my mask while I was unconscious?" Tessa tried to sit up and felt blackness stirring around the edge of her vision. She relapsed with a painful groan.

"What kind of man do you take me for!" Helm growled. "I've known for months who you are." He returned and knelt beside the cot. He wanted to take her hand, but thought better of it. Not yet. "Tessa, why do you think I've treated you so shamefully all this time?"

A muscle jumped in her jaw as she clenched her teeth. Her chest rose as she breathed in deeply. "Sheer contempt?" She looked away and watched a spider spinning its web on the rough sod of the far wall.

"Never contempt," he said sincerely. He placed his hand on hers and she turned to face him. "Montoya already suspects that I am allied with the Queen, that my feelings are involved with her. If I treated you with affection in public, that would confirm for him what I think he already suspects. That Maria Theresa Alvarado and the Queen of Swords are the same woman. So, I have kept up this charade, treating you with indifference."

"Well, you were quite convincing, doctor. You certainly fooled me," she said bitterly.

Helm touched her cheek tenderly. "It hasn't been easy." He smiled impishly and said, "But you helped a lot with your own act – the silly and spoiled Spanish patrician. That was an act, wasn't it?" He dodged a jab she sent to his stomach, capturing her hand in his and bringing it to his lips. As he kissed it, a warm flush spread over her cheeks, an intense look met his eyes.

He released her hand, trying to recover his professional manner. "Now let me have a look at that head wound. I don't think it's serious but it's best to be sure."

He held his breath while she pushed up the mask, then pulled it off. He was unexpectedly shaken by the gesture of trust and, unable to resist, bent to brush her lips gently with his own. It was meant to be a mark of affection but as soon as he touched those soft lips, he was lost. Her hands reached up to his neck to pull him closer, her passion ignited his own as it unleashed and carried them like a tidal wave.

He was losing control. When he threaded his fingers into her hair, he felt the warm blood of her head wound. Like ice water, it cooled his ardour. He pushed away, as breathless as if he had been running miles. Shakily, he said, "I'm sorry. I meant to tend your injury. I'm not reacting like a doctor right now."

With a trembling hand, he opened his medical bag and took out some ointment and clean cloth. "This may hurt a bit," he said softly as he parted the dark hair searching for the wound. A narrow red line creased her skull near its base. There was no evidence of an entry or exit. He breathed a deep sigh of relief. "As I thought, it's just a graze." As he cleansed the wound, he felt his hand tremble with the thought of how close that bullet had come to ending her life. He compressed his lips and said grimly, "An inch closer and you'd be either dead or paralysed. You were lucky – this time."

Tessa swung her legs over the cot, and pushed herself to her feet. She said curtly, "Thank you, doctor, for your excellent care. I have to get back home. Marta will be worried, and someone may come looking for me. It looks suspicious if I'm not there."

There was no sign of the passion of the previous moment as she regarded him coolly, even angrily. Helm realized he had once again rebuked her, and she was incensed. When will I ever learn to keep my mouth shut, he wondered, as he watched her hanging onto the wall for support, making her way out the door.

Continued in Part Two of three