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

As soon as de Loggia left the colonel's office, Montoya summoned the guard outside his door. "Bring Captain Grisham to me," he ordered. Closing the door, Montoya paced his floor impatiently. It was obvious that de Loggia had been hunting the Queen himself. He sensed it. The colonel congratulated himself on his ability to read people's eyes. Perhaps the hunter will kill the Queen and claim the reward. What then? Hand over a small fortune? Five hundred reales would allow de Loggia to retire in comfort for the rest of his life. And reduce my fortunes by a similar amount. Unthinkable!

He's as wily as the big game he hunts, Montoya mused. But this time, he has met his match. Montoya turned as a peremptory rap on his door was accompanied by Grisham opening it and stepping through without permission. The presumption irritated Montoya, but he held his tongue. There will be another time for a lesson in manners, he decided. Right now, we have more important considerations. The colonel gestured to a chair and waited until Grisham was seated. Having the captain towering over him seemed to put Montoya at a disadvantage. He sat on the edge of his desk, facing Grisham, leaning toward him slightly.

"Tell me everything about your encounter with de Loggia, every detail. Leave nothing out." Montoya's pale eyes bored into Grisham, and he watched with satisfaction as the captain squirmed a bit in his chair.

As the captain related the facts, a picture formed in Montoya's mind. So, the hunter was telling part of the truth. He had been hunting pumas but a chance encounter with the Queen gave him an opportunity to bag a bigger trophy. "You say, Grisham, you heard one shot, then a little later, two more?" The captain nodded warily, and Montoya continued. "And there was blood on the trail, but the hunter was on the bluff above. Did this not suggest to you that he shot something that fell on the trail?"

"Yes, but he explained that, Colonel. He said he came down to look for his horse."

"Idiota!" Montoya exploded. "The first shot hit whatever or whoever was on that trail. He reloaded, preparing to finish the victim off, then was attacked by the puma. That accounts for the time difference between the first shot and the other two. If you had stuck to your duty and followed the trail, you would have captured the Queen. She was shot by the hunter. I have no doubt of it. Instead, you brought me back an injured hunter and a dead puma!"

Montoya watched as Grisham seemed to shrink down into his chair. He shook his head disconsolately. Still, something may be salvaged from this fiasco.

The door from the wine cellar opened and Marta rushed to meet the black-clad woman as she came through. An irrational anger pulsed through her at the sight of Tessa, her face pale, and her blouse caked with blood. "I thought you were dead," Marta said flatly.

"Like a cat, I have a few lives left," Tessa said airily. Noting the rigid set of Marta's face, she knew she was in for a severe reprimand. As Marta began to open her mouth, Tessa forestalled her. "No lectures, Marta. I've already had enough of those for one day." She passed the Gypsy woman and went down the hallway into her bedroom. Marta followed her.

As she stripped off her blouse, Marta picked it up. An exclamation broke from her. "This blouse is ruined! You might as well throw it away!"

Tessa heard the pain under the harsh words and turned to embrace her friend. "I'm sorry, Marta. But as you can see, I'm all right." She tried to smile, but the bleakness in Marta's eyes wiped the smile away.

"Someone shot you! Where are you hurt?"

"Here," Tessa said, showing the wound under her hair.

"Madre de dios!" Marta staggered back. "So close!" She moved a little distance away. Quietly, she said, "I know who it was. I saw it." She looked into Tessa's surprised gaze. "A hunter. He was in the canyon to kill a puma. He shot you, then the puma attacked him and he killed it. It mauled him but, unfortunately, he will recover. I had to tend his wounds in Dr. Helm's office. That's when I saw the vision of him shooting you down like a dog." Marta took several deep breaths, and added, "Now, you have to worry about this hunter stalking you. Tessa, I am very afraid for you."

Dr. Helm wrenched the door to his office open and strode inside. He dropped his medical bag onto a table and slumped into a chair. He was in a foul mood. A tap at his door roused him and he was tempted to yell 'go away'. Instead, he rose wearily and opened it. A swarthy man in a long dark coat stood in the entrance.

Helm stood aside to allow him to enter. "What can I do for you, señor?"

"Julio de Loggia. I have been waiting for you, doctor. A Gypsy woman tended my wounds a few hours ago, but I wanted to have you look at them. Who knows if she knew what she was doing. She seemed distracted while she was fixing me up." With that, de Loggia parted the coat and showed Helm the bandaged leg.

"And how were you wounded, Señor de Loggia?"

"I was in a canyon and a puma tried to kill me but I shot it," the hunter proclaimed proudly. He winced as Helm unwrapped the bandages to look at the claw marks on de Loggia's leg. He missed the shock on Helm's face as he glanced down at the angry red gashes.

And what else did you try to kill, he thought irately. "What canyon was this?" Helm asked offhandedly. He had to be sure. But if this was the man who shot the Queen... His hands quivered with the urge to throttle the hunter, but he mastered it. She makes me want to kill for her, he thought in desolation.

"It was several miles out of town, in the hills. A trail runs through it. I'm a stranger here and don't know the names of the places. Captain Grisham brought me back to town, and brought the puma also. A gift for your Colonel Montoya."

Helm clenched his jaw so hard it ached, and tried to keep his breathing normal. Aloud, he said, "Marta has done an admirable job on these wounds. You had no need to worry. Come back tomorrow and I will change the dressings, and put on more ointment. Keep the wounds clean and they won't get infected." As an afterthought he added, "And maybe you should not try to kill creatures that can defend themselves. They can be quite deadly when provoked."

De Loggia laughed, his tanned face creasing with his wide smile. "All you need to do is know your prey, doctor. You study their habits, get to know their territory and soon you have them. Nothing can outsmart a determined hunter."

Helm gestured at de Loggia's leg. "This one did," he said with a wry smirk. "Maybe you should take this as a fair warning, and stay out of the canyons."

"I'm after the one that got away, doctor. She has gone to ground, but I will find her."

"I thought you said you shot the puma," Helm said carefully.

De Loggia's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Of course, this was the doctor in the canyon and he knows the Queen. Or at least he tried to help her. Then he would know where she is now. But would he tell? Unlikely. "A wounded animal is dangerous. But she leaves a trail." With that, de Loggia stood up. "Gracias, doctor," he said with a grin, dropping a reale on Helm's table as he left.

Helm picked the coin up and hurled it across the room. It clanged off the wall then spun on the floor for a few seconds. Was it the reward or the thrill of the hunt, he wondered, that drove the hunter. The one that got away. That's what he said. He would pursue her relentlessly until he caught her. Of that, Helm was certain. But what can I do?

De Loggia laid aside the rifle. It was cleaned and primed. He limped over to his hotel window and glanced out, surveying the crowded street below. She is a local woman, I'm sure of that. But which one? He watched the women as they strolled among the booths in the plaza, discarding each one as a suspect. Too short, too fat, too many children.

A wagon attracted his attention as it drew up outside the plaza near the fountain. Several peasant women hunched over the fountain's wall, washing their clothes and chatting. They turned to the young woman descending the wagon, and spoke. She seemed to return their greetings with a smile and some words. The Gypsy woman alighted from the other side of the wagon, and together, they wandered in among the stalls with the rest of the shoppers.

He shrugged, and started to turn away from the window, when something about the dark-haired woman triggered a memory. The way she flung her hair over her shoulder – the gesture was similar to the one made by the Queen of Swords when she had looked back down the trail. He got out his telescope and took a closer look at her. It could be, he thought. He focussed on her head, hoping to see evidence of a wound or bandage. There was nothing. Perhaps I'm wrong, but... that one bears watching. The right height and colouring. His hunter's eye followed her movements through the plaza, the way she laughed with her companion, the quick impetuous movements of her hands and head, her graceful and athletic walk. He memorized her mannerisms, filing them away to compare in case he had another chance with the Queen. Now, I just have to find out who she is, he thought with a self-satisfied smirk.

Marta shuddered as a chill ran down her spine. The prickling sensation at the back of her neck alarmed her. Danger! She looked up at the windows of the hotel. The sun glinted off something in one of them, then was gone. "Let's get out of here, Tessa. I feel as if we're being watched." She pulled her shawl up more closely, and took the younger woman's arm.

"We've just got here, Marta. And haven't bought anything. Don't you think that would look suspicious if someone is watching us. Just pretend you're having a good time, without a care in the world." Tessa laughed, and steered Marta toward the food stalls, where she bent over the peppers with the appearance of rapt attention. "We're safe here in this crowd. No one would dare molest us here."

In spite of her bravado, Tessa shivered. The idea of someone watching her, perhaps planning to take another shot, made her tremble. The wound on the back of her head throbbed painfully, as her heart began to race. For Marta's sake, she had to keep up a brave front, but inside she was terrified. She grimaced as she saw her hand shake as she reached for a red pepper. A quick glance at Marta told her the other woman had seen it. She tried to force a chagrined smile. Marta looked grim and uneasy.

Montoya stood staring sightlessly out his window, his back to the captain. "Grisham, I want you to keep de Loggia under constant surveillance. If he leaves his hotel, I want to know about it, if he even sneezes, I want to know. Understood?" The colonel turned back to Grisham to observe his reaction. "From now on, the hunter is the hunted. He will try again, Grisham, to kill the Queen and claim the reward. And I have a feeling he will succeed. When he does, you will be there." Montoya's face broke into a sly grin. "You will receive part of the reward, and I the other part."

"What about de Loggia?" Grisham asked. He already knew the answer but wanted it to be said. No more vague orders about making sure someone doesn't arrive home or whatever. I'm not going to be the scapegoat for his crimes if anyone ever finds out, Grisham vowed to himself.

"He will conveniently disappear. Perhaps another puma will finish the job the first one started." Montoya chuckled.

"You mean you want me to kill him?"

"Of course that's what I mean! Can you be that thick?" The colonel turned back to watch the colourful activity in the square. A flash of light in the far hotel window caught his eye. He frowned and wondered what it was. A mirror? Or perhaps a telescope. His eyes searched the hotel windows for a sign of movement, but there was none. He then looked through the crowds in the square to see what the watcher might be watching. The usual assortment of dons, doñas and peons. Nothing special.

"Have a rotating shift of guards watching de Loggia day and night. As soon as he moves anywhere, follow him at a reasonable distance. That will be your main duty from now on. Until he kills the Queen. Then you know what to do."

"Yes, sir." Grisham saluted and left the office, trying to figure out which men could be trusted with their part of the mission. Men who wouldn't go to sleep on guard duty, and who could keep their mouths shut. That narrowed the choices down to about a half dozen of the thirty soldiers in the garrison. He sighed heavily at the onerous task ahead. Bad enough to try to catch the Queen and fail every time, now he had to track this hunter too. Damn, he thought, I didn't know when I had it good. What am I doing here? He strode toward the soldiers' quarters to round up his little band of merry men. Grisham laughed aloud at the idea.

The villa was cool, though the mid-day sun beat down relentlessly outside. Marta stepped into the kitchen, and rubbed her arm across her forehead, wiping away the sweat from her few minutes in the garden. At least we can keep the kitchen garden flourishing with our well, she thought, in spite of the intense heat. She set down the basket of vegetables and herbs on the table. I will make a nice salad and some fruit for lunch, she decided. She stopped in the midst of her preparations at a sound. Someone rapping at the front door. Who could that be, she wondered as she went out to answer it.

She opened the door and her mouth dropped open. Dr. Helm stood in the entrance, a sheepish look on his face. He was dressed in his best suit, with a crisply starched white collar encircling his throat. Helm pulled off his hat, mussing his plastered-down hair, making it stand up in a tuft at the back. In his hand was a bouquet of wild flowers surrounding a single red rose.

"Dr. Helm!" Marta said in surprise. "Did someone die?" she added, looking him up and down.

"What? Oh this," he said, glancing down at his clothes. "No ...uh... actually, ...I'm here to see Señorita Alvarado." He gave Marta a wry grin and waited for the look of confusion to clear on her face.

Her eyebrows shot up as she realized what he meant. "You're here ...to see Señorita Alvarado," she repeated, to be sure of his meaning. He nodded. She turned away quickly to hide her smile. "Please come in, doctor. If you will wait in there, I will get Tes... the señorita. She is in her office, working on the accounts."

She showed him into the parlour then went out to another part of the house. Working on the accounts, Helm mused. It seemed strange to imagine her doing that. But then, he decided, she would have to as there was no one else. Still, it made him smile. A woman doing a man's work.

Helm stood uneasily in the centre of the parlour, holding his hat in one hand and the bouquet in the other. He had never been in this room before, and nervously glanced around. It was elegantly furnished and obviously used often. A shawl lay on the sofa, and the cushions were plumped up as if waiting for someone to sit there. A leather-bound book lay on a nearby table, a bookmark about halfway through its pages. The white marble fireplace held the remains of a recent fire. His attention was drawn to the portrait above the mantle. Don Alvarado, Tessa's father, seemed to glower down on him, his stern face questioning Helm's right to be in this room. My intentions are honourable, I assure you, sir, Helm thought in amusement.

He noticed that, for some reason, the flowers seemed to be shaking, then realized it was his hands that were trembling. He swallowed several times to get some moisture into his throat. It was as parched as the countryside he had travelled over to get here. He felt sweat trickling down between his shoulder blades, and the stiff collar itched abominably. He had nicked his throat while shaving too closely, practically scraping his face and neck raw. The salty sweat smarted under the collar and he longed to undo it and pull it off.

Tessa entered the room suddenly, followed by Marta. The older woman had a very pleased look on her face as she glanced at Helm, standing uncomfortably where she had left him. Tessa gave him a radiant smile though he could see some confusion in her eyes.

"These are for you," Helm croaked. He tried to moisten his lips but his mouth was too dry. Looking at the bouquet and the beautiful woman before him, he realized how appropriate the group of flowers were. The single long stemmed rose, which he had filched from Montoya's rose garden, among the wildflowers he had picked along the way. The wild and the cultivated together, he thought, just like you. For a moment, he was tempted to put that thought into words, but somehow he couldn't frame them correctly. I'd probably say it wrong and insult her, then she'd throw me out, he thought wryly.

She accepted the flowers and gave him a knowing look when she saw the rose. "They're lovely, doctor. Thank you." With a slight laugh, she turned to Marta. "Would you put these in water for me? Are you thirsty, Doctor Helm? Marta...."

"Yes, I know. Lemonade. I'll be right back," Marta grumbled as she left the room with the bouquet.

In Marta's absence, an uncomfortable silence hung between them for a few seconds as they searched for something to say. Finally, Tessa said, "I thought you decided it would be too dangerous to see me."

"I have decided the alternative would be unthinkable," he said with a wry grin. He had to admire her coolness, her poise. She hardly looked discomfited by this unusual situation while he felt his face must be beet red.

Noticing his discomfort, Tessa moved toward him and undid the top button of his tight collar. "You looked like you were strangling. Why do men wear those things anyway?"

"Why do women wear corsets?" he rejoined. To his delight, she flushed and looked shocked.

"Really, Doctor Helm! You wouldn't dare such talk if my duenna were in the room." She leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "But I'm glad she is not." Then she kissed him quickly before he had time to react. A second later, Marta's footsteps could be heard coming toward them and Tessa moved a decorous distance away.

Marta glanced from one to the other as she set down the tray of juice and glasses. She poured a portion for each and handed them out. Helm gulped his gratefully and held out his glass for a refill.

"Great lemonade, Marta," he said heartily.

"Are you hungry, doctor? It's nearly lunch time. Marta..." Tessa raised her eyebrows at the Gypsy woman and nodded toward the door.

"Tessa, perhaps I could speak with you for a few minutes." Marta gave her a meaningful glance which the younger woman ignored.

"Later, Marta. I'm entertaining a guest right now," she said cheekily. "About lunch..."

Marta left them alone again, and Tessa chuckled. "I'll pay for that later. Would you like to see our gardens? We also have some roses, though not as well cultivated as Colonel Montoya's." She grinned at his chagrined look, and took his arm to lead him outside.

Stepping from the coolness of the adobe house into the torrid heat outdoors seemed like walking into a furnace. Tessa moved quickly along the verandah to a shaded spot. "We can have a bit more privacy here. Marta takes her job too seriously," she confided.

"With you to look after, I can understand it," Helm said, then held his breath, waiting for that infamous temper to erupt. Instead, she laughed.

"I know I have been a trial to her." Tessa turned a radiant glance toward Helm. In spite of the heaviness of the heat, she felt light as air. She couldn't stop smiling at him. He looked so serious, so unsure. An overpowering urge to hold him and reassure him nearly overcame her. If it were not for the workers who passed by occasionally, she would have given in to it. She turned toward the garden and said, "This was a complete ruin when we first returned from Spain. Marta and I have worked to revive it. Soon, it will be as beautiful as I remember it ...when my mother tended these roses."

Her face became more solemn. It was time to return to reality. There would be a price to pay for this happiness — the price would be giving up her quest for justice. Tessa knew he would demand it. She took in a steadying breath and turned. His lean face creased with an amused look, his eyes watched her with a warm light in their green depths. It would be so easy to go to him, be enfolded in those welcoming arms, and give up her fight. So much easier. She glanced away from those compelling eyes to look across her lands. From somewhere she summoned the strength to say what must be said.

"You may wonder why I do the things I do." She watched his eyes as they darkened and a muscle worked in his jaw. She knew this was a topic he wanted to avoid. But it must be talked about. She wanted him to understand, if not support her. "This is my land, my hacienda. I was born here. My parents' graves are on top of that hill. Should I let a tyrant despoil this beautiful land, steal from us – our wealth, our land, terrorize our people?"

Helm was taken aback. There was hardness about her suddenly that seemed incompatible with the smiling gentle señorita who stood before him. Beneath that cultivated surface was the wild heart of a warrior. It unnerved him to imagine this lovely young woman in her elegant gown changing into the audacious bandita whom he had grown to love. The two halves of her seemed almost at complete odds with each other. Like two women inhabiting one body. Yet, as he observed her gestures, her athletic grace as she moved about the verandah, the two began to merge into one. A strong-minded woman with a mission she felt compelled to fulfil. Her destiny.

Helm waited for her to continue, afraid of saying what was in his mind. 'Why does it have to be you that leads the fight? Why always alone? If the dons value their land and liberty, why don't they join you?' But he held his tongue though it cost him an effort.

"I didn't ask for this to be my destiny, Doctor Helm. I just know I must follow it wherever it leads." She gently touched one of the roses, lost in her own thoughts for several seconds. "And it means I must give up those things that I dreamed of," she met his eyes with a sad look, "those things any woman would wish for."

Helm felt the cold begin somewhere in his stomach, like an icicle driven into his vitals. He found it hard to breathe suddenly. She was rejecting him, subtly and gently, but definitely. He experienced an irrational anger building, his eyes burned and he pressed his lips together to stop himself from speaking the bitter words that wanted to leap out. He felt like a fool, dressed up for courting, while she casually rejected him.

"Well, I guess that's it then," he said harshly. "I bid you good day, Señorita Alvarado." He clapped his hat back on and strode down the verandah toward his horse. His back was rigid as he mounted and kneed it into a fast gallop away from the villa.

Marta came out onto the verandah and watched the retreating figure on the trail. She moved to Tessa's side. "Somewhere in between the lemonade and lunch, you have chased him away. Why?"

"You know why, Marta," Tessa choked out. "It isn't the right time for love. Not yet, maybe not ever."

Marta sighed heavily and took Tessa's arm. "Well, there goes my hope of seeing little children playing around here. I had my heart set on it." She squeezed the other woman's hand affectionately and added, "Let us have our lunch. Everything seems better on a full stomach." She gave a sympathetic smile but the younger woman seemed not to notice; her attention was on the lone figure now scarcely visible on the horizon.

"Tessa, if it is meant to be, it will happen, no matter what. Fate cannot be avoided." Marta lifted Tessa's chin and made her look in her eyes. "And I will see your children playing here. Remember my dream, querida? They usually come true." A weak smile crossed Tessa's face and she allowed herself to be led back inside.

A few days later, Grisham sauntered down the main street of the pueblo. The wind whipped the light sandy soil into dust devils that whirled and danced like tiny tornados. He rubbed his tongue over his teeth and felt the grit. It seemed to permeate even his pores. He moistened his mouth and swallowed. More dust. His throat was raw from the infernal heat that throbbed on his back through his dark tunic, and the dryness that seemed to suck the moisture out of his skin even as he sweated. The cantina beckoned and he turned his steps toward it. Ah, a bonus! Señor de Loggia was already seated at a table with a bottle of wine near his hand. I can kill two birds with one stone, Grisham thought as he wandered casually into the cantina and stood by the hunter's table.

"Buenos dias, Señor de Loggia," Grisham said with a quick touch to his hat. "I hate to see a man drinking alone. Mind if I join you?" De Loggia silently gestured to a chair and Grisham dropped into it with a relieved sigh. "It's a scorcher out there in the sun. Much cooler under this canopy."

De Loggia still hadn't spoken but pushed an empty glass and the bottle toward him. Grisham knew the man was assessing him, taking his measure and wondering what he wanted. The captain felt a glow of satisfaction with himself. This couldn't be more perfect. Montoya wants me to get some information to de Loggia about the Queen. What was it Montoya had said? 'It must be done subtly, casually, so he doesn't suspect it is deliberate.' Well, I can be subtle, Grisham thought smugly.

"So, how are the cat scratches, de Loggia? Almost ready to tangle with another wild cat?" Grisham grinned at the hunter as he poured himself a large glass of red wine.

De Loggia raised his glass in a silent toast and sipped, watching Grisham over the rim. Finally, he said, "I have no doubt I will resume my hunting in a day or so, Capitan. Gracias." He regarded Grisham intently for a few seconds, then added, "Tell me about this local bandita, the Queen of Swords. Who is she?"

Grisham laughed scornfully. "If we knew that, we'd have put her out of action long ago. All we know is that she is probably a wealthy woman, likely a Spaniard and lives somewhere in the territory. She seems to have a source of information in the pueblo since she always knows when we are shipping the tax money to Monterrey. For instance, in three days, a gold shipment will be sent and no doubt, she will try to steal it. Most times, she succeeds, and the money is gone. We don't know what she does with it."

"Perhaps that is why she is so wealthy. Living on the tax money she steals." De Loggia sat back in his chair, and sipped at his drink. His dark eyes never rested for long, but constantly moved, watching everything in his range of vision. His body, though ostensibly relaxed, seemed like a coiled spring, tense and ready to unleash its energy at any time.

Grisham seemed about to speak when his attention was caught by two women, walking slowly arm-in-arm toward the town market. Their heads were bent together and they were talking animatedly, and laughing. De Loggia followed the captain's gaze to the women, and then glanced back at him. He was obviously enraptured by one of them. His eyes had an intensity and heat as he focussed on the two beauties. They were quite a picture, the dark and the light. The blonde woman was pretty and petite, her body slim and perfectly proportioned. The sun seemed to glow in her hair. The other was a dark and lovely woman, tall and elegant. She flicked her black hair over her shoulder in an unconsciously seductive gesture as the wind blew it around her face. De Loggia covertly studied Grisham as the captain's eyes followed their progress down the street. Yes, de Loggia decided, he is in love with one of them, but which one? If it was me, I would prefer the dark one. More fire and passion, from my experience. And she is a suspect for being this Queen of Swords.

At that moment, his gaze was diverted to another woman walking briskly by herself toward the plaza. She was a regal beauty, tall and dark. She had sharp features and a hauteur about her that kept his attention focussed on her. There was something about this woman that made him think of a panther, sleek and black and furtive. He smiled. Another good suspect for the Queen, maybe the best one, he thought as he watched her approach the other two women. She passed by with a haughty look and said something which caused the blonde to lift her hand to her mouth quickly.

De Loggia heard Grisham stir suddenly and noted the anger in his cold blue eyes, the way he had clenched his fists. He was incensed by the snub to the blonde, and now de Loggia had his answer. The captain loved this blonde woman, and was angry at the slight the panther lady had given her. The hunter stifled a laugh. For a sleepy little town, there was a lot going on under the surface!

Recovering, Grisham said, "By the way, señor, Colonel Montoya is having a fiesta tomorrow night, and has asked me to invite you. Around seven o'clock."

"I'm not much of a party goer, Capitan. Give my regrets to the colonel. You could say my wounds are keeping me from his party."

Grisham leaned forward, his eyes boring into the hunter. "When the colonel issues an invitation, it isn't wise to refuse it, de Loggia. He isn't a man you want to be on the wrong side of. Besides, he wants to show off the puma you killed. Its skin has been tanned, and the head mounted. You'll be the centre of attention. Take my advice, and be there." Grisham stood, leaving the cantina. He strode purposefully down the street then turned just before the church and went down the side street to the garrison barracks.

De Loggia wondered why he had left so quickly, then noticed the blonde woman was no longer with her friend. An assignation with the captain. He chuckled to himself. Yes, there certainly was more to this town than met the eye.

The hunter stood among a group of dons and their wives, answering questions about his numerous adventures in Africa and other places. His audience was fascinated but de Loggia was suddenly distracted by the entrance of the dark señorita and her Gypsy companion. She nodded and spoke to several people as she proceeded through the Rose Courtyard, stopping here and there to chat and laugh with the various little groups. Her companion followed, silent as a shadow, smiling occasionally as a remark was made to her. This place has more than its share of beautiful women, de Loggia thought as he watched her approach. She was slowly making her way toward the group he was in and he tensed slightly. The Gypsy woman's dark eyes met his with such a malevolent look, he was shaken for a second. Perhaps she objects to the killing of animals, he thought. She seems to be a woman who is close to the earth, a lover of nature. Such people are soft-hearted about animals. She must be one of those. He gave her a little smile which was not returned.

Marta touched Tessa's arm as they walked toward the large group around the hunter. "That's him. The one who shot you. Be careful." Her voice was low but full of emotion. He had tried to kill her Tessa. A dangerous man. She tried to keep her face from showing her feelings, but it was difficult. All her instincts warned her to flee, to get as far away from him as possible. Instead, she followed Tessa into the group and listened to the introductions.

"I am Julio de Loggia," the hunter said with a courtly bow. He took Tessa's hand and gallantly placed a kiss on the back.

One of the group, Don Alvarez said, "Señor de Loggia, this is Doña Maria Theresa Alvarado." Tessa acknowledged the hunter with a smile and a nod of her head.

"Señor de Loggia, I have heard you are a hunter. That you are responsible for the dead puma that Colonel Montoya is so proudly displaying." Tessa stared at the hunter then at the soft tawny skin splayed out on the floor. Behind it was the head, mounted on a dark board. The eyes had been replaced by two black glass spheres, giving it a sightless and pitiful aspect. The puma's mouth had been opened and its teeth bared in an endless snarl.

He bowed again. "I have that honour. The puma put up a good fight, but fortunately for this party, I prevailed." His comment was accompanied by laughter and few 'Bravos'.

Tessa smiled tautly. "When the hunter becomes the hunted, it makes for a fair sport." She nodded to several familiar faces in the group and moved on toward the crowd where Montoya was holding court.

Just then, the music stopped and Montoya accepted his violin from one of the musicians. A hush fell over the assembled guests as the colonel stroked the instrument a few times and tuned the keys. He plied the bow over the strings in a sombre melody, softly evoking a melancholy mood. Gradually, he quickened the tempo until it was quite rapid. As if on cue, two women in colourful costumes entered and began to dance. Their castanets clacked and their feet stamped to the Gypsy rhythms of the flamenco. Tessa turned in surprise to Marta. Her companion glared at Montoya and her mouth was set in hard line. Marta turned away, a look of disgust on her face, and moved to another part of the garden. Tessa followed, feeling Montoya's eyes on her back.

"Don't let him get to you, Marta. You know he's trying to taunt you."

Marta gestured disgustedly at the dancers. "They don't even know how to dance. He makes the sounds, but it has no soul. Our music tells a story — of love, death, courage and hope. A celebration of life. They have turned our music into a public entertainment without understanding what it means."

Tessa pressed her friend's hand in sympathy. Her attention was caught by a tall dark-haired woman entering with a small, elderly lady dressed in black. Tessa smiled as their gaze found her. The older woman returned the smile but the younger one just turned away. Tessa cursed under her breath in Rom, making Marta start.

"What is wrong, Tessa?"

"You would think after all this time that Mona Aguilera would have forgiven me. Her mother has always been so kind to me. When I was a child, visiting with the Aguilera's, Ramon's mother would make me so welcome. I felt like their second daughter. But Mona was always jealous of Ramon's friendship for me, and his mother's affection."

"I think it's more than that, Tessa. Since you bought their hacienda, and let them live in their villa virtually rent-free, Señorita Aguilera cannot face you. It seems like charity and she is a proud woman. How would you feel if you had to live on the charity of friends?"

"What can I do, Marta? Throw them out? Would that make Mona feel better? As long as Señora Aguilera is alive, she can live in her own villa if she wants to. Ramon left them virtually destitute, and I suppose, somehow Mona blames me for that too." As Tessa watched the Aguileras renewing their acquaintance with the various groups in the courtyard, she saw the hunter join them. He seemed to have introduced himself and was acting the gallant with Señora Aguilera. Mona's face was averted as she seemed to be observing the other guests, ignoring him. Tessa had to admit that Mona was lovely, or she could be if she removed the permanent scowl that seemed to have settled into her sharp features. Her haughty look gave anyone second thoughts about approaching her. Though it did not seem to deter Señor de Loggia. From her vantage, Tessa could see him talking animatedly to both women.

The flamenco dance ended, followed by enthusiastic applause and many 'bravos' from the men. Montoya bowed modestly, accepting the accolades with seeming humility. He carefully placed the violin back in its case, unmoved by the many entreaties to continue playing.

"Thank God," Marta breathed when he stepped away from the musicians. "If he had played another, I'm afraid I would have broken the violin over his head." She heard Tessa giggle next to her and then laughed too.

"We should speak to the colonel. It's only polite." Tessa began to move toward the group surrounding the colonel.

"You go. I have nothing to say to him. And I certainly cannot congratulate him on his playing."

De Loggia sensed someone watching him and knew it was the Gypsy. She had kept her eye on him all evening. He was pleased with himself. I must have made quite an impression on her. Perhaps, before I leave this flea-bitten town, I shall bed her.

At this moment, though his attention was focussed on the Aguilera women. The señora was a genteel woman, elderly but quick-witted. She must have been a beauty in her youth, de Loggia thought. She wore her black satin with elegance, the lace mantilla hung perfectly from her comb. Not a hair was out of place. Yet, she was as animated as a bird, quick to laugh or make a joke. The daughter was her opposite. Sullen, dark of colour and humour, she scarcely spoke. Her haughty glance made him feel like a worm under her feet. But yet, de Loggia decided, who better to be the Queen of Swords than this hard-faced woman with such a chip on her shoulder. He had heard about the brother who turned outlaw and fled for his life. Why not the sister too, he thought. Certainly, they must be hard up for money since they had to sell their hacienda. While he talked with the mother, he studied the daughter and committed her gestures and even her scent, when he could get near enough, to his efficient memory.

Concluded in Part Three of three