Vignettes

A collection of short stories mostly written
as challenges for the Queen of Swords
Fan Fiction Yahoo Group
by Maril Swan

Disclaimer: The series characters and the Queen of Swords are copyrights of the producers, Fireworks Productions and Paramount. No infringement or revenue is intended. The story plots and other characters are original and copyright to the author, Maril Swan.

The Road Less Travelled

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–Maril

Epilogue to "End of Days"

"Always forgive your enemies. That's what they hate most." -Unknown

An Uneasy Peace

"Always forgive your enemies. That's what they hate most." Grisham laughed scornfully as he recalled Montoya's little dictum. The colonel had been referring to the antagonism that had sprung up between the doctor and the captain. What was the rest of it? "Bury the hatchet, and let peace reign in our little pueblo." He chuckled at his own riposte to that.

"Colonel," he'd said, "I thought the Queen of Swords reigned over the pueblo." That remark had earned him an icy stare from his commander. Grisham grinned.

"Chalk one up for the captain," he said aloud, making a stroke in the air with his finger. His voice echoed hollowly in the mine and he shuddered as he picked his way through the rubble. 'Not much farther now,' he consoled himself. Each uneasy step seemed to make the unstable structure tremble and groan. 'I must be nuts, doing this,' he berated himself. 'But a promise is a promise.' Finally, in the lantern-light, he saw what he had come into this crumbling mine to get — the bundle of dark clothes lying amidst the fallen rocks.

Grisham froze as the broken timbers groaned and the wind sighed through the cave like a soul in torment. He drew a shaky breath and bent to pick up the black garments. He shook off the dust and grit clinging to the fine material of the blouse, enjoying the pliant softness of the silk in his calloused fingers. A scent wafted to his nose — a subtle flowery perfume. He recalled watching her take off the blouse and trousers, leaving only a black chemise and a lacy undergarment covering her luscious body. She had demanded he turn around so she could disrobe, but he had refused.

"No deal," he'd said. "You watched me take off my uniform, I get to do the same." Grisham chuckled to himself now as he remembered the fury that had leapt into her eyes, then the crimson that glowed on her cheeks. Obviously, she had never been with a man. That sudden thought nearly staggered him, and a flush of heat rushed through his body. 'I sure blew my chance,' he thought angrily. 'I had her at a disadvantage, and let her go. Damn! I must be getting soft.' Though a certain part of his anatomy denied this assertion.

A sharp crack, and the rattle of falling rocks shook him back to the present. 'Better get out of here before this whole thing collapses.' He scooped up the black boots and pants, and retraced his steps to the cave entrance. He stumbled out and squinted at the blessed sunlight that greeted him. That and a dark figure sitting on a boulder, swinging her foot abstractedly.

"If I had thought you were going to take all day, I would have gone in myself," she said brusquely. She stood up and lifted a large canvas sack. "Fair trade," she said, moving toward him. "Here's your uniform. Now give me my things." She watched him warily, keeping her back to the cliff.

"I didn't bring anyone with me, if that's what you're worried about." Grisham grinned, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "I kept my part of the bargain." He set her clothes down on a rock and stepped back, keeping his hands open and easy.

The Queen of Swords set the canvas sack on the same rock and waited for him to take it.

Grisham lifted the bag and opened it. He whistled appreciatively as he pulled out a pair of shiny black boots. "I could never get my orderly to put a polish on them like this. How did you do it?"

"I spat on them," she said and then laughed at his indignant look. "Spit and polish, it's a joke." She shook her head ruefully and reached for her own clothes and boots.

"Not so fast," Grisham said, with his hand on her arm. "In the mine, you promised me a kiss. Instead, you nearly broke my nose. I want that kiss now."

"That wasn't part of the bargain," she said, her voice lowering, as she tried to pull her arm away. Her other hand moved toward her sword.

"One kiss, will that kill you?" he coaxed, squeezing her forearm gently. He stared intensely into those beautiful brown eyes, and smiled at the indecision he saw there. "Afraid you might like it?"

That broke the spell. She pushed him away roughly and pulled her sword. "You got what we agreed to ...now let's just call it even before someone gets hurt." She whistled and her horse trotted out from behind a cleft in the rocks. An impish smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. Suddenly, she bent forward and placed a brief kiss on his lips.

He closed his eyes and sighed, savouring the softness of her lips, the promise of passion as she pressed gently upon his mouth. Then she was gone. He almost felt like he was falling, as if the bottom had dropped out of the earth, leaving him weightless. Opening his eyes, he watched the dust trail swallow her up. With a resigned shrug, he shouldered the canvas sack and trudged to where he had left his own horse.

'What a woman,' he thought. 'All that fire and passion, wasted on that insipid Brit.' His gut roiled at the thought, and he chalked up another mark against the doctor, another reason to hate him. 'Forgive your enemies,' he chuckled ironically to himself. 'Not if you expect to live to fight another day.'

END

– Maril

All the news that fit to print

Santa Elena, Alta California (via Courier) dateline: June 7, 1818

SANTA ELENA ---- A daring daylight robbery has once again foiled the attempts of the authorities in this territory to bring the outlaw known as the Queen of Swords to Spanish justice. Just after dawn today, a shipment destined for Monterrey was waylaid by the bold bandita who made off with an undisclosed amount of currency and documents. In the ensuing skirmish, several soldiers were injured, none seriously. The wagon containing the shipment was found later, abandoned at the bottom of a steep cliff; the horses and the contents were missing.

Colonel Luis Montoya, military commander of the territory, has posted a substantial reward for information leading to the capture of this notorious criminal. Asked how one woman could continually elude an entire garrison, he said, "She has the devil's own luck. But, soon, her luck will run out and she will make a fatal mistake. Then, we will have her and justice will be done." He added, "If I had more resources to work with, more men and guns, this sorry episode in California history could be brought to a conclusion, and peace would be restored to this little paradise."

In Monterrey, Viceroy de Sola commented on the problems in the Santa Elena region: "We are aware of the predations of this Queen of Swords and are utilizing what resources we have to bring her to book. Unfortunately, Alta California is a vast territory with many demands for money and men. We just cannot spare anything more for a tiny pueblo and its petty criminals. As the proverb says, 'Why do you need two coats, when you only have one back?' More expenditure on this problem would be a misuse of public funds."

The captain of the guard in Santa Elena, who asked that his name be withheld, when approached for an interview, only said, "No comment." None of the soldiers in the garrison were allowed to speak with the reporter.

In the town of Santa Elena, feelings are mixed on this unusual felon. A local landowner, Señorita Maria Teresa Alvarado, commented: "I've only seen her a couple of times. She wears a tacky black outfit and covers her face with cheap Spanish lace. If she is a menace to society, she should be apprehended so that we can all feel safe. I'm sure Colonel Montoya is doing his best to catch her."

One of the leading citizens in Santa Elena, Don Gaspar Hidalgo added: "I don't know why she does what she does. For the money, probably. But she helped save my life once, so I really don't know what to think of her. She does not seem to pose a danger to the landowners. Her vendetta, if you like, seems to be with the military commander, Colonel Montoya."

The town's doctor, Robert Helm, was more forthcoming in his assessment of the Queen of Swords. "She's the most remarkable woman I have eve met," he said. With a slight grimace, he added, "I suppose I should also thank her. My practice has become quite busy because of her — tending to broken bones, cuts and bruises. But seriously, she seems to be a latter-day knight, a crusader for her own brand of justice. Though I may deplore her methods, I have to admire her for the courage of her convictions."

For nearly a year, the Queen of Swords has reigned supreme over the territory of Santa Elena, eluding all attempts at her capture, becoming more daring in each of her crimes. A local peasant, asked for his opinion on this bandita, only said, "She fights for us. Viva la Reina de Espadas."

End

--Maril

A Tangled Web

Marta set down a bowl of fruit on the verandah table, watching as Captain Grisham approached, his swaggering gait sending prickles of irritation through her. She summoned up a cheerful face, though her eyes were wary. "Capitan, what brings you so far from town?"

Noting her cautious look, he grinned. "Just a social visit, senora. Is Senorita Alvarado at home?"

"My mistress usually takes a long ride on the beach every morning. She is not back yet."

"Still doing that, after the kidnapping and all? She's either brave or foolhardy." Grisham stepped up onto the verandah, his hat brushing a spider web which clung to the felt material. He pulled the hat off, swiping at the gossamer, then hauled the whole web down along with the spider. With a ruthless stomp, he crushed the little creature. "I hate spiders," he said, looking into Marta's stricken eyes.

"There was no reason to kill a helpless little spider. It was doing you no harm, Capitan."

Ignoring her protest, he moved past her onto the flagstoned verandah. "I'll just wait here until the senorita returns," Grisham said. He strolled over to the table, helping himself to an apple, and dropped into one of the wicker chairs. Lounging comfortably, he munched the apple while enjoying the obvious annoyance on Marta's face. And a lovely face it was, too, he remarked to himself. In other circumstances...

"Look, Marta, what I found this morning on the beach – a sand dollar." Catching Marta's warning look and nod, Tessa turned suddenly and noticed the captain. He stood up and bowed courteously.

"Capitan Grisham, this is a ...surprise. I would offer you some refreshment, but I see you have already taken care of that. To what do we owe this visit?"

"I feel I've neglected you, senorita. I've come to apologise and to remedy that situation."

"On the contrary, Capitan. You have nothing to reproach yourself for. I don't feel the least bit neglected," Tessa said pertly.

"In any case, I've come to talk with you. If Marta would be kind enough to get me something cool to drink, I would appreciate it." He gave Marta a dismissive nod to which she merely raised her eyebrows. He jerked his head more forcefully toward the villa and she looked away. His eyes hardened for a moment.

"Please, Marta, get Capitan Grisham some of your excellent lemonade." Tessa watched Marta reluctantly enter the villa, then returned to the captain. "What was it you wanted to talk about."

"Our future. I'm sure you know how I feel about you, Tessa." He moved toward her, and Tessa dodged his grasp, keeping a chair between them. She had a look in her eyes he'd seen before – a rabbit in his gunsights. A thrill of pleasure rippled through him. She was afraid. Well, a little fear in a woman was always a good thing.

"I think I should help Marta with that lemonade," she said a bit breathlessly, moving cautiously toward the door.

"Marta can handle that, Tessa." He smiled deeply into her eyes, waiting for the inevitable melting look that was always returned. Her eyes continued to be wary. He brushed aside his annoyance. "I'd like to escort you to Montoya's next party. Would you do me the honour, Senorita Alvarado?"

"My goodness, did Marta go all the way to Monterrey for those lemons?" Tessa glanced anxiously at the villa entrance, where Marta finally appeared bearing a tray with a pitcher and two glasses. "Let me help you with that," Tessa said, taking the tray and setting it on the table. "Perhaps, Capitan Grisham, you would like something to eat as well?" she said, giving Marta a significant look. "Help me prepare a plate of food for the capitan, Marta."

"That's not necessary, senorita..." his words dwindled away as the two women disappeared into the villa. He settled back to wait for his food.

"Marta, how could you leave me alone so long with him? You're supposed to be my duenna!" Tessa said sharply as they strode toward the kitchen.

"Just last week, you accused me of doing my job too well," Marta retorted with asperity.

"Well, I can always relieve you of that burden!"

"If only you would!" Marta rejoined with a harsh laugh.

"Bickering among ourselves isn't helping. How do we get rid of him? He asked to be my escort at one of Montoya's interminably dull parties."

"Well, the Queen could appear and shoot him," Marta sniffed, still irritated. "That would solve the problem. You go back and keep him out of mischief. I'll get him something to eat." Marta went into the kitchen, and Tessa reluctantly returned to the verandah.

Grisham arose and gestured to a chair beside him. Tessa ignored the implied invitation and said, "Capitan Grisham, as much as I am honoured by your asking to escort me to the party, I must decline. I am still in mourning. It would be improper to be seen in public with another man so soon after Antonio's death. I hope you understand."

A look of frustration crossed Grisham's face. Did Montoya send him out here to make of fool of him? He must have known the girl would have to remain in mourning for some period of time. "How long does this mourning usually take? I don't mean to be insensitive to your feelings, but when would it be proper to ask you again?" Grisham's tone was harsher than he meant it to be; his temper was just barely under control.

"It varies, capitan. In my case, it may take a long time." Tessa's eyes moistened as she turned a sad face to Grisham. "A very long time," she added more feelingly.

"I see." Grisham clenched his jaw as he moved toward the verandah steps, turning to say, "I think I'd better get back to my duties now. Thanks for the lemonade. Hasta luego, senorita."

Marta joined her on the verandah and they watched Grisham ride away. "I almost felt sorry for him, Tessa," she said wistfully. "But I'm over it now. Let's go and eat the lunch I've prepared."

End

©Vignettes - Maril Swan - 2001

For more Vignettes, click on Vignettes 5

Please send your comments on these stories to the author, Maril Swan.