Montoya accepted the cup of tea from his housekeeper and then sat in the chair he had placed just across from the cell that now contained Anton as well as Mazar. After Anton had taken a swing at Montoya, Montoya had ordered his men to put him in Mazar's cell. As Montoya was calming his anger and surprise at Anton's attack, he watched the boy and pirate fight each other tooth and nail. Montoya had noticed that the soldiers were enjoying the scene, as well, as they were making bets on who would come out the victor.

Both men were now collapsed on opposite cots, out of breath and both sporting bruises. Anton's eyes were slowing being rimmed with black, and Montoya knew that only meant that his nose was broken. Mazar was holding his right elbow, and Montoya hoped it was broken. "Maybe he will have to be shot," Montoya mused, as he considered Mazar less than a horse.

Mazar, probably seeing Montoya stare at him, stood and walked to the bars of the cell. He gripped the bars with both hands, which made Montoya know that his arm wasn't broken. Damn. He wanted that bastard to experience as much pain as possible.

"Luis," Mazar said.

Montoya stopped him. "I am Colonel Montoya. I will be referred to as such."

Mazar's face softened from the hard edge it had carried since he arrived in the Pueblo with Mary Rose. "Yes. I apologize, Colonel." He smiled when he said, "It is just that I have known you since you were born. I hope we are still friends."

"Being behind bars has not diminished your humor."

"Colonel," Mazar tried again. It worked. Montoya liked the sound of his nemesis using this title in a respectful manner. "I need to see Mary Rose. I love her. I am worried about her. We have to talk some things out."

"If she is dead, as you probably planned it, it would be a one-sided conversation."

"If my mother dies, it is all because of you," Anton seethed to Mazar as he tried to stand up, but pain while moving made him double up.

"Why would I try to kill the woman I love? I love Mary Rose more than anything or anyone, save my daughter, in my entire worthless life," Mazar declared to anyone who would listen.

"That is the most intelligent thing you have said in years," Montoya said with a smile. He stood and walked to the cell. "You are indeed quite worthless."

Mazar punched out with his fist. If Montoya hadn't been standing farther away from the bars than Mazar's reach, he would have gotten his fist right in the nose. This time, Montoya hadn't even flinched. He had expected it. That was what had led to Mazar's downfall. Montoya always knew what Mazar was thinking. It was only the fact that he couldn't trap him in the past that had allowed Mazar to sail free all these years. Montoya said, with pleasure, "And you will surely hang in the morning."

"You have nothing on me."

"I may not be able to prove you shot Mary Rose, but in this part of the world, a threat against a Colonel is a hanging offense. I have...." Montoya paused to count heads of all his soldiers in the jail. "Five witnesses, not counting the riffraff, who does not really matter."

"Hey," Anton said, holding his stomach. "I pay taxes. I matter."

Helm stepped back from the operating table, took a deep breath and stretched after having been hunched over for so long. Ever the nurse, knowing what the doctor would need next and have it ready, Marta handed him a fresh, damp towel in order to cleanse his bloody hands.

Thank God he'd gone to the Chumash village yesterday and not today. There was no way that he could hide Mohammed's faked 'death' for long, if Montoya started noticing any unexplained absences. Mohammed was still too weak to leave the area, And Helm was not going to let that bastard, Montoya, kill a good friend, or find another way to enslave him.

"Do you think she will live, Doctor?" Marta asked. She had seemed to have had a dark cloud swirling over her since she arrived, and he knew it had to be more than simple concern about Seņora Guevara's condition. Mary Rose had even kidnapped her once; they couldn't be the best of friends.

"I think she will pull through nicely," Helm said. "The bullet fragments didn't hit any major organs. She does have those two broken ribs. Bones heal as they heal. If she is not jostled, and is careful once she awakens, they should fuse together quite well."

Marta's eyes flickered to the soldier presiding at the door, then to the window. Helm knew there were more of Montoya's men outside. One would think the Queen was being operated on to institute such a response of security. Helm asked, "Do you care to tell me what happened?"

"I do not know what happened to Seņora Guevara," Marta said, and then fell silent.

The soldier stepped forward. "But, she does know about the death of an unidentified man. Come on," he said taking her arm and roughly moving her to the door.

"Hold on," Helm interjected. "She just helped me save this woman's life."

"She needs to be questioned by the Colonel." The soldier was military to a fault. There was nothing but his orders in mind, no thought of respect or shades of gray.

Helm couldn't argue with the two soldiers who entered once the first had opened the door. He had told them that the surgery was over and the prisoner needed to be brought to the jail immediately. Sure, there were questions; Marta would answer them. Helm didn't need to come to her aid, except to make them treat her like a person. Marta would be cleared, wouldn't she? He shared a silent, bitter laugh with himself.

He wondered if the Queen (it was safer not to think of her as Tessa while in town) had anything to do with the dead man, and also who the dead man was. The dead man's motives and reason for his death also came into question. Once Marta was being led away down the road to the square, another soldier approached Helm. "Colonel Montoya requests your presence."

He looked back at Mary Rose, still out on the table. The soldier said, "I will stay with her. The Colonel is at the jail."

"Do not wake Seņora Guevara or jostle her, or touch anything in my office. Understood?" Helm ordered. He was tired of having his office ransacked looking for evidence of aiding and abetting the Queen. He never left that sort of thing lying around.

The soldier just shrugged and said, "The Colonel awaits."

Tessa rode Escaldo full-out into town and didn't stop her pace until she was in the Pueblo square. Her heart had been filled with worry since Mary Rose had been shot, but it was nothing like what she felt when she saw two soldiers pulling Marta into the square towards the jail. "What is she doing here?" As she pulled Escaldo to a stop, she saw Helm walking from his office. Blood was on his shirt.

Tessa ran to Marta and told the soldiers, "What is the meaning of this? This is my maid. Unhand her!"

"It is all right, Tessita," Marta said, but her eyes were full of the fear of the unknown. "They just want to ask me some questions."

About the dead man, Tessa finished Marta's sentence in her mind. Would it be prudent to claim ignorance about the corpse they had most likely found on her property?

A male voice called from the jail window, "Doctor Helm! How is Mary Rose? Is she...?" His voice was cut off and Tessa looked to the doctor as he neared them.

Helm nodded to Tessa and yelled at the jail, "She will live!"

"She will?" Tessa asked happily. "Mary Rose is all right?"

"She has been shot and has some broken ribs, but barring any unforeseen complications, she should be fine," Helm told her, his gaze sliding politely over her, as if she were only a distant acqaintance. He looked hospitably to Marta as he said, "I had competent help in saving her." He scowled at the two soldiers. "And they obviously hold no regard for my nurse."

"I said, 'unhand her!'" Tessa again growled at the soldiers, who did no such thing. They moved her to the jail just as Colonel Montoya was coming out of it.

"Montoya," Helm said. "I do not know what you have in mind with Marta, but she just helped me save the life of Mary Rose Guevara and should not be treated in this manner."

"She has information on a dead man," Montoya said, looking at Tessa. "On your property, Seņorita. You will be questioned as well."

"I have no problem with that, Colonel. Of course, I will help in any way I can." Tessa got one of the soldiers to unhook Marta's arm and she took it protectively. "Together, we will tell you all we know."

"One at a time, Seņorita." Montoya stood with his usual grandeur, but there was also a very pleased dimension to his carriage. What could he have on Marta? He looked as he did whenever there was to be a hanging. "When we are finished with your maid, you will be called into my office." He looked to the soldiers, who brought Marta to the jail.

From inside it, another voice was heard yelling, "Mother is really all right? You would not lie?"

"Why would I lie about such a matter?" Helm responded.

"Is that Anton Guevara?" Tessa asked.

Montoya smiled. "It has been quite a morning, Seņorita." He followed his men to the jail.

Tessa looked to Helm. "Mary Rose is really going to be all right?"

"Am I in the habit of lying when it comes to my patients? Yes. She should be fine."

"Thank God. I was so worried."

"She will not be able to hold a sword for a while, but she will live." Helm's eyebrows lifted. "Wait. How did you know if you just rode into town?"

There wouldn't be any reason to shy away from the truth with Doctor Helm, so she told him, "I was there."

"You were!?" His reaction surprised her. He looked as alarmed as Mazar had, following Mary Rose's shooting. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I am now."

"To Montoya! A man's been arrested for attempt murder. Did you see who did it?"

"Long story."

She suddenly was very conscious of her clothes. A quick glance at them revealed a lot of dirt from the ride and lying on the ground watching the militants who were visited by Captain Grisham, in civilian clothes.

"Why were you there?" Helm asked.

"Where?" Her thoughts had been filled with what Grisham was up to, and she wanted to save that nugget of information from everyone but Marta. Together, they could hopefully figure it out when they were alone. It would not be wise to consult Roberto right here, no matter how much she wanted to do it.

"At Mary Rose's when she was shot!" he said, exasperated.

"She invited me to lunch and a ride."

"Why didn't you do anything if you saw it?" He looked upset, worry fighting anger on his face. It made her feel guilty.

She wanted to tell him that she had; she had followed the shooter all day, who was under the control of some colonel that Grisham went to see. Not knowing if she should share that with Roberto in his current holier-than-thou attitude, she was even more confused than when she had been under Montoya's bed. She reverted to her comfortable Maria Teresa mode and asked, "What could I do?"

"Tell someone about it!"

"I just did."

"Someone who could do something. A man has been fingered as the shooter. Go in there and tell Montoya..." Then, Helm stopped. He looked at the ground as he shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"What?"

"I get upset when innocent people are wounded and killed. I am sorry...Seņorita. I lost my head. Of course, you did what you could." He was slipping on his own masks, now.

"Apology accepted."

After all that she and Roberto had been through, she wanted to tell him all that she had found out, to get his thoughts on the matter. But could she do it right out here in the square, without revealing too much of the side of her that the Queen had reign of? It seemed unlikely. Of all her would-be suitors and lovers, Helm was the only one who appreciated the part of her that looked at all the angles and sought justice, and would lie on her belly for three hours, watching a man who controlled the one who shot at Mary Rose. She needed to tell him about her assumptions about Captain Mazar. Helm was the only one, besides Marta, who knew that she could actually use her brain and put two and two together, where it had nothing to do with what was the proper color to wear to a luncheon. She really would like another theory of all she had uncovered. But, she couldn't just grab him by the arm and drag him off down an alley for a chat. People talked enough about them already. Maybe she could ride home, dress as the Queen and ride Chico back to Santa Elena.... She sighed in exasperation. Even now that he knew, it was so much easier to be someone else to Dr. Helm. So much easier indeed.

Seeing her obvious confusion, Helm stepped forward and said, too quietly for the soldiers to hear, "What is going on?"

Continue to Part Nine

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