The Night of the Queen Bee

A woman is sometimes fugitive, irrational, indeterminable, illogical, and contradictory. A great deal of forbearance ought to be shown her, and a good deal of prudence exercised with regard to her, for she may bring about innumerable evils without knowing it. Capable of all kinds of devotion, and of all kinds of treason, "monster incomprehensible," raised to the second power, she is at once the delight and the terror of man.

—Henri-Frederic Amiel (1821-1881), Swiss philosopher, critic, and writer

Chapter One

I am monarch of all I survey,

My right there is none to dispute,

From the centre all round to the sea,

I am lord of the fowl and the brute.

—Verses supposed to be written by Alexander Selkirk, William Cowper (1731-1800), English poet

"You were right, boy."

Jim West leaned down to pat the dusty neck of his black steed then touched his heels to the equally dusty flanks to urge the horse down the slope towards the broad pool of water. On the other side of a massive stand of rocks, the horse had begun to display a tendency to want to head east, and Jim had decided to check it out. They had been without water since early this morning, and he was willing to follow any lead. The horse had obviously scented the water in the strong breeze.

The path down to the water was tricky, making it necessary to ease one's way through more boulders and dry brush. Despite the presence of water, little green was apparent; the ground was all sand in this area. Jim scanned the region around the pond, which was about a dozen feet across, and did not see any signs that animals—or humans—had sipped of the liquid with ill effects.

Even so, he forced his black stallion to remain back while he knelt by the water, dipping his fingers into the coolness to first smell, then gingerly taste it. Getting to his feet, he smiled. "All right, boy, go to it." He himself moved a few feet away to drop to his belly and lower his heated face into the coolness.

Taking the "shortcut" had been foolish. He knew that now. This area of New Mexico was completely new to him. They had never had an assignment in this region, at least not one that took them into these expanses. He had hoped to lop off a full day from his journey, especially because he was already two days late to meet the Wanderer in Santa Fe.

At least now that I can fill my canteens, maybe I can make better progress. Artie is going to chew me out as it is…

He had risen from the pool, thirst slaked, and face shiny with moisture, and had just started to pull the two canteens off his saddle when he heard the sound, a much too familiar sound of a rifle being cocked. Startled, Jim spun, his hand dropping to the weapon strapped at his hip. He did not pull the gun, staring up at the three horsemen who were on a slight rise at the far side of the pool.

"This is private land, Señor," one said. He was a burly man with a thick mustache, a colorful but faded serape thrown over one shoulder. He was the one holding the cocked rifle.

Jim let his hands fall at his sides but did not completely relax. "I believe you are mistaken. This is government land. Open range."

"It is you who is mistaken, Señor," the man said, jerking his head toward his companions, who both dismounted. "This land belongs to The Crown."

What crown? This is American land! Jim did not speak the words aloud, watching the pair start to make their way around either side of the pond toward him. "I didn't see any signs or fences," he said easily. "I'm just passing through…"

The mustached man shook his head. "You have broken the laws, Señor. You must face justice." He lowered his rifle somewhat as his companions neared Jim. Both those men now had their pistols drawn.

"Whose laws?" Jim took a couple of steps back, away from the black horse which was watching the approach of the armed men with interest.

"The laws of The Crown. Do not be mistaken, Señor. We can shoot you here easily with no regret. But La Reina, she insists that trespassers be brought to her for judgment."

The two men approached from either side, their stances wary. Jim remained unmoving, watching, gauging. One appeared to be around eighteen or nineteen, the other in his thirties. He had thought all three men were Mexican initially, but as they neared, he saw that while the older man had dark hair and tanned complexion, that was all it was, weathered from the sun. His eyes were blue.

As he suspected might happen, the younger was the less cautious of the men as he came up and reached for the pistol in Jim's holster. Grabbing his arm and hurling him into the other man was a simple matter, as was drawing his own gun, spinning and firing toward the mounted man. The rifle that man was now holding loosely flew out of his hand.

Jim jumped back further then, his weapon ready. "Let's just relax, gentlemen, and talk this over. I'm not looking for trouble and I'm late for an appointment as it is."

"¡Madre de Dios! ¡Él es como un rayo!" The younger man gaped up at Jim from where he was still seated in the dust.

Jim smiled grimly at being compared with the speed of lightning. "I'm just not willing to hang around here. You, come on down here, nice and easy!" He motioned toward the rider, who started his horse moving.

He later realized that he had assumed Blackjack was reacting to the approach of the mustached man's horse when the steed threw its head in the air and snorted. He started to speak to his horse to calm it when he heard the whisper of the rope just before it settled over his shoulders. Before he could react, the lasso tightened around his arms and he was jerked backwards, falling to the ground.

Immediately the two men he had bested were on him, grabbing his gun, twisting his arms behind him. In a moment, he was on his knees, his wrists lashed together. He looked up into the wide grin of the man who was now coiling his rope. The mustached man was now making his way down the slope, also grinning.

"You see, Señor, we always keep the ace in the hole, no? Paco there, he tell me, 'that one looks dangerous, Joaquin,' so I say, 'Paco, you keep watch. You will be the ace.'"

"You're a wise man, Paco." Jim gritted his teeth as he was pulled to his feet. "I still say I am merely passing through. I did not intend to trespass, no matter to whom this land belongs. I am expected…"

Joaquin waved a hand. "It is not for me to say, Señor. La Reina, she will decide. It is the law of The Crown."

The blue-eyed man spoke for the first time. "I got a notion I seen this one before, Joaquin. What's your name, mister?"

"James West."

"Yeah, I seen you before. In Denver, maybe two years ago. You busted up a counterfeiting ring."

"Might have been me."

Joaquin was frowning. "Counter-fitting? What is that, Burt?"

"Never mind, I'll tell you later. We better get him on in to see La Reina. She's gonna need to figure out what to do with him now." Burt picked up the fallen pistol, admired it a moment then jammed it into his belt.

Jim was boosted into his saddle then the four men mounted to form a ring around him and they headed out, moving south. Jim was more baffled than concerned at this moment. He had not heard of any outlaw gang operating out of this region, in particular none headed by a woman. As he had told Joaquin, the map showed this area was land that currently belonged to the United States government as part of the Territory of New Mexico. He knew that some of it could be opened for homesteading soon. No information the government had ever provided had indicated anyone lived permanently in this area.

Nothing he could say would convince these men that he had not intended to trespass nor did warning them he was expected in Santa Fe have any impact. Apparently, their orders were that strangers were to be brought to "La Reina" and that is what they were doing. Jim had to admit he was intensely curious to find out about this woman. These men appeared to feel they had to obey her mandates without question and without variance.

The younger man, whom Jim heard addressed as Vicente, made one comment that aroused Jim's curiosity even further. "Tal vez este será el que la princesa acepta." Referring to a "princess" appeared to indicate "La Reina" had a daughter, or at least a younger woman was present. But why did Vicente wonder whether the "princess" would accept this newcomer? Accept him how?

The four men spoke in Spanish, obviously assuming their prisoner would not comprehend. While Jim was not as fluent as his partner, he understood very well. Beyond mentioning the "princess," they were speculating on what La Reina would do with the trespasser. Vicente suggested twenty lashes while Burt and Joaquin were all for hanging.

Jim was further astonished as they proceeded, spying not only good sized herds of cattle, but also pretty fair grazing land. He counted at least twenty men tending those cattle, men who waved at the passing party. Only one approached to ask what was happening, whereby Joaquin, who appeared to have the most authority among the four, sent him back to his work at once. Jim noticed a couple of men lounging under trees with rifles across their legs. Guards of some sort?

Pretty obviously the government has neglected this area, Jim mused. Chances were it was considered "badlands," useful only for the most desperate of homesteaders who might not find property to claim in other, better areas. A memory niggled at him, of hearing about a party of surveyors who vanished some years earlier, possibly before the war. He knew it had happened in the southwest but had always assumed it had occurred in some known desert. How long has La Reina ruled here? Who the devil is this woman who commands such respect, even awe, from these men?

An escape attempt occasionally brushed through Jim's mind as they continued. His guards were overconfident and lax, occasionally straying far enough to the side that he could have easily kneed Blackjack into action. He was positive the black stallion could outrun their cowponies. His interest in what lay ahead, however, was far outstripping thoughts of his own safety. He needed to find out what was going on here, and above all whether this La Reina posed a risk to the country. That was his job after all.

They forded a broad, shallow stream twice; the third time they encountered the water, Jim began to speculate that it was the same stream, meandering all through the area so that they were crossing the same watercourse several times. Such water would account for the grazing land he saw and would certainly support cattle.

He saw the line of tall trees in the distance as they entered a broad stretch of very flat land. At first, he assumed they were growing alongside the stream although the symmetry of the line was a bit puzzling. They all seemed to be the same height. As they rode nearer and nearer, he realized he was seeing not a single line of trees but more a circle of them: tall, graceful sycamores, swaying in the breeze. They paralleled, he came to grasp, a high rock wall that enclosed a house.

An astonishing house. If he had come upon it at the outskirts of Saint Louis, or perhaps Atlanta, he would not have been surprised. But to see this mansion sitting in the middle of this near-wasteland…

"What is this place?" he asked as they headed down a narrow lane toward a closed wrought iron gate where two armed men stood on guard.

"This, Señor, is The Crown," Joaquin grinned.

The sentries gazed at the group with curiosity on their faces, but opened the iron gates without comment. Jim saw that numerous buildings were enclosed within the stone fence, which appeared to circle a large area, perhaps a couple of acres in all. The house itself dominated the area, with its broad porch and tall white pillars, but beyond he could see what were apparently barns and stables as well as some that appeared to be smaller homes. He spotted well-tended flower and vegetable gardens as well. Some children playing in the dust by one of the closer homes paused to stare in their direction.

A stocky Hispanic woman opened the front door as Jim was pulled off his horse. She spoke to Joaquin in Spanish, asking who this was and what did he want? Joaquin briskly told her that the stranger was a trespasser and that she should inform La Reina to find out whether the captive should be brought to her at once or locked up. The woman hurried away as Jim was led into the foyer.

He was less surprised by the interior than he had been by the exterior. By now, he was expecting the unexpected. The floors were polished wood, with strips of carpet leading down the center. Doors opened off either side, and halfway down the hall a curving stairway led toward the second story. Fine paintings and tapestries arrayed the walls, while lovely vases containing fresh flowers rested on small side tables along with ornate crystal and porcelain figurines.

The four men held a hasty conference and it was decided that it would be impolite to usher the prisoner into La Reina's presence still bound. His wrists were untied, with a stern warning that he would be severely punished if he misbehaved. La Reina would sanction such punishment, Burt assured him.

The housekeeper emerged from a door near that stairway and waved to the men. Jim was just a little surprised that all four of his guards accompanied him. He had rather thought that perhaps only Joaquin, as the leader, would be summoned to the imperial presence.

Imperial was an apt word he realized moments later as he was guided through the door. The room was a study, with book-lined walls, a French door that opened onto a walled garden, and several rather heavy pieces of furniture, one of which was a broad desk. She sat behind that desk with her slender hands resting on its polished top, gazing with slightly narrowed eyes as the five men entered.

She was not Mexican; her skin was fair, her eyes sky blue. Jim was unsure about the original color of her hair, but he would have bet it was once blonde. Now it was silvery white and stylishly coifed atop her head. She wore a mauve gown trimmed in white lace, with a high collar and a jewel-studded brooch at her throat. A slim woman and even now, with the ravages of age, she was lovely. He could discern by the bone structure that she had once been very beautiful.

"Who is this?" she asked in English.

Jim did not give the men an opportunity to speak. He stepped forward. "My name is James West, and I'm being detained unnecessarily and possibly illegally. I was passing through this part of the territory on my way to Santa Fe when your men stopped me."

The blue eyes moved slowly from the top of his head down to the now dusty chaps and boots, and back up again, meeting his green-eyed gazed steadily. "James West. Regardless of your reasons and excuses, you are on my land and I do not abide trespassers."

"I would have to dispute that. About it being your land, that is. It's my understanding that this portion of the territory belongs to the United States government."

Her regal chin lifted. "It is my land, by right of possession. My husband settled here over sixty years ago."

"And just who are you?"

The rifle butt slamming into his shoulder was unexpected. Jim hurtled forward, catching himself on the front of the desk. He immediately spun, grabbed the barrel of the rifle from Paco's hands and flung it aside, then slammed a strong punch into Paco's chin. As that man staggered back, Vicente attempted to bring his own pistol to bear, only to have it kicked from his hand. By then both Burt and Joaquin were into the fray. Jim kicked Burt in the stomach and leveled a hard right into Joaquin's jaw.

Not until two other men appeared to assist was Jim subdued, held with both arms twisted painfully behind him as he gasped for breath, feeling the warm blood trickling from both his mouth and under his eye. La Reina had not moved from her place behind the desk, nor had her expression changed much. Only her eyes were narrowed slightly.

"Shall we hang him, Señora?" Joaquin asked eagerly.

"No… not hanging."

"The lash then!" Vicente chimed in. "Twenty lashes on his back for each of us!"

She waved a hand. "Release him."

The men hesitated, but apparently knew better than to question her. Jim rubbed his sore arms, watching and waiting. Long moments passed as she again studied him from head to foot. "You asked a civil question, Mr. West. I apologize for the behavior of my friends. My name is Regina Renfrow. I own this house and all the land as far as the eye can see—and farther."

Jim did not respond, and he saw by the glint in her eyes that she had expected him to reiterate his statement about this being government land. Finally, her gaze shifted to Joaquin. "Tell Nieves to bring coffee and a sandwich for Mr. West. Also a damp cloth in order that Mr. West may clean his wounds. You may all then go back to your chores."

"Señora!" Joaquin began his protest. However, she waved that imperious hand to cut his words short. Jim was a bit amused to see the six men now depart like recalcitrant schoolboys. A couple of them cast dark glances in his direction, nonetheless.

"Please sit down, Mr. West. Again, I apologize. I would have preferred you had arrived at The Crown as the honored guest you are."

Jim cocked his head. "Am I?"

"Of course. It is obvious you are a gentleman. Who are your people?"

"Just… people. Mrs. Renfrow…"

"Regina. I am Regina to my friends. No, you are from good stock, that's obvious, and reared well."

"I am on my way to Santa Fe to keep an urgent appointment. I am expected and am already late. I must…"

"Out of the question. My guests do not eat and run, so to speak. I expect you to remain here for the duration."

Jim sat down then in a leather chair with soft padding. "And just what is a 'duration'?"

"As long as it takes."

"For what?"

The housekeeper's entrance forestalled the reply she was going to make, if any. Jim accepted the coffee and sandwich gratefully, along with the damp cloth. His meals had been rather sparse the last couple of days after he had realized that he had no idea exactly where he was and when he would reach civilization again, requiring rationing of his supplies. The map had been no help at all on that score.

"Informar a la Señorita Helene que se requiere su presencia inmediata, y preparar una habitación para nuestro invitado."

Jim did not react when Regina gave those instructions to the departing housekeeper as he used the cloth to wipe the blood away from his lip and cheek; both cuts were tiny. Helene must be the princess, he decided. He washed some of the ham sandwich down with a swallow of coffee. "Mrs. Renfrow—Regina—I am willing to overlook the behavior of your men. However, I cannot stay. I am expected…"

"Mr. West—or may I call you James? James, sometimes fate works in mysterious ways. You are here for a reason. Your destiny lies here on The Crown, I am certain. Perhaps in a few minutes, you will agree with me."

"There's something you should know…" Jim began.

He did not finish as a woman appeared in the still open doorway. She was, he realized, probably exactly what Regina Renfrow looked like sixty or so years ago: slender, with honey blonde hair and sky blue eyes, absolutely perfectly beautiful. Jim came to his feet, unable to take his eyes away for a long moment—until he realized how Regina was smiling.

"Helene, may I present our guest, Mr. James West. James, my granddaughter, Helene Renfrow."

"Miss Renfrow." Jim dipped his head slightly.

She looked at him from head to toe as her grandmother had done, but the blue eyes were scathing. In addition, unlike her grandmother, she was not elegantly garbed, but wore a faded pair of denims, probably boy's trousers on her slim form, and a checkered shirt. "I must say, Grandmother, your taste in men is improving."

The older woman's smile broadened. "I rather believed you might think so."

Jim had had an inkling of what was on Regina Renfrow's mind, and now he was certain. He smiled. "I'm just passing through, Miss Renfrow. In fact, I should be on my way." He put the coffee cup he was still holding on a nearby table and turned. "Mrs. Renfrow, thank you for your hospitality…"

She stood up then for the first time, and quite swiftly and spryly for her apparent age. "I never thought you would be rude, James."

He met her gaze levelly. "I have been trying to tell you, I am expected elsewhere."

"They will wait. A room has been prepared for you, James. I think you should rest there until dinnertime. Helene, please escort James to his room."

For one moment, it appeared the younger woman was going to object. Then she simply shook her head slightly. "This way, Mr. West."

Jim was about to voice his own protests, but saw the shadows in the hallway behind Helene. The men had not yet left the house, whether on their own volition or because of some kind of prearranged orders. He followed Helene into the hallway and up the stairs, noticing that she barely glanced at the three men waiting in the lower hall.

At the top of the stairs, she opened a door and stepped inside a well-appointed bedroom. Jim did so as well, noticing his saddlebags on the bed. He was a trifle surprised that she closed the door. However, her expression was hard and angry. "Why are you here?" she demanded.

"Not of my own free will, I assure you, Miss Renfrow. Apparently I inadvertently trespassed on this land that your grandmother considers her own…"

"Her kingdom!" Helene spat.

"I got that impression."

"You must leave!"

"I'd like to. Can you suggest a means whereby I would not get shot in the attempt?"

Her shoulders sagged now, and she walked across the carpeted floor to a window, staring out for long seconds before turning back. "Do you know what she has in mind?"

"I have a glimmering. I take it you do not agree with your grandmother's plans."

"I have been fighting off her matchmaking attempts since I was sixteen!" Her gazed softened slightly as she came toward him. "I will have to say you are something of an improvement over the last 'gentleman' she lined up. He was forty if he was a day!"

"Was he a trespasser, like me?"

"No," Helene sighed. "Occasionally Grandmother takes journeys, or she did before her health became frail. She has returned with four different men in the last eight years, and two others, like yourself, wandered onto The Crown."

Jim cocked his head. "What became of those men after you refused them?"

She shrugged. "They left. Or at least I never saw them again once Grandmother realized I was not going to agree to marry any of them."

"Is there any chance they didn't leave?" he asked softly.

"Yes. There is every chance in the world, Mr. West. Grandmother rules this ranch with an iron hand. Those who are loyal and hardworking are treated well. Those who stray… just last week one of the men was whipped."

"What did he do to earn the whipping?"

She scowled. "Supposedly, he fell asleep in the sun while watching the cattle. Something that I'm sure you know is very easy to do."

"Yes, I agree." Jim peered at her. "Who was this man?"

"Ray Channing."

"A good friend of yours." He saw the softening in her blue eyes, along with some anguish.

Helene turned slightly away. "Yes." Then she looked back at him. "Please leave, Mr. West. Do anything you can to get away from here."

"I plan to. I would like to know a little more first. How long has this land been in your grandmother's hands?"

"Forever. She came as a bride at the age of nineteen. She is now seventy-nine. My grandfather settled here, but as far as I know, never filed any legal claims."

Jim nodded. "She may still have certain rights to it, the rights of possession. But it should have been proven legally."

Helene laughed shortly. "She believes—and so did my grandfather, apparently; I never met him—she believes that she is above the law! She is the law here. Do you understand? All the people who work and live here are her subjects. For the most part, she is a benevolent ruler, but don't dare cross her. That's what we have all learned."

"Your parents…?"

"My mother died shortly after I was born, my father when I was twelve. She raised me. I am her heir. She is looking for the 'right' mate for me, a man who she feels would carry on the Renfrow line."

"That man is not me, Miss Renfrow. I assure you. Nothing against you. I think you are one of the loveliest women I have ever encountered. Even if I had plans to ever marry, however, I would not be coerced into it."

"Good. Now leave as soon as you can." With that, she exited, closing the door firmly behind her.

A moment later Jim heard the click of a key in the lock. Someone must have been waiting outside to secure the door. He shook his head slightly as he stared at the door, then shrugged and turned away. He could open it easily. I need to think this out. Could be it's as simple as it appears, an eccentric old lady who needs to control all around her. Nevertheless, I have a gut feeling that this might well be a case where all is not what it seems to be.