Chapter 7 - Retribution
Luis Montoya was called many things, but unprepared was never one of them. He knew his chances of survival were only as good as his exit strategy. Fortunately, he was a practical man who knew that one day someone might come for him that could not simply suffer a fatal accident. That someone was Capitán de Anza.
Governor Solá's right-hand was too smart for Montoya's good. He wasn't fooled by the carefully crafted but fictional tax records. No, the man was annoyingly persistent, and Montoya had begun to fear his tracks weren't covered well enough. He hated to leave his collection of beautiful treasures and artifacts behind, but he had enough gold and money hidden away to make a new start as a war profiteer in Mexico. The Viceroy might think he had the rebellion under control, but Montoya knew better.
He packed all he could carry on his horse and carried it out to the stables. The sun was setting, and it was the perfect time to start his escape from town unnoticed. Montoya quietly saddled his horse and grabbed a bag of feed for it. He could reach Los Angeles in a couple days and San Diego in a couple more, but he needed to keep a low profile.
Montoya's eyes darted around as he heard noises coming from the direction of the garrison, but there was no one around to witness his flight. He mounted his horse and took off towards the refuge of the abandoned gold mine.
The sound of hoofbeats drew the Queen of Swords' attention as she scoured the garrison for any sign of Grisham. The man was gone, and from the looks of his quarters, quite possibly for good. She wanted to scream in frustration but couldn't risk drawing attention. Keeping to the shadows, she peered out into the street to see a short figure riding off on a prized stallion. Grisham was gone and Montoya was trying to make a run for it. The Queen wasn't about to let that happen.
She hurried back to Chico and followed Montoya, keeping as much distance between them as she could without losing him in the waning light. He was heading east, likely toward El Camino Real that could lead either north to Monterey or south to San Diego and Baja California. Given whom he was running from, she doubted he planned to go north.
The Queen was surprised when Montoya turned onto a narrow road that led to the gold mine. The path was rocky, and both horses had to slow to keep their footing in the dim light. She urged Chico closer so she wouldn't risk losing Montoya in the rocky terrain.
The colonel dismounted at the semi-collapsed mouth of the gold mine. The entrance had been partly shored up since its Queen-induced collapse nearly a year earlier, but operations had never resumed. The Queen silently dismounted as well and crept closer as Montoya kept his back to her.
"Your reign of terror is over, Montoya," she announced with sword in hand.
Montoya slowly lifted his hands in the air in response. "Surely you exaggerate. But I do think the time has come for a change in scenery. I do tire of this pueblo and its needy inhabitants." He stood slowly, keeping his back to her. In a surprisingly swift motion, he whirled with a pistol in hand and fired.
The Queen dove to the side just in time for the bullet to barely graze her left arm. The wound stung, but she knew it was minor. By the time she leapt to her feet, Montoya had drawn his sword. She raised her own sword in time to block his before switching from defense to offense. Montoya was an excellent swordsman, but the Queen was younger and faster. The steel blades clanged in rhythm as they fought, and the Queen, fueled by fury, struck harder than normal. She could tell Montoya was beginning to tire against the onslaught.
Retribution at last, papá, she thought triumphantly. I am your avenging angel!
But righteous anger nearly got the better of her as she miscalculated her next move and stumbled as her momentum carried her past Montoya. She felt a cool breeze on her back as she realized Montoya had slashed through the back of her blouse. She had to stay focused.
Spinning fast enough to make her hair fly, the Queen renewed her assault on Montoya, striking quickly and accurately. Montoya's coat was starting to fray as several thrusts made it through his defenses before he could stop her. The Queen was unrelenting, and Montoya pushed away the distracting voice in his head that suggested he might not escape this battle alive.
Montoya was breathing hard. He hadn't fought like this in years. His arm and back ached with the effort of keeping his adversary at bay. If only he'd killed the meddlesome woman earlier, he wouldn't be in any of this mess now.
"I will give you all my gold if you let me go," he panted, trying a different tactic. Of course, what he really meant was he'd give her some of his gold.
"This is about much more than gold," the Queen replied, not sounding winded at all. Her sword penetrated Montoya's shoulder and he yelled in pain, involuntarily dropping his sword. Even in the darkness she could see the blood rushing from the would. It wasn't life-threatening, at least not yet. The Queen placed her boot on the blade of Montoya's sword, pinning it to the ground. She kept her own pointed at Montoya's heart.
"What do you want?" Montoya gasped, his eyes wide with fear.
"Justice," she replied, slamming the hilt of her sword into the side of his head. Montoya slumped to the ground.
"Vera," Grisham whispered, trying to get his paramour's attention without startling her. Señora Hidalgo, seated in an oversized brocade chair in front of an easel with an in-progress work that vaguely resembled a pile of fruit, jumped nonetheless at her name. Seeing Grisham, she dropped her paintbrush, splattering her spring green dress with tiny flecks of orange.
"Marcus!" she cried, flinging herself at him. "What are you doing here?"
"Shhh," he cautioned. "Pack your things, honey. We have to go."
Vera cocked her head to the side, blonde curls bouncing. "Go? What do you mean? Go where?"
He placed his hands firmly on her shoulders. "The governor's man is going to arrest Montoya. And me, if he finds me."
"Arrest you? Why?"
"Montoya's been keeping tax money from the governor."
Vera's eyes narrowed. "But why would he arrest you?"
Marcus looked down and pushed a hand through his hair. "I may have killed Don Rafael Alvarado," he said so quietly that Vera had to strain to hear. She gasped in response. "We have to go, Vera. Tonight. We can go wherever you want, so long as it's far away from here."
"I can't leave Gaspar."
Grisham froze in shock. "What?"
"I think it would kill him if I left." She leaned in to gently kiss him. "I'm sorry, Marcus, but I can't go with you."
"But-"
Vera shook her head. "Be careful. I will see you again one day."
"Oh, petal!" a voice called from the hallway.
Vera gave Grisham a gentle shove. "You must go!" He grabbed her waist, crushing her to him with one last desperate kiss. She watched him leap out the open window just as the heavy door to the room swung open to admit Gaspar.
"Ah, there you are," he said, crossing the room to kiss her cheek. "Is something wrong, my love?" he asked, noticing her shaken expression.
She forced herself to smile. "No, just a slight headache." She raised one hand to her temple. "I think I shall go lie down for awhile."
Tessa and Marta stood in the town square the next morning watching Capitán de Anza and his soldiers prepare their prisoner for transport. Montoya sat proudly on his horse with his hands tied to the pommel before him. He kept his gaze straight ahead, acknowledging no one. De Anza still had no idea how Montoya ended up in a cell overnight, but he decided it wasn't worth looking into. He noticed the two women watching him and approached them.
"Señorita Alvarado, Marta," he greeted. "We were unable to find Grisham. I am sorry. But Montoya will stand trial before the governor."
"That is good news, capitán. But who will run the pueblo?" Tessa asked.
"I am certain Governor Solá or the Viceroy will appoint someone very soon. I believe the dons have asked Don Hidalgo to temporarily lead Santa Elena." The captain's stiff demeanor softened. "Thank you, señorita, for having the great courage to convince the governor. We could not have stopped Montoya without your help."
De Anza turned to rejoin his soldiers and begin the long journey back to Monterey. Marta waited until de Anza mounted his horse before leaning towards Tessa. "No, I do not think they would have caught Montoya without your help," she whispered.
"You mean without the Queen of Swords' help," Tessa replied. She threaded her arm through Marta's as they walked towards the market. "I wonder what she will do now that Montoya and Grisham are gone."
"Maybe she will retire," Marta said hopefully. "Find a husband, have babies." Tessa playfully bumped Marta with her shoulder to make her stop.
"Grisham is still out there," Tessa said with regret, her earlier smile fading.
"Yes, but he can no longer hurt anyone in Santa Elena," Marta pointed out. "His time will come."
Tessa gazed at the town, her home she had fought so hard to protect. She felt a lightness she hadn't experienced since that fateful day in Madrid when Marta delivered the news of her father's death. Suddenly, she felt an urge to see her parents and tell them all that had happened.
"I have to go," she said, pulling away from Marta. "I will see you at home later." Marta stared wordlessly after her as Tessa raced back to their small carriage. She unhitched one of the horses and pulled herself up, ignoring the fact that her full skirts were showing more leg than propriety allowed.
She rode out of town back towards her hacienda and the beach cliff that was her parents' final resting place. She slid from the horse and knelt in front of her father's tombstone.
"I did it, papá," she whispered aloud. "I stopped Montoya, the man who wanted you killed. But the one who actually shot you got away. I tried to avenge you, papá." She lightly traced her fingers across the deep etching in the cool stone. Her hair floated in the ocean breeze.
"Mi angel," Tessa heard her father's voice on the wind blowing in from the sea. "We are so very proud of you, la reina de las espadas."
