Chapter 4 - Familiar Stranger
Robert Helm awoke with a splitting headache. The sun was blazing, and his throat was parched from the hot dry air. As the grogginess cleared, he realized his hands were bound behind his back, and he was propped up against a scrubby tree. He tried to get his feet under him to stand but the ropes on his wrists tugged. He realized the rope must also be tied to the tree, preventing his escape.
But how did he end up tied to a tree in the middle of the desert? He recalled riding inland after failing to find Tessa along the beach or at the Hidalgo hacienda. It was getting dark, and he knew he should turn back to town, but he was reluctant to give up the search. In the waning daylight, he thought he saw a horse in the distance, and urged his towards it. In hindsight, it wasn't the wisest decision. You never know what sort of unsavory characters you might meet in a dark desert.
As he approached, he realized the horse was most definitely not Tessa's. A stocky man wielding a pistol stood casually next to the horse. Helm pulled on the reins and started to turn around when he heard hoofbeats behind him. Something struck him, sending him tumbling off his horse to the ground. He felt the air rush out of his lungs followed by blackness. That was the last thing he remembered before now.
The sound of sandy dirt crunching under boots alerted Helm to the presence of another person. A pair of leather boots that were likely black under a thick layer of dirt stepped into view. He craned his neck up at the man who seemed quite tall from his spot on the ground. A faded red bandana covered the man's nose and mouth and a wide brimmed hat shaded the man's eyes.
"I didn't expect to find you prowling the desert, doctor." It took a moment before Helm realized the man had spoken in English...or at least, American English.
"Criminals prowl," Helm answered in the same language. "I was just out for a ride. Lovely evening until someone bashed me in the head."
"Did the Queen finally get tired of your pompous English ass and kick you out?" the masked man gloated.
Something finally clicked in Helm's brain. He must have hit me quite hard to be so slow, he thought. Obviously this masked man knew him, and he knew just one American who was this cocky and annoying. His fist ached for another reunion with the masked man's face. If only it weren't tied behind his back.
"Grisham," the doctor growled. "I thought perhaps you'd gone north to join the Russian fur trade. You do seem to enjoy hunting defenseless animals."
"Weak and defenseless like you, doc?" Grisham yanked down his bandanna and grinned. It felt good to have the upper hand against the insufferable doctor. He crouched down next to Helm. "I'll let you in on a little secret. I did go up north and found something much better than beaver pelts." He reached in his shirt pocket and pulled out a small, lumpy object-a gold nugget.
Grisham puffed up like a peacock. "I finally made my fortune. Enough for Vera to live in style, anyway. You're just a bonus. If I just wait here awhile, the Queen of Swords is going to come running to rescue you. Then I'll turn her in and collect my reward." He crossed his arms over his chest looking quite pleased with himself. "Unless she really did tire of you. I always thought she could do better."
In that moment, Helm wanted nothing more than to beat the grin off Grisham's face. Every muscle tensed with the effort not to show his anger and give Grisham any bit of satisfaction.
"Not one to kiss and tell, are you, doc? I didn't kill her the other night, did I? She's worth a lot more alive."
Helm gritted his teeth and impressed himself with his carefully measured tone. "You must have forgotten about the change in leadership in Santa Elena. There is no longer a bounty on the Queen of Swords."
"Not in Santa Elena, but she's still worth a hundred reales in Monterey, not to mention the personal satisfaction I'd get from watching her hang," Grisham replied, taking a swig from his canteen. "Sure is hot and dry out here. You must be thirsty. I'd offer you water, but you'd probably just spit in it."
Helm silently cursed Grisham in every tongue he could think of.
Tessa, dressed now as the Queen, rode toward the doctor's last known stop-the Hidalgo hacienda. She examined the ground closely for recent tracks leading east from the hacienda, assuming the doctor's destination had been the hills and canyons. She found faint hoof prints in the dirt and prayed they were from Helm's horse as she began to track the trail inland.
Half an hour later, she realized the path was leading her to the arroyo where she was shot two nights before. She urged Chico on faster and her chest tightened as she realized there was a strong chance Helm had come across the same bandits. While she knew he was perfectly capable of defending himself, he would be unarmed and no match for three-possibly four-men with pistols and knives.
Nearing the arroyo, she dismounted and climbed a rock so she could survey the terrain below. Her breath caught as she spotted the doctor with his head hanging and arms bound behind his back, his once-white shirt dirty and torn. He was guarded by the same three men she fought two nights before. The tableau seemed odd. Why were they just guarding Helm? In Montoya's time, she would assume it was a trap with the doctor as bait, but she wasn't sure what these bandits wanted. Why were they still in the vicinity of Santa Elena at all?
They must be more than just common robbers, she thought. They're still after something, but what?
She rode to the other side of the arroyo, where a few small trees would provide a small amount of cover as she descended into the gulley. The pain in her back made the climb far more difficult than normal. She dropped the last six feet, landing quietly on her toes and crouching on the ground behind a shrub. As she peered through the branches, the bandits showed no sign they'd heard her. She continued under the cover of vegetation as far as she could. Then she unsheathed her sword and leaned casually against a rock with the sword behind her head.
"If you don't mind, gentlemen, there is an entire pueblo in need of the doctor's services," she called out. "It's very rude to monopolize his time like this."
As two of the men rushed towards the Queen, Helm managed to sweep his leg out and trip the third, sending the bandit face-first into the dirt. The man's gun landed inches from the doctor's feet, and he strained to reach it with his foot before the bandit could retrieve it. Pushing against the tree his hands were bound to, he snagged the pistol with the toe of his boot and scooted it under his legs, out of sight.
Meanwhile, the Queen faced off with the two knife-wielding bandits. This time she was more thankful than ever at the ineptitude of the bandits, as she wasn't currently in top fighting shape. One got close enough for her to knock out with a solid blow to the skull with the hilt of her sword. That left just one for her to fight. She let the bandit push her back towards the doctor. Once she was within reach, she slashed the rope binding him to the tree.
"I don't suppose you brought a sword, doctor?" she asked, breathing more heavily than normal. Her back burned like fire from exertion as she continued to parry the knife-wielding bandit.
Helm rubbed his hands quickly, trying to restore circulation. He pushed himself to his feet somewhat unsteadily after so many hours on the ground. "No, but I borrowed this," he said, calmly pointing the pistol at the bandit. The man dropped his knife to the ground and put his hands in the air. The Queen knelt to retrieve the knife when something cold and sharp touched the back of her neck.
"Isn't this touching," a man's voice drawled in American-accented Spanish. "Just like old times."
Helm spun to aim the pistol at Grisham's chest. "I should have killed you a year ago."
"Likewise," Grisham agreed. "Actually, I would have, except your girlfriend has this annoying habit of rescuing you. You, on the other hand, seem to have a problem with killing people."
"I might be convinced to make an exception for you," Helm stated coolly.
The Queen wisely stayed silent, catching her breath during the round of masculine posturing. With any luck, Grisham would forget about her entirely. The disarmed bandit skulked away and ran for the horses once he realized no one was paying him any attention.
"Go ahead, kill me," Grisham goaded, obviously letting his abject hatred of the doctor get the better of him. Helm swung the pistol at Grisham's temple. Grisham ducked just in time, but the pistol glanced off the top of his head. As he involuntarily reached for his head, he moved his sword away from the Queen's neck. The Queen seized the opportunity to jump out of reach. Grisham and Helm were so engrossed in their fight that neither noticed her move away from the melee.
Helm roared and leapt on Grisham, knocking them both to the ground with a thud and dropping the pistol. Grisham tried to score a hit to Helm's face with the hilt of his sword, but Helm rolled away in time and sprung to his feet.
"Robert!" the Queen yelled, tossing him her sword. He caught it deftly in mid air and swung to face off with Grisham. She picked up the discarded pistol and slid the extra knife into her belt. She noticed the only conscious bandit had fled, so she grabbed the rope used to tether the horses to tie up the two unconscious bandits. She worked quickly while the clanging of steel indicated the sword fight raged on behind her.
With the remaining bandits safely bound, she turned her attention back to the fight. Helm was a good swordsman, but he was out of practice. Grisham's style was much less elegant but had more deadly energy. The Queen watched carefully, waiting for the moment to intervene if necessary.
Helm was starting to lose ground against the younger man. Grisham had scored a good slice on his arm, but Helm responded with a deep cut to Grisham's abdomen. Still, Helm was starting to tire-righteous anger could only keep him going so long. He stumbled on a rock but managed to keep his footing. Putting a hand out for balance, he found the arroyo wall right behind him. He was able to keep Grisham at bay but was rapidly running out of room. Bracing against the wall, Helm scored a hard kick to Grisham's already injured stomach, causing the American to yelp and double over in pain. Grisham retaliated by putting all his weight into his next slash. Helm parried, but his arm ached from the jarring force as he held Grisham's blade back.
"Give up yet?" Grisham grunted, continuing to force his arm down on the doctor.
"Why would I do that?" Helm panted.
"You're losing!"
Helm smiled at him, further infuriating Grisham. "You might want to get a second opinion. Perhaps from the lovely woman with a pistol pointed at your thick skull."
"Did you forget about me?" the Queen asked sweetly, pressing the barrel of the pistol firmly under Grisham's ear.
"Dammit," Grisham uttered a moment before Helm dropped him with a left jab to the face.
Helm shook out his hand. "I would say that felt good, but I'm afraid my knuckles would disagree."
The Queen stood back hesitantly, a slight breeze fanning her long hair, and he could see in her eyes when she came to some sort of decision. She carefully stepped over Grisham's prone form to close the distance between them. He wasn't entirely sure if she was going to kiss him or slap him. The Queen did neither, throwing her arms around him and resting her head against his shoulder. After a brief moment of surprise, he folded his arms around her and held her close.
"I'm sorry," she whispered against his neck. "I'm sorry for lying and putting you in danger and running away."
"I think we've both done our fair share of running," he replied, brushing a hand down her long hair. "I was an idiot-" A groan from Grisham cut him off. "Maybe we should do something about the fallen captain."
The Queen untied her red silk sash as Helm rolled Grisham over none too gently. The Queen swiftly bound Grisham's hands behind his back with the sash and tied the long ends to his ankles.
"Why is he here?" the Queen asked.
"It seems the former capitán struck gold, literally. I believe he returned in hopes of spiriting away Vera Hidalgo."
"And that's why the bandit grabbed Vera at the fiesta," she deduced.
Helm nodded. "And it was Grisham who shot you."
The Queen let out a very unladylike epithet and added wryly, "Not the first time."
Helm looked at her meaningfully. "But hopefully the last."
"Not if I can help it," Grisham muttered from his uncomfortable position on the ground. "God, you guys are making me nauseous."
"Hopefully that's just the concussion." The Queen raised an eyebrow at Helm's unusually callous remark and knelt down next to Grisham.
"Why were you trying to abduct Vera?"
"She wouldn't leave that overstuffed husband of hers. I showed her the gold and everything." Grisham sounded incredulous.
"So you thought you'd kidnap her?"
"This is the same man who gave her an entire bottle of laudanum," Helm commented.
"Montoya told me to kill her!" Grisham protested. "And besides, she forgave me. Eventually."
"You're lucky you didn't kill her with that much opium," came the doctor's angry retort.
Grisham ignored him and moaned. "What is wrong with the world? Vera leaves me for her husband. You turned me down for him." He jerked his head back towards Helm. The Queen looked up to see Helm bristle slightly. She'd never told him about her adventures while trapped in a collapsed mine with Grisham. The two men had already harbored enough animosity toward each other-there was no need to add jealousy to the mix.
"What is wrong with you?" the Queen muttered.
"I can't help it." Grisham tried to shrug as much as his restraints let him. "I love women."
The Queen made a disgusted snort and stood up. She swayed slightly, placing a hand to her head. Helm immediately put out a hand to steady her. "I'm fine," she said to reassure him. "I just stood up too fast."
Helm moved his hand away and cursed. "You're bleeding. You probably tore your sutures. Let me take a look, preferably away from our frustrated Don Juan."
"I'm fine," she insisted, waving him away. "We should let Capitán Ramos know there's a surprise awaiting him." She started toward the horses, growing more unsteady with each step. She stopped to try to regain her balance, taking a deep breath to clear her head. It wasn't helping. The next thing she knew, she was being swept up in the doctor's arms and carried. She would have enjoyed it more if she weren't so light-headed.
He set her down next to his horse and helped her up into the saddle before climbing up behind her. He didn't want to risk her passing out and falling off.
"What about Chico?" she protested weakly.
"He can follow. You're in no condition to ride at the moment."
As Helm urged his horse up the path, they heard a plaintive cry from below. "Hey, what about me?"
They made excellent time back to the Alvarado hacienda, and despite the rapid pace, Tessa flirted with unconsciousness more than once. As they neared the hacienda, Tessa instructed him to go around to the back.
"There's a hidden entrance," she explained. Once inside the cellar room, Helm gently set her down and hurriedly went in search for Marta. With the coast clear of any other servants, they moved Tessa into her bedroom. When the doctor went to remove Tessa's corset to check her injury, Marta slapped his hand away.
"Not until you're married," Marta said sternly.
"Dammit, I'm a doctor, and she's bleeding," he exclaimed with irritation.
Marta's expression brooked no argument. "Go outside for a minute. You wouldn't know how to do it right, anyway." There was really no good response to that, so he threw his hands in the air and stalked out of the room.
A short time later, Marta called him back. Tessa lay on her side with her back to the door in a clean white chemise and the bedsheet pulled up to her waist. Marta had applied a clean towel to the wound that was slowly turning red. Removing the towel, Helm saw the sutures had indeed ripped, but thankfully there were no signs of infection. Tessa was likely weak from exhaustion and blood loss. He'd imagined far worse scenarios on the ride to the hacienda. With Marta's help, he wrapped a bandage around Tessa's ribs to keep pressure on the wound.
He walked to the other side of the bed and knelt beside it. Tessa was paler than usual, and her dark lashes stood out in stark contrast against her cheeks as she rested. Her skin was cool to the touch as he brushed an errant lock of hair behind her ear.
"Tessa?" Her eyes opened at the sound of her name. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired," she whispered. "Where's Marta?"
"Here," Marta replied, stepping into Tessa's field of vision.
"I need to get supplies from my office, but I will return soon," he informed Tessa. "You'll need new sutures."
"Because I never listen to you," she said dazedly. Marta couldn't help the quirk of her lips at that.
"Maybe one day you will," he replied, kissing her forehead and standing up. To Marta he said, "Try to get her to drink or eat something."
Marta followed him out the door. "Don't forget to take care of yourself, too, doctor."
He'd been so focused on Tessa that he'd managed to ignore a headache, nausea, and the gash on his arm inflicted by Grisham. Dehydration was likely the cause of the first two. He'd take care of his arm in his office. He realized Marta had left a full canteen near the door for him. He didn't believe in Marta's gypsy "sight," but he had to admit the woman was incredibly observant.
Doctor Helm returned to the Alvarado hacienda slightly cleaner and feeling much better with a little hastily consumed food and water. His now-bandaged arm stung, but he'd survive. Unwilling to take the time to find Ramos himself, Helm dispatched a message via the first soldier he saw in town. Eventually they'd find Grisham and his hired accomplices.
Tessa was still resting quietly upon his return. He gently woke her and gave her laudanum to dull the pain of suturing. With Marta's assistance, he cleaned, sutured, and re-bandaged Tessa's bullet wound. The patient, between exhaustion, blood loss, and drugs, barely stirred through the ordeal.
As he stood to leave, he heard her sleepily call his name. He sat in the bedside chair and took her hand in his. "Stay with me?" she murmured, struggling to keep her eyes open.
"Always."