END OF THE RAINBOW

RATING: G

CHARACTERS: Everyone from Queen of Swords and a stranger who will be apparent in a few paragraphs.

SUMMARY: A stranger's arrival in Santa Helena creates a lot of buzz.

COMMENTS: Much thanks goes out to Eliza and MnD who laboriously went over my mess to make it coherent. Thanks ladies!

DISCLAIMER: The characters belong to Fireworks, Paramount, Panzer/Davis, etc., not me.

~~~~~

A weary stranger stepped off the stage coach after it arrived in Santa Helena. The town didn't have much to attract his eye, but vistas weren't on his mind. In his satchel was a map that a rich drunk in Europe had sketched for him and he just knew that he was closer to his quest. The year-long journey had been arduous and all he hoped was that it had been worth the effort.

He straightened his shoulders and stretched his arms, trying to remove the kinks that had set in during the long, dreary ride in the coach. The deep breath that accompanied the movement was an attempt to clear his mind. His satchel was handed down, almost slamming him on the head for his attention was on the town and what accommodations it could hold for him. After retrieving his bag, he set off to find a suitable hotel for the night.

The stranger found himself in the town square which was alive with people shopping, gossiping and watering their horses. He looked at the shops: milliner, blacksmith, doctor's office. He stopped and paused, his gaze adhered to the square box of a building with a little swinging wooden sign on the door, "Doctor is out" etched upon it. A doctor's office... how quaint. Well, I certainly won't be needing his services any time soon.

The hotel was just to his left and he made a beeline for it as soon as he saw it. The long journey on a ship, horseback, then that coach with not much sleep, made him agitated as well as exhausted. It was only when he was half way to the door that he realized that people were stopping to stare at him. He could have sworn people were calling out to him, to get his attention but they weren't calling him by any name he had used before. Also, there wasn't any way on Earth anyone in this sleepy little pueblo could possibly know him. He was adept at blending in, at being a wallflower when the need arose, and he was using that tactic now. He didn't want anyone to know the reason that he was in America, specifically, California.

Across the square, he saw a hangman's gallows was being erected. For it to be so prominently in the middle of the hubbub made him think that Santa Helena was a place where it was best not to linger. His plans were to stay just one night; have a bath, find some edible food, and get a good night's sleep. In the morning, he would purchase a horse to make the last leg of his journey.

On his way into the hotel, a young woman, a very well endowed and blond, young woman was just coming out. "So nice to see you this morning, Doctor," she cooed.

He quickly looked behind him to see if he was being shadowed. There was no one there. With a quick nod and slight smile to her, he dismissed her and walked to the counter. The hotelero, Henry Turner, was efficient and talkative, something the stranger wasn't in the mood for. He also didn't like that Mr. Turner was telling him his life story. In just a matter of minutes, the stranger knew that Turner had been a young man in Pennsylvania who didn't like the cold and couldn't make a livable wage. He, along with his wife and baby daughter, trekked to the south west in search of sun and a business. His daughter had just died in child birth the previous year. After her passing, and the missed grandchild, he and his wife were lonely and loved to have guests.

The stranger stared at him in wonder. All that from simply, "Whew, it's hot," and a wipe of his brow as he approached the desk! The young woman, who he knew right off was a Senora by the huge diamond ring on her finger, had lingered by the door staring at him. She was probably wondering why he hadn't return her greeting. That made him a little nervous. He didn't want to make small talk, didn't want to talk to anyone. He only wanted a bath, edible food and a bed. When he told that to Turner, the man was cordial and eager to please. It wasn't very often that a well-heeled person came to town with ready cash for a room. Turner would make sure that a tub and perfectly warmed water was brought to the best room in the hotel, as soon as possible.

"Perfect," the stranger said. "Could you recommend a nice restaurant? I haven't eaten a good meal in a very long time."

"Colonel Montoya is having a fiesta this evening," Turner said. "I'm sure he would welcome you. He likes to meet all visitors to our town."

"Colonel, eh?" The stranger cringed. "I don't think so. Is there a restaurante?"

"Right here in the hotel, Senor. Or if you would prefer, we can bring up a tray for you."

The stranger's eyes widened and smiled for the first time, "That would be very nice indeed. I'll take you up on that offer."

"Just sign here please." Turner pushed the guest book toward him. He signed the register as 'Benjamin Adams' and took the key to his room.

~~~~~

When the 5000 year old man arrived in his room, he set his heavy satchel on the bed and went to the window to pull the drapes closed. Next door was a immaculate dwelling and he could see through the upper floor windows. Inside the room across the way, he saw army officers huddled around a man in higher-ranking uniform seated at his desk. Methos shut the window and the drapes, and walked to the window at the other side of the room. That view happened to be a little courtyard filled with youngsters playing with a ball on the grass. "Great," he grumbled. "If it's not the brass, it's squealing children."

He was going to go down to ask for a different room, then he spied the large bed that was heaped with pillows. He tested it by pushing his hand down upon it to check the springs. Very nice. After his long journey of catching a few winks wherever he could get them, the bed and room were suddenly quite attractive.

There was a knock on the door and Methos immediately went to answer it, fully expecting his tub. What he saw was a uniformed soldier. "What do you want?"

The officer handed an elegant paper to Methos. "Colonel Montoya invites you to his fiesta this evening. Formal attire."

Methos glanced at the handwritten note and shook his head. "News travels fast in this town." He handed the note back to him, "Tell him 'Thank you, but no thank you'. I'll be leaving in the morning and I need a good night's rest."

He shut the door before the soldier could speak. Methos didn't care. He waited at the door until he heard the footsteps going down the stairs. He opened the satchel on the bed and pulled out his long johns and shaving kit. Rubbing his chin, he realized that the stubble wasn't too bad for the couple of days it had been since he last shaved. The map was against the inside edge of the satchel and he pulled it out to look at it once more.

As Methos held the map in his hands, his mind went back to the previous year, when Byron had invited a boorish American with money to burn to his estate. Byron thought it would be amusing; a weekend's diversion. The American, James Whittaker, had claimed to have found gold on his land and he was pompous enough to draw a map of its location. Methos didn't want anyone else to know about it. It was his. After the drunk died from too much opium, wine, and women, Methos retrieved that map from Whittaker's personal effects and decided to give the New World a try. He'd heard stories of America but hadn't yet made the journey, preferring Europe and Asia instead.

If there wasn't the prospect of gold calling him in the west, he never would have left the bustling city of New York after disembarking the ship. Before the strenuous journey to across country, Methos thought the gold would be a good reason to explore the countryside, the people, in a new country.

There was a knock at the door once again and Methos thought, at last, his tub had arrived. As soon as Methos had opened the door, Colonel Montoya extended his hand in greeting. "Good day, Mr. Adams. I am Colonel Montoya."

Methos' knees went out from under him. He grabbed the door knob for support and stared at the man who, for just a moment, had seemed to be 'brother', his former 'partner in crime', Pestilence. Because there didn't seem to be any recognition from the Colonel, and no tell-tale scar on his face, Methos realized that this was just an amazing look alike. For all he knew, Kronos was long sans head. At least that was what he hoped. Methos extended his hand, "How do you do."

Montoya made no effort to hide the fact that he was inspecting him, then asked, "Are you a relative of the good Doctor Helm by any chance?"

"Who?"

Montoya chuckled, "There's a resemblance, that's for sure." Adams hadn't made any sort of hint of recognition, so the Colonel dismissed it and commented, "You're taller than he is."

"If you say so," Methos shrugged. "What do you want, Colonel?"

"I understand you have turned down my hospitable invitation and I came to find out why."

"You're a man who doesn't take 'No thank you' for an answer?"

"Not at all," Montoya's oily grin overtook his calm and collected face. "There will be good food, good people..."

And you can find out my business, Methos told himself.

~~~~~

There was just no saying 'no' to the Colonel; Methos knew he wouldn't get rest if he didn't at least make an appearance at the party. It was being held right next door and the aroma of the barbecued boar, pies, and fresh corn on the cob made the soup and sandwich that had been delivered to his room seem totally inadequate. Methos brushed the dust off his best suit, the one he had worn into town, and even put on a tie before going next door to the mass of people who came for exactly the same thing that he did--food and wine. Although they probably wanted to be seen, to gossip, to... do whatever it was that people did in this sleepy town.

As soon as Methos entered the front door, he again spotted the young, beautiful Senora, who had just arrived with a portly man who was handing her shawl to a doorman. This time, Methos bowed his head to her, with a smile, as he decided to go with the formalities for the evening. The bath had perked him up. In fact, Methos felt six, seven hundred years younger.

His silent greeting to Vera was all she needed to encourage her since her husband had left her side in the foyer to gather with fellow Dons by the stairs. With just one look at her husband, Methos instantly knew why such a gorgeous young woman would be married to such an unattractive man--money.

"Doctor Helm," she cooed, "are you in a more talkative mood this evening? What were you doing at the hotel? Isn't your room in your office sufficient any longer?"

"Senora," Methos said as he gallantly took her hand. "You've confused me with someone else. My name is Benjamin Adams and I'm only here for the evening."

"My goodness!" She deftly opened her fan and delicately waved it in front of her face. "The resemblance is amazing." She looked him over from head to toe. "But I think you're a little taller," she deduced. "And your hair is more sophisticated. From your accent I think you are from England, yes?"

"Yes," Methos decided to say, and looked into the house at the party. From their vantage point, they could see that some of the guests were eating appetizers, sipping wine, dancing to the mariachi band hired for the occasion. He could tell that Senora Hidalgo was eager to join them. He dropped her hand and offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

Vera shyly peered up at his face, asking, "Shall we what?"

"Join the party," Methos said, wondering how a seemingly cultured woman wouldn't comprehend his chivalrous gesture.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly," she coyly told him, waving her fan. "I must make my entrance with my husband."

Methos looked over at the group of Dons in conversation, then back to her. "It seems he's a little busy."

"He'll be back shortly, he's just saying hello."

"He may be a while," Methos said as he watched the men. "He's lighting a cigar."

"I'll wait for him," Vera said diminutively.

Methos caught the sideways glance of irritation that she directed at her husband's back. He chuckled, "You're just going to wait by the door until he's finished?"

"I must."

Methos could tell that she was done conversing and even seemed a little embarrassed. He shook his head, Protocol... it's only for show. He told her, "When you do join the party, maybe we could share a dance? Or is that against the rules as well?"

"I'd be honored, Senor," she said with a thankful smile.

"Senor Adams," Methos heard Colonel Montoya announce, having just taken his place of honor to greet his guests. His hand was outstretched, so Methos shook it. "So glad you've decided to join us this evening."

Methos smiled ironically. "It was probably the third messenger that you sent that changed my mind. You are a focused man."

"I run this town, this county. I am an important man," Montoya answered with all the pomp and swagger his position and ego could muster.

"I'll leave you to it," Methos said, then walked into the party. His nose caught the aroma of the banquet table and he headed straight for it.

~~~~~

Montoya glared at Benjamin Adams' back until the man was engulfed in the mass of people freeloading on his property. Parties were meant for goodwill, to size up the Don's and their activities. I wonder if they know that from the time they enter my hacienda, they're being surveilled by servants who's only job that evening is to be unobtrusive and eavesdrop? He smiled at knowing more than his guests, but didn't like the manner or the tone of Adams at all.

He looked over to see Grisham and Senora Hidalgo being as discrete as their hormones would allow in public. Montoya could see Vera's coy smile as Grisham leaned close to whisper in her ear. The day their affair was revealed would be a day for Montoya to cherish. The Capitan thinks he's getting away with something. One day he'll have a rude awakening. After the fever medicine incident Montoya didn't trust Grisham as far as his nose, but knew Grisham was a necessary evil, a compliant soldier. "Grisham!"

Montoya's bellow alerted Marcus, who cut short his 'pleasantries' with Vera saying, "Duty calls." Grisham stood next to his superior and smiled for the guests.

Montoya whispered through his own facade of a smile, "After he leaves the party this evening, have Senor Adams followed."

"Back to his room," Grisham asked, in a manner that was a little too snide. Montoya glared at him as Grisham continued, "To make sure he's tucked in tonight?"

"I gave you a direct order."

"He's not going anywhere. The chambermaid at the hotel said that he was only staying the night and taking off in the morning."

Montoya rubbed his foot against the tiled floor as he shook his head slowly, but with annoyance, "And you will follow him to see what he is up to." He grimaced. "Chambermaids... just keep getting me information. I don't care what methods or people you use."

~~~~~

At the appetizer table full of bite-sized, delectable offerings, Methos grabbed a couple of garnished tostada shells and stuffed them into his mouth. The delicate sauce and hearty shredded beef, full-flavored cheese melted in his mouth and he closed his eyes to savor every chew. There was a tap on his shoulder. Methos turned to his left to see a beautiful woman with long curly hair hold out a small leather pouch.

She said, "Dr. Helm, here are the herbs I was telling you about yesterday."

Methos continued to slowly chew and swallow, taking in the sight before him. When she appeared to be uncomfortable with his gaze, she stepped back. He asked, "You think I'm this Dr. Helm?" He told her as he elegantly took her hand, "My name is Benjamin Adams. And you are?"

"Oh." Marta smiled, grasping his hand. "Marta. You're not... my goodness," she said as she gaped at him. "The resemblance is amazing. Are you related to Robert Helm?"

"No. I'm confident that I am not. There's a twin for everyone, right? This doctor seems to be mine."

"You sound alike, too," Marta said. "But now that I look at you, your hair is wavy, a little shorter. You're taller than he is."

"Where is this mysterious Dr. Helm so I can see for myself?"

"He should be here tonight." Marta looked around the room again. "But I don't see him." She realized that she was talking to a 'privileged' member of society and that it would be frowned upon. "Well, I'm sorry to disturb you." She stepped back, calling an end to the conversation.

He said, "No. You're not disturbing me. Are you here with a husband?" He looked at her ring finger and saw that it was bare. "A significant other, perhaps?"

"No. I am here with my mistress, Senorita Maria Teresa Alvarado." Marta motioned with a nod of her head across the room to where Tessa was outfitted in a glorious red and black lace dress deep in conversation with Vera.

Methos followed her gaze to the Senorita and Senora, both looking like porcelain dolls. "Ah, well." He smiled. "Santa Helena is certainly not lacking for beautiful women." Maybe it wasn't a bad idea to come to this party after all.

Marta lowered her head and said, "I'll leave you now."

"There's no need to rush off. You're the most pleasant resident to speak to me thus far."

"I couldn't," Marta reasoned. "I am a servant."

"Rules!" Methos laughed. She had turned demure and quieted as soon as she found that he wasn't who she thought he was. To continue the conversation, he quietly asked her, "What kind of herbs do you have in that pouch?"

"They're for the doctor."

"He's a lucky man. I'm quite knowledgeable in herbs myself. What are they?"

She fiddled with the pouch in her hand and said, "Some bay leaves and... celery seeds."

"Hm," Methos said. "I take it that this doctor has trouble sleeping?"

"The bay was for one of his patients, who is having trouble breathing."

"And the celery? Does the good doctor also have a patient with troubles sleeping or one who isn't paying enough attention to his wife?" Methos was a master at masking his flirtatious side and didn't reveal his glee in trying to shock Marta.

Her cheeks turned a very complimentary shade of rose as she said, "That is one way to use them, Senor. The doctor is using them to help him sleep."

Since Methos knew that celery seeds produced not only a restful sleep but had the happy by-product of lust, he made an another assumption of why should would be giving the seeds to the doctor. Methos leaned closer to her to whisper again, "Are you and the good doctor... together?"

"Goodness, no," Marta quickly said, making Methos feel that his playfulness had hit a nerve.

~~~~~

Tessa had listened long enough to the plans that Vera had made for her trip to Monterey to visit her family. She wanted to know about the new arrival in town. Dr. Helm's look-alike had been a topic of everyone's conversations all afternoon, but no one Tessa knew but only Vera had actually conversed with him.

Tessa wanted to find out more. She had heard from Senora Vasquez that Montoya had been planning to hire an assassin to ambush the Queen of Swords and any new arrivals were automatically suspicious. Unfortunately, Vera had nothing more to add to what Tessa had already heard from Senor Turner. Benjamin Adams was English, mysterious, and abrupt.

~~~~~

Marta intently looked at Benjamin Adams and received a feeling. The feeling was more than just the fact that he resembled Dr. Helm. It made her light headed and she lost her balance. Adams put his hand under her arm to stabilize her. From his touch, the feeling turned into a flash, a brief but clear vision of Adams with a sword. He swung that long sword with an expertise that only years of practice could have honed. Another soldier... so much war... so much death in the pasts of so many men, no matter where they came from...

A servant with a tray of filled wine glasses passed by and Adams dexterously reached to it and grabbed two glasses. He gave one to Marta and clinked his against hers. "Cheers."

Marta held the glass and watched him swallow. She held hers back to him. "Sir, I'm a servant. I'm not allowed to drink."

"Why not?"

She put her glass on the table. "I'm a servant," she repeated the only explanation that was needed.

Methos nodded. "I know the protocol, Marta. Isn't it more fun to break the rules?"

Marta looked over at Tessa and Vera, who's heads turned toward the door. Everyone heard Montoya loudly declare, "Dr. Helm! How kind of you to join us this evening, finally. Did you get lost?"

~~~~~

Helm shook Montoya's hand and grimaced. Why that man tries to belittle me is beyond my comprehension. "You know me and parties, Colonel. I know you live for them, but for me, they're almost a nuisance."

"How can you say such a thing? Everyone in town is here." Montoya swept his arm toward the people in the room.

"Not everyone," Helm corrected him. The 'peons' wouldn't ever be able to make an appearance at one of Montoya's parties. For that reason alone, Helm could barely tolerate them. Classes. Categories. Stature. He'd left all that behind. Without another word to Montoya, Helm walked into the party and nodded in greeting to the guests and acquaintances that he'd met during his time in Santa Helena. They weren't all bad, the 'privileged'.

Senorita Tessa Alvarado for instance, who was approaching him. "Dr. Helm," she said in greeting, her hand poised so that he would take it. "Marta is looking for you."

He took her hand and politely bowed his head. "For any reason in particular?"

"She brought some of those herbs you wanted. She should be here somewhere." Tessa quickly looked around the room for his benefit. That Marta and Helm had spent some time together and had some sort of a bond that Marta wouldn't reveal, made Tessa curious. She focused back on the doctor. "Would it be too much trouble for you to ride out to the hacienda tomorrow?"

"Is there a problem?"

"Eleanora Ramirez is almost ready to give birth and I'd like you to check in on her."

"Of course. It would be my pleasure."

~~~~~~

Methos watched Marta as she was looking at Tessa, who was talking to a man who had to be Doctor Helm. That's the man that everyone was mistaking me for? Methos didn't think they looked that much alike. His nose couldn't possibly be as big as Helm's and he was certainly taller than the doctor.

Marta commented before she took her leave, "That is Doctor Helm. Perhaps you would like to introduce yourself to your 'twin'?"

"Adams," Methos heard a man say behind him. He turned to see an officer standing at attention with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Now what?" Methos groaned. "I'm at the party, isn't that good enough? When is the main course going to be served?"

Grisham told him, "I'm Captain Grisham, not head chef."

"Of course, how short sighted of me," Methos said looking him over. "I would be willing to bet that you couldn't even boil water."

Why couldn't cordial men visit Santa Helena, just once?, Grisham thought before he explained aloud, "The Colonel has asked me to make sure you are well taken care of during your stay in our fair town."

"That's nice," Methos said, sneering when he realized that Marta had made her departure during the interruption. "But totally unnecessary. I would like some food and then I'm retiring for the evening."

"And in the morning?"

"That's none of your concern," Methos said, making sure the Captain didn't go any further than that. "I'll be leaving and I'll be history here. Tell that your boss," Methos gleefully accentuated those last two words, "that I can take care of myself."

Without a proper 'excuse me', Methos went off in search of Marta, or a servant who could tell him when dinner would be served. He spotted her with Senorita Alvarado and this Dr. Helm that Methos couldn't see the resemblance to, any more than any other dark haired Anglo-Saxon male. "Marta," he said when he joined them. "Sorry for the rude interruption of that... what was he? Corporal?"

Marta said, "That was Captain Grisham, and he wouldn't be pleased to hear you call him a Corporal."

Dr. Helm and Methos looked at each other. With closer inspection, they realized that they may have the same eyes. Methos realized that they were actually about the same height. Each thought the other had an interesting nose.

Tessa said, "It's like looking at twins," as she looked from one to the other. She greeted Methos with an upraised hand, "Senor... Adams, is it?"

"Yes," Methos went through the motions of greeting a wealthy young woman, complete with a quick kiss on the hand. "Senorita." He looked at Helm and stuck out his hand for a shake, "Dr. Helm? Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Helm slowly said as he returned the hand shake. Their hands remained clasped in that shake for a moment longer than necessary as they sized each other up. "From your accent, you're also from England? What area?"

"I'm from all over," Methos said. "But you are from London. The rich side of town. You're also in the military."

Helm dropped his hand, and unconsciously put it behind his back. "What makes you say that?"

"I can read people," was Methos' answer.

Helm quickly looked at Marta, who had also made that connection, then just as quickly back at Methos. "A long time ago."

"Once the military gets a hold of you, you're always military," Methos stated, knowing that mortals never forgot their training. Enough small talk, he focused on the reason he made his appearance. "When will we be able to eat? It smells wonderful."

Tessa said, "At the stroke of nine, like clockwork, we sit to dine at Colonel Montoya's parties."

The young Senorita was a vision, probably one of the most beautiful women that Methos had seen in a long while. Senorita Alvarado's charming smile and investigatory glance made him almost wish he had more time to spend in this little hamlet. He saw Marta and Helm exchange

some words and that she had handed the pouch to him. She had no qualms about talking to the doctor at this party, but she wouldn't converse with him. He looked again to Tessa, who was riding the embarrassing lull in the conversation with ease, and asked, "What's on the menu? Pork of some sort?"

"Colonel Montoya has the best chefs in California working for him," Tessa said. Methos met her gaze as she scrutinized him. "How long will you be in our town, Senor?"

"That seems to be what everyone wants to know," Methos played with her. "Sadly, I'll be leaving in the morning."

"Just passing through?"

"Yes."

"To...?"

He knew that she was probing and answered with a gleeful smile and the response of, "My destination."

"Is your destination far?"

Methos just kept his knowing smile and wondered why she would be so interested. Given her station, he could only see one reason for her investigation, and again, he was sorry he didn't have more time to spend in her presence. Before he could reply, a gong rang out, startling most of the guests. Methos offered Senorita Alvarado his arm and the lady clasped her hand delicately on his elbow.

~~~~~

Methos was still hard at work on his hands and knees hacking at the dry riverbed with a spade; a collection of gold nuggets in a pile to his left. He thought he had more gold than he could possibly carry along side him, so rest of the vein could wait for another day. It wasn't going anywhere. He started packing up the nuggets when he felt something that make him think a second about what it was. The tell-tale feeling of a blade to his neck! Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the sun reflect off the tip of the sword!

Without a move indicating to the man behind him that he had even seen it, Methos grabbed the sword and easily stood and twirled, knocking the man off his feet. He felt his hand being cut from grabbing the blade, but it would heal. Better his hand that needed to heal than his neck.

He grabbed the hilt and in an instant, the tip of the blade was at the throat of the man who had actually snuck up on him. "What do you want?!" Methos didn't feel the sensation of another immortal, and saw the uniform of the man who was fumbling with his gun. With one swing, the man who had gotten his gun out of his belt and raised it to shoot, Methos had severed his hand from his arm. The man's scream of pain wasn't what Methos wanted to hear... because that could only mean others could.

He made out a form in the distance, the man who had shot at him. Methos ducked behind a large rock on what was once the 'shore' and wondered just who the hell those men were. He instantly knew when he heard Grisham announce, "Now that did you have to go and do that for, Benjamin Adams..."

Methos peered around the rock to see Grisham standing above the man still racked with pain, holding his bleeding arm close to his chest. Then the realization came to him. Greed. Greed will get you every single time... After the attack had cleared his mind, he realized that he had been seduced by the prospect of gold. A material object. Only currency.

Grisham stood just on the other side of the rock, gun ready to fire if Methos did anything that wasn't expected. "Come out, come out," Grisham taunted him.

Methos grimaced. For that twit to get the better of him... the gold was now in his possession. He looked up the mountain wall for any kind of escape, and couldn't find one. He had to think. If worse came to worse, he'd let himself get shot, pretend to die if he actually didn't, just to get Grisham off his back. The gold was no longer an issue, his head could be on the line.

To Grisham's amazement, Methos stood and walked around the boulder. Methos walked right up to him, so close that the barrel of Grisham's gun was touching his chest. He had even leaned against it and said, "If you're not going to shoot, put it away. I've done nothing wrong, there's no reason for you to be here."

"You neither," Grisham said. "This is private property."

Methos smiled. "So I ask, what are you doing here?"

"I'm the law, you are trespassing."

"Get over yourself," Methos sneered, tightly shoving again against the barrel. "Either shoot, for which you have no reason, or leave."

"You first."

Methos grabbed the barrel and they wrestled for the gun, Methos tripping over the now dead soldier at his feet. Grisham and Methos never loosened their grip on the gun and they both went rolling over the cadaver and each other.

The Queen made her presence known by saying, "Now, now boys. Can't you play together nicely?"

They both looked up to see her shapely silhouette against the setting sun. Her hair flowing with the breeze, her body ensconced in her Queen uniform. Methos wondered what on Earth she was supposed to be, then focused on the sword that she held in her hand.

Suddenly, more soldiers appeared, taking them all by surprise. The thrill of the hunt. The lure of more easy money. The prospect of starting an economic revolution in the New World. Something new. Methos thought of all the reasons he had told himself that made coming to America a good idea. As he was in the midst of what turned out to be a battle with no clear enemy, he only wanted to get the hell out of there and never look back.

Grisham squinted his eyes to the Queen. "You're also trespassing."

While Grisham's attention was elsewhere, Methos grabbed the gun barrel. They wrestled for control of the gun, Methos making sure that the end wasn't pointed at himself. They flipped to the ground. As he laid flat on his back looking up to the clear, red sky of the dawning day, Methos didn't like the metaphor. He needed to live more days, not be shot by a greedy Captain or... whatever that woman wanted. Methos had no idea, but looked as if she was on his side if she was on anyone's.

A shadow fell upon Methos' face, Grisham aimed the gun and steadied his hand. Before he could fire, the Queen's whip snapped it out of his hand. Before she could toss off a one liner to Grisham, she was over taken by soldiers. One took the whip from her hand, another took the sword from her sheath. Two more held her by each of her arms. Methos was pulled to his feet by two others.

Grisham ordered, "Hold them both until Montoya arrives." He walked to the Queen and took hold of her throat. "Your execution will be a public celebration."

"That is if you can keep hold of me." Her voice completely taunting.

"That always has been a problem," Grisham mused. "Hasn't it?" He walked behind her. When she tried to turn to keep an eye on him, the soldiers kept her facing forward. He told the men holding her and Methos, "Keep hold of them and you'll receive a bonus."

Methos did a tally of the soldiers who surrounded them. Eight soldiers. Four were busy with holding the prisoners, four were standing around. None of them had their guns out. Two of them were holding their swords in a parry position. Methos heard the click of the hammer being cocked on the gun and prepared himself for the inevitable gunshot to the chest. An easy, quick death. Just do it, then get out of here before I revive.

As Grisham moved back around the Queen and the two men holding her, he yelled at two of the men, "Get word to Colonel Montoya of his prize. Now."

He stared at Methos as two men ran to their horses and rode down the dried up stream. //Six,// he told himself. He said to Grisham, "And my crime is?"

"Trespassing," Grisham said.

Methos chuckled, "Certainly a cause for execution."

Grisham matched his chuckle and said, "I wasn't finished, Benjamin Adams. You also have assaulting an officer to pay for."

"You've never heard of self-defense? It wasn't me who was pointing the gun." He scolded Grisham, "You were following me. You want... what is here, which I own."

"This is Whittaker's land."

"Senor Whittaker is dead. He died in Europe as a guest in Lord Byron's home." Methos peered closer at Grisham, who didn't give any indication that he recognized the name. "You have opened a book haven't you?"

"Enough talking," Grisham ordered. "Or I'll have my men shoot you both."

"He gifted me with this land!" Methos struggled against the men's grip on each of his arms. "So it is you who are trespassing." He indicated them all with a sweeping motion of his head. "I've done nothing wrong."

While the two guards' attention was on Grisham and Methos, the Queen took the opportunity to pull her arms together roughly in front of her and cross kick one of the men holding an arm. He tripped onto the other and the Queen body slammed them both. They fell in front of her and she ran for her sword and whip which had been put in a pile on the ground.

A melee broke out when Methos did the same. Soldiers just rushed into the fray, the prisoners were too wily to grab. They couldn't shoot, they might hit their commander. Everyone but Methos had a sword, so he resorted to punching to make his way to safety. The Queen had cracked her whip at a soldier. It wrapped around his waist, and he held onto it, pulling it from her hand. She swung her sword catching him in the throat.

Grisham yelled for his horse. "Hold them!"

Methos belted a soldier who fell to the ground. There were two more coming at him. He kicked the dead man over and knelt down to retrieve his sword. Methos grabbed the hilt but didn't realize until it was in his hand that the blade had snapped off an inch down from the hilt. It was useless, unless he used it as something to back his punch, which would mean allowing them to get close. That wasn't an option. Methos took aim and threw it at the jumble of soldiers, bonking one of the guards in the nose, breaking it. As Methos rose off the ground, he had to jump backward, sucking in his stomach to avert the other soldier's thrust of his sword.

Grisham leaped upon his steed after a solider rode up with it's reins in his hand. Methos saw the Queen slashing and kicking soldiers and was impressed by her agility and expertise with her sword. He yelled to her, "Give me your sword!"

"Not on your life," she countered, swinging at another soldier.

Methos had a feeling and ducked. A sword's blade whizzed above his head. He yelled at the Queen, "GIVE ME THE BLOODY SWORD!!!" There was no way to get an opening from the soldiers to make his way to the cliff back down to safety, he'd have to fight it out.

"I'm here to protect you," she said, slicing at the soldier who blind sided Methos.

"I don't need protecting. Give it to me."

"We're not going to have a conversation about the frailty of women, are we?"

"It's not that I don't trust you, darling, but it's my head at stake here. No discussion is necessary."

He saw Grisham riding straight for them and maneuvered himself to the left side of Grisham's horse, knowing he was right handed and it would be an awkward swing. Grisham did swing out with his sword, almost slicing off the head of his horse in the process. Methos yanked on the horse's tail as hard as he could. The horse whinnied and took off making Grisham struggle for control. Methos ducked to the side to by pass a bullet that was fired, then stalked to the Queen. She was dealing with two soldiers at once when Methos body slammed one of them out of the way. He grabbed her sword hand and took it. He spun her around and sliced out, chopping off the head of another soldier.

The Queen looked at the severed head at her feet and jumped back. Methos still had hold of her hand and she lost her balance. She looked to the man with a scared expression. Methos told her, "It's what needed to be done. Do you want to get out of here?" She nodded. "Stick close behind me."

He instantly starting swing his sword toward the other two soldiers who were left. Grisham was on his way back into the creek bed on horseback so Methos knew he needed to get to the path between the boulders. When Methos had let go of the Queen's hand, she fell from being off balance, almost twisting her ankle. When she had recovered and stood, a soldier was between her and Methos.

~~~~~

Grisham pulled back hard on the reins of his horse and turned him back to the action. He saw Adams and the Queen having a hard time fighting against the remaining soldiers. He saw Montoya off in the distance with the two soldiers that he had ordered to inform Montoya that they had the Queen. Grisham was at a crossroads. Either he could capture the Queen for his military career, or he could get rid of Adams and mine that gold for himself. Montoya and his men were steadily moving toward the mountain.

The prospect of gold won out. Grisham hurried to Montoya to say that he'd lost the Queen. She rode off toward the west, to the shore. Montoya ordered Grisham to capture Adams and he rode off with his men toward the west. Grisham sat for a moment wondering how he was able to maneuver it so quickly. It's my lucky day, I just know it.

~~~~~

That bastard's got my sword! She scanned the area for her whip or the sword of a fallen soldier, but there wasn't time. The soldier was too close to outrun. She held her hands up in a defensive posture, but still ready for anything.

All of her sword master's words came back to her. Patience. Keep watch. Watch every movement your opponent makes. Know what he's going to do before he does.

A soldier grabbed the Queen from behind, encircling her arms and body. She struggled, then his weight started to shove her to the ground. She spun, taking the soldier with her. When he was sufficiently back on his feet, she kicked up and caught the soldier with the sword in front of her. Her boot knocked him off his feet when it made contact with his chin. She stepped hard on the foot of the soldier holding her and elbowed him in his side. The Queen gracefully spun and kicked him across the head.

The two soldiers were on the ground, the Queen's only focus was on Grisham charging toward her, his sword out to his side ready to swing. She stood still until he was close enough then ran to the side, making his swing miss her head, and the his horse kept right on running.

Helm appeared on the cliff and yelled, "Head's up!" The Queen looked up to see him threw a dagger in the air. She couldn't move in time and hoped his aim was as dead on as it had been with the Serpent. The dagger dug into the ground at her feet.

The Queen grabbed the hilt of the dagger and sliced up just as one of the soldiers had recovered and moved above her. He screamed, grabbing his throat, and fell back. The other soldier stood and she kicked him hard in the groin from her bent over position. He was useless to Montoya's cause to capture the Queen of Swords from that point on.

Grisham rode back to the Queen and she was waiting for him. Helm by that time had climbed down and stood on one of the boulders. He yelled authoritively, "Grisham!"

Both the Queen and Grisham turned to look at the doctor on the rock and Grisham pulled back on his horse's reins. Helm had a gun in his hand, aimed directly at Grisham's chest. Grisham sneered at him, "You wouldn't dare. Colonel Montoya is just over that hill."

Helm steadied the aim of the gun and said, "You know what I can do with a gun, Grisham. If I can blow a sword in half, think of what I can do with your body."

The Queen was almost out of breath and was pleased by the break in the action. The low moans of the soldier with a gash in his chin and the one with a sore private area were the only sounds to be heard above her gasping.

Helm nodded to the Queen and said, "Go."

"Once again, Doctor," she smiled. "You've saved me from a snake."

"Live to return the favor sometime. Go," he said again and she took off down the stream bed then up a crevice. When she was at the top of the cliff, she saw Montoya and his men riding at top speed... in the wrong direction. Whatever was happening that needed Montoya's attention wasn't her concern. She saw Adams run to the back door of the Whittaker house. That seemed more important for the moment. She whistled and starting to slide down the incline. Chico galloped up to her.

~~~~~

Grisham sneered at Helm, "You two have become quite chummy. You don't even know how much trouble you're in."

"From what I saw," Helm said as he jumped off the boulder to the path. "You and your men were attacking two people who had done nothing wrong."

"That was the Queen of Swords, you idiot! She's Enemy Number One."

"Thanks for the information. Be sure to tell the Colonel just how you lost her." Helm's laughter could be heard as he ran down the path that was too narrow for Grisham's horse to go through.

Grisham paused from the sudden quiet. He'd love to knock Helm against a wall for taunting his authority, but he looked at the ground. It sparkled from the uncovered flecks of gold. Montoya hadn't made it up that mountain, the soldiers who had were dead. Grisham was sure that Adams wouldn't be making a return visit, but if he did, Grisham would be waiting. Grisham tilted back his head and grinned up at the sky as he staked claim to the mountain.

~~~~~

The Queen rode Chico back to the Whittaker property and caught up with Methos as he was coming out of the house with his things. "May, aren't you a coward," she said as Chico pranced in place.

Methos grumbled and tied his bags to the black stallion he had purchased that morning. "Think what you wish. It makes no difference to me."

"You're not going anywhere," she said as she steered Chico close to his horse.

Methos sighed and looked up at her atop her steed, "Look, it was a bad idea for me to come here. I don't want or need anything that's here. It was a diversion from my day to day routine. I thought I might find adventure in the New World, and frankly I've had enough."

"Good riddance," she said, then added, "But you're forgetting something."

Methos pulled himself up on the saddle and asked, "What was that?"

"You have my sword."

He smiled at her and opened the end of one of his bags. He moved aside his Ivanhoe and pulled out her saber. "You mean this one?"

The Queen caught a glance at the jewel at the end of his sword. "How many do you have in there?"

"One is enough if you know how to use it," Methos said as he elegantly flipped the sword around to present the hilt to her.

"Where did you learn moves like that?" she said as she took her sword back.

"Around."

"Did you learn how to leave a woman behind at the same place?"

"I knew you could take care of yourself."

"I'm comforted."

Methos studied her mask and demeanor. "What are you supposed to be?"

"I am the Queen of Swords."

"Well, your majesty," Methos said in a teasing manner, then realized that she had probably saved his life. Who knew how many more lives. He nodded his head in respect to her and suggested, "Maybe you should take off also."

"My place is here," she proudly replied. She could see the colored flags of Montoya's troops in the distance.

Methos saw them also. "Mine isn't," he said as he kicked against the horse's side to move him. "Good luck, Queen of Swords," he said over his shoulder as his horse began a full gallop.

She started Chico away from the Whittaker farm, to no where in particular. She let Chico just walk while she thought things through. Adams was gone. Helm was probably on his way back to town. Grisham would probably search the Whittaker place for Adams. Montoya was off to the shore. For what reason, the Queen couldn't imagine. She'd deal with that another day, whatever it was. Her muscles were sore, her back was tight, her leg had been slashed. She rubbed against the tear on her pant leg and hoped the cut wasn't too deep.

Two conflicting thoughts played in her mind. One option was to return to the Alvarado hacienda for a nice, comforting bath and report to Marta about her day. The other was to wait until nightfall to ride into town for some medical attention from the doctor who had saved her life that day.

The Queen knew that she and Chico shared a psychic bond. He was heading toward the east, away from her home, away from Montoya and Grisham, to the open countryside. She patted his head and brushed her fingers through his mane as she smiled. "That's my boy," she murmured. "It will be a pleasurable ride until sundown..."

THE END