With stealthy steps, Tessa ascended the stairs to the main floor and then listened at the door at the top. There seemed to be no one about, so she opened the door, went down the corridor and into her bedroom. She noticed that the copper tub was filled with water and smiled at Marta's thoughtfulness. Testing the water, she found it was cool. Oh well, she thought, A cold bath is better than none. She had hardly settled into the lukewarm tub, when Marta bustled in and stopped, with an exclamation of surprise.

"Tessa! Where have you been all night?" Marta put her hand to her lips and shook her head. "If I had a reale for every time I have said that, I would be rich." She dipped her finger into the tub and drew back. "The water is cold, Tessa! Let me heat it for you." Before Tessa could stop her, Marta went out, closing the bedroom door. She returned a few minutes later with a large jug, which she poured into the tub. "How is that...better?"

Tessa smiled her thanks and subsided further into the water. It was heavenly to relax. But the enjoyment was short-lived. She had much left to do before this day was over.

"Marta, where is Señor Borges?"

"You found the papers?" Marta asked excitedly.

"Yes, I have them." Tessa smiled up at her, a glow of pleasure warming her at her small triumph over Montoya and Marta's obvious approval.

Marta frowned. "And it took you all night to get them?"

"Well, there were ...complications."

Marta pursed her lips. "There always are. What was it this time? You are not hurt?"

Tessa plunged under the water, submerging her head, playing for time. Emerging, she rubbed her eyes and met Marta's stern gaze. There was no getting away from it; she would have to explain.

"I hid in a cave to get out of the rain, and there was a man." Tessa swallowed and added, "A Frenchman."

"You spent the whole night with a Frenchman." It was an incredulous statement more than a question. Marta stared at her, unblinking, waiting for the rest.

Tessa was getting cold. She reached for a linen towel that hung from a rack nearby and stood up, wrapping the warm cloth around her. But not before Marta saw the bruises on her back.

"Madre de Dios, Tessa! How did you get such marks on you?" Marta closed her eyes. "Don't tell me. I really don't want to know. Just get dressed and I will find Señor Borges. He is usually with Casillas, your cattle foreman, learning to be a vaquero." Marta moved toward the bedroom door with a hurried step.

"Wait, Marta. It isn't what you think." Tessa tied her robe back on and faced her friend. "He is in need of help, very fragile in his mind."

Marta whirled and planted her hands on her hips. "So you spent the night with a crazy man. That is supposed to make me feel better about those marks?"

"He thought I was trying to steal something from him. I mean, really, Marta, dressed as the Queen, I look like an outlaw. What else could he think?" Tessa moved to her vanity mirror and picked up her brush, watching Marta's reflection. "We had a slight struggle, then he wouldn't let me leave." Tessa paused, seeing the sceptical expression on Marta's face. "Well, I could have left anytime, but he seemed to need someone...someone with strength because he doesn't seem to have much."

Marta shook her head. "Those are the worst kind, Tessa. Stay away from him. Where is he now?"

"I left him in the valley, and promised I'd come back for him. I have to do it, Marta. He needs my help."

"Get dressed. I will find Señor Borges and have him wait for you in the salon." Without waiting for an answer, Marta left the room quickly.

In the sudden quiet, Tessa felt disturbed by Marta's disapproval. Marta had no love for the French. Many of her people had joined the partisans during the war and were taken prisoner and died by the hundreds. And, Tessa reminded herself, Marta's husband was a French soldier. She has many reasons to feel bitter towards them. Tessa opened her wardrobe and selected a blouse and skirt, then pulled a chemise and pantalones from a side drawer.

Marta came back in, just as Tessa was tucking her white blouse into the navy skirt. "Did you find Borges?" Tessa asked.

"He will be there in a few minutes. Let me fix your hair, Tessa." Marta took the brush and began to tug at the tangles in the long dark hair. When she touched the lump on the back of Tessa's head, Tessa cried out in pain and annoyance.

"Marta! Take it easy!" She touched the tender spot, alarmed at the size of the bump. "I hit my head when I fell off my horse."

"And that is how you got the bruises?" Marta set the brush down and turned Tessa to stare into her eyes.

"Most of them, I suppose." Tessa took a deep breath, determined to say what had been on her mind most of the day. "Marta, do you believe in reincarnation?"

Marta stepped back, her mouth opening in a wordless exclamation. "What a question! You know I do. I have told you. What is this about, Tessa?"

"Why have you never explained your beliefs to me, Marta? I only know just a little about what you think or believe."

The other woman turned away, moving toward the door and Tessa was afraid she would leave without answering, leave still wrapped in that mystery that Tessa had never been able to solve. Who was this woman, really?

"What are you afraid of, Marta, that you can't give me a straight answer?"

Marta paused and turned back. "Your father entrusted you to my care. He did not hire me to teach you to be a gitana, or to believe in a faith other than his own. Don Rafael was a devout Christian; he believed strongly in his country and his Church. To him, they were part of the same thing. One cannot exist without the other." She took a tremulous breath and continued, "Though my beliefs are different, it was my duty to see that you were educated in your own faith. This I have done as best I could." Marta smiled wryly. "There were many times when I thought you would be better off in a convent."

Tessa grimaced, then giggled, her heart lightened suddenly. "You can't be serious, Marta. Could you see me in a convent?"

"When you were at your most difficult, I thought the nuns would do a better job of educating you."

"Why didn't you send me then?" Tessa asked with a light laugh.

"My conscience would have bothered me. I couldn't do that to the poor nuns." Marta laughed aloud as Tessa's face fell.

"Marta!" she cried in mock indignation, then Tessa laughed too. "I suppose I was a difficult child sometimes, wasn't I, Marta?" She waited and Marta made no reply. "This is where you're supposed to say, 'no, Tessa, you were a model child'."

"That would be a lie. I could say, 'when your time comes, I hope you have a child just like you'." Marta's eyes sparkled with merriment as Tessa pouted.

"Is that some kind of Gypsy curse?" Tessa asked with mild asperity.

"Not usually, but in your case..." Marta laughed again, then embraced Tessa warmly. "Of course, you know I am teasing you. I am proud of you. I could not be prouder if I was your own mother. You were marked as an unusual child from your birth and I was meant to be part of your life. I would not change a minute of those years."

Tessa relaxed against Marta, letting go of the tension of the day. The other woman's strength sustained her, and her love supported her. Tessa could not imagine life without Marta. Thank goodness Roman had wanted to stay around Santa Elena and not take Marta away. She held on for a long while, then gradually drew back.

"I suppose Señor Borges must be waiting for us by now." Tessa showed Marta the sheaf of papers she had carried from the saddlebag. "These prove beyond doubt that Simon is the owner of his grandfather's hacienda." She gave Marta another excited hug, then released her. "Let's go and give him the good news!"

Simon Borges turned from the window as the two women entered the salon. His youthful face lit with hope as he gazed between them. In his suntanned hand, he held a pair of dark leather gloves as if he had just come in from riding. There was dust on the legs of his brown trousers and scuffs on his black boots from the stirrups. He brushed self-consciously at the smudges on the sleeves of his tan jacket. The elegant braiding over the front and sleeves were more suitable for a party than for rounding up steers, but it was all he had with him to wear.

He smiled and came forward. Not a tall man, he was about Tessa's height but strongly built. His smooth face was clean-shaven except for a wisp of blond moustache, the same colour as his short hair. In his hazel eyes was a warm look of admiration. Tessa worried at that look. Did it denote infatuation? He took her hand and kissed it reverently.

"Señorita Alvarado," he said in a surprisingly deep voice. "My debt to you is boundless, as is my gratitude."

Tessa held out the papers that she had been hiding behind her back. "A masked woman brought these here for you, Señor Borges. I think it could be the deed to your property."

Eagerly, he took the papers and scanned them quickly. He let out a loud whoop then grabbed Tessa by the arms and danced her around in a circle, laughing all the while. Suddenly, he stopped and said breathlessly, "I am sorry, señorita. But I was so amazed at my good fortune, I couldn't help it. These are the deeds and other papers for my hacienda." Shaking his head with wonder, he moved to a settee and dropped onto it. "I can hardly believe it. I had given up hope that my grandfather's legacy would ever be mine." He slumped forward, covering his face and his shoulders began to shake. The sound of his weeping filled the awkward silence in the room.

Tessa glanced at Marta, unsure what to do, embarrassed by his sudden, unrestrained emotions. Marta gave her a little push toward the settee and Tessa went and sat beside him. She draped her arm over his shoulder and pulled him closer.

"I had come so far," he said brokenly, "Only to find my land stolen and there was nothing I could do about it." Shamefacedly, he wiped his reddened eyes and straightened. "Then, you gave me a place in your home. Since living here, I have felt under an obligation, that I could not stay too long. I did not know what to do. But now," he said with a wide smile, "I have my land, a place of my own." He took Tessa's hand and pressed it warmly. "I owe you everything. Without your help, I would have had to return to Spain with nothing. I can never repay your kindness, but if ever you need my help, you have only to ask. I would do anything for you, Señorita Alvarado. Anything, " he said again fervently, kissing her hand again. Glancing at Marta, he stood up and bowed, then left the room, taking the papers with him.

Tessa leaned back against the settee, a worry niggling at her. "He must have some protection, some witnesses, when he takes those papers to Montoya. Otherwise, it is only Simon's word against Montoya's. I am afraid for Simon. Montoya doesn't take losing very gracefully."

Marta moved across the room and sat down next to Tessa. "I would suggest Dr. Helm should go with Señor Borges when he goes to claim his land. Perhaps Señor Hidalgo also would make a good witness. Montoya would not dare go against him. He is the leader of the dons." She patted Tessa's hand then stood up. "Lunch is ready. We will suggest our ideas to Simon while we eat our meal. He would do anything to please you. I think our young guest has fallen in love with you," Marta said with a wink.

"Oh please, Marta, don't say that! He's much too young for me." Tessa got up and followed Marta out into the corridor toward the dining room.

"He is the same age as you, Tessa," Marta corrected her.

Taking their places at the table, the two women waited while their guest washed and changed his clothes before joining them. The subject of his feelings for her was dropped for now, much to Tessa's relief.

Act Two

Tessa sighed heavily as she saddled Chico. He echoed it with his own much louder sigh. It was obvious he did not want to leave the stable again that day. "Sorry, boy," she whispered, "But if I had another horse as strong as you, I'd take it. If it makes you feel any better, I don't want to spend any more time in the saddle today either." She sighed again, drawing the reins over his head. The horse nuzzled her shoulder, almost as if he understood. Rubbing his nose affectionately, she led him out the back door into the dusk. When she had gone far enough from the workers' huts, she lifted slowly onto the horse's back, mindful of her tired legs. "Vamos, Chico," she said near his ear, and he started into a trot.

The sky had darkened to a deep blue and the evening star hung like a jewel near the horizon as Tessa neared the hidden valley. A clutch of fear rippled through her. What if he did not wait here as I told him? What if he has gone to Santa Elena? She guided Chico into the valley entrance, almost afraid to enter, afraid of what she might find.

The horse stepped out onto the grassy meadow. Across the space, Tessa saw some smoke drifting up from the hut. She breathed more easily as she urged Chico toward the small building. He has waited for me,Tessa thought. Warmth pervaded her as she realised that meant he trusted her, that he knew she would return for him. He's probably ravenous by now, too.