On a warm summer evening in 1851, in a lonely hacienda outside San Francisco, Don (formerly Colonel) Luis Montoya lay in his bed, age and illness taking their toll on him. He thought of the monumental events of the past number of years: the Alamo in 1836 and the subsequent war which cost Spain its holdings from Texas to California; the Gold Rush of 1848 which brought the Americanos to the west; and finally, California becoming a state during the past year. Montoya had helped broker the sale, bringing him much wealth but also resentment from his countrymen.

One thought bothered him, though. To this day, the Queen of Swords still haunted him like a phantom. Since she had first appeared those many years ago, she thwarted every scheme of his, killed scores of his men, and disappeared with only a Tarot card left as a clue.

"Damn her!" Montoya rasped. "I am only glad I will die before she kills me."

"Good evening, Don Montoya," came that familiar gentle alto voice, only a bit huskier.

Montoya turned and saw a figure at the window. Madre de Dios! That diabla, the Queen of Swords, had found him! She was still beautiful, yet there were traces of fine lines on her face, and streaks of gray flecked her raven mane. Her sword was absent from her waist, and a slight, almost pitying smile played on her full lips.

"So the Grim Reaper arrives." A bitter smile. "My head, O Queen, is yours."

"I didn't come to kill you," the Queen replied. "I've come to pray for you."

"Pray for me?" His disbelieving snort of laughter was followed by a rasping cough.

"I've come to pray for your soul."

"I have often been told I have none. Why waste your prayers on me?"

"Because we are all God's children. Because despite your greed and scheming, you possess some decency."

"You should pray for your own soul, my dear Queen. And those of my men whom you have killed."

"I do every night." The Queen sat on the bed next to Montoya. "I also pray that their families will forgive me."

"That, to quote the late Captain Grisham, is 'a tall order'."

"The captain redeemed his honor at the Alamo."

"The Americanos had no chance of victory. They threw their lives away for nothing."

"Nothing? California is now part of Los Estados Unidos de America."

Montoya began coughing violently, his face turning red. The Queen held him close and patted his back to clear his lungs. She then gave him a dose of the medicine on his bedside table.

"Gracias." A sour smile. "I am surprised you help me."

"I often thought about killing you, Montoya. You oppressed the rich and poor alike, you schemed and manipulated to fill your own pockets. What was your percentage in giving California to the gringos?"

"More than you will see in your lifetime. I congratulate you, Reina de Espadas. You have escaped my justice intact and are free to break the law of the gringos. I say, let them have you."

"No, Montoya. I am getting too old for this." A sad smile. "My daughter has taken up the cause, with the blessings of the Americanos."

Montoya coughed again, more in pain. It was only a matter of time before the Grim Reaper would come and claim him. The Queen of Swords started to get up, but Montoya grabbed her arm.

"Wait!" The Queen sat down and listened patiently. "I am not a bad man. I have tried to rule in the best interests of my people, with fairness. Yes, I may have strayed on occasion. Yes, at times I seemed more interested in my own interests. But I instilled discipline. Even if I had to kill some dissidents."

"The road to Hell is paved with good intentions. I had to interfere, Montoya. It was my duty and my Fate."

"I have a request before I die." Montoya grew serious. "All these years you were a thorn in my side, however, there is something very familiar about you. It is like I know you from somewhere."

"That is possible." The Queen smiled mysteriously.

"Before I meet my ancestors, I must know — who are you?"

The Queen gave a sad sigh, then a chuckle as if deliberating. Finally, she lowered her head and removed her mask, giving it to Montoya. She raised her head and...

"Maria Teresa Alvarado!" Montoya gasped. Tessa looked almost as radiant as when she arrived in California those many years ago. Like Montoya, age had also left its mark on her, but it only seemed to enhance her beauty.

"Yes, Colonel." Tessa's smile was a mix of pity and triumph. "I was that thorn in your side these many years. You who killed mi cariño padre, y mi cariño Antonio. My best friend and confidant, Marta. Everyone I have ever loved has felt your 'justice'."

"Do not take the high moral ground with me." Montoya said acidly. "Remember, you are not innocent when it comes to killing yourself."

"Very true, but I tried to avoid it in my fight for justice. I pray every night for those men's families and for their souls."

Tessa held Montoya's frail hand to her chest and clasped his shoulder. Montoya's eyes began closing and his breath began to fade. A weak chuckle escaped Montoya's lips.

"I always liked your father, Maria Teresa." Nobody called Tessa that except close family friends. "He was a good man. I regretted having to kill him. I have regretted many of my actions, necessary as they were."

"You must rest now, Don Montoya." Tessa smiled. To her surprise, she felt a tear streaming down her cheek. "I will pray for your soul tonight."

"Perhaps I will see your father on the other side."

"If you do, tell him I love him and will see him again soon."

"Adíos, Reina de Espadas. You have been a most worthy adversary."

"Vaya con dios, Luis Rodrigo Alvarez y Montoya. May Our Holy Father forgive you."

The two adversaries solemnly shook hands to end the war between them. Then Tessa kissed Montonya on the cheek and left, leaving him her mask as a souvenir. The next day Luis Montoya was buried in a small cemetery outside San Francisco. Tessa and a few of Montoya's old associates were present for the service. She knelt at his gravesite and uttered a silent prayer, then put a pot of flowers on the site and got up to go.

Rest in peace, Montoya. May I also rest in peace when my time comes. The sun shone on her face as she rode in her carriage back into San Francisco.