~Chapter 3~

Ahmed thought he heard a footstep behind him and he turned abruptly, still holding the branch in front of himself. The girl gasped.

"What a fanTAStic tush!" she exclaimed before she could stop herself.

Then she clamped both hands over her mouth trying to push the words back in, turning very red. Ahmed turned back to her. He had heard but did not understand and he had not seen the source of the footstep.

"I beg your pardon?" he said. She murmured something but her hands were still clamped over her mouth so that her words were muffled. He found himself blushing also.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, finally removing her hands. "I just meant that you have the most perfect, luscious butt I have ever seen on man or beast, I have never been so gloriously mooned in my entire life.... Sorry. I'd be mad as hell if a guy I didn't know said that to me, but the words just flew out of my mouth.... Here, take this...." She removed the Japanese kimono and handed it to him. "This'll probably fit you better than it fits me anyway."

She turned her back while he put on the kimono. It was black with a beautiful pattern of flying cranes and bamboo trees etched in gold. Then with a smile in his voice he said, "You may look now."

She turned only halfway around. Although she was thinner than in his dream, she was still not what he would have called skinny, he noted with approval. And although she was not the mature woman he had hoped for, she was certainly no simpering adolescent, either.

"You must think I'm just horrible," she said in a little-girlish voice.

"Women are not so bold where I come from," he admitted with a half smile. "Most women, that is. However, your boldness does not offend me. There is something innocent and charming about it. Although I do not know if other men less well traveled than I would find it so."

"I'm not usually this bold. I've never said a thing like that to any guy in my entire life, not even my ex-boyfriend. But all this stuff has made me kind of crazy, it's just so weird and ... Where DO you come from, anyway?"

"I am from Araby," he said. "From the-"

"Araby? Saudi Arabia? You don't look like any Saudi I ever saw."

"No no no no no, farther to the East. Perhaps you know it as Persia?"

"Persia?? As in Iran? Where they've got our guys held hostage at the Embassy?" "Hostage? I do not know what you mean." He had nearly forgotten that they were not in the same century any more. And how was he going to explain to her what happened so that she would believe him? She would think him totally mad!

"You know--the terrorists and all. Don't worry, I wouldn't hold it against you. There was this Iranian guy that worked at the pizza place where I and some of my friends used to hang out, and they fired him just for being an Iranian. I cut out going there after that, he was really a nice guy and it was pretty mean to treat him like that. You don't look like any terrorist to me. But could you possibly explain to me how I got here? You're gonna think I'm nuts, but I haven't a clue. I don't have the faintest recollection what I was doing before I landed here. I don't do drugs and I don't drink, and I'm not the party-till-I-puke type. I'm the original Miss Goody Two Shoes, if you must know. Maybe somebody slipped me something. I bet it was that creep that's been trying to get me to go out with him, I... Oh my God, will you look at that?"

He looked behind him where she pointed. There, at the edge of the meadow, stood his snow-white camel, Fezeek. That must have been the footstep he had heard.

"It's a camel!" she exclaimed in delight. "Must be an albino, right? Is he yours?"

"He is mine," Ahmed said, relieved for a moment to be spared the necessity of explaining the situation to her, although he knew he would have to think of something to tell her sooner or later. He saw that Fezeek was laden with large bags, and was nibbling leaves from a tree nearby. She started to run to him, then hesitated.

"Does he bite or kick?" she asked.

"Camels are somewhat unpredictable," Ahmed said. "Perhaps you had better not go too close to him just yet." He went to Fezeek himself and examined the bags slung across the animal's hump. He tossed them one by one to the ground.

"This kinda looks like California," she said looking all around. "I haven't been to California since I was a little kid, but I've seen a lot of movies and pictures, and this looks like the way John Steinbeck describes the California countryside in East of Eden. It sure doesn't look like Iran or Saudi Arabia. But what on earth would a camel be doing in California, that's what I'd like to know?"

Ahmed opened one of the bags and found some of his own clothes within. Another bag contained a tent. On Fezeek's other side he found a long bundle of tent poles.

"Wow," she exclaimed, "for a guy that was wearing nothing but his birthday suit when I first saw you, you sure came equipped! What's that, a tent?"

"Yes. I am sorry about the, the suit, RoZita. I do not know how that happened. I-"

"What did you call me?" She stared at him.

"RoZita.... Is that not your name?"

"It's Rose. Nobody ever calls me RoZita. Well, my sister does, once in a…who are you anyway? What the hell is going on here? This is getting scary." She drew back, her eyes full of consternation.

"You are not ...'Zita the warrior princess'?" He hoped that title would at least jog her memory, wondering what sort of trick the old magician, who had seemed so honest, had played on him.

"WHAT??" she nearly screamed, startling Fezeek so that the camel jumped forward a step or two.

"Is this not the year 2000?" It suddenly occurred to Ahmed that perhaps he had somehow landed in the wrong year.

"Buddy, it's nineteen-EIGHTY," she said, her eyes wider than ever. Boy, they must do years differently where you come from. And I'm a warrior about like the Ayatollah Khomeini is a boy scout.... You DO know who he is, right?"

Ahmed, normally quick witted, still could not think of a thing to tell her. All he could think was to distract her until he came up with an idea.

"Please help me pitch this tent, RoZita--I mean Rose," he said nervously, "and then I will try to explain. Although you will not believe me."

"Look," she said, without moving, "I don't claim to be the most sophisticated person on the block, but I wasn't born yesterday either. Day before yesterday, maybe. But definitely not yesterday. So don't try treating me liked I'm some stupid kid. Now are you gonna tell me what's going on or, or..." Suddenly she backed off, her eyes full of terror.

"Rose," he made a move to try to steady her, but she flinched away from his touch.

"I know what it is," she exclaimed. "You ARE one of them! You've kidnapped me, that's what it is. You drugged and abducted me, and you're holding me hostage too!"

He was lean, red faced and sandy haired, with cold blue eyes and thin lips. Except that he was a little shorter and stockier, broader shouldered and not as good looking, he bore a slight resemblance to his younger brother, the late Captain Harrison Love. His name was Cornelius, but he was nicknamed Carnal for his lusty fleshly appetites.

As he shaved and dressed, he could hear his wife Ruby Mae arguing with the cook, and he grimaced to himself. And then he thought of the delectable Elena Montero.

"Down, boy," he said with a grin, patting the sudden bulge in the front of his pants.

He was on his way out the door when he heard his wife's voice call out, "Cornelius, where are you going?"

Love groaned inwardly, feeling a strong urge to slap that fat nagging heifer upside the head.

"I'm goin' to take the damn steer to the damn butcher, Ruby Mae, where the hell do you think I'm goin'?" he growled, glaring at the Mexican cook, Pepa, as though she were the one who had asked the question.

Their fat eight-year-old son, Willy, was sitting on a stool in the kitchen, poking holes in a mound of bread dough with his finger and putting the finger in his mouth, then back into the dough. Then he dug his finger in his ear and then stuck it back into the dough.

"When will you be back?" Ruby Mae asked.

"Hell, I don't know," Love snapped, figuring if he didn't get out of there soon, he was going to burn the whole damn house down. "When I get back, I reckon. And supper had damn well be on the table then, you hear that?"

"No la toca!" cried Pepa, slapping Willy's hand away from the bread dough. He gave a yell, then growled "Bitch" in imitation of his papa.

Love shook his head as he exited the house, which was Spanish in style. He went off to the pasture for the steer and with the help of his ranch hand, Pepa's husband Pancho, loaded him onto the wagon and hitched the horses to it.

"Don't go makin' love to any of my cows while I'm gone, you greasy Spic, you hear me?" Love said to Pancho by way of a joke, slapping the Mexican on the back. As Love mounted the wagon and rode off, Pancho made an insulting gesture with his finger behind Love's back.

"Chinga tu madre, pendejo," he snarled when Love was out of hearing distance.

After he had dropped off the steer at the butcher's and collected his money, Love set off once more, but not in the direction of the ranch house.

He was riding in the direction of a certain camp on a certain mountain, not too far from a certain waterfall.

A young gypsy was waiting there for him, trying to look like she wasn't. She was a rather small, dark girl, dressed in a dirty white blouse that showed most of her tits and shoulders, a few strings of cheap-looking beads hanging around her neck. Her skirt was patched and came almost up to her knees and her dirty feet were in leather sandals. She was good looking in her dark animal way, but she didn't even come close to Elena Montero, thought Love, licking his lips. The fairest lady in all the land, and she was gonna be his.

That is, after he got his hands on that bastard Murieta.

He knew Alejandro from his wild and woolly bandit days, when his brother Joaquin was still alive, and that old geezer with the three fingers. The three of them had stolen one of his prize porkers once. They were just brazen enough to leave the pig's head on Love's front door step with a note saying how tasty the meat was and congratulating him on raising such a fine hog, and the head was a thank-you gift. The note was in Spanish but Pancho had translated it for him and then burst out laughing.

And now Alejandro Murieta had come up in the world and was regarded by all as a hero. He had killed Love's brother, Harrison. Carnal Love was gonna get him for that. And then he was gonna have Elena. Oh yes-indeedy-sunshine he was!

The gypsy was sitting beneath a tree leaning back on the trunk, fiddling with her beads and humming a slightly obscene song.

"Ehhhh, muchacho," she called out to him lazily, making out like she wasn't glad to see him, but her eyes gave her away. He suppressed a snort.

"Gimme a big kiss, Nestrelda darlin'," Love said, hopping down from the wagon seat. He strode up to her with his arms wide open. Nestrelda hesitated, as though making up her mind whether or not to go to him, then stood up and allowed him to embrace and kiss her. Far behind her he could see three of her cutthroat pals. One of them slumped against a tree, swigging at a jug of rum and belching. Another sat in the shade gnawing on God knows what kind of meat, another smoked a marijuana cigarette with a silly expression on his none too beautiful face.

Three meaner-looking hombres you wouldn't want to see anywhere.

Love slapped Nestrelda on the rump as he planted a loud kiss on her lips. She said, "Ooooo papito, I like when you do that."

"What's Butt Sniffin' Dog eatin' there?" he pointed at the half-breed Indian sitting in the shade, whose real name was Charlie Black Goose.

"Rattlesnake," laughed Nestrelda. "If you ask him pretty please, he might share his bounty."

"I'll pass," Love laughed also. "Listen here, angel face. You know a feller by the name of Alejandro Murieta?"

He didn't know why he asked her that. The slut knew every bastard in California, damn nearly. But how her face lit up when Love spoke his name!

"Alejandro Murieta?" she exclaimed. "Ayyyyyy--prettiest man in all California!" She bared her teeth and rolled up her beady black eyes in a look of pure lust. Love was a little taken aback. That bitch was hardly human. It almost scared him at times.

"How'd you like to get your sweet little meat hooks on him?" Love asked her. She made a noise in her throat like a sow in heat. "I thought so," he laughed.

"Digame mas, mi amor," she purred.

"After you give me some sugar, maybe?" He ran a hand down one of her long black braids.

"Noooowwwww," she begged. He laughed.

"I know the place he goes to meet his fancy lady," he said. "I've been watching him. It's by the waterfall--you know where that is, Pussycat?" She nodded. "How would you and them nice pals of yours like a job? You reckon them smelly old mudcats there would be up for a little fun and games?"

Nestrelda looked back at the smelly old mudcats. "They always up for fun, papito!" she snickered.

"Hey Scourge!" Love yelled at the man leaning against the tree. Scourge was an ex-pirate. He used to call himself, with his dazzling originality, "The Scourge of the Seven Seas," but since the Gold Rush he had taken his piratic activities to dry land. He was huge with tattoos all over his bald head and brawny arms, as well as in other more unlikely places. But he still had both his eyes, both hands, and both legs. And he knew how to use them.

"Hey Scourge!" Love yelled. "Think ya could manage to fart a little louder? Don't think they heard ya over in Wyoming!"

Nestrelda giggled shrilly. "That ain't nice," she scolded him. "You got to be more polite to my friends if you don't want them to roast your cojones."

"Right," Love laughed. "Hey Scourge, how 'bout haulin' that great big tattooed arse of yours over here and see if you can get Butt Sniffin' Dog away from his rattlesnakes and that greasy Cochino away from his loco-weed for a few minutes. I got a little job for y'all!"

Elena couldn't trust her eyes! There was a camel! A big white one!

And Alejandro tossed some bags onto the ground and spoke with the young woman. He wore her kimono now.

But suddenly she turned away from him and began to run.

The beautiful man called, "ROSE!" and tried to catch her arm but she was faster and slid through his fingers.

Then she ran straight toward the waterfall to find a hiding-place and discovered Elena.

"Please help meeee!" the strange woman cried out. Elena, clutching her sword, ran to the woman to help her because the mysterious man was almost behind her.

Breathless and loud, with Alejandro's husky voice, which left Elena shuddering, he called once more, "Please RoZita, wait, wait, WAIT! I will not hurt you! LET ME TRY TO EXPLAIN!"

And then the three met…