"No."

Drew sighed. This was getting him nowhere. He put a coin on the bar and slid it toward the bartender.

The money disappeared into the man's palm.

"Remember 'em now?"

"No, senor. If they came through this town, they would have come here. We have the only rooms and

the only kitchen. They have not been here."

Drew nodded slowly. The few hours following his injury were hazy to him. But he did remember certain

things. He remembered Coltrain carrying him around when he was too weak to protest. He rememberedgentle hands and concerned brown eyes. Best of all, he remembered her name."Angelina Reyes," he said. "Ever heard the name Reyes."The bartender's eyes widened in surprise. "Si, Senor. Miguel Reyes owns the biggest hacienda in northern Mexico."

Drew Winston smiled. The bartender returned the smile until he looked into Drew's eyes. Whatever he saw there made his smile fade as he backed away, wariness etching his forehead with lines.

"Where?" Drew's voice was taut with suppressed excitement. "Where in northern Mexico?"

"Near Chihuahua, Senor. Ask anyone when you get there. Anyone can tell you how to find the Reyes

ranch."

Drew nodded his thanks and left the saloon. He mounted his horse and turned it in the direction of...

"Chihuahua," he whispered in triumph.

Angelina and Charlie stopped their horses at the top of a ridge that overlooked her father's ranch. They stared down at the bustle of activity below them.

Home.

The word slammed through Angelina's head like the crack of a whip. There was no going back now. She would have to face her father and everything such a meeting entailed. Her heart thumped faster in reaction to the thought.

Angelina slanted a glance Charlie's way. He was not looking at her. What else was new? Since the incident two nights past when she had realized Charlie's true significance and mumbled some stupid excuse for her withdrawal from him, Charlie had rarely looked at her.

Oh, he had been polite. Too polite. The closeness that had grown between them during their time together had been replaced by a distant civility she abhorred. Though she should be happy Charlie's changed attitude had removed temptation from her grasp, she wanted to beg him just to look at her once the way he used to.

She straightened in the saddle, wincing against the pain slicing through her back at the movement. What on earth was the matter with her? She should thank the Lord their hellish trip was nearly at an end. Once Charlie left, she would never see his face again, never hear his ruined voice, never kiss his sinfully clever lips. She would be out of temptation's clutches; she would pass God's test.

So why did she want to cry?

"Nice spread." Charlie continued to stare at the two-story house, barn, bunkhouse and corral below them.

The house shone in the sun, whitewashed to perfection. Miguel Reyes never allowed his home to look anything less than like the palace he considered it to be. "The largest hacienda in this part of Mexico," Angelina said, though the pride her father felt over that accomplishment remained absent from her voice and her heart.

"Hmm. All your brothers live here, too?"

"No. My father married every one off to an heiress and nearly doubled the size of Reyes land. All my brothers manage their own part of the empire."

"Your father sounds like an interestin' man."

"I wouldn't call him interesting."

"What would you call him?"

Angelina considered several terms, then regretfully discarded each one as unladylike. "Padre," she answered. "I just call him Padre."

Without further comment, she kicked her horse into a gallop and set off toward home.

She should have known that nothing would escape the notice of Miguel Reyes. By the time she dismounted in front of the house, he and her mother were already waiting on the porch. They had changed little in the year she had been gone. Perhaps her mother was a bit thinner, but no gray showed in the thick black hair and her face was still unlined and beautiful. Only her eyes revealed the old soul held within.

"Angelina," her mother said, joy coloring her voice. She started forward, her arms outstretched for an

embrace. Her husband stopped her with a motion of his hand.

"What is the meaning of this, daughter?" His voice was as cold as his eyes. His muscular, stocky build had thickened minutely around the waist, though he still held himself stiff with the power of his own importance.

"The meaning of what?" Angelina asked."Why are you here? Dressed like that? Where is your habit?""It's a long story, Padre. Could we go inside and discuss this?"The sound of hoofbeats approached, and her father's gaze focused behind her. Obviously Charlie had decided to join them instead of riding out of her life without a good-bye. Angelina clenched her teeth

against the happiness flooding through her at his presence.

"Who is this?" Her father's lip curled in distaste, and his gaze flicked back to Angelina's face. She saw the speculation in his eyes and struggled not to turn away. She had learned long ago that any expression of weakness would only give him more control over her.

"Charlie Coltrain. He escorted me here from Texas.""Alone?" Her mother's voice shook with shock."Yes, Madre. Alone.""You had better have a good explanation for this, Angelina," her father said. "Come inside. I wish to hear everything." He looked at Charlie. "You can water your horse and then come around to the kitchen. The

cook will feed you." He turned toward the house.

"No." Defiance resonated in the word. Angelina braced herself as her father turned slowly back to face her.

"Pardon me?" he said slowly.

"Charlie is not some hired hand you can order around like a slave. He saved my life many times over.

You won't treat him like this."

"I won't?"

"Angelina, it's all right."

Her parents started at the sound of Charlie's ruined voice. They stared at him as though his horse had sat

up and asked for tea. Her mother's hand fluttered up to rest at her throat, a sure sign of unease.

Angelina spared Charlie a glance. He stared at her father impassively. She knew that look. He was coldly furious.

"It is not all right," she told Charlie. He continued to stare at her father. "Put Gabe in the barn and then

join us inside." She turned back to her parents. Her father must have seen the determination in her eyes

and decided, for whatever reason, to let this act of defiance pass. He shrugged in agreement and went into the house. Her mother followed as always. Angelina turned to Charlie.

"There's no reason to get everyone in an uproar over me," he said, at last looking her in the eyes, though no emotion showed upon his face. "I told you I'd take you home. You're home, so I'll be goin'."

"No, wait." Angelina fought against the panic rising within her at the thought of his leaving. "You can at least stay the night, have a hot meal, a bath. I owe you that. And I'll have my father pay you right away."

"Pay me for what? You wanted to go to the convent. I dragged you here."

"You didn't have a choice but to bring me here. I'm safe. Alive. My father can afford to pay you."

Charlie hesitated as though he were going to argue. Then he nodded and slid down from Gabe's back. "I'd tell you I don't want the money. But fact is, I need it. I'll have to hide out down here awhile before I can make my way back to Texas and find out who's been pretendin' to be me."

"I want you to have the money. We made a deal, and though it didn't work out the way I planned, you did your best."

Charlie's black gaze swept over her face, and Angelina's mouth went dry. "What we have is much more than a deal, Angel, and you know it." Before she could answer, he turned and led Gabe away.

"Angelina." Her father's voice summoned, and she turned away from the sight of Charlie's retreating back with a sigh. She should have let him go. Life would be so much less complicated without Charlie Coltrain in it. But she couldn't bring herself to say good-bye to him. Not yet.

She faced her parents in the parlor. Miguel and Theresa Reyes sat together on the settee, though they took pains to avoid touching. Things had not changed between them since Angelina had left a year ago. Each existed next to the other with very little interaction between them. The example of her parents' loveless marriage had done little to endear the idea of an arranged union to Angelina. If she had to exist in the same house for the rest of her life with a person she detested, she'd rather be dead.

"Well, daughter." Her father folded his hands in his lap and stared at her. He had always done the same when doling out her childhood punishments. Then she had squirmed under his regard; now she merely stared back stoically. "We are surprised to find you on our doorstep when we thought you in a convent."

"Surprised and displeased, no doubt."

"I am not pleased to have you arrive with an Anglo gunslinger."

"He is not a gunslinger."

"No? Well, no matter. I wish for you to explain yourself. Immediately."

Since she could see no way out of providing an explanation, Angelina took a deep breath and dove in. She regaled them with the tale from the moment she'd left her convent in Corpus Christi, continued with a graphic rendition of the murders of her friends and her own near rape and finished with her rescue by Charlie. She left out the details of their trip and Charlie's wanted status, as well as her own vision of the angel and her confusing feelings for the man in question.

A soft, pained gasp caused Angelina to stop speaking and glance at her mother. Theresa was pale, her dark eyes round with shock. Sheltered first on her parents' hacienda, then on that of her husband, Theresa had never encountered anything more disturbing than Miguel Reyes. Though he was more disturbing than most, he did not compare to the tale Angelina had just told."I'm sorry, Madre," Angelina said. "I should not have told you all the details."With an impatient wave of his hand, her father put aside her mother's distress. "Theresa," he barked, "go and see to your daughter's bath. She smells of the trail."

Without a word of protest, Angelina's mother quit the room.

"You told this man I would pay him to bring you here?"

"I had no other choice. I was alone; he was there. What would you expect me to do?"

"Why didn't you return to the convent?"

"I wanted to see my mother." Only my mother, not you or this place, she added silently. Angelina raised

her chin and stared at her father. "Is that a crime?"

"No, I am just surprised. A year ago you couldn't wait to get away from here. Now you want to see your mother. I am curious."

"Don't be. I will stay for a visit and then I will return to Corpus Christi and take my vows."

"And that is another curiosity. When I sent you to the convent, I understood you would begin your

novitiate after six months. Yet it is a year after you left here and you tell me you are still a postulate.