Sister Elizabeth in particular had a way of bringing a classroom to order that would have done any sergeant proud.

"At ease," Mary said calmly.

"This uniform doesn't require a salute." Harry blinked, realized his hand was raised halfway to his head, and let it fall slowly.

"Habit," he said.

"Yes," she replied dryly.

"That's what I'm wearing." Harry blinked again, this time collecting his thoughts.

"No, I meant it was a habit to--" She cut him off.

"I was pulling your leg, private. I know what you meant." Shaking his head slowly, Harry rubbed the underside of his chin.

"A Sister with a sense of humor," he said almost inaudibly.

"If that don't beat all." His hand dropped away and he looked her over from head to toe.

"You arrived yesterday with the Sullivans."

"That's right. I'm Mrs. Sullivan's sister."

"I.

didn't know you were a nun." Mary used one hand to gesture to her habit.

"I think you can appreciate how ill-suited this manner of dress is to this climate," she said.

"At least during the day.

With evening upon us I find it quite cool."

"That's a fact, Sister."

"Mary Francis," she said.

"Sister Mary Francis," he repeated obediently. Harry had seen her taking a walk with Florence Gardner that very morning. Now he tried not to recall the lusty thoughts that had entered his mind. He couldn't imagine the penance that would be imposed for wanting to have carnal knowledge with a nun. He could always plead ignorance of the fact, he considered, but how much would that count for? Better to make personal amends while he could. Unconsciously his body came to attention again.

"What can I do for you, Sister?" he asked in his best schoolboy manner.

"I've come to see the prisoner," she said.

"I understand that it is permitted." Harry had been warned to expect a minister from Tucson, but Mary's presence was a surprise.

"You have this from the general himself?" he asked. From his mouth to his mother's ear, Mary thought. It was just as good.

"I.

do," she said. It didn't occur to Mary that Florence Gardner would lie. It didn't occur to Harry that Sister Mary Francis would.

"Very well," he said. His eyes dropped to the valise that Mary was carrying.

"What do you have in there?" Mary crossed the room and set the valise on Harry's desk. She opened it for the private's inspection. On top was a Bible that Florence insisted she take to Ryder. Beneath that was a fresh change of clothes, boot polish, and a shaving kit. Mary made certain that Harry saw everything.

"No matter what the man's sins," she said, "he deserves to die with dignity." Harry nearly smiled. How like a nun to think that a change of clothes was essential to one's dignity.

"All right," he said.

"You can take this in, if McKay will even see you. If he won't, I'll make sure he gets it later."

"Thank you. That's very kind of you." Harry Bishop felt as if he'd been blessed.

"This way, Sister Mary. I'll take a chair in for you." Mary smiled serenely and followed Harry through the door to the cells.

Although there were three, only the middle one was occupied. Her heart raced as Harry went to stand in front of it.

"You have a visitor, McKay," he announced. Ryder was lying on his cot, his hands cradling his head. His line of vision was toward the window of his cell, not the entrance. He made no move to rise or even look in the direction of Harry Bishop and the visitor.

"D'you hear me, McKay? Someone's come by to save your miserable soul."

Harry positioned the chair in the corridor and placed the valise on the floor.

"An angel by the name of Sister Mary Francis." Ryder knew very well who accompanied Harry into the cell area, but he was careful not to show his hand. He rose slowly, stretched, then let his feet fall to the floor. Finally his head swiveled in the direction of the iron bars of the cell's door. He looked directly at Private Bishop, not sparing a glance for Mary.

"You can let her in, Harry. She's not going to minister to my soul through these bars." Harry hesitated, his eyes darting from Ryder to Mary.

"It's all right," Mary said encouragingly.

"I didn't expect to be kept in the corridor. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure, Sister? I mean, if you were a man and all I wouldn't be asking."

Mary's tone changed, affecting complete confidence and authority now.

"I'm fully capable, Private, even if I'm not a man. I appreciate your concern, but it's misplaced. Now, let me in to see this prisoner or you will have to account for your actions to the general first and God later." Harry Bishop opened the door. He set the chair and valise inside and ushered Mary in.

"I'll check on you every few minutes," he said before he exited.

"Every fifteen or so will be quite enough," she said firmly. Harry was tempted to salute again. He could not return to his station in the guardroom quickly enough. Neither Ryder nor Mary spoke immediately once they were alone. She was struck by the changes in him; the sun-bronzed color had been washed out of his skin by months of imprisonment, a harshness was in the lines of his face, a deep, abiding coldness in his eyes. There was nothing in his manner that welcomed her; it was apparent that he resented her presence. He found it difficult to look at her and impossible to look away. The lantern in the corridor bathed her face in warm light, but it did not account for her radiance. That seemed to come from within Mary. She was the sole source of the aura which surrounded her. Her beautiful features were composed, and their perfect symmetry gave her an otherworldly expression. Compassion illuminated her forest green eyes but her stance was faintly militant, her slender body rigid with the proud defiance of a peaceful warrior. She would not fight, he thought, but she would not be moved. He wished she had not come. Now that she was here, he wished there had been another way.

"Mrs. Gardner said you wanted to see me," Mary said. "it appears she misunderstood."

"There was no mistake," Ryder said roughly. He pointed to the chair Harry left.

"Sit down." Very much aware that it was an order, not an invitation, Mary's mouth flattened stubbornly.

"Suit yourself," he said, shrugging. He reached for the valise.