Charlie And The Angel - Charlie And The Angel Part 11
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Charlie And The Angel Part 11

choice?"

"I really don't want to talk about this," Angelina muttered.

"Somethin' to hide, Sister?"

A hiss of irritation escaped her lips before they tightened into a thin line. "Since you insist on returning me

to my family, you'll no doubt hear the story anyway. My father made arrangements for me to marry the

oldest son of our nearest neighbor. When I refused, my father locked me in my room until the wedding."

Charlie frowned. "How long?"

"A month. I was allowed to see no one but my father when he brought my meals. Every day he asked me to give in. I merely prayed and ignored him."

"Stubborn," Charlie said.

Angelina shrugged. "I knew what was right. To marry a man for his land is not right. Especially when God meant me for the church. I had no doubt things would work out in the end."

Charlie smirked. "What did you do?"

"The day of the wedding I went to the church. Everyone came from miles around. There had to be over a hundred people there. When I was asked to give my assent to the marriage, I told the priest of my calling and put myself in the protection of the church." A sound suspiciously akin to a laugh came from her throat. "My father had no choice but to give in. Too many people had heard me, and no priest would marry me once he knew of my calling. But my father was able to turn everything around to his advantage.

He always does. Now he tells any who will listen about his daughter the postulate in Texas. He's discovered that, in a religious country like Mexico, it helps to have a daughter in the church."

"What about the man you were supposed to marry?"

Angelina's fingers clenched on the reins. "Juan was very angry. I embarrassed him. I tried to explain, but

he wouldn't listen. Maybe someday he'll forgive me."

"Maybe," Charlie said, but he didn't agree. He could imagine the faceless Juan's anger at the loss of Angelina. But he couldn't pity the boy. Charlie had learned young to take what he wanted. If he'd been

the man at the altar with Angelina, he would have made sure she left the church as his wife and no one else's.

Not even God's.

* * * * They didn't stop to rest until nigh on to midnight and then only because her horse was exhausted. Angelina nearly slept in the saddle, but she would never admit such a weakness. Since childhood, she had learned not to complain in any situation. Being the only girl and an obvious favorite with her mother, her brothers had always been jealous of her. They watched for the first sign of weakness and then circled like the scavengers they were. Angelina understood now that she had become a stronger person as a result of their jealousy and thanked the Lord for His foresight. The night was chilly, and Angelina shivered as she wrapped herself in a blanket and sat down to eat their cold meal."Sorry we can't make a fire," Charlie said."I understand. The light might give us away. You don't have to worry about me, Charlie. I'm fine.""I don't think that Ranger's on our trail yet. But I could be wrong. Doesn't pay to take chances.""No, I agree.""I wish I could figure out-" Charlie began, then drifted off as he stared into the darkness.Angelina waited a moment for him to continue, then asked, "What?"He started at her words, as though he'd forgotten her presence, then shrugged. "Oh, nothin' much. I just can't figure out why a damned Yankee is in the Texas Rangers."

"I've heard men come from all over to join them."

"Yeah, but I'd think mostly Southerners would come to Texas. Why a Yankee?"

"I don't know. Does it matter?"

"I suspect not, in the long run. If he catches me I'll hang. I'd just hate goin' down because of a Yankee."

His voice deepened on the last word, and Angelina flinched at the amount of hatred he managed to convey in a single declaration.

"Was the war so bad," she asked softly, "that you'd hate someone you don't even know just because of

where he was born?"

She heard him shift uneasily in the darkness and wondered if he would refuse to answer. Then his voice came, rough and ruined, and her arms prickled with awareness.

"My hatin' Yankees started long before the war. The war and-" He trailed off as though remembering

something that pained him. When he spoke again his voice was softer, gentler, if only for a moment."What came after only made that hate a permanent part of me.""I can't believe that. You must learn to forgive."He snorted. "No way, Sister. Some things don't deserve forgivin'.""But-""No, you know nothin' about me. Don't start tryin' to save me. I ain't worth it."

"I disagree. People can change, if they want to badly enough."

He sighed, the sound long and hollow, drawn deep from within him. "I tried to change. Got sick of the runnin' and the killin' and tried to take an honest job. Look where it got me. I'm wanted just the same."

"Charlie, the change has to come from within you. Out of a genuine desire to be a better person. Running

away from what you've done, what you were, won't help."

"How'd you get so smart? Are you speakin' from experience, Angelina? Runnin' away from your family didn't help, did it? You're still a woman inside, not a dried-up nun."

Angelina's back stiffened at the taunting tone of his voice. "We're not talking about me."

"Why not?"

"We already did. I told you about my father, my wedding. Why don't you tell me about the hatred that

overflows your voice every time the word Yankee enters the conversation."

"Why don't you go to hell, Sister?"

Angelina's gasp was not so much shock at his profanity as a reaction to the sudden realization that

flooded through her like a heavenly light. She had heard others tell of such visions of purpose, but she

had never experienced one for herself until that moment.

Suddenly she knew that purpose as well as she knew she was meant to be a nun. The father in Blue Creek had been right. God had sent Charlie to her for a reason. Charlie's hatred was eating him from within. Someone had to save him from himself.

Angelina smiled and wrapped her arms around her body, rocking back and forth to contain her inner delight.

God had given her a mission, and that mission's name was Charlie Coltrain.

Chapter Six.

Charlie rarely slept. When he did, he never slept deeply. He couldn't remember a time when he'd been able to relax his vigilance enough to lose consciousness without at least part of his mind remaining alert.

Tonight was no exception. The anger consuming him when he'd told Angelina where to go had only increased when she'd sweetly wished him good night and fallen into a deep and easy sleep.

Charlie stared into the night and listened to the silence. Why, he asked himself, did Angelina's pious words infuriate him so deeply? The poor kid was only trying to help him.

Kid. He laughed at himself. Maybe if he kept calling her that he'd start to believe it and his body would stop responding to her whenever she came near him. Hell, calling her Sister sure wasn't working.

Maybe he wasn't so much angry at what she said as with what he'd remembered. The stage accident, the screams and the death. Usually his mind only treated him to that memory when he could hold sleep at bay no longer. But tonight, when he'd spoken to Angelina about his reasons for turning away from crime, he'd remembered the occasion when he'd last broken the law in painful detail.

A rustle to his left made Charlie jerk his head up. Had he dozed off for a moment? He didn't think so, but if not, then why had his chin been resting upon his chest?

The noise came again, closer this time, and Charlie slowly moved his hand toward his gun. He glanced over at his horse. The animal slept, undisturbed.

Odd.

Charlie got to his feet quietly, putting himself between the noise and Angelina. Clouds shrouded the night in blackness. Despite his excellent night vision, he could not even make out a shadow in the dark. Well, he wasn't going to sit and let whoever or whatever was out there come and slaughter them without a fight. He'd learned as a youngster that surprise was the best defense.

Holding his gun at the ready, Charlie charged into the night.

Immediately he felt a shift of movement and leapt toward it. His lips parted in a grimace of victory when he connected with a body and drove the intruder into the dirt beneath him.

He straddled the wriggling, kicking form and pinned flailing fists to the ground.

"Who the hell are you? And what do you want?" he demanded.

"I want to go back to bed," Angelina said. "Now get off me."

Charlie was so surprised to hear her voice, he almost missed deflecting the knee that came up between

his legs with lightning speed and deadly accuracy. But years of dealing with dirty fighters had honed his reflexes against such sudden moves. He shifted, pressing her legs tighter between his own and the rock-strewn ground.

"You know an awful lot about where to hurt a man for a nun."

"I have six brothers. I know how to defend myself."

"Maybe against them, but not against me."

Angelina arched her back and yanked on her wrists. The movement only served to make him achingly

aware of each inch of feminine curve beneath him. She grunted with effort as she tried to pull free once

more. Then she went still.

Charlie's eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and he could just make out her face. She glared at him, her lips pressed into an angry line.

Not scared, he thought, just spitting mad. Wonder if she acted like this at the convent.