Why?"

Angelina gritted her teeth and fought to remain calm. The way her father asked his questions lent an insinuation to the words that rankled her. "The mother superior wanted me to take a little more time to think about what I was vowing to become."

Her father raised his eyebrows. "The mother did not feel you had a calling?"

"She didn't know me as well as she knew some of the other women. Most of the postulates there are from the area. They went to the school the Sisters run there. Once I enter the novitiate, I must take my

religious name and wear the habit of the order. It is a very important step. One not to be taken lightly.

The mother superior only wanted to be sure I was ready."

Her father nodded his understanding. "And what about this Charlie?"

"He will stay the night. Then it is up to him what he wants to do."

Something in her voice must have betrayed her true feelings, for her father looked at her sharply, his gaze

narrowing in speculation. Angelina fought to keep from flinching against his prying eyes. He already acted too suspicious. If she showed any weakness, he would move in for the kill like a coyote with a maimed rabbit.

"All right," he said and stood. "I will pay your man. Go and find your mother. Wash, dress. I will see you

at dinner." He strode out of the house without a backward glance.

Angelina remained where she was for a moment. She should be relieved the interrogation was over. As a child she often wondered if her father had learned his questioning methods from studying the Inquisition.

He had let her off remarkably easy this time. Perhaps he had finally realized she was a grown woman who would not be intimidated as easily as her mother.

Angelina relaxed and took a deep breath. She had accomplished what she wanted. Her father would pay Charlie, and that would be the end of this short, frightening, exciting interlude in her life. She could return to the convent none the worse for her adventure.

Then in the dark, quiet, lonely nights she would dream about Charlie Coltrain and remember. * * * *

Charlie finished tending to Gabe and took care of Angelina's mount, as well. He knew he should join the Reyes family in the house, but he just couldn't bring himself to go inside. There was something about Angelina's father that set his teeth on edge. Maybe it was the way the man spoke to Angelina, as though she were his property and not a human being with her own will. Or maybe it was the way Reyes had looked at him, as if he were lower than an insect crawling out from under the nearest rock. Either way, Charlie didn't relish joining them in the parlor.

"Can I have a moment of your time, Senor?"

Charlie looked up and met the slick, dark gaze of Miguel Reyes. Immediately he went on the alert. The man wanted something. But what?

"I suspect I've got a minute," Charlie said.

"My daughter told us how you saved her life. Her mother and I are very grateful."

"Forget it."

"Oh, but I can't. I owe you. What can I do to repay your kindness?"

"I just want the money the Sister promised. That's all and I'll be goin'."

"The Sister?" Miguel chuckled as though Charlie had made a joke. "Oh, Angelina. Yes. But of course I'll

pay you the money. Before we do that though, I thought I might offer you something more. How are you with horses?"

"Good." Charlie frowned. What was the man getting at?

"I thought you would be. One of my hands was injured yesterday and won't be able to work for quite a while. Perhaps you would consent to take his place?"

"You want me to work for you?" Though he had meant to keep his voice level, some of his distaste for the idea must have come through, for Reyes narrowed his eyes.

"Would that be so bad? Or do you have a pressing engagement elsewhere?"

"No." Charlie thought a moment. He would make more money, which he could always use. The ranch was as good a place to hide out as any. And he could keep an eye on Angelina and make sure things with her father weren't even worse than she'd let on. He didn't trust the man, not a bit. Charlie had the feeling an ulterior motive lurked behind the job offer, though he couldn't see what it was. Yes, he would stick around and see just what old Miguel was up to. Once he was sure Angelina wasn't going to be hurt, then he could move on.

Charlie held out his hand to Reyes, smiling thinly when the man hesitated before grasping his fingers. "All right," he said as he met Miguel's gaze straight on. "You've got yourself a hired hand."

Chapter Twelve.

"Where is he?" Angelina's voice echoed through the house.

Her mother flinched at the volume, but continued to sew without pause. "Lower your voice. The servants will hear."

"I don't care what they hear. I want to know where Charlie is. I haven't seen him for two days. Where is Father?"

"Away."

"Where?"

Her mother shrugged. "He never tells me where he goes. I am merely thankful he goes."

Angelina stifled her temper. Sometimes her mother's apathy about her situation made Angelina want to scream. But she knew from experience nothing would make Theresa Reyes see beyond the boundaries of life imposed by her husband. She was a deeply religious woman who believed in the vows she had made to Miguel Reyes. She would obey until death parted them-and probably beyond.

Angelina tried to take a deep, calming breath, but the pressure of her corset choked the attempt. As she had suspected, the only clothes left in her room were too tight to wear without the confining contraption. The dresses, most of them made for her wedding trousseau, were all in the latest fashion. Still, wearing them and living in her father's home once again, if only temporarily, made her feel like a child. The feeling preyed on her already tense nerves, making her short-tempered and snappish. "I've looked all over for Charlie, Madre." Angelina fought to keep her irritation and her nerves from her voice. "I can't find him."

"Perhaps he left."

"No. He wouldn't. Not without saying-" Angelina bit her lip against the flood of alarm at the thought. "I mean, his horse is still in the barn. He wouldn't leave without his horse."

Her mother nodded and continued to sew. "Is there something you want to share with me about this man, Angelina?"

Angelina had been listlessly examining the flower arrangement on the low table next to the sitting room door, wondering, as always, how her mother kept roses alive in the heat of Mexico. At her mother's words, she went still. "What do you mean by that?" she asked, keeping her eyes focused on the silky blossoms.

"I have never seen you so concerned about anyone before. For you, God has always been foremost in your mind. But since you've been back, I sense something else."

"Charlie is-" Angelina trailed off. How could she explain what Charlie had come to mean to her when she didn't know the truth herself? "Charlie saved my life. He is special."

Her mother looked up then, concern etching her features. "Special? Are you in love with him?"

"Love?" Angelina turned away from the flowers with a start. Her breath seemed to stick in her throat. "No, it's not that."

"He's a little old for you, querida."

Angelina shifted, uneasy with the direction of the conversation. "If I were in love with him, his age wouldn't matter."

"Did anything happen between the two of you while you were traveling together?"

Her mother studied her intently, and Angelina's face flushed as she remembered the times she and Charlie

had kissed-and the pleasure she'd felt during each and every incident. "Nothing happened, Madre," she said. "Nothing I couldn't deal with."

Angelina looked away from her mother's probing gaze, the lie laying between them like thick river-bottom mud.

"I worry," her mother said as she returned to her sewing. "After all the trouble of last year, the wedding, Juan." She sighed, a sound of pain from deep within, and Angelina winced at the shaft of guilt that shot through her own chest. "Your father has finally come to accept your calling. You know how much your entering the convent has pleased me. I always wanted one of my children to go to the church."

"I went because I was called, Madre. Not to make you or Padre happy.""I know. I would just hate for all the trouble to have been for nothing.""How could that be?""Your father wants to go into politics, Angelina. He always has. The time has come for him to achieve his dream. He wanted all his children settled before he made such a step.""You mean he wanted us all filed safely away where we could create no scandals.""Honor thy father and mother, querida."The admonishment held great strength despite, or perhaps because of, the softness of the tone in which it was administered.

"Si, Madre." Angelina looked down at her hands. She had twisted her fingers together so tightly theyshone white at the knuckles. "I am sorry.""It will be good for your father's career to have a daughter in the church.""I'm glad I can oblige him," Angelina muttered.Her mother glanced at her sharply, but said nothing about her comment. "All I'm asking is that you stand by your decision. The scandal you caused by your refusal to marry your father's choice of husband has nearly died down. The fact that you went into the church was the only reason your behavior was forgiven. I'm begging you not to ruin your father's chances for advancement. He is counting on you to become a bride of Christ."

The sound of a horse approaching the house at high speed saved Angelina from telling her mother exactly what she thought of her father. Hurrying to the front door, Angelina opened it in time to see the man in question dismount his horse. He took the front steps in a single stride, then stopped with a lurch when he saw her standing in the doorway.

His cheeks flooded red, and Angelina took a step backward at the anger in his eyes.

"Get upstairs, daughter." He pointed his finger at her and jabbed it twice for emphasis. "Go to your room and don't come out until I call you."

"What happened?"

"Don't talk to me. Get out!" he bellowed.

Her mother came running at the sound of his voice. "Miguel! What is it?"

"I have been to town." He glanced at Angelina again. "Get out of my sight before I lose my temper."

If this isn't losing your temper, Angelina thought, what is? She kept the words to herself, but stood her ground, refusing to obey his command. His eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. He took a step toward Angelina, but her mother stepped between them.

"Go," she whispered. "I will calm him and find out what the trouble is." When Angelina continued to hesitate, her mother added the only word that could make Angelina give in, "Please."

Angelina turned and walked upstairs. As she went to her room, her father's voice carried up the staircase in her wake. "If I do not think of something quickly, all my chances for a position in the government will be destroyed. That girl has been nothing but trouble since the minute she was born. Why was I cursed with such a daughter? Why couldn't she have gone to that convent and stayed there? Why on earth did she have to show up here again to ruin my life?"

Charlie returned to the bunkhouse with the three hands he'd worked with over the past few days. As soon as he'd agreed to work for Reyes, Charlie had been sent to the farthest reaches of the property to ride the boundaries. No doubt the man wanted to separate him from Angelina. He couldn't fault Reyes for that. If he'd had a daughter, he wouldn't have let a low-down excuse for a man like Charlie Coltrain near her any longer than he had to. What Charlie couldn't understand was why Angelina's father would offer him a job at all if the man wanted to separate them.

Charlie yanked off his shirt and began to wash off the accumulated grime of two days' riding. When he'd done the best he could, he poured the rest of the bucket of water over his head. He'd set out for the stream later and taken a real bath. Right now, the clean wetness of the rainwater soothed away the heat of his skin.

"Senor, I need to speak with you immediately."

Charlie stiffened at the slick voice behind him. He was definitely slipping. He hadn't heard the man coming. Without turning around, Charlie reached for his shirt and shoved his arms into it. He'd be damned if he'd talk to the man half naked. He took his time buttoning the front, then finger combed his hair back from his brow and replaced his hat. Only then did Charlie turn to face Miguel Reyes.

Something was very wrong. Though Angelina's father's voice had been cool and deceptively calm, Charlie recognized banked fury in his eyes.

"Is Angelina all right?" Charlie demanded.

Reyes smiled thinly but the anger in his eyes remained in place. "I find it most amusing that you should ask that."

"Funny. You don't look like you're laughin'."

Reyes pretended to ignore the sarcasm, though his jaw muscles tightened and relaxed, then tightened again, betraying his irritation. "I discovered a bit of a problem in town today."

Charlie waited, uncertain why the man wanted to discuss his problems with the hired help.