"A problem that I hope you can help me with," Reyes said. When Charlie did not respond he made an impatient sound and said, "A problem that concerns my daughter."

"What problem?"

Reyes smiled again, this time with a glint of true amusement. "Yes, I thought that might get your attention.

I've noticed my daughter and you are quite concerned about each other's welfare."

"Stands to reason after what we've been through gettin' here."

"How true. Since you are so concerned about her welfare, I felt I could depend on you to assist me in

saving her from a very unpleasant situation."

"Get on with it," Charlie muttered, not liking the drift of the conversation.

"Ah, a man who likes to get to the point. An Anglo trait, but one I happen to admire. I took a trip into

Chihuahua today, and you must imagine my surprise upon hearing my daughter's name bandied about asthough she were a common puta."

Charlie growled low in his throat. His hands clenched into fists. "Alvarez."

"Yes, I suspect you are right there. Juan has never quite gotten over the public embarrassment Angelina caused him at their wedding." Reyes looked at him closely. "I see she told you of her misbehavior. That is good. She saved me the time explaining her past."

"So what do you want me to do? Kill him?" Charlie's hand went to his gun.

Reyes chuckled. "No, gracias. That would only cause more trouble. No, Coltrain, I want you to marryher.""Huh?" Charlie gaped. "She's a nun.""Oh, no. Not yet.""She wants to be a nun. She won't marry me. Besides, what does she care about her reputation? She'll be in a convent soon enough."

"She may not care about her reputation, but I do. I have a plan, Coltrain. A plan where we can all have what we want."

A sudden wariness made Charlie back up a step and lean against a fence post. Reyes was up to

something. Charlie just had to figure out what. "And what do you think I want?" he asked, watching

Reyes closely for any clue that might reveal what trick the man had planned.

"Angelina, of course. I saw the way you looked at her when you came here. You want her." He raised his hand to hold off Charlie's denial. "You don't have to pretend with me. I understand. You can have her. I want you to have her."

Charlie gripped his hands together to keep from putting them around Miguel Reyes's throat. "What you

want doesn't interest me. What does Angelina want?"

"I will handle her. This time she will do as I say. Marry her and save her reputation. Then, if things do not work out between the two of you, disappear. Angelina will believe she is a widow, and she can return to

the convent. I will pay you whatever you ask. Everyone will be happy."

"Everyone except Angelina."

"She will come to understand. And if she is truly unhappy she can return to her precious convent. Where is the harm?"

"Aren't you forgetting the little matter of her virginity?"

"Do not worry about that." Ryes waved his hand, dismissing the problem. "The convent will accept a widow of good reputation if she arrives with an impressive dowry."

"I don't want her forced into anything."

Reyes sighed, a sound heavy with irritation. "Fine. I will talk to her. She is a reasonable young woman. She will agree."

Charlie turned away and leaned against the corral fence. He should say no immediately. He knew that. But instead his entire body clamored for him to accept the offer.

He didn't deserve her. She was young, beautiful, innocent. He was old, scarred, dissolute. His stepfather had told him often enough that no decent woman would ever want him. Charlie was sure Angelina would agree.

But maybe, just this once, he could do something good for someone. If Charlie said no, old Miguel would find someone else to marry Angelina, and who was to say that someone would understand her and her dream the way Charlie did. At the very least, he could get Angelina away from her sorry excuse for a father and return her to the convent. Once she was Charlie Coltrain's wife, no one would treat her like a possession ever again.

Charlie turned. He met and matched the cold gaze of Miguel Reyes. "All right," he said. "I'll marry your daughter."

Night fell and still Angelina remained in her room. Her mother arrived, bringing dinner but no information. Though she might know what was wrong, she wasn't saying. Upon leaving, her mother locked the door. Angelina begged to be released, but, as always, Theresa Reyes followed the orders of her husband.

The moon rose, casting eerie silver shadows through the window and across the bed upon which Angelina lay. She stared at the ceiling and wondered what had made her father so angry this time. After countless minutes of wondering, Angelina realized her imagination was creating much worse scenarios than could possibly be the truth. If she had to stay in her room much longer without knowing, she would go mad.

The lock clicked, and her door swung inward. Angelina sat up quickly. She would not meet her fate lying down. In the doorway stood her father. His face was indistinguishable in the darkness, but the set of his shoulders revealed his barely suppressed anger.

He stepped into the room and shut the door behind him, locking it with a flick of his wrist. Angelina fought not to flinch as he walked toward her. Without warning he hit her, the back of his hand connecting with her cheek. Angelina absorbed the blow, biting down on her tongue to keep from crying out.

"That," he hissed, "is for your stupidity. Did you think news of your actions wouldn't reach Chihuahua?"

"What actions?"

He raised his hand again, then with obvious reluctance lowered it. "Did you think you could travel across the country with that man, stop at the Alvarez ranch and parade him in front of everyone and not cause gossip to run rampant?"

"I had no choice but to travel with him. I didn't know Juan and Maria lived there until it was too late to leave, and I didn't realize people would be so small-minded. I am a postulate, Padre. I am near to taking my vows. Why is everyone so eager to believe I would lie down with a man just because he's available?"

Her father moved away, striding to the window and staring out at the darkened yard. Angelina breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn't think when he hovered over her, prepared to strike at any moment.

"Why they believe it is not the issue here," he said. "The issue is that they do believe. You told Maria Alvarez about your troubles at the convent. The fact that you are not a novice yet, that the mother superior did not feel you were ready for those vows, only added fuel to the murmurs. You nearly ruined my political career once with your willfulness. You will not do so again."

"I will leave tonight."

"No, you will not."

The icy finality of his tone chilled Angelina all the way to her toes. She took a deep breath and attempted to convince him of her sincerity.

"I will go back to the convent. The talk will die down very quickly once I am gone."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. I am not prepared to take any more chances because of you, daughter. You will marry him tonight and cause their prattling tongues to cease wagging."

"Marry?" Angelina's mind groped for the missing piece to the puzzle. When had marriage entered the conversation? "Marry whom?"

Her father turned away from the window, and even in the darkness she could see the shine of his white teeth when he smiled. "Why your gun-slinging friend, of course. You wanted him so much. Now you can have him."

For one second, happiness overpowered her shock. Then reality intruded. What about her calling? Her visions? She was to be a nun. Charlie was her test from God. If she gave in to her feelings for him, she failed. She must remember that truth above any others.

"I cannot marry him, Padre."

"I did not ask for your consent. You will marry him, and you will marry him tonight."

"I seem to remember having this conversation once before. You can't make me marry someone against my will."

To Angelina's surprise, her father merely laughed, crossed the room to unlock the door, then left without another word. The click of the bolt sliding home on the other side of the door sounded loud in the quiet darkness. Angelina fell backward onto the bed and resumed staring at the ceiling.

Her father was too happy by far. And when Miguel Reyes was happy, that usually boded ill for someone else. She had a bad feeling she was that someone this time.

Though it seemed like many hours, perhaps only one hour passed before the door opened once more. This time everyone held a kerosene lamp and they filled the room with light. Angelina sat up and blinked against the unaccustomed brightness. When her eyes adjusted, she recognized her mother, with her father just behind and the family priest next to him, a different man from the one who had given her sanctuary at the last wedding.

Her father stepped around her mother. In his left hand he held a shotgun. Angelina frowned and glanced at her mother, who would not meet her eyes.

Angelina stood and addressed the priest. "What is going on here?"

The priest took up a position in front of the window and opened his Bible, ignoring her question. Obviously she could depend on no help from that quarter. Her father answered her. "Time for a wedding, daughter."

"I told you-"

Angelina broke off as another figure came through the door. She caught her breath as the light fell across his handsome face. He'd dressed in Levi's and a clean black shirt. For once, he had no gunbelt, a state she had never observed before.

Odd, she thought, he still looks just as dangerous without a firearm.

The dark material of his shirt contrasted with his gold-silver hair as the strands glistened in the flickering light. His gaze seemed impossibly black as it swept the room and lit upon her. He smiled, the first true smile she'd ever seen upon his lips, and she couldn't help but smile in return.

Charlie took a step toward her with his hand outstretched. Angelina hesitated a second. Had Charlie agreed to this farce? How could he when he knew of her visions, her angel, her dream? He had to know she would not agree. Before she could give voice to her questions, they were answered in an unexpected way.

Miguel Reyes swung the shotgun upward and planted the barrel against Charlie's chest. The smile upon Charlie's lips faded. He froze and glanced down at the gun, then up at the man who held the weapon.

"What the hell do you think you're doin', Reyes?" Charlie growled.

"Just a little insurance." Her father's gaze never left Charlie, though his next words were meant for her. "Say the words, daughter. Marry this man without a fight, or I'll splatter him across the room."

Angelina gasped, her shocked gaze flicking to Charlie's. If possible, his eyes darkened even more. Black ice, she thought. He looks ready to kill.

"This wasn't part of the agreement, Reyes."

Agreement? Angelina looked back and forth between her father and Charlie. What agreement?

"You said you would marry her. Here she is. There is the priest. Now do it or I'll blow you into the next life."

"No," Charlie growled.

Angelina's father cocked the gun.

"I told you I wouldn't marry her unless she agreed. I don't want her forced into anything-especially by you."

Charlie's words warmed Angelina's heart. He understood her. He would never hurt her if he could help it.

Her father shoved Charlie with the butt of the gun, and Charlie stumbled backward a few steps. Angelina cried out and stepped forward. Her mother reached out and grabbed her elbow, but Angelina jerked her arm away from the restraining touch. The two men ignored her, intent on their own conversation.

"You'll do as I tell you, Coltrain, and keep your mouth shut unless you are asked to open it. Shall we see if you can still say your vows with your leg full of lead?"

"Stop it!" Angelina screamed. All eyes turned to her. "Just leave him alone. I'll do it. All right? I'll say anything you want if you just leave him alone."

Everyone in the room smiled at her compliance-except for Charlie. He frowned. Then her father moved behind him and shoved Charlie forward with the butt of the shotgun until he stood next to Angelina.

"Let's get on with the wedding, shall we?" her father said, obviously pleased to be getting his way. "Padre?"

The priest began to mumble in Latin. Angelina could feel Charlie's tension as a force in the air. She could tell he was desperately trying to think of a way to get them out of the situation. But her father stood behind them with the shotgun to Charlie's back.

Most of the ceremony was a blur. When she was required to speak her vows, Angelina glanced behind her. Her father cocked the shotgun again for emphasis, and she hurriedly repeated what she was asked to say. When Charlie's turn came, a prod with the butt of the gun forced him to comply, though his voice roughened with suppressed anger.

And then it was done. She was no longer Angelina Reyes, but Angelina Coltrain. Numb, she turned to her husband. Her words of apology never got past her lips.

With a growl of irritation, Charlie turned on her mother and father. "You've got what you wanted. Now take that gun and get out."

Her father smirked. "Can't wait to claim your rights, Coltrain?"

Angelina's mother gasped; then with a soft pat on Angelina's hand she fled the room. Her father backed away from them, keeping his gaze on Charlie and his shotgun ready.