"Go to sleep, Angelina," Charlie said, his voice old and weary. "Tomorrow looks to be a tough day."

He kissed her forehead and lay still. But Angelina's mind was too full of thoughts to sleep right away.

A child. She was so naive. All she had thought about when Charlie had touched her was continuing the glorious riot of pleasure she was experiencing. She had not thought ahead to the next hour, let alone the next life they might have created. At least Charlie had enough sense to avoid making such a mistake.

The thought of having a child, Charlie's child, caused a heavy warmth to settle at the base of her throat. She blinked back a sudden wetness in the corners of her eyes. She had always loved children. That was why she'd wanted to join a teaching order, despite her talent with nursing. She wanted children to be a part of her life, even if they could never be children of her own.

A picture appeared before her of the life she could have with Charlie. A true marriage-sleeping with him every night, holding him, touching him and learning more of the intense passion she enjoyed every time they kissed or touched. The fantasy beckoned, and she allowed herself a moment to contemplate the unreachable-bearing Charlie's children, loving them, teaching them, raising them. She wanted those things so much it hurt. Then reality intruded.

This man was her test. A test she was failing miserably. Instead of resisting his allure, she had married him. If she gave in to the passion he stirred in her, the dream of a normal life he represented, she would have to deny her calling. If she did that, then where would she be? She had believed in the truth of her life with God since the age of ten. Could she have been wrong? If her calling was not a true one, then what about her visions of the golden angel? What did they mean?

If she was not Angelina Reyes, postulate to the Sisters of the Incarnate Word and the Blessed Sacrament, then who was she? Angelina Coltrain, wife of a wanted man? Or just an out-and-out impostor in every aspect of life?

The questions came too fast for her already overtaxed mind. With the accusations and confusion still tumbling through her brain, Angelina cuddled against Charlie and gave herself up to uneasy sleep.

Charlie held Angelina as she slept, fitfully, her eyes and hands twitching, soft moans issuing from the back of her throat. He attempted to soothe whatever disturbing thoughts flitted through her mind by speaking softly and combing his fingers through her hair.

Nothing worked.

Finally he eased himself away, wondering if his nearness could be the cause of her unease. Moving across the room, he seated himself in the rocking chair. While he watched Angelina sleep, he had a much needed talk with himself.

For the first time in many years, someone had outfoxed him. During the last incident, in Second Chance, Missouri, he'd lost his brother because he had trusted a stranger too much. Charlie had seen in Jake Banner a ruthlessness to match his own and a gift for leading men he could make use of. He'd given Banner a trusted position in the gang. Then the man had turned out to be a stinking Pinkerton spy. Because of Banner, the majority of Charlie's gang had been shot in an ambush. The few who escaped had ridden off to Texas ahead of him, though, thinking on that fact now, Charlie realized that those men had never shown up in San Antonio. His brother Bill had returned to the town to settle an old score and ended up being shot like a dog outside the Second Chance Bank by Banner and his partner. That had been the beginning of many lapses in judgment for Charlie Coltrain.

Charlie returned his attention to Angelina. She slept peacefully; whatever had been bothering her had passed.

What on earth was he going to do about her? Had he ever believed he could disappear from her life and never look back? He wanted so much more from her than she was prepared to give. Looking at her he found himself, for the first time in his life, contemplating a normal existence-a home, a wife, a family. But to have those things he must convince Angelina she was better off his wife than a nun. How would he make a convincing argument when he knew just the opposite to be true?

He was no good. Never had been. He had no right ruining an innocent girl's life. Forget the fact that he'd gotten into this marriage to help her, he could see now he'd done nothing but make the situation worse.

Even if, by some miracle of her God, Angelina decided she would remain his wife, he still had a Texas Ranger on his trail, as well as countless bounty hunters. He could not subject her to such a life. He would not.

No. The best thing to do would be to disappear as soon as he could get away. For once in his miserable life he was going to do the right thing. Even if it killed him. And leaving Angelina just might accomplish that task, when countless lawmen and their guns had failed.

Charlie reached into his pocket and pulled out a long red piece of satin ribbon. He'd seen the guilty way Angelina had admired the bauble on Luanne's dresser weeks before. When she wasn't looking, he'd pocketed the item, not really sure why. At the time, he'd found the good Sister's weakness for pretty things amusing. Now he found it sad.

He'd planned to give her the ribbon after they were married, but the unanticipated nature of their wedding had driven the thought from his mind.

Charlie fell asleep, the ribbon twined about his fingers, and dreamed of Montana. Thousands of acres of land to roam free and easy. No one looking for him but ranchers with money to buy his horses. Sure, there were Indians to contend with, but he could handle them. Before, whenever he'd had the dream, the solitude of Montana had soothed him. This time, the loneliness of the endless grasses and the endless years alone settled as a physical ache within his soul.

"Charlie?"

The voice came from far away, soothing the ache and making him feel whole. He went toward the voice and awoke with a start. Angelina stood over him, fully clothed. The sun blazed through the window behind her.

"Wh-what time is it?" he rasped, reaching up to push his hair out of his eyes. The red ribbon in his fingers tangled with the strands, and he jerked his hand away in irritation.

"What's this?" Angelina asked and took his hand, unthreading the satin from between his fingers.

"Present for you." He stood, embarrassed to be caught sleeping with a woman's hair ribbon. "I wanted to give it to you last night, but-" He shrugged.

"Thank you. How did you know?"

Charlie shot her a glance. She was staring at the ribbon as though he'd given her gold. "Know what?"

"Red's my favorite color."

"I didn't know. Just thought it'd look pretty in your hair." He looked away again. Hell, he'd never been

good at talking to women. Had never needed to be. They'd always flocked to him in droves, no matter how rude he was. Now he wished he'd paid better attention when his mother had tried to teach him some manners.

When he glanced at Angelina again, she'd tied her hair away from her face with the gift. She smiled at

him, her face lighting up brighter than the red of the satin. He tried smiling back. It wasn't so bad.

The sound of horses in the yard below broke their gaze, and they moved to the window. Two men dismounted. Charlie narrowed his eyes. Both wore gunbelts and they walked as though they knew how to use them. Young men, in the prime of life, their reflexes at peak performance. And here he sat without a gun. What he wanted to know was how had the bounty hunters found him so fast?

Calm blanketed Charlie as it always did when danger beckoned. He scanned the room for a weapon, as

he mind searched for a plan. Nothing came. No weapon, no plan.

"Gotta find a gun," he muttered, turning toward the door. "You stay here. Where does your father keep his guns?"

"Why?"

"I don't have time to argue with you, Angelina. I need a gun before those men find me."

"They won't hurt you. They wouldn't dare."

Charlie snorted, stopping at the door to shoot his wife a glance of disbelief. "I'm wanted. They'll dare

anything to take me back."

"They don't know anything about you. That's Mark and Luke." Angelina frowned, looking out the window once more. "I wonder what my father's up to."

"You know those two?"

She nodded. "My brothers."

The breath Charlie had been holding came whooshing out of his mouth in a blast of relief, and he let go of

the doorknob. "Where's the rest of 'em?"

"They all have their own ranches. Matthew, the oldest, lives the farthest away. Otherwise I'm sure he'd

be right in the middle of whatever my father is planning. Mark and Luke are next in line and then there's John, Timothy and Peter."

"Your father's disciples."

"Exactly."

"Why'd he stop at six? Hell, I'd've thought he'd try for the whole twelve."

"I'm sure he would have. But after I was born, my mother lost two babies, and then the doctor said she could die if she had any more. The two of them barely speak now."

Charlie nodded. He had seen the tension between the elder Reyeses. The example of her parents' marriage had probably influenced Angelina more than she realized into her opting for the church.

"Better go down and see what they want before they come up here and tell us," Charlie said. "Takin' the offense is the best defense."

Angelina turned away from the window. She touched her hair ribbon as though she wanted to make sure it was still there. When her fingers encountered the satin, she smiled softly to herself. "Did you learn that strategy from your Col. Mosby?"

"Sure enough. And I've lived by the rule ever since. Remember that, Sister."

"Is that your plan for today?" she asked as Charlie unlocked the door and led her into the hall.

"Yep. We'll go down, say buenos dias to your brothers. Then just as quick it'll be adios, and we're gettin ' out of here."

"Where are we going?"

"Away. The sooner we're out of your father's house the better. Agreed?"

Angelina's gaze searched his face; then she met his eyes. With only a hint of reluctance, she nodded.

Charlie saw the trust in her face and fought not to flinch. He didn't deserve such a gift.

Together they went down the steps and found her family in the dining room. The three men had their heads together and spoke rapidly in Spanish.

Theresa Reyes sat calmly at the table drinking coffee. When they entered, she put down her cup and smiled. "Good morning, querida."

Immediately, all three men turned to face them, pulling their guns free of their gunbelts and pointing them at Charlie. He yanked Angelina behind him and glanced at her father.

"You always greet your new relations like this, Padre?" The emphasis he put on the final word made it into an insult. Reyes frowned. "I understand these two men are my new brothers. Good morning, gentlemen."

Mark and Luke Reyes stared at him obliquely, twins of their father in appearance, though they stood a half a foot taller, and their bodies were sinewy with work-hardened muscle. Charlie had learned early to look straight into a man's eyes when he held a gun on you. You could always judge his sincerity best that way. What he saw in Mark and Luke's eyes didn't bode well for him. They would not gainsay their father.

Charlie glanced at his mother-in-law. Theresa looked ready to faint at the show of force in her dining room. She would be no help.

"What is the meaning of this, Padre?" Angelina stepped around Charlie, placing herself between him and the guns. He tried to take her by the shoulders and move her out of the way, but she stamped down hard on his instep, and he had to clench his teeth to keep from grunting in pain. She put her hands up, holding his fingers upon her shoulders. The movement looked like a caress. When her fingernails dug into his flesh, he knew the gesture for what it was-a warning.

Miguel saw the movement and smiled. "Just a little insurance, daughter. I do not trust my new son."

"We did what you wanted. We're married. What else is there?"

"Oh, much more. Much more."

"Spit it out, Reyes," Charlie growled.

"Ah, yes. You are a man who likes to get to the point. I forgot." He nodded and put away his own gun, though Mark and Luke kept theirs pointed steadily at Charlie's chest. "You two will go to a small retreat for a few days. Just until we can spread the word of your marriage. Mark and Luke will take you, and since we wouldn't want to lose you, they will bring your horses back with them. In a few days they will return for you. Once you are home again, we will have a party to celebrate the wedding of my only daughter. You will both come, and you will act the part of a happily married couple."

Charlie grimaced. Outflanked again. Since there were still two guns trained on him, and Angelina stood in the way, he saw no way out of the situation. He would have to agree until he could find another way out.

"All right," he agreed. "We'll be ready to go as soon as we eat and pack."

Angelina gasped and turned to stare at him. "What are you saying? How can you let him manipulate you like that?"

Charlie raised his eyebrows at her. "From where I'm standin' he's got all the guns, Sister. You've got to learn when to cut your losses"-he smiled and leaned down to whisper for her ears only-"and when to regroup for another day."

Chapter Fourteen.

The cabin was a day's ride away, situated at the outer boundary between the main Reyes ranch and the ranch of Luke Reyes, the third brother. The structure was used by ranch hands working far away from the main house for long periods. Angelina's father had assured them when they left the main house that no one would be in the vicinity of the cabin during the time Charlie and Angelina spent there. He had done so in a hearty voice, as though he were sending them on a lavish honeymoon trip. Unfortunately, the presence of her brothers and their guns ruined the happy picture.

Not much was said during the ride to the cabin. Angelina tried to reason with her brothers once they were out of earshot of her father, but as usual, they had their orders and barely acknowledged her existence, let alone listened to her arguments. Angelina lapsed into angry silence for the rest of the trip.

Charlie was also silent, but she could tell from the tension in his body and the way his gaze flicked from her brothers to their guns to the landscape that he was trying to determine some route for escape. Unfortunately, as he'd told her earlier, the opposition held all the guns, which gave them every advantage.

They reached the cabin right before dark. Angelina and Charlie dismounted, each removing his saddlebag, which contained the clothes and personal items they'd been ordered to pack. Without a word, her brothers took the reins of the horses, dropped a bag of food onto the ground and turned to leave.

"Hey, what about water?" Charlie asked.

Mark jabbed a finger at the full rain barrel next to the front door and kept on riding.