He had sent a wire to Missouri and received his answer not more than an hour before. Charlie Coltrain had indeed been confined when Claire was killed. Drew had spent the last several years chasing an innocent man. More than likely; someone from Charlie's gang had done the burning and the killing. Since Neil Hansen had used Charlie's name in Texas, perhaps he had done the same in Missouri. If that was the case, then Claire's killer had died in front of Drew's eyes that morning. Or maybe Charlie's brother Bill had been the culprit. The man had had an evil reputation. But revenge on Bill was out of the question as well, since the man had fallen under Pinkerton gunfire in Second Chance.

Drew felt as though his entire existence had shattered around him. All he had lived for since he'd learned of Claire's death was the day when he could bring Charlie Coltrain to justice. Now he found out he had been wrong, and there was no way to learn for sure who had killed Claire.

Drew had a feeling Charlie was right, too. Even if he did kill the culprit with his bare hands, it wouldn't help ease the desolate emptiness inside him. Claire was gone. Forever. He was alive and he had to go on. Somehow he had to discover a way to make something of his life. He had to find a place where he belonged.

He did not belong in the Texas Rangers. Remaining a small part of the large unit protecting Texas from Comanche renegades, Mexican bandits and American outlaws was not for him. He had joined the Rangers as a means to a personal end-an end that had turned out to be false. After receiving the wire confirming Charlie's confinement in a Missouri jail during the dates in question. Drew Winston had resigned his post in the Texas Rangers.

Now he had to decide what to do about Coltrain. According to all the information Drew had been able to come up with, the man wasn't wanted for anything anywhere. Though he was sure Charlie had committed enough crimes to keep the man in jail for many years. Drew had to let him go if someone didn't want him for something somewhere.

He didn't know when it had happened, but somewhere between Mexico and Texas, his hate had faded. Now that he'd learned the truth, he almost liked the man. They had a lot in common. If their lives had been different, they might have been friends. For certain. Drew felt sorry for the ex-outlaw. Coltrain obviously loved his wife, and Angelina loved Coltrain. They should be together. Drew was ashamed that he had been the instrument to separate them. After losing Claire, he knew what it felt like to be deprived of the woman you loved. And Angelina sure as hell shouldn't be left with that father of hers; the man was a snake of the worst sort.

Drew stood and went into the jail. He'd get Charlie released and send him on his way back to his wife. The woman needed a little rescuing-from her family and from the convent. Maybe helping two people find their way to each other would make him feel better about his own loss.

Half an hour later, he and Coltrain sat together in the nearest saloon.

"You've got me confused, Yank. Now I'm not complainin', but why am I out of jail and sippin' whiskey with you?"

Drew took a deep pull on his drink before answering. "You were telling the truth. You didn't rob the train, you didn't kill the engineer and you didn't kill Claire."

"Yeah, so?"

"No one else is looking for you anywhere. There's no reason to keep you in jail. Either your notoriety is greatly exaggerated, or you're one careful criminal."

Charlie raised his eyebrows. "I was a careful criminal. Now I'm just an out-of-work cowboy." He

downed the rest of his whiskey. "Did you tell them who they hanged today?"

"No, I figured we could do that together tomorrow. Though I don't suppose you have any proof of who you are?"

"Nope. If it's all the same to you, Yank, I'd just as soon leave Charlie Coltrain dead."

Drew choked on the sip of whiskey he'd just attempted to swallow. Charlie banged him on the back until he had his breath back. "What for?" he demanded.

"Let's just say it'd be for the best. I've gotten a reputation, as you say. Sooner or later someone's gonna

come lookin' for me. If I'm already dead, there won't be anyone to look for. I can start over. I'm too old to go back to thievin'. I plan to start a ranch in Montana. I'd just as soon start my life fresh."

Drew nodded. "Not a bad idea. It'll protect your wife, too."

"I don't have a wife." Charlie's ruined voice was heavy with warning.

"What are you talking about?"

"Charlie Coltrain had a wife. I don't."

"Wait just a minute. That woman loves you. You can both start a new life now. Get your butt back to Mexico and get her."

"Nope. She deserves better than me. Just because I have a different name doesn't make me a different man. I'm old and sour and broken. She wants to be a nun. The least I can do for her is to let her follow her dream."

"How do you know her dream isn't you?"

Charlie laughed, a coughlike sound that reflected no humor. "I'm not a young girl's dream, Yank. I'm every woman's nightmare."

Chapter Nineteen.

Three weeks passed. Three weeks when all Angelina's hopes were pinned to the single possibility that she carried a child. If her prayers were answered, she would somehow get word to Charlie from her aunt's, and he would come for both her and his child.

She didn't for one moment believe he was dead. He had not committed the murder; therefore he would not hang for it. Once the Ranger learned for certain Charlie had not killed Claire, he would do the right thing and let Charlie go free. Drew Winston was an honorable man. He would not take money to kill the innocent. She clung to that belief. It was all she had.

Despite her husband's stubborn insistence he was not good enough for her and she should return to the convent, he would not desert his child. If she could just get him to come back to her, she would find a way to make him love her. She had faith in the power of that love.

When the irrefutable evidence arrived that she did not carry Charlie's child, Angelina crawled into her bed and wept for a day.

When she felt as bad as she looked, she got up, dressed and demanded to be released from her prison.

She would go to town and send a wire to Dallas. Charlie would come for her if she told him she was in

trouble, and she was definitely in trouble.

Her father smiled at her good news and graciously gave her permission to go into Chihuahua with her mother to buy a few things for her trip back to the convent. Once he got his way, Miguel Reyes could be very generous.

Angelina found it amazingly easy to slip away from her flighty mother. She left Theresa Reyes in the midst of the dry-goods shop and headed across the street to the telegraph office.

"I need to send a message to Dallas, Texas," she told the operator.

He nodded, avoiding her eyes, and handed her a piece of paper to write upon.

[EXT].

To Charlie Coltrain Stop I need you at the Reyes ranch immediately Stop Please come Stop Angelina [/EXT].

She read over what she had written and nodded, pleased. Good enough. Short. Vague. Charlie would have to return if he cared anything about her. She was betting her life that he did.

The telegraph operator collected her paper and her money. "Umm," she flushed, knowing the way her instructions would sound, but she was unable to avoid giving them. "You might tell the operator in Dallas to look for him in the jail."

The operator merely nodded and turned away. A few moments later he returned to hand her a sheet of paper containing a short message.

[EXT].

Charlie Coltrain tried convicted and hanged for murder Stop [/EXT].

Angelina stared at the paper, then watched as it drifted slowly downward. The words continued to

scream their horrible message at her from where they rested on the floor.

"No, no, no!"

The words, high pitched, hysterical, startled her until she realized they were coming from her own mouth.

Clasping her fingers to her lips, she tried to stop the horrible keening cries, but could not. As the telegraph operator hurried toward her, fear etched across his usually placid face, she crumpled to her knees on the floor. Retrieving the fallen message, she crushed the paper in her fingers just before the entire world faded to black. * * * *

Charlie stayed in Dallas a few days. He drank, he played cards and he drank some more. What he tried not to do was sleep. Every time he did, he dreamed of Angelina.

The night they had been together before he left had been the most beautiful night of his life. He might pretend to be angry that she had seduced him and he might tell himself he had been half drunk, but he had no such excuses for the second time they had made love.

When he'd awoken in the night, his head had been totally clear. His body was on fire. Angelina had lain curled against him, her back pressed to his front, her naked buttocks nestled to his hardened shaft. He had buried his face in her hair, kissing her neck. She'd moaned his name and pushed herself more tightly against him.

He thought she slept, unaware of her actions, but when she had taken his hand and placed it on her breasts, he knew she was as awake as he. Her scent, soap and fulfilled woman, drifted to him, and his body responded against his will.

He stroked between her breasts, cupping their fullness, then teasing at the already hardened nipples. She whispered his name on a sigh of desire and he was lost.

The damage had already been done, he told himself. He had failed her. But he could love her one more time before he left-one more time so that he would have another memory to take to his grave.

Gently he adjusted her body so he could slide within. Her surprised gasp was filled with pleasure and wonder. Pulling her closer, he groaned when she clenched herself around him.

He clasped her hips and began the movement. Her head fell back onto his shoulder, and he kissed the soft skin at the crook of her neck. She reached up to pull his head forward, turning her face toward him and taking his lips with her own. Her cry of release mingled with their kiss as he plunged into her one last time. He filled her with his love, the only thing he had to give her, though she would never know of its existence.

"Coltrain."

Charlie's eyes snapped open. He hadn't been asleep exactly, just resting his head against the bar. He looked at the man taking the stool next to him and relaxed.

Lucky for him the new arrival was Winston. If he wasn't careful he'd end up dead anyway, despite his narrow escape from the noose. Charlie looked around the smoke-filled room, his gaze grazing several characters who watched him slyly from beneath lowered hat brims. No, it wasn't a good idea to lose his edge in a place like this.

His hands went to the new pair of Colts strapped to his hips-not the same as the one's he'd lost to Miguel Reyes. Those he'd had since the war and missed like a dead comrade. The guns he'd bought to replace his own were Colt Peacemakers, 45s like those the Ranger carried. Newfangled contraptions, but he'd get the hang of them. The pistols worked and that was all that mattered right now.

"Winston." He nodded to his companion and motioned for the bartender to bring another glass. "Thought you'd be back out with the Rangers by now."

"Nope. I quit."

Charlie gulped down the mouthful of liquor he'd just taken into his mouth, burning a path of fire down his damaged throat. "How come?"

Winston shrugged. "Never was much of a lawman. I joined the Rangers to get at you. Now that's done and I'm out."

Charlie nodded. "What next?"

"Don't know. Thought maybe I'd join a cattle drive and head up to Kansas. Last I heard some people from home lived there."

"Hmm, funny you should mention that. I won a dance hall during a friendly poker game in jail. Located in a small town outside of Dodge called Last Chance." Charlie chuckled. "With a name like that, I thought I had to take a look at the place. Maybe I'll just join you."

Winston turned toward him, and Charlie had the impression the ex-Ranger wanted to argue. Charlie stared at his companion with a frown. He didn't need to hear again Winston's views on love, life and marriage. They glared at each other for a moment; then Winston slammed his whiskey glass onto the bar and stood. "You want to go to Kansas. That's fine with me. There should be one more drive headed out on the Western Trail this year."

Winston strode toward the door without looking back. Charlie sighed and pulled a tattered length of red ribbon from his pocket. He held the satin to his face, feeling for just a moment the softness, smelling the faint, lingering essence of his wife. "Good-bye," he whispered and replaced the memento back in his pocket before following Drew Winston out the door and onto the trail.

Winston was quiet as they rode out of Dallas, which sat just fine with Charlie. He was in no mood to travel with a chattering companion all the way to Kansas. But from what he'd seen of Winston, the man only spoke when he had something important to say.

Drew cleared his throat. Charlie glanced his way.

"There's something you should know about Miguel Reyes."

Charlie stiffened at the mention of Miguel's name. His father-in-law always meant trouble. "Spit it out, Yank. Now."

"Before we left the ranch, he offered to pay me anything I asked to make sure you died."

Charlie raised his eyebrows and returned his attention to the dusty road in front of him. His hands tightened on the reins, and Gabe yanked his mouth away from the tension, snorting in disapproval.

"So you brought me out of town to take care of things without witnesses." Charlie nodded his approval. "Never said you weren't a smart Yank. How much am I worth dead these days?"

"Nothing to me. I turned him down flat." Drew chuckled. "He was hopping mad."

"I bet. He likes to get his way." Charlie turned his head to look at Drew in curiosity. "Why'd you turn him down? You wanted me dead at the time. You could have picked up some money for doin' it."

Drew shrugged, keeping his attention on the trail. "I don't kill for money. Besides, something about that man rubbed me the wrong way."

"You and me both."

Drew's gaze shifted toward Charlie and then back to the trail again. "If you feel that way, why are you leaving your wife with him? You know he'll force her to do what he wants, whatever he wants."

"Nobody forces Angelina into anything."