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Touch A Wild Heart
by
Vena Munn

Dear Reader:
We are delighted to bring you this daring series from Silhouette.

Intrigue--where resourceful, beautiful women flirt with danger and risk
everything for irresistible, often treacherous men.

Intrigue--where the stories are full of heart-stopping suspense and
mystery lurks around every corner.

You won't be able to resist Intrigue's exciting mix of danger,
deceptionS.  and desire.

Please write and let us know what you think of our selection of
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Jane Nicholls Silhouette Books PO Box 236 Thornton Road Croydon

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VELLA MUNN

SILHOUETTE

Intrigue

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All the characters in this book have no existence outside the
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bearing the same name or names.  They are not even distantly inspired
by any individual known or unknown to the author.  and all the
incidents are pure invention.

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First published in Great Britain t 996 by Silhouette Books, Eton House.
18-24 Paradise Road.  Richmond, Surrey TW9 I SR

Silhouette, Silhouette Intrigue and Colophon are Trade Mark.  s of
Harlequin Enterprises II B. V.

ISBN 0 373 22006 5

46-9607

Made and printed in Great Britain

Chapter One

Beto Sanchez was the first to notice the lean, distant man watching the
five men and one woman from under lids lowered to hold the sun at bay.
"He was here yesterday," ~ the nineteen-year-old said in a voice that
tripped over his newly acquired English.

Chela Reola waited perhaps the space of three breaths before unwrapping
her legs and swinging lightly to her feet.  She wore tennis shoes to
protect her feet from the punishment of decaying twigs littering the
orchard ground, but her long; browned legs were accustomed to the
elements and needed no covering on the hot July afternoon.  She turned
boldly in the direction of the man standing beside his big, powerfully
built pickup at the edge of the Orchard.  He wasn't wearing clothes
that belonged in an orchard.  The four-wheel-drive pickup bore no
government license plates or anything else that would identify him as
an immigration officer.

"He isn't a foreman?"  Chela asked, her easy English a contrast to that
of the Mexicans' around her.  "You haven't seen him in any of the other
orchards?"

Beto shook his head.  His denial was seconded by war do Burriaga, a man
who had subjected his face to the elements for so many years that his
age was known only to himself.  "He asked questions yesterday.  In
Spanish.  He wanted to know who the best workers were, if there were
any ekildren in the orchard.  But I think he was asking other questions
inside."

Chela stiffened, instantly alert.  The questions the man asked raised
even more questions about him, Even from here she could see that he was
an Anglo~ Whites coming to the orchards could only mean ble2 He
couldn't be from the schools, since it was " meg and the authorities
were truant children.  But if he was asking about the workers," he
might be looking to lure some of and women working for Rogue Orchards
to job, one that paid no more but promised much than it delivered.
Jackson County in southern I had been famous for its pear crop since of
the century In their attempts to keep up petition, the orchardists vied
with each other most productive work force.

"Nuez is illegal," Beto continued.  "But he working here today."

Chela nodded.  She was so much a part of the ~ grants that there was no
question of.  whether turn in an illegal.  "Not all Anglos work for
tion," she said softly.

"Maybe he wants a woman."

The slim woman who pmudiy carried the mother she barely remembered
placed her on her hips and returned the man's bold stare.

Wo far away for her to make out his features in the heavy shadows cast
by the pear trees.  All her ebony eyes knew for sure was that he was in
superb physical condition, of average height, with hair cut by a barber
and not styled by a hairdresser.  She both resented and admired his
direct gaze.  He wanted something, and that Chela didn't like, but at
least he was open about his presence.  Either he would approach the
small group or get back into his truck.

That was his problem.  Chela had only a half hour before the sprinklers
had to be reset, putting an end to the workers' English lesson.  After
that, she would jump into her own Jeep and drive to one of the bar dos
the migrant housing, where a dozen children waited for the writing
class she was giving on her own time.  "If he wants a woman, he
shouldn't be here," she said disdainfully and turned her back on the
interruption.  "There aren't any women in the orchards."

"Except you" Beto pointed out, dropping back into Spanish as he
wrestled with a complex thought.  "You carry yourself like a young
horse.  You don't eat frejoles and tortillas and get fat.  Maybe it's
you he wants."

Never!  Chela Reola had had twenty-seven years to learn what local men
thought of migrants, of anyone whose skin was darker than theirs.
Although she was an American citizen with an American father, she'd
long ago made her alliance with her mother's people.  She had reasons
no one knew of for distrusting and even hating bold-eyed men who
thought all they needed was money to get their way.  "He'll have to
have me dead," she breathed before returning her attention to the day's
lesson.  The stranger was of no interest to her.  Ignoring him should
make that clear.

Being ignored didn't concern the man.  He continued his penetrating
surveillance for another five minutes4 content to watch without being
watched in return.  He was sweating down the middle of his back and
along his forehead under thick coarse hair the color of a griZ~y bear,
but physical discomfort was something he'd become accustomed to years
ago.  He was full) the five men and the woman had seen~ him but never
intended his presence to be a secret.  Soon approach the woman, start
the relationship that sent'ml for his purpose.  The last thing he
wanted was ~ take her completely by surprise.  "It would ruin thing. As
he continued to watch the slender, figure among the men, he admitted
that the sheriff had been right.  Chela Reola didn't come any mold.

Now that he'd seen her, he understood

Duff had been getting at the other day.  "She won't what you expect,"
Kenneth had said when the men were meeting in the sheriff's office.
"She's a grant teacher, but she's about as far from the stereotype as
you'll ever get.  Besides, this is She's on her own now, not working
for self.  Getting close to her won't be easy.  wild animal in a lot of
ways is the best I can put it.  isn't going to bolt and run, but she
isn't you either."

Joe Magadan would have to be content with that, planation.  Kenneth
Duff didn't have time for detailed description, and other things the
two to discuss that day were more important.  "VII work something,"
Magsdan said as the sheriff was seeing him out.  "She's a woman.  I've
had more than a little experience with women in my life.  She'll
understand how important it is for her to work with me.  I can bring
her around."

"But you're not going to tell her everything," Kenneth pointed out.
"What happens when she puts two and two together on her own?  Magadan,
she's no one's fool.  She'll bolt for sure then, if she doesn't tear
your eyes out first.  If yOU want my advice, move slowly and lay all
your cards on the table."

Unfortunately that was the last thing Magadan could do.  Grunting, the
big man pushed his frame away from the pear tree he'd been resting
against and ran a broad, leathery hand across his eyes.  He couldn't
see much of her face, but if it matched her frame-- No.  That wasn't
part of the plan.  No one, as far as he'd been able to determine, knew
much of anything about Chela Reola.  She'd been a migrant teacher with
the district for four years, but no one knew what she'd done before
that, who her friends were, if she had any family, what she did with
herself when she wasn't going to schools throughout the district
helping to mainstream children who had never spoken English before
their parents acquired green cards and came to the United States from
Mexico to work.

At least now Magadan knew a little more about how she spent her summer
months.  She was in a pear orchard with the workers, teaching English
to teenagers who would probably never finish high school, old men who
no longer dreamed of anything better, and others who faded into the
shadows when an Anglo approached because they were here illegally.
Those men and their families trusted Chela Reola.  Somehow he had to
find a way to get her to trust him.

The ebony-eyed woman with glistening black hair pushed behind her ears
was his link with a man who belonged in prison.  "It has to work,
Chela," he whispered into' the wind.  "Somehow I have to make you
understand."

Chela was again thinking about the strange, silent man when her
students hurried off to change the miles of water pipe that were
essential to the growth of the valley's pear orchards.  She was used to
seeing white men in the orchards, but they were usually foremen or
others like immigration officers whose purpose was quickly determined.
The immigration officers came at night during sudden raids that left
the orchardists shorthanded.  She had never been able to understand
that.  No one except migrant workers would do the jobs.  the orchardism
needed done, and yet it was nearly impossible for most Mexicans to
obtain the green card they needed to stay here legally.  Deporting
captured illegals accomplished nothing.  They would only return.
Whatever the man's purpose, it had to have something to do with
migrants and orchards.  An Anglo had no other reason for being here.

He might be a coyote, but instinct put that possibility at the bottom
of the list.  Coyotes were usually Mexicans.  The Anglos in the
business of smuggling illegals were furtive men, quick moving and
nervous.  This man carried himself like someone who knew who he was and
wouldn't back down from any challenge; he

simply didn't strike her as a man who made his living in the dark of
night.  What did she care what he did for a living?  He was gone.

Chela trotted down the deeply- shadowed, rutted road that cut a single
path through the dense orchard until she reached her Jeep.  She swung a
long leg up, grabbed the steering wheel with both hands, and lowered
herself onto the sun-faded seat.  As she reached for the keys in her
pocket, her left hand made the automatic gesture designed to push the
thick mane of hair out of her eyes, She could wear her hair like most
women, cut and curl it, but she was proud of its rich black length. Her
hair was one of the things her mother had given her--along with skin
that looked tanned in the middle of a fog-bound winter.

Before her heart had time to settle on thoughts of her mother, Chela
pumped her Jeep imo life and bucked it to the end of the rutted road
until she reached the highway.  She waited for a break in the traffic
and then pulled out.  As the Jeep picked up speed, she lifted her head,
letting the hot wind blow her hair away from her face, drying her wet
scalp.  Chela had spent most of her life in the orchards, and yet she
didn't know how the workers stood working there when the temperatures
passed one hundred degrees and humidity from the moist ground rose to
sap a man's strength.

Chela was looking forward to reaching the sterile row.  of unpainted
cabins where the children waited.  It wouldn't be any cooler there, but
she'd draw her students around her in the shade of a tree, and one of
the mothers would bring them water while she concentrated on the
English nouns and verbs that paved the way to understanding and allowed
her students to compete with their classmates when September rolled
around.  Maybe, if the women weren't busy with babies and meals, one or
two of them would join her class.

Chela had learned that it was the women who were the most reluctant to
speak English.  It wasn't that they were shy around her or unsure of
their ability to learn, but most migrant women thought of themselves as
Mexicans.  Their men might have to work here to earn a decent living,
and the law might say their children had to attend American schools,
but in the women's hearts the dream remained: Someday they would return
to Mexico; they didn't have to learn English.

Chela knew they were wrong.  True, they might someday return home, but
they were in the United States now.  They were not only forcing
themselves to live in isolaflon but were placing a barrier between,
themselves and their school-aged children.  ~

if just one woman sat down in the shade with Chela and the children and
learned how to ask for milk and eggs in a grocery store, her day would
be a success.  And if only children surrounded her--at least Chela had
the~ evening to look forward to.  Her soccer team had a game scheduled
for five thirty in the city park.

A rare smile touched her face.  It parted her soft lips and revealed
perfect white teeth.  How she'd become labeled an expe~t at soccer she
didn't know.  It certainly wasn't because she could execute a dribbling
feint or jackknife her body in midair to produce the body swing needed
to head a ball.  But Chela could translate the words of a coach into
words a team of Mexican boys understood.  At first she was reluctant to
offer her services to the parks and recreation department because the
department's soccer program hadn't been set up to accommodate a team
consisting of Mexican players, but this year there was a college
student working as a coach who didn't care what language his players.
spoke as long as they were enthusiastic.

Jeff Cline knew a little Spanish but not enough to get the team through
practice and games without confusing everyone.  That was where Chela
came in.  When the~ head of the parks and recreation department
introduced her to the man in his early twenties, Chela found herself
responding positively.  Soccer was a sport most Mexican boys already
knew how to play.  Why not give them the opportunity to play under
organized conditions complete with sponsors who bought their
uniforms?

After her lesson at the barrios, she went home to shower and change
into the blue-and-white shirt with lettering on the back that
identified her as one of the coaches.  She thought briefly about
eating, but the day had been so hot that all she wanted was iced tea.
The game would be over around dark; may he she'd feel like eating then.
Half of the team was already at the city-owned park by the time Chela
showed up.

"These kids are really pumped.  They have twice my confidence," Jeff
told her as she joined the young coach on the sidelines.  "I just hope
they can handle a loss."

Chela placed her hands on her hips and stretched her neck backward in
order to ease a kink in her spine.  The movement elongated her slender
'neck and accented the.  strong lines of her jaw.  It also caused her
firm breasts to push against the fabric of her uniform.  What there was
of her stomach sunk between her hipbones and was lost.  As the sound of
chattering boys settled around her, Chela felt her body relax.  This
was where she wanted to be, what she wanted to be doing.

"They aren't going to lose," she said confidently.  "These kids were
playing soccer from the time they could walk.  Of course, they didn't
have real balls or grassy fields, but they have the skills.  I just
wish we could get the newspaper to come out and take some pictures."

"We can't even get these characters to sit still long enough for me to
talk to them, let alone pose for pictures."  Jeff bent over to tie his
shoes.  "Jose's beside himself.  I guess his dad got off work early to
come to the game.  The whole family's here."

Chela nodded.  Jose was one of the best players on the team, a
fourteen-year-old who could probably pass for seventeen.  She'd already
had one talk with Jose's father about how important it was that the boy
stay in school next year instead of dropping out and going to work.
True, with seven young boys and girls, Jose's family needed all the
money they could get to support the family.  Jose felt that pressure.
But he was quick to learn, with an easy familiarity around science that
would lead him out of the orchards if only he could get the formal
education he needed.  Chela hoped to have time to ask Jeff to talk to
Jose after the game.  The intense teenager looked up to the college
student.  He'd listen to Jeff when he wouldn't listen to a woman. Chela
might find fault with the traditional Mexican view of women having more
worth as mothers and cooks than the givers of wisdom, but she
understood that tradition and looked for ways of making an impression
despite it.

That was another reason she had agreed to work with Jeff Cline.  The
young man's enthusiasm and optimistic outlook on life was a refreshing
contrast to her own constant questioning of motives.  Jeff believed
that as long as a person worked hard enough anything was possible.  He
hadn't learned that caution, suspicion, resignation' even, were part of
surviving.  Jeff raced through life like a yearling colt.  He didn't
know about barbed-wire fences.

Despiie the heat coming on the heels of a day that had begun at six,
Chela soon lost herself to the game.  The continuous action combined
with the rapid changes in possession of the ball by the two teams gave
Chela little time to think of anything else.  She was vaguely aware of
the boys' families sitting along the sidelines, but because she had to
be where both Jeff and the team members could Communicate with her, she
had no time to see how in any of the parents had come.  She was aware
that most of the Mexican boys wore faded tennis shoes, while their
opposition had soccer shoes, shin guards inside their socks, new
uniforms.  That didn't' matter.  It was skill and enthusiasm and good
coaching, not fancy equipment, that won games.

"Have you noticed how surprised our guys are to see gifts on the other
teams?"  Jeff asked as the action slowed following a field goal.  "The
cultural differences really show up, don't they?"

Chela nodded, not taking her eyes off the boysl

"The old ways are changing, but it takes time.  The problem is getting
the Mexican girls' parents to allow them to play."

Even as she concentrated on the action, some instinct born from being
responsible for her upbringing at an early age went on the alert,
warning Chela that she was being watched.  She pushed the feeling aside
for several minutes, telling herself that as the only female coach on
the field, it was likely she would be the object of some interest.

But the feeling persisted.  Whoever was watching her wasn't simply
doing it out of idle curiosity.  The prickling feeling at the nape of
her neck built in intensity, warning Chela that somewhere there were
eyes that never left her.  She felt exposed, vulnerable even.  It
wasn't until the first half' of the game was over that she took time to
sweep her eyes slowly, warily, over the knots of people seated on the
grass around the playing field.

Suddenly Chela's breath caught, flaring her nostrils, and stopping her
hands in a gesture designed to pull the players around her and Jeff.
The eyes that met hers from the opposite side of the field were the
same ones that had been on her earlier today, The man from the
orchard--what was he doing here?

"What's wrong?"  Jeff was standing close to her.  "You look like you
just saw someone from the IRS."

"I don't know who he is," Chela said under cover of the sounds coming
from the boys surrounding them.  ~ "Do you see the muscular man
standing alone?  The one in the dark slacks?  This is the second time
today I've seen him.  I think maybe he followed me here."

"Maybe he likes you," Jeff offered.  "Come on, Chela.  You're a
good-looking woman.  If I were a little older--I don't know why you
think ally men are going to bite."

"I don't think all men are going to bite.  Just most of them."  Chela
laughed despite herself and turned her back on the man.  "I trust you,
don't I?"

"That's just because you've always wanted to be someone's big sister,
and I'm sweet and adorable and cuddly.  You want me to go over there
and ask him if his intentions are honorable?  He doesn't look like a
dirty old man to me."

"I want you to tell Pablo to stop using his feet to trip the other
team."  Chela deliberately turned the conversation back to what was
necessary.  "In a few minutes he'll get tired of staring and leave."

Chela was wrong.  Joe Magadan continued his unwavering observation of
her throughout the second half of the game.  No matter how many times
she glanced in his direction, the man was staring at her.  It both
unnerved Chela and filled her with anger.  Didn't he have anything
better to do than trail after a woman,?  If this was his idea of how a
man got a woman, this woman, interested in him, he was badly mistaken.
Even though half of the blood that flowed through her was that of an
Anglo, Chela had enough reason to dis He wanted something of her.  That
much instinct told her.  Well, when and if he came out with it, Chela
already knew what her answer would be.

She wanted nothing to do with the man.  Ever.

The soccer game ended with a lopsided victory for the Mexican boys,
much to Jeff's delight and the embarrassment of the superiorly equipped
opposition.  "Tm going to treat this bunch of future superstars to a
soft drink," Jeff proclaimed as he embraced Chela in an enthusiastic
bear hug.

"You can't afford it," Chela warned as she disengaged herself, rubbing
her arm where it had been smashed against Jeff.  "Aren't you the one
who told me you couldn't afford a girl friend this summer?"

Jeff's face fell momentarily.  "So I won't eat tomorrow.  These kids
deserve something."

Chela had reached into her back pocket and was pulling out a few bills
when she sensed the unexpected presence behind her~ She turned quickly
to look up into deep nut-brown eyes.  Joe Magadan's hand quickly
captured her wrist.  "This one's on me," he said from the depth of his
chest.  "Those kids really went after that victory."

Jeff was obviously thrown off by the man's interruption of what had
been a private conversation, but Chela reacted in quick anger.  She
jerked her hand away from its gentle prison and stared back at him,
determined not to let her eyes fall before his.  "I don't know what
you're doing here," she said levelly, her voice giving only a brief
glimpse Of the anger she felt.  "This is between the coach and me.  You
were watching me earlier today.  I don't like it, and I don't
appreciate having you show up here."

"I have my reasons," Joe Magadan continued in his deep rumble.  Even as
he redoubled his own determination not to back down from this tanned
woman, he found himself being sucked into eyes much darker,

much more intense than he'd expected.  Her eyes told him that this was
a woman who trusted few people and allowed no one to gain the upper
hand.  Those remarkable eyes also said something about the woman
encased in the slim, athletic body.  Somewhere, maybe even deeper than
she knew, was something soft and lonely.

"I'm not interested in your reasons," Chela answered' slowly.  Despite
what she was saying, she was interested.  In her twenty-seven years
she'd~ met many people, from social workers to public health nurses,
from police to politicians even, but this man didn't wear the kind of
label that allowed her to identify who or what he was.  She could sense
his confidence but very little else.

"I think 'you will be" Joe Magadan countered.  "What I need is a little
of your time.  Give me that."

"

Chela shook her head.  Curiosity wasn't enough of a reason to let go of
caution.  "The only thing I'm interested in is getting these boys
something to drink and making sure they get home before dark."

Joe Magadan waved a fat wallet under her nose.  "This will take care of
the drinks."  !  ~fore she could object, he turned toward the assembled
team and in fluent Spanish asked where the nearest soft-drink stand
was.  The excited response from the boys told Chela that it would be
almost impossible for her to turn the man down now.  Eyes flashing, she
pointed to a shopping center across the four-lane thoroughfare and then
smiled as the tide of boys swept the arrogant stranger along with
them.

"I take it that's the guy who was watching you.  Don't ask me to beat
him up.  He looks like he has a fast one, two, three punch," Jeff said
when they were alone.  "One thing I can say for him, he has guts."

"Because he's treating a bunch of boys to soft drinks?  If he thinks he
can win them over that way"

"I'm not talking about the kids," Jeff interrupted.  "It's you he's
trying to reach.  I saw the way you were looking at him.  If looks can
kill, I just hope he has his life insurance paid up.  You really don't
like him, do you?"

"I don't understand him.  I don't trust someone who il~uscles his way
in like that without saying anything about himself."

"I think you should listen to what he has to say," Jeff said as he
started to fill a mesh bag with soccer balls.  "The man isn't going to
give up easily.  Who knows?  Maybe he's an eccentric millionaire who
wants to leave his fortune to' the first woman he finds with long black
hair."

Chela didn't bother to respond to Jeff's outlandish suggestion.  She
didn't tell the college student that trusting people didn't come easy
to her and the last thing she wanted to do was spend any more time with
the man who hadn't even told her his name.  "Doesn't he have anything.
better to do with himself?"  she asked, the question directed more at
herself than at Jeff.

"Ask him," Jeff pressed.  "You aren't afraid of him, are you?"

"No.  I just don't.understand what he's up to."

"You know what I think?"  Jeff straightened and turned to face Chela.
"I think your curiosity is going to get the best of you.  After all,
how many strange men have waltzed up to you in your life?  If some
strange, good-looking woman started talking to me, I'd sure as beck
stick around to see what she had in mind."

That's.  because you don't have any reason to distrust people, Chela
thought.  You aren't looking at life through wiser eyes.  "Do all the
boys have a way home?"  she asked.  "I can take some of them."

"I don't know.  I guess we'll have to wait until moneybags gets back
with them.  You know, his Spanish puts mine to shame.  Where do you
think he learned to speak the language?"

"I have no idea," Chela said shortly before trotting out onto the field
to pick up the bright orange cones that served to mark the boundaries
of the soccer field.  She would have liked to add that learning the
answer to that question didn't interest her, but that wasn't true. Most
of the~ Anglos who came in much contact with the migrant workers had
learned enough Spanish to get by, but the words flowed easily from the
man's mouth.  And it wasn't Spanish that came From textbooks.  He knew
Spanish slang, current jargon that the boys responded to favorably.
That' came from being around Mexicans.

The trunk of Jeff's little car was filled with equipment by the time
the first boys came running back from the shopping center.  From their
excited speech Chela learned that the stranger had not only bought soft
drinks for the entire ~rn but had also picked up the tab for ice-cream
cones.  Obviously the boys thought him the next best thing to Santa
Claus.  Chela chose to ignore the man's generosity; instead she
questioned the boys until she was sure that all of them either had
parents waiting or could get home on their bikes.  She held dripping
cones for a couple of boys while they ran to get their bikes, and then
waved as they started toward the south end of town where a cluster of
migrant housing had been built at the far end of one of the orchards.

"You sure you're going to be okay?"  Jeff said as he was get frog into
his car.  He nodded in the direction of the shopping center where the
stranger was waiting his turn to cross the intersection.  "You want me
to hang around?"

Chela shook her head and pushed her hair out of her eyes.  "I'm not
afraid of him," she answered softly.

Jeff was out of sight by the time the man reached her.  "You think I
bribed the boys, don't you?"  he asked abruptly.  "And you'd like to
know what the hell I'm up to."

"Yes."  Chela placed her hands on her hips, fingers spread.  "Those
boys aren't anything to you.  Why did you do that?"

"It doesn't matter.  There's just one thing I want you to think about.
Kids have pretty good instincts, and they trust me.  Look, can we go
sit down somewhere?  You were on your feet all through the game, and we
both logged time in that hot orchard."  He pointed toward a wooden
picnic table under an oak' tree

For a moment Chela played with the impulse to turn her back on the man
and walk out of his life~ But something told her that he'd just show up
again.  Shrugging, she tossed back her head to get her hair off her
cheeks and led the way to the table.  She straddled one of the benches
and sat down the way a cowboy would sit a home.  When she turned to
face the man sitting across the table from her, the setting sun caught
her hair and revealed red highlights that softened what would have been
an unbroken black line.  "What do you want?"

"Not.  so fast.  You don't play around, do you?  You want to get to the
crux of things.  Kenneth Duff said that about you."

"Kenneth?"  Another woman might have stared in surprise.  Instead
Chela's gaze became even more intense.  She noticed the small scar at
the corner of the man's mouth, the slightly askew nose that gave
individuality and character to a face that must have stolen many hearts
when he was younger and the lines of determination hadn't settled in.
"You're talking about the county sheriff.  "

"That's how I learned about you."  The man leaned forward on the table,
resting his elbows on the dry, splintered surface.  "I know your name
is Chela Reola, that you're a teacher with the migrant education
system.  I also know that if anyone in this valley knows what's going
on with the nf~grants, it's you.  They trust you."

Chela locked her eyes with the man's.  What was going on inside his
head?  "I don't know your name."

The man didn't bother to thrust out his hand.  "Joe Magaclan.  Everyone
calls me Magadan.  Someday maybe you'll want to shake my hand, but I
don~t think so now."

"You're right."  Chela didn't say more.  Let the man come to her,
reveal himself.

Magadan grunted.  "What are you doing here, Maga-dan?  What do you want
with me?  That's what you're thinking, isn't it?"

Chela didn't have to nod.  She ka~ew that her intense, unwavering gaze
was telling him more than words could.

"Okay, okay.  Damn, this isn't going to be easy.  I have to be careful
what I say so it comes out right.  Look, I think we need to get to know
each other better first.  I don't want to tip my hand before I know
where you stand.  What were you going to do after the game?"

"Why?"  For the moment at least, Chela felt as if she had the upper
hand with Joe Magadan.  How long that would last she wasn't going to
try to guess.

"Because I want us to spend more time getting used to each other.  I
was expecting some sweet little schoolteacher.  You aren't that at
all."

"What am I?"  A few minutes ago it would have cost her nothing to walk
away from Joe Magadan.  She no longer felt that way: The man was a
river that ran deep and swift.  There might be 'danger in getting too
close to the river, but it was a risk Chela was willing to take.

Magadan was standing up.  Chela's side of the table shifted from the
loss of his weight.  "I have no idea what you are, but I have to find
out.  I'd like to take you out to dinner."

Chela stood up, too.  Somehow, although she would never let him know,
she felt better meeting him eye to eye.  "And if I say no?"

"Then I'll be everywhere you are tomorrow until you start talking to
me.  Don't you think it'd be easier this way?"

Chela didn't try to stop her mouth from twitching.  She might not trust
him, but at least she respected his candor.  "I'd like a hamburger."

Chapter Two

Chela was breathing deeply through her nostrils as she waited beside
Magadan in the fast-food restaurant.  The orange-and-black walls,
plastic plants, painted cartoon characters designed to delight
youngsters" were closing in on her, not let frog her forget that she
felt most at home outside.  She hadn't been inside a fast-food res-tau
tant in more than a year, but the disgust and wariness she'd felt the
last time hadn't left her.

She couldn't bhme Magadan for bringing her here.  It was close to nine;
a quick meal at.  a place that allowed casual dress was what they
needed.  Chela was still wearing her soccer-uniform top and faded
jeans. Maga-dan was more conventionally dressed in dark slacks and a
knit pullover shirt.  She wondered if he was regretting his invitation
to take her out or if he was embarrassed.

"You don't like it in here, do you?"  Magadan asked after he'd placed
their order.  "

"I didn't know it showed."  She had to stand close to him so he could
hear her in the crowded space.  He wasn't a mount am of a man, but he
possessed a substance she couldn't ignore.

"It shows.  I can feel your tension.  Do you want to eat outside?"

"Yes, please," Chela said, quickly regretting the candor that gave her
away.  "This is different from where I am most of the time.  I've never
been able to get used to it."

"I understand.  They call it a plastic society.  If that's true, then
this must be the center of that society.  It isn't for you, is it?"

Chela didn't answer him.  She barely knew Joe Maga-dan--how did he know
that about her?

Magadan didn't seem to be aware of her discomfort.  Instead he was
concentrating on making sure the teenage waitress had gotten their
order straight.  When he'd paid for it and was holding the plastic tray
covered with Styrofoam containers in his large hands, he turned and led
the way back outside to a group of tables.  Nearby was a small play
area where several little children were sliding or swinging.  "The
aires better out here," " be said as he was separating a hamburger with
pickles from one without.  " There aren't many big trucks going by this
time of night, so hopefully we won't get the diesel smell.  "

Chela bit into her hamburger.  "Thank you," she said around the squeals
of a little girl whose older brother was trying to push her down a
slide.  "You didn't have to do this."

"Yes I did.  Chela, I'm going to lay my cards on the table.  At least
some of them.  I need something from you.  I can't tell you everything
because if I did, I'm afraid you'd tell me to take a flying leap.
Hopefully we can get to know each other well enough that you'll trust
my motives."

Chela thought and then decided on honesty.  "I don't trust many
Anglos."

"You're part Anglo.  Your supervisor told me that."

"What are you doing!  You talked to my supervisor?"  Chela's hand
clamped down on her burger, making an indentation in the soft bun.

"It isn't what you think.  Relax."  Magadan reached for her white
knuckles, but Chela shied away:

"How do you know what I'm thinking?"  She glared at him.  This was his
game, but there was noting in the rules that said she had to respond in
a civilized manner around him.  "You know I'm half Anglo, but you don't
know anything about me.  That doesn't add up."

"You're right," Magadan sighed and went back to his dinner.  He
continued after he'd swallowed.  "I knew this was going to be the hard
part, getting you to listen to what I have to say, but I have to try.
Too much is at stake."

Chela willed her muscles to relax.  "You talked to my supervisor," she
continued.  "Why?"

"You don't go into anything new without doing all the research you can,
do you?  I'm the same way."  He ran a hand through his hair but didn't
bother to smooth the locks back into place.  The disturbed strands,
instead of distracting frommhis image, gave Chela a more favorable
impression of him.  The man was thinking about what he was saying, not
how he looked.  He continued, "Don't worry.  Your supervisor didn't
tell me much.  He said that you'd been working for the system for a
little over four years.  You take ~'our job home with you.  You work
for migrant rights and you flight like a tiger to make sure the kids
get a decent education.  The

migrants trust you.  That's what I wanted to hear about you.  "

A piece of the puzzle fell into place.  "Why is that important?"

"Tn get to that in a few minutes.  Would you tell me why you don't like
talking about your father?"

"That, Magadan, is none of your business.  " It will never be.  " Ebony
eyes left no doubt as to the intensity behind Chela's words.  " What
else did my supervisor say?  "

"Nothing.  I mean it.  In fact he probably wouldn't have said anything
at all except I pretended I already knew you and was curious about why
you were working on your own time during the summer.  You were teaching
English to those men out in the orchard today.  That's not in your
contract.  I asked your supervisor about that.  That's when he told me
you were dedicated, intense, trusted by the migrants.  That's the same
thing the sheriff told me."

"Is that a compliment?"  Since they'd sat down, Magadan hadn't dropped
his eyes once.  The fact that he was willing to meet her intense
scrutiny was a point in his favor.

Magadan laughed.  "I guess it depends ola whose side of the fence
you're on.  Most orchardists want workers who are content with their
lives, not workers who am learning that there's more to reach for once
they have an education."

"That's the owners' problem," Chela snapped.  "I don't think it's rig
lit to bring workers here from Mexico, work them seven days a week, pay
minimum wage, and then call the immigration authorities before pay day.
An orchardist should treat his employees the way every other employer
treats his employees."

"Wait a minute."  Magadan's eyes seemed to narrow.  "Not all
orchardists take advantage of their workers.  Some are decent."

"Not enough," Chela challenged.  "Orchardists hire the coyotes in the
first place.  Don't tell me it doesn't go on.  I know it does."

Magadan leaned forward, his face less than a foot away in the night. "I
know it happens," he said softly.  "You probably know more about it
than anyone except the migrants themselves.  That's why I'm here."

For over a minute Chela said nothing.  Despite the blinking neon light
behind them, Magadan's features had become blurred, but there was no
mistaking the intensity in his eyes.  Maybe now, finally, they were
getting to the.  heart of why Magadan was here.  "Do you work for
immigration?"  she asked~

"What would you do if I said yes?"  "Walk away?"  "Why?"

Chela sighed.  It was late and she was tired.  Being with Magadan with
his determined lines and bold eyes had her on the alert.  He had-asked
a question that couldn't be answered quickly or easily.  "I believe
that the system the way it works now has flaws.  Agriculture in this
country relies on migrant labor, but not all of the workers are here
legally.  Since they can't wade through the red tape, the immigration
authorities deport the illegals they find.  It makes criminals out of
people who are only trying to earn a living.  Something has to
change."

"You believe in that strongly, don't you?"

This time Chela's sigh was a little less civilized.  "My grandparents
were migrants.  I was born in a migrant camp.  The work killed my
mother."

"Oh."  Magadan had started to take another bite of his burger, but he
seemed unaware that it was still a few inches from his mouth.  "I
didn't know."

"Do you work for immigration?"

Magadan shook 'his head, and although Chela could barely make out his
features, she believed him.  He wasn't telling her everything, but at
least ground being broken.  "Whom do you work for?"

"Chela, I can't tell you that.  I told you I can't tell you everything
about what I'm doing.  That's one of the main things."

"I think that's the main thing," she said, body still,~, senses alert.
What Magadan was saying or not saying intrigued her.  He had sought her
out for a purpose.  he wasn't willing to reveal himself.  Did she dare
any closer to the man?

"Maybe.  Let me ask you something else.  Do you know any coyotes?"

"You work for the police.  That's it, isn't it?  That's how you know
Kenneth Duff."  Chela frowned at her own words.  "But why do the police
care about coyotes?  They never did before."

"What they do is illegal.  Chela, you know migrants.  You must know how
many of them have been cheated by coyotes."

Chela knew.  She could point at any illegal in the orchard and guess he
was here because of the effort of someone who, for a fee, would smuggle
workers across the border to the agricultural work centers.
Unfortunately, once coyotes had their money, most of them couldn't care
less what happened to the illegals.  Promised jobs might never
materialize.  Coyotes sometimes disappeared before delivering their
"clients," leaving both workers and farm owners in need of laborers to
suffer the consequences.  Neither the illegal nor the orchardist would
dare press charges.

"Is this what our discussion is about?"  Chela asked.  "You're after
coyotes?"

"Let me ask you one more question before I answer that," Magadan
pressed, "What would your response be if I said I was?"

Chela admitted it was a good question.  No matter what her opinion of
them, if a coyote made good on his promises, the migrant stood a chance
of improving his standard of living.  "I don't know," she answered
honestly.  "Some migrants need them."

"They don't need Ray Kohl."

Chela stopped breathing.  She dropped what was left of her hamburger,
placed her hands on the table, and pushed herself to her feet.  She
turned her back on Magadan and walked on silent feet through the low
fencing leading to the miniature playground.  She didn't take a breath
until she'd wrapped her hands around the chain holding the leather
swing seat in place.  She tossed her hair hack and stared skyward,
making out the first glimmer of stars in the distance.

Kohl had survived her father's ruin.  He was probably the only one who
knew who her father was.  But he was more, much more than that.  Behind
her she could sense Magadan's presence but didn't turn to acknowledge
him.  Ray Kohl.  She didn't know that his name was ever spoken outside
the migrant camps and orchards.  The name gave both children and men
nightmares, and yet no one had found a way of escaping the
-nightmare.

"You know him, don't you?"  Magadan whispered behind her.

A barely perceptible nod disturbed the sleek line of hair trailing down
Chela's back.  "What is he to you?"  she asked.

"A monster.  He has to be stopped."

Chela whirled back around.  "What do you care?  He can't touch you."

"I'm a human being, damn it!"  Magadan's hands grabbed both naked arm
and long strands of hair.  "I know he has to be stopped.  But I need
your help."

"Me?"  Chela was shaking, not because she was afraid of the man
gripping her but because the intensity of emotion she felt had to find
some expression.  What.  she felt for Kohl went beyond hatred, beyond
loathing.  "I can't stop Kohl.  There's money behind him."

"I know.  The money of some orchardists who need workers and don't care
how they get here or how much the migrants are cheated by Kohl.  But
there are other orchard owners who won't stoop to that.  They want him
out of business."

"I wish I could believe that," Chela said softly, firmly.  She wasn't
going to think about her link to Kohl.  "But I don't trust any of the
owners."  Chela tried to break free, but Magadan was gripping her arms
with a strength she couldn't fight; yet it didn't frighten her.  Over
the years, as Chela aligned herself more and more with her mother's
people, she'd cut herself off from contact with men outside the barrios
and orchards.  Being touched by one of those men evoked a reacflon she
didn't understand.  His face, his mouth, were only a few inches away.
She needed time to analyze her reaction to his nearness, to question
why his touch neither frightened nor repulsed her.  But this wasn't the
time.  Magadan wanted something of her that had to do with a name she
associated with everything evil.  That was what demanded her
attention.

"Listen to me," Magadan was saying.  '"That's why I talked to your
supervisor and other people like the sheriff.  I know Kohl, but I don't
know how he operates.  I don't think anyone really does, even those he
works for.  But you--you're part of the migrant community-"

"Is that a compliment ?"

"That isn't the point.  It's enough that I know where your loyalties
lie.  Chela, you said there's money behind him.  I want you to
understand that there is also money behind a drive to put him out of
business.  He's ruthless and cruel.  He has no humanity."  Magadan
shook his head.  "I've given up trying to hnderstand what makes the man
tick.  All I know is that he has to be put out of business.  I can't
get close to him, but you can."

Chela pulled out of Magadan's grip, knowing that it wouldn't have been
possible if he hadn't allowed it.  She took a deep breath, gaining
control over her emotions.  "I'm not close to Kohl.  You can't believe
that."

"Maybe I said that wrong," Magadan acknowledged.  "I don't for a minute
believe you'd sit down at the same table with that animal.  But you
know the people

he deals with, the ones he's cheated.  Come on Chela, don't deny it.
You're aware of every illegal in this valley, where they're staying,
how they go there

Chela wasn't going to deny that.  Neither was she going to let Magadan
take advantage of her knowledge.  He wasn't willing to tell her enough
about his motives, so why should she trust him?

As if he'd read her thoughts, he shrugged.  "We're going pretty fast,
aren't we?"  he admitted.  "I've known you less than a day, and already
I'm pushing you hard.  Look, why don't I take you home and let you
sleep on it?  You know I want Kohl out of business.  You know I'm part
of a group with the money to charge him with breaking the law and
making that charge stick.  What we need are some facts; get him to show
his hand.  That's where I want you to come in."

"You,re asking too much.  I don't even know you."

"Give me time."  Magadan took a half step toward her and then stopped.
"Don't turn your back on what I'm saying, Chela.  Give yourself time to
get to me."

"Mayhe you work with Kohl."

Magadan laughed harshly.  "Mayhe I do.  I didn't think about that, but
it could look as if I'm trying to find out if anyone is going to blow
the whistle on the operation.  Look, I said it before, but those kids
on your soccer team trusted me enough to let me buy them drinks.  Can't
you bank on their instincts?"  ~

"Maybe."  Chela's teeth were exposed momentarily as she' gave Magadan a
rueful grin.  "You said you'd talked to people about me.  Now maybe I
should do the.  same thing about you."

Once again Chela sensed the man becoming tense, but his words hid what
his body language was telling her.  "I can't argue your right to do
that.  And I can't stop you.  But I don't think you're going to find
out much.  I have reasons for keeping a low profile.  Look, do you want
to finish your dinner?"

Chela shook her head.  Thoughts of Ray Kohl had chased food from her
mind.  "Tm tired.  I'm not going to make any decisions now," she
pointed out.  "My Jeep's back at the park.  Will you take me there, or
shah I walk?"

"I'd rather take you to your place," Magadan said as they were getting
into his pickup.  "I haven't had time to see where you live."

"But you will."  If the man was that interested in her, she had no
doubt that he wasn't done learning all he could about her.  "I don't
spend much time.  there she continued, aware that Magadan 'had glanced
at the distance separating them in the vehicle.  " It's where I keep my
belongings, where I go to sleep.  But there's always something to take
me out of it.  "

"Like finding aj6b at a day-care center for a woman who doesn't speak
English.  That's something else I've learned about you."

Chela said nothing.  She'd already been more candid with Magadan than
any other man she'd met.  It was time to retreat into silence.  She
stared out at the darkened streets, thinking about the distance
separating her from this mysterious man.  Chela hadn't been born with a
hands-off approach when it came to men, but she wasn't part of the
mainstream of life.  A shopping center was as foreign to her as a Jeep
was to most

women.  She simply didn't come in contact with men near her own age,
men who might someday take away the feeling that she would walk through
life alone, There were men who showed interest in her, of course, but
Chela had no time for casual affairs, for men who wanted nothing more
than an attractive woman to hold in the night and discard once the
conquest had been made.

She knew she was existing in some kind of limbo~ wanting more and yet
not knowing what that something was.  She felt the boundaries of her
life, wanted reach beyond, but didn't know how to take the necessary
steps.  She didn't blame her-mother for what she'd become because
Chela's mother never had or education or opportunity to fight her way
out of the orchards.  She couldn't blame her father for what she was
because it was hard to blame a man she barely knew.  Wanting nothing to
do with her father came later when she learned the kind of man he was.
Chela sometimes thought, the fault lay with the couple who had taken
her in after her mother died.

William and Carolyn Roberts made sure the shy, frightened gift learned
to speak English and went public school.  And when her quick mind
hungered for knowledge, her teachers fed that hunger until Chela was
one off he best students in her class.  Her foster parents worked with
counselors to ensure that Chela received several college scholarships.
They her with food, clothing, and a warm bed.  And when they lacked the
ability to replace a mother's love, Chela learned to accept that.

William and Carolyn both died within a year of each other just after
Chela started college, and the lonely girl was shuffled off by
well-meaning authorities to the college dorm where she had few friends
and buried herself in the task of becoming a teacher.  But not just an
ordinary teacher.  Chela found a job as an aide to the college Spanish
teacher and honed her skills.  By the time she graduated, she knew she
wanted to be involved in migrant education.  An education had given her
the freedom to leave the orchards; she wanted to give others that same
choice.

And yet it was a lonely life.  Dealing with basic con.  ceres such as
teaching a new language to people who needed help understanding the
different culture they found themselves in was a responsibility she
took seriously.  She tried to tell herself that she was doing enough,
experiencing enough, that it should satisfy her.  But it hadn't, and a
man named Joe Magadan was forcing her to face her restlessness.

Magadan felt something for people whose roots were different from his.
That he couldn't keep from Chela.  She couldn't deny-the caring, the
commitment she sensed about the man.  She trusted her instincts in that
regard.  She believed that if she asked him, he would say he thought of
her as a woman first and the color of her skin second.

But what kind of a woman?  Was Magadan's interest in her only because
she provided the link he need eel with migrants in order to expose
Kohl?

Chela had never asked herself that question about a man before.  She
had no idea how to go about finding the answer.

"I want to see you next week," Magadan said whera he'd parked his truck
next to her Jeep.  "That'll give you time to find out some things about
me.  Don't close your mind to this, Chela.  We might not be able to
change the world, but we can put one animal out of operation."

Chela opened the door, but instead of sliding out, she turned to find
Magadan's eyes in the night.  "I'm not promising anything."

"I understand.  There's one other thing I want you to know: I won't ask
you to do anything that's dangerOUS

"Dangerous?"  Chela laughed.  Iff you believe that, then you don't know
Kohl."

Chela saw his right hand reach toward her but didn't shy from the
contact.  His fingers gave warmth to her arm.  "I wouldn't let anything
happen to you?"  he whispered.

Her arm remained warm long after Chela climbed into her Jeep and drove
off.  Neither of them had said anything about how or when Magadan would
be getting in touch, but by now Chela knew he would show up.  when he
felt the time was right.

Chela pulled into her driveway and parked her Jeep in the carport
connected to the small house she was buying on a quiet country road
skirting the orchards.  There were no neighbors in sight, only a wheat
field on one side and vacant land in the hands of an out-of-state
holding company on the other~ Someday, Chela suspected, the vacant land
would be bought by a developer, and she'd move on to a more rural
setting.

The house itself was more than forty years old, thrown together by a
man with confidence in his ability but not much money.  She'd painted
both inside and out and polished the hardwood floors until they
glistened.  Because she had no neighbors, Chela had never bothered with
curtains.  She loved to watch the sun stream in through the open
expanse, catch dust particles in the air, and bounce off the white
walls: It had been the wood stove in the living room that allowed Chela
to see beyond the neglected walls and a leaking roof.  Even in summer
she gravitated toward it, keeping her favorite rocking chair and table
piled with books next to the stove's cozy presence.

She wasn't surprised that Magadan hadn't seen her house.  Because she
cherished her privacy, she rented a post-office box and used that when
receiving correspondence from the education system.  Except for a
couple of student teachers who were now employed elsewhere, no one from
work had been to her house.

Although Chela had taken pains in finding furnishings and wall
decorations that reflected her love of the out-of-doors and earth
colors, she seldom took time to study the paintings of several local
artists she'd bought or the rough-finished redwood coffee table she
found after months of searching.  But as she kicked off her tennis
shoes and slid her feet along the smooth wood floor, she found herself
wondering what Magadan's reaction would be to her home.  His stylish
slacks and nearly new shirt, as well as the immaculate condition of his
powerful pickup, revealed him as someone who could afford whatever he
wanted.

Chela walked into the small bathroom with its old fashioned bathtub set
up on sturdy legs.  She started running water in the tub, eager to
remove pollen and weed seeds from her flesh.  There were grass stains
on her denims, but she'd long ago learned not to become unduly
concerned about that.

As she started shampooing her hair, she couldn't help but wonder what
Magadan's reaction had been to a woman who carried residues of an
orchard around with her.  He was probably much more accustomed to women
who didn't have to rake their hands through theft hair periodically to
make sure they hadn't picked up a twig from a pear tree or need to
check under theft nails for dirt, Chela admitted as she slid her
fingertips along her hair.  There was no denying it.  Her hands were
utilitarian, not glamorous.

The man had remarkable hands, large for his size; yet there was nothing
clumsy about them.  Chela re-memhered how Magadan's fingers felt on her
upper arm, the warmth that radiated from him and into her.  Was that
why she hadn't turned her back on him when he approached her with too
many questions and not enough answers?  Was there a magnetism to him
that kept people from saying no to him?

Maybe that was why her thoughts wouldn't leave Magadan and his large
hands, his bold eyes, and the warmth that radiated from him.  Because
so much of him was still a mystery, she couldn't put a label on the
man.  She knew he wasn't an immigration officer.  ~ Something told her
he wasn't a policeman, although that was yet another question he hadn't
answered.  He was a man with money, a man who had no love for a certain
coyote and was willing to spend money to rid the area of that man.
Other than that Chela knew nothing.

She didn't even know if he had a wife.

Magadan pushed the lever in his truck that activated the automatic
garage-door opener and pulled into the spacious garage.  After lowering
the door behind him, he unlocked the door leading from the garage to
the house and stepped into a tiled entryway.  He picked up his mail
from where it had fallen through the slot and then lowered his solid
frame onto a leather couch.  He propped his feet up on a glass-topped
coffee table, oblivious of his housekeeper's efforts to keep the house
spotless, despite its owner's casual disdain for expensive
furnishings.

Magadan had been back in the valley and living in the home vacated by
his predecessor for several months, but other than making sure his mail
would be delivered here, he'd done little to turn the house into a home
he felt comfortable in.  That, he decided when he thought about it at
all, would come later.  For the present he was fully occupied with the
task of undoing the damage caused by his predecessor.  The transactions
that put him into a deserted but completely furnished home were known
only by a handful of people, and they were either lawyers or bankers
who knew the wisdom of keeping their own counsel.  Even the middle-aged
woman who came in once a week to undo the damage of a bachelor knew
almost nothing about her employer.

For a few minutes Magadan thought he was going to be able to
concentrate on mail that dealt with stock reports, a report from his
accountant, and a few bills, but as he discarded an advertisement from
the local

Grange, he had to admit that ebony eyes and not financial matters were
what was on his mind.

She won't be what you expect, the sheriff had said.  Damn the old goat!
If that wasn't an understatement, - Magadan didn't know what was.  Not
a word about her being one of the most arresting creatures he'd ever
seen.  Untamed, the sheriff called her.  But that didn't say it all
either.  The plain truth of the matter was, Chela Reola didn't fit any
cubbyhole Magadan had ever been aware of.  He'd met enough women in his
thirty-four years to think he knew just about all there was to know
about them.  There were clinging vines, independent career women,
insecure child-women, and bitter creatures who looked at all men with
suspicion.

Magadan couldn't for the life of him figure out what Chela thought of
men.  There was a certain wariness to her that told him she'd had some
bad experiences in her life, but that didn't mean the warmth and giving
had been sucked out of her.  Somehow, he felt, there was a sensitive
core hidden behind the dark eyes, but that core was kept well under
control by a woman who'd learned that she had to be strong and
independent in order to survive in the world she'd forged for
herself.

Somewhere along the line she'd stopped accepfmg people at face value.
If he was ever going to get her to trust him, he was going to have to
prove himself.  But that was going to be difficult when the very nature
of their relationship prevented total honesty.

Magadan kicked off his shoes without bothering to untie them and
wandered into the den-turned-office that served as the focal point for
his activities these days.  He dialed the number of Phillip McAndrews
without having to look it up.

"I can't tell you if it's going to work," Magadan said after he and the
fifty-year-old community kingpin had.  exchanged pleasantries.  "I've
made the contact, but I don't know if she's going to buy our story."

"She?  You're dealing with a worn, an Are you sure that's necessary?"

"I'm sure," Magadan answered, "I've done enough poking around to know
that a woman named Chela Reola is our best bet"

"Chela?"  Phillip interrupted.  "She'll trust you about as far as she
can throw you.  You'll.  never get her to go along with anything.  She
keeps to herself."

"I had dinner with her tonight.  Give me f~me.  Look, I spent an hour
with the sheriff the other day.  He agreed with us that the Mexicans
around here aren't going to give us anything that would expose Kohl.
They're too intimida~ted by him.  And you better believe certain
orchardists we can both name are going to protect that snake.  He'll
blow the whistle on them if the law comes after him, and they know it.
He isn't going to go down alone unless we do this right?"

"Are you sure you have the sheriff's cooperation?  We have a lot at
stake here, you know," Phillip said nervously.  "ffhe doesn't press
charges"

"Kenneth is with us all the way.  And so is the DA.  I'm a little
concerned because the DA is going to want names blasted all over the
newspapers when this business comes to court: It'll be a feather in his
cap for him if he pulls it off.  He'll want everyone to think he was
responsible for getting us involved."

"You keep my name out of the paper," Phillip warned.  "You're new
here.  You don't have as much at stake as I do.  The orchardists are a
powerful group."

"I have enough at stake," Magadan pointed out wearily.  He wasn't crazy
about working with the publicity-shy McAndrews, but the older man had
connections and local political clout Magadan didn't.  "Besides, if
this works out the way we want it to, we aren't going to be the ones
sticking our necks out.  Chela Reola is."

"Does she know that?  I think we need to clarify that with her. Arrange
a. meeting with the three of us.  I respect her too much to be anything
less than honest.  Does she know what Kohl is capable of?."

"She knows, all right.  I don, t think she's afraid, but neither does
she trust me.  Not that I can blame her given the little information
I've told her.  Look, it's late.  I just wanted to keep you abreast of
what's going on.  Right now I'm giving her time to think things over.
I have to do that."

"No way.  Don't ever give a woman time, especially that one," Phillip
warned.  "That's one savvy lady.  I'll tell you what I'd do if I were
in your place.  Turn on the charm.  Get her eating out of your hand,
and you're home free.  A woman in love will do anything for her man."

"It's a good thing I have no intention of taking your advice," Magadan
said before putting an end to the conversation, "Tve never heard of
that trick working on a woman.  I know it isn't going to work with
Chela."  What would work on Chela Reola?  Magadan wondered later as he
got ready for bed.  He could imagine her expression if he sent her
flowers or invited her out to a fancy restaurant.  Instead of melting
from the effect of.  his charms, she would be instantly suspicious.
Sorry, Phillip, Magadan thought.  Even if I have charm, which I'm not
sure I have, it isn't going to convince this particular soman that I'm
on the up-and-up.

Flowers and a romantic evening--had Chela ever had that experience?
Magadan thought of her strong hands with their short clipped nails and
doubted that she'd ever been inside the valley's exclusive restaurants.
Then he thought of questioning ebony eyes with something vulnerable and
hungry flickering deep inside them and acknowledged a desire to give
her that evening.  Then he chided himself.  This wasn't the way he
should be thinking.  This was a business arrangement, nothing more.

Chapter Three

Magadan had given Chela a week to learn what she could about him, but
it could have been a year for all the good the week did her.  " Jackson
County wasn't what could be called an urban center, but with a city of
some 30,000 as the county's hub, plus a half dozen small towns
surrounding Medford, it was impossible for Chela to learn anything
about a man who didn't even have his number listed in the telephone
book.  It bothered her to realize that Magadan had been aware of how
hard he would be to trace, but in a way she understood.  Some people
required a low profile in their lifestyle.  Magadan was one of them.

When Chela deliberately mentioned that she'd been approached by a
self-confident yet secretive man, her supervisor apologized for having
told Magadan what he did about her.  Unfortunately the older man was
unable to answer any questions.  "He came into my office wearing a suit
that isn't going to be found in a cato log He was so serf-assured that
maybe I let it intimidate me.  He said something about being involved
in law enforcement.  He expected me to answer his questions,

and I fell right into his hands.  I admit I was eager to cooperate with
whatever agency he represented.  What did he want anyhow?  "

Chela didn't answer.  What she and Magadan had discussed was none of
the man's business.  Besides, she had learned long ago that it was
better to keep certain things to oneself.  She would continue going
into the orchards and barrios and wait for Magadan to get in touch with
her.

He walked back into her life much the same way he'd entered it.  Chela
had been in one of the more isolated orchards, talking to a worker who
was terrified of appearing in court about a traffic ticket.  She'd
assured the man that she would go to court with him and was walking
back through the silent rows of trees to the shed where she'd left her
Jeep when Magadan appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.

Instead of breaking the silence, he simply waited as she came closer.
Today he was dressed in jeans and an unironed but fairly new shirt.

"It's hot," Magadan observed objectively.  "Don't you ever wish you
worked in an air-conditioned of-flee?"  .

Chela glanced down at the long expanse of denim clad leg.  "I'd have to
wear a dress.  I don't own any."

"You don't own a dress?"

Chela allowed herself a smile.  "Almost.  I have a couple of sun
dresses, something with a blazer I bought for when the superintendent
of schools comes calling, and slacks during the school year, but I live
in these in the summer."

Magadan didn't come closer, but his eyes made a quick decision.  Size
10.  And she would look good in any color, particularly intense ones
that wouldn't be lost next to her own rich coloring and shining black
hair.  "Have you had enough time?"  he asked.

Despite the sudden shift in conversation, Chela knew what Magadan was
talking about.  Instantly she pushed aside the image.  of a strong,
competent man standing close to her in an orchard empty except for
birds and small rodents.  She dug her tennis shoes into the rich bottom
soil of the Bear Creek valley and reached out to touch the hard,
immature surface of a sun-warmed d'Anjou pear.  "You knew I wouldn't
learn anything about you," she pointed out.  "Your name isn't in the
phone book, but I didn,t expect it to be."

"I have my reasons for having' it unlisted.  Forget that.  That.  isn't
important."  Magadan waved away his own impatience and nodded in the
direction of a shed surrounded by farm equipment.  He fell in line
behind Chela as she walked through a carpet of wild mustard toward it.
"It's so quiet here," he said softly.  "There's a peace to the
orchards.  Does it bother you that I don't.  have my face plastered all
over town?"

"The trees are doing their work now.  It'll get busy when the pears are
ripe," Chela said just as softly.  "It bothers me that you expect me to
take everything you say at face value.  You want me to do something for
you, but you won't even tell me who you are, what you do.  You played
the same game with my supervisor."

Magadan waited until they reached a stack of baled straw just outside
the shed.  Chela climbed onto one of the bales and sat cross legged on
it.  Taking her lead, he chose a bale next to hers, positioning himself
so that nothing that might show in her eyes would escape him.  Behind
her he saw the gnarled branches of endless trees silhouetted against
the summer sun.  "What do you want me to tell you?"  he asked.

"I don't know.  I don't even know why I'm talking to you."  But maybe
she did.  The man sitting cross-legged near her was fascinating, not
because she knew so little about him, but because she was reacting
toward him in a way she barely understood.

"I don't know why you haven't told me to take a flying leap either,"
Magadan admitted.  "Except maybe you believe how I feel about a
creature like Ko.~A.  That's one thing I can level with you about.  I
want the man out of operation.  I'm willing to do whatever 'it takes to
accomplish that."

"But you won't tell me why you.  don't want him around.  Why should you
care?"

Magadan sighed.  "Several red, sons.  I was near the Rio Grande last
year, I wound up doing some interpreting for a family Kohl had taken
across the border and deserted.  Of course, he had their money before
he took off.  Two adults and five kids stranded illegally with
everything they owned on their backs and Kohl getting fat from ~what
they'd given him to get them into California."

Chela frowned.  His words may have been quiet, but she could see the
anger and outrage in his clenched jaw, his narrowed eyes.  "And that's
why you're after Kohl?  Because of something he did to a family you
didn't know?"

Magadan laughed.  "That makes me sound like the white knight, doesn't
it?  No.  That was the first time I'd heard Kohl's name.  Since moving
here I've learned a lot more about that bastard.  The most I can tell
you at this time is that I've had dealings with a couple of local
orchardists who worked with Kohl.  He provided them with illegal
workers.  In turn both he and the orchardists robbed the illegals
blind.  Immigration showed up just before payday and hauled them back
to Mexico.  No human being should treat another that way.  Whether they
were legal or not, they worked, they deserved to be paid.  He has to be
stopped."

"He?"  Chela spat bitterly.  "What about the Orchardists?  Or are they
too powerful to touch?"

"Maybe.  Chela, you've lived here most of your life, You know how much
influence the orchardists have in this valley.  The fruit harvest is an
important part of the area's economic base.  The legal system isn't
going to~ blow the whisfie on them unless they have an airtight case
and the money to counter the orchardists' high-priced lawyers.  But if
Kohl is put out of business, then their supply is cut off.  They'll get
the message: Either~ clean up their act or risk being exposed the way
Kohl

"You said you've had dealings with the orchardists.  Chela said warily.
" What kind of dealings?  "

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to tell you that.  Look, I haven't given
you any reason to believe I'm anything but a law-abiding citizen, have
I?  Let's just say I'm working in conjunction with the law enforcement
system."

Chela met the man's narrowed, wary eyes.  She knew that most men
dropped their eyes when they were lying, but there was nothing
tentative about the way

Magadan returned her stare.  Were his eyes telling the truth?  Did she
dare believe him?  A part of her that was soft and deeply buried cried
"yes," but the part of Chela that challenged her to fight for migrant
fights was wary.

A gust of wind found its way down the rows of trees.  Chela waited
until the rustling branches had spent themselves before she spoke. "You
have something to do with law enforcement?  That doesn't tell me
much."

Magadan groaned.  "There are some other things about me you should
know.  You got time?"

Chela sat motionless, absorbing both words and impressions as Magadan
told about the only son of a successful lawyer who cut his teeth on
legal defenses and fact-gathering, much as other boys learned about
sports and cars.  "My father was a lawyer for twenty years before
becoming one of the most outspoken district at-tornies the state has
ever seen.  He loved his work; he fought to make sure that victims of
crimes weren't forgotten.  He didn't have much use for repeat
criminals.  Mayhe my father was the modern-day equivalent of the Lone
Ranger.  I thought he was about the greatest man I'd ever known.  I
know I've never admired anyone as much as I admired him.  For a long
time I thought I was going to be a lawyer, too, but when I got to law
school,. I discovered I was much more interested in business than
law."

"You're a businessman?"

"Something like that.  Let's just say I have a certain knack for
sniffing out opportunities and turning them to my advantage.  I had to
start out small, but I now have enough capital to take bigger risks."
Magadan frowned.  "Forget I said that.  I'm no there to toot my own
horn."

"I don't know what you're here for.  Are you going to arrest Kohl?  Do
you have that authority?"  Chela straightened and then recrossed her
legs.  She rested her arms on her bent knees and folded her hands
together, waiting.

"I'm here because you are.  Because there's a fly in the ointment, and
you're the one to get rid of him."

Chela's laugh cut sharply through the gentle orchard sounds.  "I'm a
means to an end, is that it?  Someone you can use."  A second later she
was on her feet, brushing hay off her clothes as she turned her back on
Magadan.  "I've seen one user in my.  life I don't want anything to do
with another."

Chela started to walk toward the nearest row of but Magadan stopped
her.  He grabbed her shoulders, biting down with his fingers to keep
the wiry young woman from pulling away.  "I'm not a user.  I wouldn't
take advantage of you."

Chela whirled back around.  "How can I believe that?  You won't tell me
anything about yourself, important."

"Because I can't."  Magadan's hands dropped to side.  For a moment he
seemed at a loss for words.  '5 this stage of the plan, I just can't.
I'd jeopardize too much hard work.  "

Chela took a hack ward step, trying to decrease the ira pact of the
agony she heard in the strong, competent man's voice

His hands snaked out as if afraid she'd shy away before he could
capture her.  She'd started to back off was too quick for her.  Magadan
gripped her wrists, pulling her toward him.  When she was less than a
foot away, he pulled her hands downward and close to his sides so she
was thrown off balance.  Chela felt his breath on the side of her face
and stiffened.  Gentle, caressing touches from men weren't the kind of
contact she was used to.  Magadan was rough in his handling of her,
rough enough to alarm her.  And yet, because she retained the memory of
the honesty that lived in his eyes, she didn't try to escape.  Instead
she stood, trembling slightly, waiting for him to make the next move.

Magadan hadn't intended on kissing Chela, but with her soft lips only
inches away, he surrendered to the impulse.  He pulled down and back
with his hands, drawing her ever closer.  She thrust her 'chin out, but
the deft ant act only made him more determined.

Chela felt his lips on hers and barely suppressed a gasp as she
acknowledged her body responding to the contact.  She kept her eyes
open, body tense, as the gentle whispering touch became more intimate.
His face was so close that it was no more than a blur but not so fuzzy
that she couldn't see that his eyes, too, were open.  Chela stopped
resisting the pull on her wrists and took the half step that brought
~their bodies together.  Now she could concentrate on what was
happening without being distracted by the almost painful pressure of
his fingers on her wrists.  She felt his body warmth through her,
reaching the unencumbered breasts beneath the thin fabric.  Unless she
was representing the school district, Chela didn't usually wear abra.
She hated any kind of confinement.  Now that decision was working
against her natural reserve.

What would it feel like to close her eyes, let her body come in full
contact with Magadan's?  Even as she was asking how she dared ask such
a question, her eyes were slowly closing.  There was no breeze blowing
in the orchard, allowing the humidity of the hot day to settle around
everything it touched.  But Chela wasn't aware of the sticky, pungent
air.  Her thoughts were telescoping down cr/.  h the core of her
consciousness went no further than her mouth, her breasts, female flesh
hungering for the touch of male flesh.

Bemuse Magadan's hands were around her wrists and not against her back,
Chela didn't feel completely possessed by him.  There was a certain'
sense of freedom the knowledge that she was a willing participant in
what was happening.  Why she should now be willing' to let happen
something she'd been wary of for years didn't, at this moment,.  occur
to her.  What was left to concentrate on was the knowledge that she'd
been hungry for this kind of contact, lonely because there'd been no
one to share herself with.

Chela had made decisions that set her apart from.  close contact with a
man she could give herself to.  Most of the tune she was unaware of the
loneliness her decision had sentenced her to.  Now, however, there was
no denying that

She became aware of a sub He shifting of position but didn't open her
eyes.  It was much preferable to acknowledge Magadan's hands working
their way up her arms; touching her shoulders, and finally coming
around behind her back.  Tentatively, shyly, Chela lifted her limp arms
and allowed them to find a home around Magadan's waist.

She was no longer holding her neck stiffly.  Instead she let the
pressure from Magadan's lips push her head backward slightly,
increasing the sensation of being pliable in the arms of the kind of
man she wasn't sure existed.

It wasn't until Magadan's hands found the flesh under her blouse that
Chela pulled herself back to the reality of orchard heat and buzzing
insects: She pulled firmly away, opened her eyes, and faced him.  It
took every ounce of strength she possessed not to flee into the safety
of the trees.

"That was nice," Magadan whispered.  '"I didn't know it was going to
happen, but I'm not going to apologize."

"It isn't going to happen again."  Was that her voico shaking like a
young girl on her first date?

"I doubt it, Chela.  Is that so wrong?"

Instead of answering, Chela reached out and brought a pear branch close
to her face.  She stared as if fascinated at the vibrant green growth.
"Are you sure Kohl can be stopped?"

"That's what you want to talk about?  All right.  We'll play the game
your way today.  But there's something happening between us, Chela.  I
don't think you can deny that forever.  "

"Nothing's happening between us!"  Chela shot out in fear.  "You're
Anglo."

Magadan came a step closer.  "So are you, Chela," he said gently.  "At
least half of you is.  Why are you afraid to admit it?"

"I'm not afraid."  Her hands were clenched tightly around the tree
branch as if she could use the tree's life force to still the emotions
raging inside her, "I have reasons for hating certain things about me,
that's all."

Magadan reached out as if to touch her but stopped just short of
contact as if he was aware of the fragile hold she had on herself. "I'd
like you to tell me about it," he said in the same gentle tone.

"I don't think so."  Chela's eyes met his bemuse ~ she'd learned to
face she could hide the agony in the dark orbs.  "You the only one with
secrets, Magadan."  ~.

"I had that coming, didn't I?"

"Look, you asked about Kohl--maybe that's safe subject we can find--but
I don't want to talk about it here, now.  There's someone I want you to
meet."  "Who?  I haven'3 promised anything"

"I know that," Magadan interrupted sharply.

the man is, shall we say, my partner in this scheme.  i think you know
him anyway.  Phillip McAndrews.  " ,

If Chela was already tense, she became more so now.  "Phillip McAndrews
is an orchardist.  How do you know him?"

"Through the Chamber of Commerce.  McAndre~ might not be your idea of
man of the year, but I'm he's one of the most progressive orchardists
in valley."

"He could do more."  Chela ran a weary hand over her eyes.  An instinct
for survival still told her to out of whatever Magadan and McAndrews
were planning, but Chela wasn't one for running away.  If there was a
way of putting an end to a coyote who dealt in farm laborers as if they
were merchandise and not human beings, she was willing to take certain
chances.  Besides, something of a kiss lingered, holding her where she
was as firmly as any rope.  "Does he want to meet me?"

"Yes.  He's arranged to meet with both of us tomorrow night at his
house."

Phillip McAndrews's house--it was close, too close to another house
Chela wanted to avoid for the rest of her life.  But personal emotions
had no place intruding on this particular meeting.  "Would I have to
wear a dress?"

"Magadan laughed.  " No, I don't think you'll have to wear a dress.
Then, you'll come?  "

"What time should I be there?"

As quickly as it had started, Magadan's laugh stopped.  "I'd like to
pick you up."

Chela shook her head firmly.  "I don't tell many people where I live,"
she said.  "You have a long way to go before I tell you that,
Magadan."

Chapter Four

Magadan deliberately arrived at Phillip McAndrews's place a half hour
before Chela was expected.  He and the publicity-shy orchardist had
exchanged pleasantries and were now sharing a drink in the deeply
masculine den of Phillip's sprawling house.  Phillip that his wife was
at the country club that evening for some benefit show, and they
wouldn't be interrupted.

"You know," Phillip was saying, "I kind of feel sorry for my wife.  I
don't think she had any idea that being mar fled to an orchardist would
mean having to put up with a man who smelled like fertilizer and
pesticides.  She thinks we should stay here or at the country club all
the time and the orchards can function us.  She can't stand to have me
around when I come in with mud under my ting emails and the truck like
its been rode hard and put away wet.  But aren't going to make it to
the packing houses without a lot of hard work on someone's part, mainly
mine."

"Don't forget luck."  Magadan took a sip of his rum and Coke and eased
hack in the comfortable chair, let-.  ting the day's labors ease from
his body.  He'd dressed in brown slacks and a three-year-old shirt,
hoping his casual dress would soften the contrast between the expensive
McAndrews home and the jeans he expected Chela to wear.  Not that he
minded the faded denim stretched across her small bottom.  The thought
of her soft tank top sliding softly over her breasts made him glance at
the clock, eager to see her coming through the door.  It wasn't the way
he expected to be reacting to his potential parmer, but to deny his
feelings would be to lie to himself.

Phillip was going on about his current problem of being able to get an
adequate supply of pesticides to be applied by a local crop duster.
Magadan nodded, only vaguely aware of the brief comments he was making.
A hot, serious--to him--romance had ended rather abruptly just as he
was leaving Mexico earlier' this year.  Since moving to the valley,
Magadan hadn't dated or shown much interest in women.  He was beginning
to wonder whether he'd been too single-minded in his business ventures
to the detriment of a personal life.  At least that's what his ex-girl
friend had told him.  "You're too intense.  You have this thing about
changing the world," she'd said that last day.  "Someday you're going
to have to stop long enough to smell the roses, or life is going to
pass you by.  Stop trying to prove something.  Listen to the beating of
your heart."

Well, his heart was beating tonight, In fact he'd been aware of its
steady pulse ever since he'd held Chela in his arms in the orchard
yesterday.  What was it with that woman?  Did she possess some special
spark, some captivating quality that set her apart from other women, or
had he simply been without a woman too long?

"That's about enough shoptalk for one night," Phillip said as he
replenished their drinks.  "So you really got Chela Reola to come here
tonight.  That surprised me."

"So you said.  How come?"

"You don't know about her father, do you?  I'm not surprised.  The fact
is, I know damn little myself.  Just that he's alive and around here,
but they apparently don't have anything to do with each other.  That
cer-tai my isn't the sort of thing she'd be likely to talk about."

"Don't play games with me, Phillip," Magadan said more sharply than
he'd intended.  "Is there something I should know?"

"You know all I do.  He's American, of course.  There's been
speculation about his identity, but she'S not telling anyone.  If she's
willing to at least listen to us, then I think it's best if we leave
things at that Son~;~-old skeletons are best left buffed."  Phillip was
a moment.  "Let me tell you something, sitting on a potential powder
keg with that woman.  She has little enough reason to trust Anglos. You
let her know who you are, why you're living here, and you'~ blown it.
She'll take off faster than a wild deer."

"Damn it, Phillip!"  Magadan's hands around his glass.  He knew the
savvy businessman enough to know Phillip wouldn't he pushed, but
dangling a mystery in front of him and then asking to push the subject
was asking a hell of a lot.  have you gotten me into with her?  "

"It's not me, friend," Phillip grinned.  "You're the one who started
this business about Kohl.

because I figured you were probably the only one with the guts to see
it through.  I agree, Chela Reola is our best link.  I'm not going to
say any more about it.  " " Why the hell not?  "

Phillip frowned.  "This isn't getting us anywhere.  What's important is
trapping Kohl.  Have you thought any more about what we talked about
earlier?"

The conversation quickly shifted to the possible ramifications and
possibility for failure in the plan the two men had devised.  Magadan
put his businessman's logic to good use by concentrafmg on the present
subject and not dwelling on the points Phillip had raised a few minutes
ago.  Magadan had been questioning the wisdom of his continued secrecy
where Chela was con-cemed, but Phillip's warning renewed his decision
to keep a low profile.

They were discussing the amount of cooperation they could expect from
the sheriff and district.  attorney when the doorbell rang.  "I think
the young lady is here," Phillip said as he rose.  "I wonder if she
feels as if she's entering the lion's den."

Magadan was still sitting when Phillip returned, but he rose halfway to
his feet before he was aware of what, he was doing.  What he was aware
of was that Chela had exchanged her usual attire for a filmy white sun
dress held together by thin straps tied at the shoulder, with a
gathered Waistline and a softly draping skirt that ended at the knee.
The fabric had tiny holes in it--eyelet, Magadan thought it was
called--with a white lining under the filmy fabric that teased his
senses.  Because the top of the garment was loosely gathered, he
couldn't be sure whether she was wearing abra or not,

but the thin strops barely any wider than a cord made him believe that
the dress was just about all she was wearing.  Her tennis shoes had
been left somewhere else, and in their place Chela was wearing white
san The contrast between black hair t~iling down a slender back and the
white summer dress took M~-~~ dan's breath away.  He couldn't tell
whether she was wearing makeup or not but suspected the no.  Her cheeks
had been given enough color by the sun, and those magnificent doe eyes
needed no em~ phaslzing.

"It's been a long time, Chela," Phillip was saying, "The last time we
met was at a farm

You should have worn that dress.  No one thought to argue with you
then.  "

Chela kept her eyes on Phillip McAndrews and not: the man staring at
her from the dark, expensive She'd been fighting with hers off ever
since she steppe~ out of the bathtub an hour ago.  It the mid die-aged
orchardist.  The truth was, she admired the man's forthright attitude
and eonvicfio~ If she was a migrant, she would try to Me Andrews
orchards.  At least he kept the housing on his land in decent repair
and workers an honest wage.

"It was a productive meeting,

courage than she felt.  "A lot of good of it, like the gleaning
project.  It's about time the the pickers didn't get went to feed poor
people of rotting on the ground."

"They were salvaged because you convinced chardists that the project
would be adequately supervised.  You make an effective speaker for
indigents.  Look, I'd like to cog~tinue exchanging pleasantries with
you.  You're the best-looking thing to come through this door in a long
time, but we have business to disCUSS" '

There was no way Phillip could know what an effort it had taken for her
to come here.  No way for him to make a connection between her and the
grand house farther up the hills', "I don't get to the hills often,"
she said cautiously, tesfmg the air.  "You have a beautiful home."

" " It's called keeping up with the Joneses," Phillip snorted.  " I
swear, every orchardist who ever lived had a home in the east hills.
Talk about segregating one-~ self.  "

Chela released a long, slow breath.  That was a subject she was
determined to avoid.  "You wanted to talk about something," she said.

"We all need to," Magadan spoke for the first time.  "Phillip and I
have spent a lot of time working out the details.  There were a lot of
holes for us to cover."

Chela turned toward Magadan, her hips shifting under the unaccustomed
dress.  "What am I here for?"

"Why don't you sit down, Chela," Phillip offered.  "Can I get you
something to drink?"

Chela shook her head and lowered herself slowly into a wooden rocker
with a cane backing.  She laid her hand along the arms and slid her
fingers along~ the smooth surface.  There'd been a chair like this in
that house up the hill, but since she'd only been in it once, Chela
couldn't be sure how much the two pieces of furniture had in common and
how much was a result of her reluctant memory.  "Kohl knows me," she
said when Phillip was sitting.  "He knows what I think of him."

"Tve thought of that," Phillip responded.  "He's going to be suspicious
of you, but if the pot is sweet enough I think it's going to be his
undoing.  The real question is, would you test' fly against him in
court?  Are you committed to seeing this through to the end?"

Chela didn't rush her answer.  She realized that her testimony could be
crucial in bringing Kohl to justice, but she sffil had doubts that
anything she or the two men in the room could do would actually put an
end to his schemes.  "We can't leave behind any to climb through," she
said slowly.  the first time he's been in twuble with the law.  He
knows his way around the system.  He'd get the best lawyer he can
afford.  " Should she t~ll them that rehtionship with Kohl went deeper
than they knew?  No!  She didn t have the words to express that
emotion.

"We can afford better," Magadan said.

have discussed this from every possible angle.  he does come to court,
and he will, we'll have an air, tight case.  And there won't be any
risk for you.  "

"I doubt that,."  Chela replied levelly.  "Magadan~ I've watched that
man operate for yearn.  How do you~ think he's been able to intimidate
the migrants all this time?  He backs up his threats."

"He's dealing with uneducated people who won't believe they have any
fights.  It's going to be when we set him up."

lbuch a Wild Heart

"And he'll be angrier than he's ever been," Chela pointed out.

"Is that true?"  Magadan turned toward Phillip.  "Is he capable of
violence?"

Phillip nodded, a slow, measured movement, "He's capable of anything.
Have you ever seen a wild animal backed into a corner?  That's what
we'll have on our hands when Kohl realizes he's trapped,"

"Then maybe we should forget the whole thing!"  Magadan snapped,
pushing himself to his feet.  "We'll get to him another way.  I'm not
going to risk her."

Chela stared up at the angry, pacing man.  He was deadly serious about
what he was saying.  None of his performance was calculated to get
Chela to.  do his will.  No man had ever come to her defense that way
before' and Chela responded to his concern: He cared, And: because he
cared, she believed that Magadan would do everything in his power to
keep Kohl aw3~y from her.  That knowledge gave.  her courage.  It was a
simple fact punctuated by the look in Magadan's eyes,

"What is your plan?"  she asked calmly, never taking her eyes off
Magadan.

He turned on her.  "Did you hear me?  I'm not taking any risk with your
safety."

"I believe it's my safety we're discussing," Chela interrupted.  "I'm
over twenty-one, and no one has ever told me what I can or can't do.
I'm the one to make this decision.  I want Kohl stopped."

Magadan glared silently at Chela but didn't interrupt when Phillip
started talking.  Despite the distraction of Magadan's steady gaze,
Chela forced herself to concentrate on what the older man was saying~
The plan Phillip and Magadan had worked out was simple.  It designed to
trap Kohl in one of~ his oldest and most reliable schemes.  Magadan
knew a young Mexican living in Mexico City.  The man, Ortez Varela,
would he willing to return a favor Magadan had done him by
participating in the plan.  Chela's job would be to convince Kohl that
she was willing to pay to have Ortez slipped illegally into the United
States.  Iff we make the pot sweet enough, I think Kohl will take your
money and;~ run.  Then we'll charge him with theft.  Or he 11 try ~
blackmail you into upping the ante.  Coercion's a crime."

Disappointed, Chela shook her head.  "He's away with cheafmg people
before.  If we try to judge we'd paid Kohl to bring an illegal try,
we're in as much trouble as Kohl is."

"That's where the sting comes in,"

tered the con vexation for the first time.  green card.  He has every
right to come here.  We won't tell Kohl that.  When we go before the
we'll--or you ill--simply state that you range transportation for Ortez
to come see nothing unlawful about that.  The DA has been bits and
pieces of cases together for years.  out, it'll simply he the last nail
in the coffin.  him once and for all.  ".

Chela shut her eyes for a moment,

thoughts on what she knew of Kohl.  He thing for money, and greed would
0rob ably way of any caution that would make him "Td have to offer him
enough money," she said

"otherwise he won't take the risk.  And I have to have a good reason to
want Ortez here.  Kohl will he suspicious of everything I tell him."

"If he thinks you're in love with Ortez, he'll believe what you tell
him."

Chela opened her eyes to stare at Magadan.  Was there anger and tension
in his voice?  If Magadan was still angry with her for ignoring his
words of concern for her safety, she couldn't help the way she was. She
was responding in an all new way toward his concern, but it still
didn't alter her independent approach to life.  "Mayhe," she said
slowly.

"Maybe, nothing," Phillip asserted.  "You're a single young woman. Kohl
would be a feel not to believe you were capable of falling in love.
And he knows you make a decent living, could have a savings account.
It would make sense to use that money to-pay to have your lover brought
here."

My lover?  ,4 man I've never met?  Chela had never thought~ of herself
as an actress, but her pulse quickened at the thought of deceiving
Kohl.  "How much does Ortez know?"  she asked.  "What if Kohl gets in
touch with him?"  x

"Ortez will go along with whatever we decide," Magadan said.  "Like I
said, he owes me a favor.  He doesn't have much use for animals who
feed on the misery of his countrymen.  But do you really think Kohl
will contact him?  Wouldn't it be more like him to take your money.
and run?"

Chela shook her head.  "Kohl knows how I feel about him.  He's not
going to take the money if he smells a trap.  He won't take anything I
say at face value."

"In other words, he doesn't trust you any more than you trust him?  It
could be dangerous."  Anger once again laced Mafiadan's voice.  "Why
the hell didn't I think about that more?"

"Because I deliberately left that possibility out of the conversation,"
Phillip interjected.  "I figured the first time you looked at Chela
you'd get all know because she has the same effect on me.

known this independent young woman for years.  I know what she's
capable of.  "

Chela nodded to acknowledge Phillip's complimenL She'd always had a
wary relationship with the older man, but there was a certain respect
that existed between the two.  "When should I contact Kohl?"  asked.

'~Anytime.  Joe will make sure you have cash,"

lip said.  "Kohl won't take anything but cash.  isn't going to jump
right away.  You're right, he's to sniff this out first."

"I don't want you going out there alone,"

said.  He'd been leaning against a paneled wall, he pushed his body
away from it and took toward where Chela was sitting.  "I'm

Chela wanted to laugh at the impossible but the narrow slits Mafiadan's
eyes had stopped her.  "I'm sorry," she said softly but won't work
unless I'm alone with Kohl.  it's going to work anyway, but this is the
only do it.  "

"I think she has you over a barrel, Mafiadan,"

lip laughed.  "I told you she was an independent

"Then she's a fool.  She could get herself killed."  ~

"That isn't how Kohl operates," Chela pointed out despite the
distraction of having Mafiadan looming' over her.  "He threatens and
cheats and lies, but he isn't going to kill anyone."

"No one has ever tried to double-cross him before," Phillip pointed
out.  "I'm with Mafiadan on this one.  You're going to have to be damn
careful."

How do you think I've survived so far?  Chela thought, but she kept
that to herself.  The two men didn't need to hear about the tightrope
she walked between two cultures.  It wasn't easy to win the trust of
migrants even if she had much in common with them, and it wasn't
natural for her to walk in Anglo society, but she could do that, too,
when necessary.  "I'll be careful."  Chela waited for a minute and then
continued.  "Kohl stays out of sight much of the time.  I don'tSnow
where he is.  I'll have to let it be known that I'm looking for him and
wait for him to get in touch with me."

"You are one stubborn female."  Magadan's fists were clenched, and he
was staring even closer than he'd been before.  "You keep me informed
of everything that's going on.  I'm going to give you my phone number.
I want yours.  I don't want to be out of touch with you at any time."

Giving Mafiadan her phone number wasn't something Chela did freely, but
her survival instinct knew that denying him that request could place
her in more danger than either Phillip or the mysterious Magadan knew.
The orchardist thought he knew Kohl, but he couldn't know everything
the man was capable of.  Phillip was an influential orchardist, not a
migrant worker.  She was taking chances.  It would help tip things 4n
her direction if she knew Magadan could get in touch with her at any
time.  She nodded and then more information about her mythical
Mexican

She would have to be able to describe Ortez, tell Kohl where he lived,
be able to make up some story about how they'd met and fallen in love.
She'd have to explain that love was worth the depletion of her savings
account.  Magadan supplied-the answers she but there was no ignoring
the anger she sensed simmering in him.  He didn't want her doing
this.

It had been his idea in the first understand why he was backing off
now, personal concern for her safety.  All she knew She was responding
to that caring quality in him.  ~ questioned what she was doing several
times, but before she stood up, she gave Magadan her "You might need
it," was all she would say.

As she turned to leave, Magadan moved with and walked out to her Jeep.
It wasn't until she was: ting behind the wheel with his hand resting on
rear view mirror that he spoke.  Iff you get a bad feeling about this,
I want you to tell me.  Nothing is worth ing your safety."

Chela turned toward him.  "Magadan, this was idea in the first place,
Don't ever forget that,"

"I can't.  I just never thought-- The me much about you."

"What did be' tell you?"

"That you were competent.  That when you your teeth into something you
stuck with it, that was enough for what I had in mind."  His hand the
rearview mirror and gently touched the hair trailing by her cheek.
"Haven't you ever had a man want to take care of you?"

"I don't need a man to take care of me."  She should be turning her
head to break the contact, but she didn't.

"That's not what I mean," Magadan groaned.  "I can't believe you've
gone this far in life without meeting a man who wants to be part of
your life, to step in when you need a buffer."

Chela blinked her eyes against something vulnerable his words touched.
"No one lives in a castle with a moat around it anymore, Magadan, but
we all go it alone."

His fingers were playing with her hair, rolling the thick strands
together and sliding down the length.  "Not everyone does, Chela.  A
lot of women, the majority in fact, look for someone to share their
lives with.  It isn't a sign of weakness; it's because they want to
belong."

"What about you, Magadan?"  she asked, turning the question around.
"Why aren't you married?"

Eyes met eyes across the distance framed by a Jeep.  "I haven't found
the right woman?"

Reckless questioning put Chela's thoughts into words.  "What is the
right woman?  What are you looking for?"

"I don't know," he laughed harshly.  "Do any of us until we find that
special someone?  Don't ybu have any family?  Are you really all
alone?"

"I told you my mother's dead."

"What about your father?  Why isn't he part of your life?"

Chela turned away, the sudden jerk of her head

stretching the hairs Magadan held in his fingers.  Slowly, coldly,
Chela spoke.  "I don't ever want to talk about my father.  Do you
understand that?  That's one question I'm never going to answer."

When Magadan released her hair, Chela started the engine and drove
away.  She should be thinking about Kohl and how she was going to get
in touch with him, but she wasn't.  She wasn't even thinking about her
father.  Instead Chela's thoughts were divided between the task of
driving and emotions Magadan had Stirred inside her.  The man was as
much an unknown now~ he'd been the first day she saw him.  Now, her
life had been complicated by his presence.  He~ stirred up memories she
thought she'd buried about her father, but more than that, Magadan was
to life strange emotions and longings, such as those that touched her
when she saw couples get her absorbed in each other.

It all boiled down to a simple fact:

to go home tonight.  She didn't want to unlock her4 and walk into an
empty house.  She didn't into an empty bed.

But Chela slept alone that night as she had the nights of her life.  In
the morning breakfast, and drove to one of the more where she'd
promised to work with a group of schoolers.  Later in the day she used
the excuse of i terprefmg some English document to go to one migrant
labor hiring centers.  She started slowly, tentatively laying the
groundwork for the, tact with Kohl.  She spoke of taking a trip to
several months earlier and falling head over love with a man there. She
didn't want to move to Mexico to be with him because she couldn' team a
living there.  He wanted to join her in the United States because he'd
been able to find only sporadic work with an American business
operating in Mexico since the oil industry in Mexico died a sudden
death.  What distressed Chela the most was Ortez's inability to gain
the necessary papers to allow him' to cross the border legally. "I have
to find a way," Chela finished up to the half dozen listening men.  "I
have the money, but I'm afraid to try to get him here myself. I'm
afraid we'll be stopped.  I don't know how to do these things."

Those listening nodded in understanding, but said little.  That didn't
bother Chela.  She was ready to wait until word spread through the
underground network of communication that existed in the migrant world.
She repeated her story twice more that day and then settled back to
wait.

The wait lasted three days.  In that time Chela divided her time
between the barrios and orchards and assisted in another soccer game.
She kept looking around during the game, hoping to see the sturdy frame
of the man who'd started her on this adventure, but Magadan didn't show
himself.  She was home and getting ready for bed Thursday night when he
called her.

Chela had been startled to hear her phone ring, but the deep tones on
the other end, instead of easing her, only increa~d her sense of
alertness.  "I didn't think it would be too wise for me to be seen
around you while you're trying to get in touch with Kohl," Magadan
explained.  "Have you had any luck?"

Chela related her efforts in trying to reach the elusive coyote.  "I'm
not even sure he's in the valley now.  He goes to Mexico whenever
there's a need for more workers or the immigration officers have
conducted a raid."  Chela~s voice revealed her bitterness as she
continued.  "Rob the orchardists of their labor force, and they put out
the call for replacements."

"I want you to get in touch with me as soon as he contacts you,"
Magadan insisted.

"There won't be anything to tell Chela replied, her lips set against
the anger she'd heard in his voice.  " He's going to move slowly. He'll
want to know a great deal more before he agrees to take my money. "

"Does he always work that slowly?  That-isn't the impression I get of
the man."

"That's how he'll be with me.  He has no reason to trust me.  You know
that.  He's going to be suspicious."  Chela laughed at an ironic
thought.  "But he's more greedy than he is suspicious.  He'll respond
to money waved under his nose."

"I just hope you know what you're doing."

"You thought I did when you approached me?$i Chela pointed out,
relieved that she didn't have to,f~;

Magadan right now.  "What changed your mind?"

"I didn't know you when I got into this.  I do

"And what have you learned about me, Magadan??;~:!  Chela challenged, "
Don't you think I'm enough of.  a~ woman to do the job?  "

Magadan's voice had taken on a slightly husky ity.  "You're enough of a
woman all right, Chela.  BUt--you weren't wearing an old shirt and
jeans the night.  I have to think about the feminine side of nature."

Chela would have laughed except that in a way she barely understood,
Magadan had reached a certain nerve that warmed at the thought that he
saw her as a woman.  "I promise I won't wear a dress again.  Will that
help?"

"Hardly.  Look, I have some t~hings to do before I can go to bed.  Just
be sure you call me the minute that snake gets in touch with you."

Magadan hung up without giving Chela time to respond.  She held the
receiver away from her and stared at the silent instrument.  When she
first heard Maga-dan's voice, she'd acknowledged a rush of warmth that
spread quickly through her body, but now she only felt confused and a
little hurt.  What possessed the man to go from giving her a compliment
to being abrupt in the space of a single breath?  If he was regretting
the necessity of their having to deal with each other, Chela was sorry,
but it was too late.  Now that she knew she had the backing of
McAndrews and Magadan, she was determined to snare Kohl in the trap
they'd set for him.  She'd cut her teeth on rising to challenges,
succeeding despite practically having to raise herself.  As Chela
replaced the receiver, she couldn't help asking if she'd enjoy becoming
a secret agent.  Hardly, she admitted.  There was a much deeper
satisfaction in exposing migrant children to an education, improving
the lives of their parents.  But a little adventure slipped into one's
life did add a certain spice to it.

At least that was the way she could feel now since she hadn't actually
had to come face to face with Kohl.

For the third night in a row, Chela's sleep was filled with disturbing
dreams that eluded her in the morning.

All she knew was that she rose feeling vaguely discontented and aching
for something that had yet to touch-her life.  She tried to tell
herself that her mood from not knowing when, if at all, she would hear
from.  Kohl.  But as she faced herself in the bathroom mirror, her
tired eyes told her that wasn't what made sleep elusive.

By the time she'd fir fished working that day and pulled back into her
driveway, Chela felt as tired as she~ knew her eyes looked.  The
temperature had reached/~ more than one hundred degrees, sapping her
mind body.  She'd managed to keep alive the story of Mexican lover but
wasn't sure how story was.  Chela had never had what she could call a
lover.  She didn't know what words women used they spoke of men who
brought them to life, their hearts and thoughts and bodies.  hers
lacked a ring of conviction and if Kohl was able to see through her
rose. And why did she 1 herself thinking of Magadan during the 'odd
when she didn'.  t have to concentrate on a English?

There was no denying it.  Until a decent night's sleep, she wasn't
going to be take an objective look at her performance.  most too tired
to prepare dinner and settled of soup.  Even a bath seemed too much of
an She was settled on a couch with the evening wearing nothing but a
cool, summery bathrobe someone knocked at her front door.

For a moment she didn't move.  Some warned her that the time for
'action had come.

length, despite the tension that had surged through her at the knock,
Chela stood up and walked to the door.  Ray Kohl stood just outside.

Chela clamped down hard on her lower lip to stifle the gasp that rose
in her throat.  She also forced her hands to remain on the door and not
clutch her bathrobe.  "What are you doing here?"  was the best she
could manage.

"Talk, Chela.  You and I have things to talk about."  Slowly,
deliberately, Chela backed up and let Kohl in.  Any hesitancy, any show
of fear on her part now could destroy what she was trying' to
accomplish.  She had to act as if she wanted to talk to Kohl.  She
nodded toward the couch she'd vacated and waited for the hard-eyed man
to sit down.  She chose her favorite chair near the wood stove and sat
down herself, taking comfort in the fact that her robe was made of an
opaque fabric that hid the fact that she wore nothing under it.  She
pushed her hair back from her face and waited for Kohl to make the
first move.

Kohl's eyes were roaming slowly and yet intensely around the room.
Sitting, he didn't seem to be large enough to wield the power she knew
he was capable of.  But his hands and feet were massive in comparison
to the rest of his wiry frame, and that lent credibility to his
reputation.  His dark hair looked as if it hadn't been washed in weeks,
and yet his clothes were so new that they probably hadn't been
laundered yet.  His face showed the effects of both exposure.  to hours
of sunlight and nights spent in smoke-filled bars.

"So Chela Reola has a love."

Chapter Five

Chela took several deep breaths to calm herself before: i~ speaking.
She wasn't physically afraid of Kohl.  That~ wasn't the way the man
operated, at least not with people who might charge him with anything
that could stick.  But Kohl hadn't lasted in his career as long as'he
had without being a cagey judge of character.  The slightest slip, the
most minute uncertainty on part, and he would see through her.

"Word travels fast in the orchards," she said that his eyes were
divided between her face

"You heard."

"I heard a story that Chela Reola has found Mexican lover.  A man who
can't leave Chela Reola isn't a woman who gives any man.  True, more
like a Mexican than an but I've yet to see your heart rule your
head."

~'it's true.  " Chela deliberately dropped her stared at her hands.
Kohl thrived on feeling in control.  All right.  She'd play the
submissive didn't mean for it to happen.  I flew to Mexico in Ma~

to see some of my mother's family.  While there I met Ortez Varela. "

"A laborer?  Chela has given herself to a laborer?"  Chela bristled at
the insinuation that her romance was no more than physical.  Still she
held her temper in check.  "Ortez is no laborer.  He went to the
university," she continued proudly.  "He worked in the oil fields, but
that's gone now.  There's very little work for him."  She allowed a
measure of bitterness to enter her voice.  "There's unemployment
everywhere.  He wants to leave, but he's made enemies with the
government and they won't give him a green card because of his
political views.7'

"You could send him money," Kohl challenged.  "It doesn't take a man
with two eyes to see that you don't spend your salary On clothing."

Chela cringed at the personal reference but refused to let it show in
her voice.  Instead she brought her head up slowly and faced the man.
It took all the acting ability she was capable of, but she continued.
"I don't want him in Mexico, living off a woman.  I want Ortez here
with me.  A man has to work to have pride.  I can get him that work
here."

"But you can't get him here legally.  For once Chela Reola can't have
what she wants."

The jab, Chela knew, was designed to test her.  For a moment she wasn't
sure she'd be able to pull off her act any longer.  The threads of her
past were all too well-known to Kohl, only Kohl.  "I never saw a penny
of my father's money," Chela said levelly, calmly, the anger held
firmly inside.  "I've had to work for everything

I've gotten.  What I have in the bank didn't come

"Do you want- me to cry for you, Chela?"  Kohl asked, leaning forward
so that his small eyes reached further inside than Chela wanted.  "In
this world it's every man for himself.  I know what you think of me.
And you know I have no use for you--at least no use that would be
served out of bed.  We have too much~ common, Chela.  Your father is
going to bind us together for as long as either of us lives."

"I don't want to talk about that!"  What had sessed her father to point
out his daughter to course he was going to try to use that to his
advantage:~: Chela rose halfway to her feet before she could StOp:
herself.  This wasn't the direction the needed to go.  He was only
testing her by her father's name and the cruel past.  Slowly, lately,
Chela settled back in her chair and blinking at Kohl until she'd
regained control over emotions.  "You're right," she said too much in
common.  But because we do you're capable of.  I have money.  "

"So I've heard."  Kohl was smiling, his teeth exposed by dry lips.
"That's Why I'm here.  have a need; I know how to provide the will cost
you."

"More than it would someone else who needs isn't that so?"  Chela asked
boldly.  "You know me well, as I know you.  Yes, if I

Ortez to you, it will cost you much more than my feel"

Chela stifled a laugh.  Usual fee?  Kohl thought spiriting Mexicans
across the' border as if it was no more than a service he performed for
the orchardists he had contracts with.  But wasn't that what a coyote
was?  Kohl was simply a businessman who operated outside the law.  "How
much?"

"That, my sweet lady, depends on many things."  He paused, laced his
fingers together, and stared at Chela the way a vulture would stare at
a rabbit caught in a trap.  "For certain services performed I would
lower my fee."

Chela wasn't shocked.  She'd known from the beginning that he would use
this approach, In addition to acting as a coyote, Kohl occasionally
provided women for lonely men.  Nothing would give him a greater sense
of victory than having her in his stable or, perhaps more than that,
keeping her for himself.  The thought made Chela want to gag, but
because she'd known the moment would come sometime during their
meeting, she was able to deal with it without becoming physically ill.
"Name your fee, Kohl," she said, her.  voice so low it was almost a
growl.  "There will be no compromises."

"Don't be so sure, my wild one.  We all have our price, we all have our
breaking points.  I could involve your father in this."

Chela felt bile rising in her throat.  Every instinct aimed at survival
screamed at her to flee the room and the terrible threat Kohl was
holding over her.  Her father!  Was the man back in the area?  Would he
confront her if Kohl asked him to?  What--what if Maga, dan learned who
her father was?

Only one thought kept Chela from burying her nails in the calculating
face sitting across from her.  Kohl succeeded because he believed in
the power of intirfiidation.  What if she called his bluff and in the
end it was she who succeeded?  He would be behind bars, and Chela would
no longer have to fear the man who was her link with her father.  "If I
ever see my father again, you'll never see a penny of the money I have
set aside to bring Ortez here.  "

Kohl didn't reply right away.  Instead the small eyes seemed to glaze
over as if he was concentrating on turning the thought around and
around in his 'mind.  Finally, "You don't bluff, Chela.  If anything"
too honest.  I could walk out that door.  You'd Ortez 8~,airl.  "

Chela bit her lip to keep from smiling.  She'd won this round!  "I
don't want to live in Mexico, but I would if that was the only way
Ortez and I could be together.  I'm offering you more money than you
see in a month for a few days' work," she said calmly.  fool to turn it
down.  "

"We'll see who's the fool, Chela.  You'll fin dit hard to believe that
you've come me for help simply because you want to crawl some man's
bed."  Kohl pushed against the couch and got to his feet. "Passion must
learn

I have some questions I want answered before I take~; your money.  I
want to know how to get in touch with this Ortez.  If I decide you're
telling me the truth, get in touch with you again.  "

"I didn't expect it to be any different."  Chela too, walked over to
the telephone, and picked up' piece of paper with the address Magadan
had "Ortez will be expecting to hear from you."

"Maybe.  And maybe he won't be expecting the questions I ask him." Kohl
took the paper.  Before Chela could draw her hand.  away he grabbed her
wrist with his oversized fingers and pulled her toward him. Chela could
smell the stale whiskey on his breath as he leaned toward her.  "I
don't make idle threats, Chela.  You'll regret it if you aren't being
honest with me."

Chela willed herself not to let him know how repulsed she was~ Courage
was one of the few things he respected.  "I'm not a frightened
illegal," she said.  "Touch me and I'll go to the police."

"Maybe.  Maybe.  There's one thing you better not forget, Chela.  I
know who your father is.  Your em-ployeps don't.  The migrants who
trust you don't.  You'd be an ouW~t if they were to find out that your
father

"Stop it!"  Had she kept enough of the hysteria she felt out of her
voice so he wouldn't guess how close to the edge he'd brought her?  "Tm
telling you the truth," she went on desperately.  "Talk to Ortez.  All
I want is him here with me.  I'm willing to pay for it."

"Oh, yes, Chela Reola."  Kohl pulled her ever closer to his yellow
teeth.  "You'll pay.  In every way I want you to."  He was smiling as
he fastened his left hand around her free arm and pressed his body
against hers.

Chela stumbled backward, animal insfmct stripping her of every rational
thought.  She'd told herself that Kohl was capable of using this
approach on her, but the actuality of it happening was almost more than
she could handle.  "Get out of here!  Get out, or you'll be sorry you
were ever born."

Kohl didn't reply until he had her backed against the living-room wall.
He pressed his legs against hers, his mouth so close that she was
forced to throw her head backward until her head touched the wall.
"Don't threaten me, Chela, or you'll be sorry.  You cherish your
precious freedom.  How would you like to have no life beyond what I
decide for you?  How would you like to live your days in a little room
and your nights in the arms of whatever men I bring to you?"

An animallike sob crawled its way up Chela's throat, but she refused to
give it life.  Kohl was capable of that; he was capable of anything.
But she wasn't a helpless woman at his mercy.  She had the law on her
side, Magadan wait'm~ for her call.  "Don't threaten me either," she
managed in the low growl her lips before.  "I'd die before I'd let that
happen to me."

"It could come to that."  He grinned.  "There's one thing I want you to
understand, Chela.  No one double-crosses me, no one.  I'm not a stupid
man who stops thinking simply because someone waves money at me.  I
don't trust you any more than you trust you're lying to me...."  He
left unsaid what his ing fingers and legs were telegraphing.

Kohl didn't give her time to answer.  The thin lips that had been so
close came even closer, teasing, eh~.  lenging.  Chela tried to turn
her head to one side, but," his mouth followed hers.  He imprisoned her
against the wall, capturing her mouth, teeth pressing cruelly,~ against
the soft flesh.  r

Chela closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to fight the revulsion
surging through her body.  The urge to:~ attack, to punish, was so
strong that it almost over~: whelmed her.  But she knew what he was
capable of if~

he became angry enough.  She had to submit to his repulsive kiss, play
the hated passive role.  One wrong move on her part, and she would lose
the chance she had of putting the revolting little coyote out of
business.

The kiss went on until Chela thought she.  would scream, but finally he
gave her a small measure of freedom.  "TII be back," Kohl promised, his
fingers digging into her wrists.  "When I have my answers, then we'll
know whether we'll be dealing in money or your freedom."

He was gone, the door slamming behind him.  Chela didn't move until she
heard his car drive away.  She tried to push herself away from the wall
but realized that her legs could barely support her.  As she stumbled
to the couch, she found herself irrationally blaming Magadan and
Phillip McAndrews.  They were the ones who'd gotten her into this!  It
was their fault that Kohl was threatening her with her father!

The thought lasted only until Chela had rid her lips of the residue of
Kohl's kiss, if it could be considered a kiss.  She'd known what
she-was letting herself in for when- she agreed.  to work with Magadan.
It wasn't his fault that he didn't know of the evil thread that tied
her to Kohl.

And he'd never know.  The part of the past that included her father was
something she'd fought to bury for years.  Word of it would never
willingly pass her lips.

Chela sank deeper imto her favorite rocking chair until she was resting
her head against the back.  She closed her eyes, fought off what she
could of the emotions assaulting her as a res flit of Kohl's visit.
Slowly her

breathing returned to normal.  It was impossible to return to the calm
she'd known before he walked in the door, but at least now she could
think again.  Kohl had contacted her.  Magadan would want to know
that.

As she made her way to the phone and picked up the receiver, Chela
refused to let herself admit how much it would mean to hear Magadan's
voice.  It wasn't until she heard his voice that she acknowledged the
rash of warmth that spread through her.  "Kohl just left," she said in
a voice she didn't recognize.

"Are you all right?  You don't sound so good."

A deep breath.  Good.  Now she could go on.  "He hales me.  The meeting
wasn't pleasant."

"And that's all you want to tell me, isn't it?"

-dan asked.  "Don't you move.  I'm coming right over."

"No!  You don't have to"

"I'll be there in ten minutes if I don't spot Kohl.  !"  I'll leave my
truck up the road and walk through the field.  " He hung up before she
could respond.

Chela went into the bathroom.  and splashed cold water on her face. She
gripped the towel tightly to the unaccustomed trembling in her fingers
and focus~ on the dark eyes staring hack at her in the were larger than
usual with a vulnerable, she hated.  What her father had done to her
and mother was something she hadn't been able give.  or forget.  Most
of the time the past rested in her subconscious, but Kohl had given the
freedom.  She knew it would he.  that way.  She hadn't known that her
eyes would give the away.

Don't touch me Magadan, she warned silently.

ask questions I don't want to answer.  You have your secrets.  Let me
have mine.

By the time she heard Magadan's truck pull into her driveway, Chela
believed she'd regained enough self-control to be able to face him.
What she didn't expect was to have him push open the door without
knocking.  He filled the opening, blinking to make out his surroundings
in the dimly lit room.  "Are you all right?"  he asked as he closed the
door behind him.

"Of course."  She forced a shaky laugh and retreated to her rocker.
"Kohl doesn't have much use for me.  The feeling is mutual."

"I want to know everything that happened.  Is he going to take the
bait?"

It wasn't the question Chela expected.  She'd been hoping, despite
herself, that he'd show more concern than he was.  But in truth this
was better.  She could maintain control as long as he stood across from
her and let his eyes take in her living room.

"I don't know," she answered, when at length he stopped his
exploration, sat down, and his eyes settled back on her.  "He wants to
get in touch with Ortez first."

"He's no fool.  Phillip told me he wouldn't be easy to trap.  What did
he say to you?"

"Nothing."  Chela bit her lower lip.  She hadn't meant to answer so
quickly.  "Nothing I didn't expect," she amended.  Magadan's hair was
disheveled as if he'd been interrupted when the phone rang and hadn't
taken time to look at himself in the mirror before coming here.  For an
instant a thought filled Chela.  Perhaps he had been with a woman.

"Sorry,.  he was saying.  " That's not good enough.  I4)ok, it's my
money I'm putting up for this little scheme.  I'm the one who made the
contacts with Or-tez.  I deserve more of an answer than that.  "

Chela stared at Magadan.  Did she just imagine it, or had his eyes
flickered downward for a moment, "recording her attire?  He was a
businessman.  It was a businessman's question.  " I'm the one taking
the risks," she pointed out sharply.  " I have to handle this the wayl
feel is best.  "

"By being closemouthed?  " Damn it, Chela, that's not what our
agreement was.  "

"Agreement?  Do you want to sign a contract?"

tated, Chela pushed a nonexistent strand of hair out of.  her eyes.

Magadan was slating at her hand.  He he rose to his feet and came to
stand over her.  She to pull her hand away, but he took the lamp beside
the rex liner Chela turned to Magadan was staring at.  That marks left
by Kohl's punishing fingers.  "He did Magadan said.  It wasn't a
question.

Chela tried unsuccessfully to pull away.

matter.  I expected it.  That's the way he operates.  " " Not with you
he doesn't.  The bastard!  "

Were those words of protection Magadan was "

answer her own question.  "It's a part of the playing, Magadan, moil
iuside.  " Kohl has to believe he's in control situation.  That's the
Way he operates.  You should that by now.  That's the only thing he the
believes he has me where he wants me, he'H go for the prize.  we're
offering:"

"Where he wants you?"  Magadan released her hand, but instead of
returning ~o his seat, he knelt beside her recliner.  "There's
something you aren't telling me."

"Maybe."  Chela willed herself not to move, meeting his eyes much more
willingly than she'd met the slimy coyote's.

"But if it's something Kohl can use against you" -- "Tin not afraid of
him."  Was that the truth?

"You should be.  Damn it, Chela.  I can't believe the gall of the man.
He had no right hurting you the way he did.  Was that all you were
wearing?"

Chela glanced down at her robe.  Her breasts were faintly outlined
under the soft fabric.  "Kobl doesn't want me," she said softly.  "He
knows I hate him too much to allow that to happen.,"

"Why?"

Chela tossed her hair back, eyes flashing a warning.  "That, Magadan,
is none of your business."

"Don't be so sure."  Again Magadan was on his feet, This time he was
pacing, his emotions seemingly too much for the confines of the room.
Because Chela seldom had a man in her house, she was mesmerized by the
way Magadan fit in it.  She'd always thought of the house as a mirror
of what she was, private, basic.  A man like Magadan shouldn't look at
home in a house with hardwood floors, rough-cut paneling, oil paintings
of outdoor scenes, and Mexican blankets thrown over the backs of
furniture.  But he did fit.  Tonight he was in jeans and a T-shirt, as
if he'd casually thrown off the trappings of success she'd seen him in
earlier.  His tennis shoes made little noise on the solid floor.

He turned on her.  "Do you know what I wish?  I wish you were a big
truck driver of a woman with cold, calculating eyes.  If I'd known the
sheriff was talking about a creature with eyes like a wild deer and a
body made..  for a man to touch" -- Magadan ran a hand roughly over his
forehead.  "You're complicating my life in a way I never thought would
happen."

For a~moment Chela couldn't trust herself to speak.  Those were gentle
words, words capable of her heart, but there were too many harriers
between them.  Kohl had reminded her of who she was.  "Don't do this,
Magadan," she whispered.  "We have a business arrangement.  It can't go
any further than that."

"Magadan?"  He spat out the word.  "Can't you calli me Joe?"

Che~ kept her eyes on the man pacing in the confines of her room. A
deer he'd called her.  any idea how much animal was in him?  Animals to
one another on a primitive basis.  Tonight Chela was a primitive
creature.  Her words came hard.  "You said that everyone calls you
Magadan.  Why fe rent

"I don't know."  He laughed bitterly.  "Maybe cause I'm tired of the
distance inherent in the word~ Don't you ever want to get close to
someone, them completely?"

Of course, I do, Chela admitted to herself.  Do have any idea how it's
been for me since my mother died?  ~ "Trust takes a long time,
Magadan," she "You and I haven't reached that point yet."

"Then maybe it's time we started."  He stopped his pacing, whirled
toward her so quickiy that his shoes squealed a protest.  "I want to
know everything that happened with Kohl, how he put those marks on
you."

Chela didn't dare take her eyes off the man dominating the room.
Whether she wanted it or not, Magadan was putting his mark on her.  The
difference was that his impact didn't show physically.  She drew in air
through flared nostrils and started.  "I can't tell you everything,
Magadan.  Not yet, and maybe not ever.  But Kohl and I go back a long
way, He knows... things.  about me.  He isn't going to jump into
anything that I'm a part of; he has no reason to trust me.  Those marks
are.  his way of making sure I don't forget that."

Chela went on.  She told Magadan that she'd known Kohl since she was a
child and he a teenager, already a pro in the darker ways of making
money.  She skirted around the question of why or how their paths first
crossed, just that no love had ever been lost between the two.  "It's
funny in a way," she wound up.  "I can't help but admire the man.  I
don't know anyone else who has been on the wrong side of the law all
his life and managed to elude it so long."  Her voice dropped to a
whisper.  "Most lawbreakers trip themselves up sooner or later.  They
have to pay the price."  And so do those around them, she added
silently.

"So now we wait."  Magadan s'~,he'd.  He sank into the couch Kohl had
used, his eyes narrowing as if seeking a private conversation with
himself.

"That's all we can do," Chela acknowledged, grateful that he wasn't
kneeling next to her anymore.  They were back to talking business,
Good, that was what she could handle.  "He'll be back.  He smells easy
money."

"We can't allow a slipup.  I want him ... now."

"Maybe you'll get him," Chela admitted, but with reservations.  "Don't
forget, he's played this game longer than either of us."

"I'll get him.  Look, have you had dinner?"

"What?  Yes.  I was getting ready for bed when he game."

Magadan leaned forward.  "Will you be able to sleep?"

Although her muscles ached, Chela knew sleep would probably never come
tonight.  "I've less nights before," she admitted.  "Another won't

"Maybe.  But there's no reason why you s alone;"

What was he suggesting?  "I sleep alone,

she whispered.

"That's not what I meant: When you and I go to Chela, it'll be because
both of us want it, not I'm bigger and stronger than you.  Look, wh~
change and I'll take you out for some ice cream."

Ice cream, after what she'd been through Chela thought back to her
bland bowl of soup and realized that ice cream was what she wanted more
anything else she could think of.  Maybe cool her inflamed emotions.
"That's the best idea heard all day," she said quickly, in an
conversation beyond bedroom talk.  "I--do you want to do that?"

"I really want to buy you the biggest sundae have.  Why don't you put
on that white sun dress you were wearing the other day?"

Chela rose and braced herself on legs that were slow to do her bidding.
She left Magadan and went into her bedroom.  He had  noticed the
difference in her appearance.  That wasn't all Chela was thinking about
as she slipped but of her robe and reached for the only true touch of
femininity in her wardrobe.

Chela turned quickly at the sound of the door opening.  She had the
dress in her hands, but she was wearing nothing, Her bathrobe lay on
the floor.  Magadan came all the way into' the room and leaned on the
door-jamb.  "Tell me to leave and I will," he said softly.

She should tell him to get out of her room, scream at him that she was
entitled to some measure of privacy.  But she didn't.  As she reached
into her.  dresser for a pair of panties, Chela acknowledged the caress
of his eyes searching her body.  She dropped the dress on her bed and.
stepped into her panties, pulling nylon over the paler flesh untouched
by the sun.  She straightened, knowing that he had a clear view of her
high, pointed breasts with their dark tips.

It wasn't until she'd slipped the eyelet fabric over her head and was
adjusting the waistline that' Magadan spoke.  "You aren't as dark as I
thought you were.  The sun has left its mark on most of you, but not
all."

"I had an Anglo father, remember.  You're the one who reminded me of
that."

"I don't know why you should be ashamed of that."  Magadan leaned over
and then handed her her sandals.  "The two cultures are a perfect blend
on you."

"Hardly."  Chela laughed bitterly.  "You don't know my father."  She
tool~ a deep breath.  "Forget I said that."

"How can I forget?  All I know about you is that you were a child when
your mother died.  I take it your parents weren't living together and
your father didn't lift a finger when you were left alone.  Did he know
your mother had died?"

Chela reached up to adjust the dress straps, but her fingers had lost
all feeling.  "He knew.  He learned through the grapevine that exists
in the.  orchards.  But why should he care?  He'd left my mother before
I was

"What happened then'?"

Chela hadn't been asked that question enough times to be able to answer
it easily.  "A social worker came and took me to a shelter home.  Some
months later found an older couple willing to civilize a dirty little
girl who couldn't even speak English.  Mr."  and Mrs.  RobertS~ saw the
need to civilize me as a religious duty.  They fed~ me, taught me to
sit silently at the dinner table.  " Chela tossed her head hack
defiantly~ shaking off the was given the material things a child needs.
They want me to have any contact with Mexicans, cans were the only
friends I had at school.  I went to houses, learned to laugh there."
Chela closed her eyes,~ "That's why my life is the way it is now.

in a barrio, not surrounded by Angles.  "

"The Robertses didn't love you?"

Chela strangled a sob.  No!  That was hiding, minded herself.  She
wasn't going to let it color "They were doing their duty.  No one asked
them to anything more."

lbuch a Wild Heart

Chela was still, strapping on her san dais when Maga-dan walked over to
her dresser and picked up her hair-brush.  She straightened when he
started running the brush through her rich hair.  For a moment Chela
thought about taking the brush from him, but stopped herself before she
could put an end to what had quickly become a very sensual experience.
Magadan was slowly, gently, brushing the tangles out of her hair, his
free hand smoothing down the heavy length.  His fingers touched her
cheeks, ears, and neck at the same time.  Chela tried to stand
motionless as Magadan worked on her, but her body flushed and then
quivered slightly as his face came closer to hers, his eyes dark and
deep.

"You have beautiful hair," he said in a ragged voice.  "I hope you
never cut it."

She started to say something about split ends that developed if she
didn't keep it trimmed, but the words were too everyday for what she
was experiencing.  Magadan was still drawing the brush through her
hair, although it now lay smooth and sleek around her shoulders.  There
was no need for him to continue doing what he was, but she didn't tell
him that~ Chela would be content if Magadan never stopped his caressing
gestures.

When she was at the point where she wasn't sure she would be able to
retain her balance without grabbing.  him for support, Magadan dropped
the brush on the bed, took both her hair and her shoulders in his hands
and turned her around ~o their bodies were only inches apart.  "I've
wanted to brush your hair since the first day I saw you," he said in
that same ragged voice.

Chela thought about never having had a man stroke

Jrbuch a Wild Heart

Touch a tVild Heart her hair before and admitting she'd desperately
needed that brand of contact, but she couldn't speak.  Magadan was all
she could see in the room, the only presence she was aware of.  She
felt her body being pulled closer and closer to his as if he were a
magnet and she the metal filings caught in its grip.

His lips were on hers before she had to admit that she was offering
hers to him.  The touch was a soft caress and yet spoke of a strength
that rocked her en tiro body.  Chela moaned, tears filling her eyes as
she surrendered to the emotions surging between them.  Sho~ was being
kissed by Joe Magadan, a man she'd physically aware of from the moment
she first saw him staring at her in an orchard.  Given the
determination, the man, his lips were softer than she thought be.  She
took that knowledge and locked it deep her.  It made the man even more
complex than she and  she welcomed that complexity.

Magadan's hands left her shoulders and against her back, pulling her
close to him.  with mi nation that beth frightened and thrilled her. we
go to bed together," Magadan had said.  he wanted her tonight, there.
was no way she'd be able to fight him off.  His power over her was that
great.

Chela no longer tried to keep her eyes open.  wanted to block off the
world, even Magadan's She needed, without thinking about it, to this
kiss, this was no longer aware of eyelet fabric brushing legs
unaccustomed to a skirt, sandal straps ankle.  What she was aware of
was her breasts flattened against Magadan's chest, the deep his
breathing that became her rhythm as well.  Her arms found his neck and
gave her the support her strangely weakened body needed.  She felt the
corded muscles along the side of his neck and thought, fleetingly, that
they didn't feel like the muscles of a businessman whc spent his life
at a desk.

Magadan's hands were sliding slowly down her back.  They found her
waist and the swell of the upper part other buttocks.  His hands
stopped there, but they were pressing against her until she was forced
to arch her body toward him.  Even that more intimate contact wasn't
something Chela wanted to fight.  In her present state, she might have
been willing to do anything this man wanted her to do.

Why she'd never felt this way before, why she should be so willing to
surrender her separate self to him, were questions that would have to
wait for san el moments.  All Chela knew now was that she needed to
feel the pressure of Magadan against her, a pressure that bordered on
the painful but was eased~ because ol the gentle touch of his lips.

When her.  hands started to ache from having to reach so high, Chela
let them slip down Magadan's shoulders until she was clinging to his
upper arms.  She couldn't completely spread her fingers across the
expanse of his arms, and that bothered her.  She wanted more contro'
over this man, wanted to feel that she could draw him to her as surely
as he'd drawn her to him.

"Are you sure you want ice cream?"  Magada~ asked, tearing his lips
from hers.  His mouth found the side of her neck, lips and teeth and
tongue explorin~ the long, taut line of her neck as Chela, breathing
deeply arched her body to give him greater access to her flesh.

I can stop anytime, she told herself, anytime.  But that moment didn't
seem to want to come.  It wasn't his hands left her hips and started to
seek her breasts that Chela took a shuddering breath and pulled
"Strawberry sundae, with nuts," were the only words she could manage.

"You're sure?"  Had his' voice always sounded that' far away or was he
having trouble speaidng himself?

"I'm sure."  Another deep breath for composure and a firm shove of her
hands against Magadan's chest companied her statement.  Now Chela was
free.  "You said something about our going to bed when we both want it.
That hasn't happened yet."

Chapter Six

Once they were in Magadan's truck, Chela didn't pay attenf~on to where
they were going.  She knew they were heading toward the main part of
town, but driving and making decisions about where they were going was
Magadan's responsibility.  She trusted him;.  she didn't even question
that trust.  Chela was content to sit with her head resting against the
backrest, lazy eyes vaguely aware of the interplay of neon lights and
night sky passing by them.  The hot breeze coming in the open window
brushed Chela's cheeks, adding to the heat that remained in her body.

Chela was glad Magadan didn't feel a need to fill the truck's interior
with talk.  She had things to talk about that had to do with emotion,
and hunger, and wanting, stirring inside her that had never before seen
the light of life.

Until those moments in her bedroom, Chela hadn't thought about a hunger
that had to be satisfied.  Surrendering herself to a man hadn't
happened yet.  She had never found a man she wanted to get that close
to, but more than that, until Joe Magadan entered her life,

she hadn't been challenged to take the risk of letting a man touch her
heart.

Now the risk, the challenge, was sitting next to her.  His intense eyes
Were on the road, his mouth a tight line, his knuckles white on the
steering wheel.  His body language told her that he was wrestling with
something that couldn't be translated into words, but Chela didn't have
the emotional energy to wonder about the thoughts going through his
mind.  She had enough to do looking deep into her heart and trying to
understand what was happening to it.

~Chela had lived wondering if she'd always be alone, that losing her
mother and feeling nothing for her father would be the overriding
emotions in her life.  It wasn't until this night that Chela started to
experience another emotion.  She wanted to truly get to know another
human being and make him part of her life.

"I think it's going to be a sundae, all right:" Maga-dan broke into her
reverie in a voice that was so every-j~ day it was a slap to Chela's
emotions.  "I've got a real weakness for chocolate syrup.  I know just
the place."

Chela pulled back and matched, at least on the out,~ side, his mood. "I
still want strawberry."

Magadan laughed and touched her lightly on the shoulder.  "Good.  I
went with a woman once who was always on a diet.  We never got to go
anywhere fun eat."

Chela didn't want to hear about another woman.  "Are you sure you can
afford this?"  she asked, amazed at her abillty to keep the
conversation light.  "I'm not a cheap date."

"If I wanted a cheap date, I wouldn't be with you.

Do you know what I was thinking about the other day?  " The teasing had
gone out of Magadan's voice.  " I'd like to take you out to the most
expensive restaurant in town.  I want to order lobster and a carafe of
wine and maybe take you dancing afterward.  " " Why?  "

"Have you ever done that before?"

Chela forced a laugh.  "You know I haven't.  I don't have anything to
wear."

"That's why I want to take you to that restaurant.  Indulge me.  I want
to see you pampered, I want to see you in a dress that would knock
everyone's eyes out and have you try a vintage wine and lobster with
drawn butter."

Chela sighed.  She'd never wanted that before, but somehow tonight she
did.  "Do you think I'd like lobster?"

"There's only one way to find out.  We're going to do that soon."

"But I don't have a knock-out dress."

"I'll buy you one.  But first" -- Magadan slowed and then pulled into
the parking lot of an iCe-cream shop"--two sundaes, chocolate and
strawberry."

Chela was at the public park helping Jeff Cline coach the soccer team
through another game, grateful for the diversion.  For the first time
since she'd last seen Maga-dan three days ago,~ she had something else
to think~ about.

"I think the team would like to see the big roller back again," Jeff
admitted after an unsuccessful attempt to get the boys to listen to
what he and Chela were trying to tell them.  "It isn't often someone
comes around to treat the team like that.  Have you heard anything more
from him?"

Chela frowned.  She wanted to talk about soccer, not about a man with
the po,qer to make her question everything she'd come to believe about
herself.  She didn't want to remember a silent drive home and a light
kiss that didn't go far enough.  "A little," she admitted.

"Yeah?  Who is he?  He acts as if he has the world by the tail.  What
is he, a lawyer, a banker?"

"I don't know.  He won't tell me that about himself."

"Sounds mysterious.  You don't think he'd like to adopt a starving
college student, do you?  He might have some extra money he doesn't
know what to do with."

"I don't know about that," Chela admitted before turning the
conversation hack to soccer.  And yet even when her team scored another
goal, Cheh found it impossible to shake off the sudden depressed mood
that had settled over her.  She didn't know nearly enough about
Magadan.  He was putting up the money needed to snare Kohl, and yet she
had-no idea where that money was coming from.  It wasn't fair!  He knew
where she lived, how she supported herself, that her mother was dead,
that she'd been raised by people who had remained strangers to her. Why
wouldn't he tell her anything about himself?

When the game was over, Chela and Jeff managed to scrape together
enough money between the two of them to buy the boys a small soft drink
apiece, but it wasn't the same thing.  They obviously wanted the
stranger with the fat pocketbook to come back.  "Now I'm going to have
to eat beans for a week to make up for what I spent tonight," Jeff
complained as they were carrying the soccer gear to his battered old
car.  "I hope those characters appreciate my sacrifice.  I also hope
your mysterious friend realizes that he's spoiled the team and we're
having to live with the consequences."

"I don't know what he realizes," Chela said as Jeff was getting into
his car.  She stepped back, holding her breath as blue smoke billowed
out from the tail pipe, and then waved the college student of.  If only
Maga-dan was more like Jeff.  Jeff took college and coaching and
pinching pennies seriously, and ~;et he bounced through life with an
openness that Chela had been drawn to from the first day she met the
young man.  There probably wasn't anything about Jeff that he wouldn't
tell her if she asked.

The difference was she didn't want to know everything about Jeff.

Chela was climbing into her Jeep when the truck with its oversized
tires pulled in front of her vehicle and stopped inches away, making it
impossible for her to leave.  She waited as Magadan cut his engine and
walked over to her.

"I missed the game."  He pointed back toward his truck.  "I bought a
few treats for the boys.  Do you think we can get the stuff to them?"

"They have another game on Wednesday," Chela supplied.  Then, "You
don't have to do that."

"I know.  I just like spending money on people I like.  Do you have
time to shop for that dress we were talking about?"

"What?"  Chela glanced down at herself: There were grass stains on her
knees, her tennis shoes were dusty, and she knew her hair was no longer
the smooth length Magadan had caressed the other night.  "I can't.
AndMagadan, !  can't let you do something like that for me."

"Why?"  His eyes echoed the challenge in his voice;

"Because I've never had anyone buy something for me like that."  .  ~

Magadan shook his head.  "And you're a woman who wouldn't think of
letting a man bu] ket for her.  What would that be--compromising
yourself?."

"I don't know.  l just can't let you do that."

it so hard for her to organize her thoughts?

"Is that so?  Well, maybe I have a say in that.  What if I just show up
one day with a dress under my arm?  You'd have to accept it gracefully,
even if it isn't what you want.  It'd be a lot better if we went
shopping together."

"I can't."  Chela stuck out her stained leg for emphasis.  "They won't
let me try on a dress looking like this."

"You have a point.  Tomorrow.  I'll pick you up at your place about
five."

"I don't want you to," she objected.  "I don't need a dress like you're
talking about."

"How do you know what kind of dress I'm thinking of?  besides I'm not
buying a lobster dinner for someone looking the way you do right now.
Five.  At your place."  Magadan turned around and started back to 10~

ward his truck.  Chela started to open her mouth but changed the words
as they came out.  "It's good to' se~ you," she said softly instead. "I
didn't expect"

"That's me," he threw over his shoulder.  "Mysteri.  OTIS."  "

At first Chela wasn't going to let Magadan take he~ shopping for a
dress she didn't need.  Then she was because, right or wrong, she had
always wondered wha' it would be like to have one truly exquisite dress
Magadan shouldn't pay for her clothes, she kept tellin herself.  But
why not?  He wanted to do it.  Maybe they', never have that expensive
dinner.  Maybe this was a some joke he was pulling on her.

Despite her conflicting emotions, Chela hurried through her afternoon
lessons the next day and cam, home to clean up before Magadan was due
to arrive She decided against the white eyelet dress, thinkin.  that he
deserved to see something else on her.  She grew desperate rummaging
through her sparse belongings At last she grabbed the blazer, blouse,
am straight skirt she'd bought for when she had to mee with the school
officials.  The confining fabric aroun~ her thighs and long sleeves
over arms used to being free felt wrong, but Chela had nothing else to
wear.  A she glanced at herself in what passed for a mirror in he
bathroom, she realized that her hair was all wrong for the outfit.
She~should have it piled up in some kind sophisticated style, but doing
sophisticated things wit her hair was a skill she had never learned.

Why was she putting herself through this?  Chel asked herself.  She
didn't belong in a dress shop lookin for a dress that was a world
removed from migrant life

The knock on the door came right at five.  Chela took a shaky breath,
tried to concentrate on taking short steps that wouldn't strain the
narrow skirt, and opened the door.

Magadan was wearing jeans and a short-sleeve rugby shirt with the two
neckline buttons opened.  He glanced at Chela's outfit and slowly shook
his head.  "You remind me of how I felt when I was a boy and my parents
bought me a suit.  Do you really want to wear that?"

"I don't have anything else!  If your don like it.  ,~.~'~ She turned
away from him, flushing.

"Hey.  Calm down.  You even sound like I did.  I afraid my friends
would see me in

You look fine.  Very professional.  It just isn't what ] think of when
I think of you.  "

"What do you think of?"  she challenged.  "Am some waif you need to put
decent clothes on?"

"I think of a beautiful young woman who knock-everyone's eyes out if
she didn't grass stains on her knees."  Before Chela knew he going to
do it, Magadan had taken her arms hands and was pulling her close for a
kiss on the head.  "Don't worry."  You look wear.  " He glanced down at
her with a mischievous in his eyes.  " Most of all I like you with
nothing on,

Chela buried her head in Magadan's chest, noting herself why she was so
quick to assume this stance.  She loved feeling his arms around her
lips on her hair.  Women did lean on men, and leaned on women.  It
wasn't such a hard lesson to after all.  "I haven't heard from Kohl,"
she said silence that spread over several minutes.

Gently Magadan pushed her away, although he still held on to her.  "I
don't want to talk about him."

Neither do I, Chela admitted to herself as they were closing the door
to her house behind them.  Kohl, the catalyst that had brought them
together, was unimportant.

She'd never thought of clothes shopping as an adventure.  But with
Magadan with her, Chela was looking forward to the next hour.  She'd
think about whether it was right or wrong later.

Obviously Magadan had given serious thought to what they were doing. He
drove to an expensive dress shop in a small mall at the base of the
east hills.  Chela hesitated momentarily, uneasy as always about going
to that part of town.  But she'd come this far, she couldn't back down
now.  When they were inside and waiting for the saleslady to join them,
Magadan admitted that he had little experience with such things.  "I
feel like a bull in a china shop.  I don't know what I'm looking for. I
just know I'll know when I find it."

Chela was too busy looking around to pay much attention to what Magadan
was telling her.  Unlike the department stores she went to when she
absolutely had to have something to' wear, there were few dresses on
the racks.  But something about their placement and the tastefully
made-up mannequins told her Magadan was thinking in terms of more money
than she'd ever spent on herself before.  Next to the counter with the
cash register were a few displays of jewelry, fragile gold necklaces,
large dinner rings, bejeweled dinner bags.  Chela gulped nervously.
What was she doing here?

She didn't have long to ponder the question: Maga dan took over with
the air of someone who'd handled all kinds of situations in his life
and was equal to.  this one as well.  He told the petite, middle-aged
saleslady wearing a tailored dress that he was looking for something
that could be dressed up for evening wear and yet versatile enough for
less elegant occasions.  "Something that highlights her coloring and
lets her wear her hair the way it is," he said as if Chela was a
mannequin herself.

If the sales lady saw anything unusual about either Chela or Magadan,
she kept her thoughts to herself.  "With that coloring you can wear
anything," she said, smiling expansively at Chela.  "In fact, I know
just the dress."  Before Chela could open her mouth, the clerk was
steering her into a dressing room.  Chela had barely removed her blazer
when the clerk returned with a cloud of peach fabric draped over her
arm.

The dress, Chela admitted even before she was in was the most exquisite
thing she'd ever seen or felt.  The fabric, according to the clerk, was
a crepe, which gave it its soft drape.  There was the barest hint of
sleeve, which left most of Chela's long, slim, dark arms exposed. There
was no collar;~ instead the delicately shaded bodice fabric crossed in
front and was caught in a gathered waistline concealed by a sash belt.
The crossed fabric dipped low enough to expose just a hint of breast, a
fact that both embarrassed and intrigued Chela.  The gathered skirt was
the palest peach near the waistline but steadily darkened until it
reached a vibrant hue at the hem, falling above knee length in front
but dipping to midcalf on the sides.

"Perfect," the clerk breathed.  "I've had a lot of women try this dress
on, but most of them look washed out in it."

Chela was concerned about only one thing.  "How much is it?"

"Don't ask," the clerk laughed.  If Magadan was taken aback by the
dress's price tag, he didn't show it.  In fact when Chela emerge fl
from the dressing room, he didn't say anything for more than'a minute.
As she nervously modeled the garment, he stared at her without
blinking, his eyes darker than she remembered.  Finally he said
something about her needing shoes to go with the dress and then rose to
accompany the clerk to the cash register.  Confused, Chela hurried back
into the dressing room and quickly changed back into her blazer and
skirt.  Why had she agreed to this insanity?  she wondered.  Magadan
had shown more enthusiasm over ice cream.  It was all wrong.  He
shouldn't be buying her clothes.  But when she came out, Magadan was
look' me at a slim gold chain.  Wordlessly he held it up to her throat
and then nodded.

They were back in the car and heading toward the shoe store the clerk
suggested before Magadan spoke.  "You didn't even try on anything
else."

"Did you want me to?  Magadan, how much did it cost?"

"That's my secret.  It would have been worth it no matter what it cost.
Do you have any idea what you look like in it?"  His voice held a note
of awe.

"No.  You didn't say whether you liked it or not.  If you're
regretting"

For answer Magadan pulled over to the side of the road, took her in his
arms, and kissed her with an intensity that spread quickly through her
body.  "I've never seen anything so beautiful," he whispered as he was
reentering the stream of traffic.

Chela glanced at him and then, not trusting her emotions, concentrated
on the road.  Beautiful?  Was she really beautiful?  The way Magadan
said it, she believed him.

It took Magadan twice as long to settle on a pair of shoes as it had to
purchase the dress, but Chela, who had always thought of' clothes
buying as a necessary:~ chore, didn't grow impatient.  She still
couldn't quite believe that this money was being spent on her by man
who kept a part of himself separate from her, she did in turn.  She
wondered how they could be deriving such obvious pleasure from what
they were this evening when they still circled around each like wary
strangers in much of their relationship.

At last Magadan gave the nod to a pair of ~ heeled shoes that Chela
wasn't sure would hold ~ get her because the straps were so thin.  He
deeply as he was putting his change back in his "I think I need a beer.
This has been an expedition."

Five minutes later they were in a dimly lit garrishly decorated bar
where business people came to unwind or share a quiet meal.  Chela let
into a booth and even let him order a glass of wine her.  "It isn't
lobster, but why don't we have here," Magadan suggested.  "Unless you
want me over to your place to eat."

Chela thought of tomato soup and cheese wiches and gave him a rueful
grin.  "I don't think what I have to offer can hold a candle to this."
She glanced around, her nerve endings recording the dark interior with
walls that reminded her of a cave.  She should be anxious and
uncomfortable, wanting to flee the place for the familiar surroundings
of an orchard and fresh air, but the anxiety she expected to flood over
her didn't come.  As Magadan reached across the small table and took
her cool hand, Chela realized that he was responsible for her relaxed,
comfortable feeling.

"I didn't think about your not liking closed-'m places," he said.  "Let
me know if it gets to you."

"Thank you," she whispered.  No, it wasn't getting to her.  But she
wasn't sure she wanted to reveal enough of herself to admit that he
made the difference.  "Have you been here before?"  she asked, skirt'
me around her thoughts.

Magadan nodded.  "A few times.  A lot of business deals are made here.
I hope you like the wine."

It was Chela's turn to nod.  So he was skirting around certain things,
too.  It shouldn't bother her.  She should be used to that quality in
him.  "I'm not much of a drinker," she admitted.  " Tve tried what the
migrants drink, but it gives me a headache.  "

"I wouldn't be surprised.  It's probably aged at least a week.  This is
different."

Magadan was right.  The Cool liquid slid easily down her throat and
settled in her stomach.  Chela hadn't finished her first glass before
she realized she would have to limit what she drank on an empty
stomach.

It wasn't lobster and drawn butter, but the small steaks and salad the
Blue Max restaurant served tasted

' better than anything Chela had eaten in months.  When a couple of men
came over to talk to Magadan and stole glances in Chela's direction,
she dropped her eyes and concentrated on her meal.  Did it bother
Magadan to be seen with her?  She had no skill in small talk away from
flirting glances.  Despite her skirt and blazer she knew her world was
light-years from the one she was in tonight.

"It's a rat race," Magadan said after he'd finished talking to the men
about a shipping problem one of them was having with his business.  "I
don't know why I got myself wrapped up in this.  Sometimes I wish I
hack in Mexico."

Chela lifted her eyes to meet Magadan's.

tioned Mexico before.  Was that where you learned to speak Spanish? "

"I learned before I went there.  I knew I was going be hiring Mexican
labor and needed to be municate with them."  He sighed.  "That's
history.  I~d rather forget that time."

"Why?  You didn't like the poverty?"

Magadan acknowledged her challenge.  "It isn't poverty.  Chela, I
wasn't going to tell you this I've a pretty good idea what your
reaction will be.  was involved in drilling for oil in Mexico."

"Oil?"  Chela frowned and then stiffened as the information sank in.
The discovery of oil in Mexico out to be the country's fast had hit the
country, overheating a shaky economy until inflation became a runaway
plague. Yes, the blame had to be absorbed by the Mexican merit for
borrowing capital at high interest rates.  when the oil companies
discovered that the dropping out of the oil market and shut down, they
left a staggering unemployment rate behind.  "You owned an oil
company?"

Magadan nodded, reluctantly, it seemed to her.  "Not by myself.  I
didn't have the capital for that.  But i was the head of a group of
businessmen who invested in a company.  I was the one who moved to
Mexico to oversee its operation."

"And you pulled out when the bottom dropped out of the market?"  Chela
stopped eating.

"That's what a businessman does.  He regroups, redefines his
options."

"And to bell with those you leave behind?"  Chela pushed back her plate
and stared across the small expanse at the man.  "You landed on your
feet, your workers didn't," she accused.  "You aren't unemployed:"

"No, I'm not.  Chela, look, I'm not proud of what happened in Mexico. I
didn't know what would happen to the economy there."

"Didn't you!"  With effort Chela kept her voice low enough so those
around them couldn't hear.  "You said you're a businessman.  I can't
believe you didn't know what the risks might be."

"I do now.  Hindsight is a wonderful thing."

"Isn't it!"  she spat at him.  "It's just a shame you didn't have the
foresight to provide some job security for your employees:" Chela
didn't want to say anything more.  There were thoughts, emotions,
pounding in her brain, but they didn't need to be said, All she wanted
was to be alone, to think, to get away from Joe Maga-dan.

He didn't stop her.  As Chela pushed herself to her feet and made her
way quickly through the narrow aisles, she could feel his eyes boring
into her hack, but Magadan didn't come after her.

Good!  She didn't want him to!  Chela wanted to walk alone through the
now-quiet streets.  She didn't care that her house was five miles away
and she would have to walk in shoes she wasn't accustomed to.  It would
take at least five miles for her to sort out the few sentences Maglan
had spoken.

So his and other companies had gone into Mexico with promises of
employment and easy money for hundreds of workers.  For a while the
country had reaped the benefits of the unaccustomed boost to its
economy, the money the government was spending on capital improvements.
Everyone was raking in the money--for a little while.  And then the
bottom dropped out of the oil market and the Mexican people were left
to pick up the pieces.

Magadan had regrouped, redefined his options.  He wasn't suffering from
the consequences.

How could she think the man a humanitarian?  Chela asked herself.  "
What a joke that was!  Let him have his secrets.  Let Magadan figure
out what he was going to do with Kohl after she told him she didn't
want anything to do with him.

Kohl!  No.  As an image of Kohl entered her mind, Chela realized she
couldn't back out of the commitment to trap him now.  Kohl was the
chain that would continue to link her to Magadan.

Men like Kohl couldn't be allowed to continue their evil ways.  It
would take people like Chela and Magadan to stop them.

A part of Chela expected Magadan to come after her, but as the miles
slowly slid under her feet, she gave up listening for the sound of his
truck.  By the time she reached the country road her house was on, she
was willing to admit that she had needed this time alone but for
reasons much more complex than cooling down.  There were so many things
about Magadan that needed to be sorted out, so many emotions that had
to be brought out into the open one by one and examined.

What she'd learned by the time she started on the last mile was that
walking out on Magadan was a futile gesture.  No matter what she
thought of his actions while in Mexico, she couldn't get the man out of
her mind or her heart.  Hadn't he warned her that she wasn't going to
like what he had to say?  He at least had been honest, although she
realized now that it had cost him to admit his partin the downward
spiral of Mexico economy.

Chela wasn't perfect, so what gave her the right to cast stones at
others?  Her denial of his humanitarian qualities was done during those
first moments of anger.  After all, she did have proof that he was
concerned with people, with improving the lot of the Mexicans living in
the United States.  He'd brought treats for a soccer team and was
spearheading an attempt to put Kolil out of operation.  Whether he was
trying to atone for what had happened in Mexico or whether he'd been
born with the desire to reach beyond himself wasn't the issue.

If only there weren't those dark, hidden parts of his life!  Was she
getting in too deep with Magadan?  For the first time in her life,
Chela was letting someone beyond her defenses.  It was almost as if she
could smell the danger.  Exposed emotions meant risking pain.  She'd
never taken that risk before; she wouldn't start now.  Walking home
alone, letting herself into her hot~ se and dropping her blazer and
skirt on the bed anyone to see, was better, safer than having Magadan
here.  When and if he made contact with her again, she would~i have
placed a barrier around her emotions.  The~ would be partners, nothing
more.

And if her heart quail eel at the decision she'd made?  Chela's heart
had been wounded before--at her mother death, her father's deception.
She would survive.

If it hadn't been for the shedff's unexpected ance at the Blue Max,
Magadan would have truck looking for Chela.  As it was, he was at tired
gray eyes set in a crinkled face black eyes framed by ebony hair that
he longed to

"You've told me everything except what you of the young hdy in
question," Kenneth he sipped on a beer, his head propped up by hand. "I
take it she's holding up her end You haven't told her, have you?"

Magadan shook his head.  When he first met he was determined to keep
his secret because he convinced the truth would allow Kohl to slip his
fingers.  He was just as determined now, reason had ceased to be
business and had become son al His fear now, if that was what was that
the truth would end something good.  picnic earning her trust when
there's so much I

tell her," Magadan said, hoping his voice gave away nothing of his
personal involvement.

"I don't doubt that for a moment," Kenneth laughed.  "That's one woman
I wouldn't want to tangle with.  She looks like someone who needs a
blanket wrapped around her, but she has claws and she knows how to use
them.  I take it you haven't been able to tame her."

"Far from it," Magadan- admitted.  "Her claws are just as sharp as they
ever were, not that I can blame her.  It comes with surviving in a
world she didn't plan.  In fact, she gave me a lesson just before you
showed

Kenneth shook his head but didn't disagree with Magadan.  Instead he
sighed.  "There's something you better know.  A certain someone is back
in town."

Magadan sucked in a ragged breath.  Hadn't tonight been hard enough
with Chela walking out on him?  "You're sure?"

"Damn sure.  One of my deputies saw him coming out of a bar the other
day.  I thought after what happened, well, the man's damn lucky he
isn't in prison.  I don't know of anyone who'd gi~e him a job.  Why he
wants to come hack here is beyond me;~considering 'everything that's
happened to him.  Something tells me he's hooking up with Kohl
again."

"

Magadan had to agree.  "Don't you know anything more about what he's up
to?"

"Not yet I don't."  Again Kenneth s'~laed.  "I wish I could tell you I
was going to put one of my men on him, tail him until we were sure he
was keeping his nose clean.  But the truth of the matter is I don't
have the manpower.  The budget doesn't stretch that far."

"Maybe he's going to turn into an honest man."  There was bitter irony
in Magadan's s~atement.  "You'd think he'd learn something from having
all the knocked out from under him."

"Yeah, and maybe I'm going to discover a long-losl rich uncle.  Once a
snake, always a snake.  " The sheriff took another swallow.  "I thought
you should know considering what you did.  I don't think he's capable
of violence, but you never know."

"Look," Magadan said after a long silence.

me know if you find out any thin8 else tual friend.  I don't think he's
going to be looking ~ up.  " He thought, momentarily, of the house
hills but dismissed the possibility that the man ~ come there.  " I
don't like not knowing why here.  I never figured him to return.  "

"I didn't either.  But there's no law

The slate's wiped clean as far as the courts and are concerned.  He
hasn't done anything--yet.  "

Was that true?  Magadan wondered

Blue Max and was getting into his truck.  N

former partner were working together again .  Damn!  There wasn't a
thing he could do about He'd have to keep things going the way

Chela, try to patch up their disagreement, and thin is back to where
the focus was on Kohl, thing that had happened in Mexico years a~o.
wasn't going to say anything about his concern Kohl might not be
working alone after some proof.  That was his worry, not Cheh's.  tinue
to see her, if she'd let him.  Surely she back out of their arrangement
because of something that belonged in the past.

And if they were able to find their way back to the relationship that
existed before an hour ago .  Maga-dan's body responded to that
possibility.  When he first spotted her in the orchard, he had thought
Chela the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.  That impression hadn't
changed.  But now it was more.  His response was no longer simply
physical.  Now his heart was involved.

Magadan was on the road Chela lived on almost be, fore he w~s aware of
it.  Caution told him he should wait until she had had a chance to calm
down, but he'd let her walk five miles.  He had to make sure she'd
gotten home safely.  Would she open the door to him?

Chela was curled up in her rocking chair, stating without swing at the
~ screen, the evening's paper folded on her lap.  For the first time
since she'd moved into it, her house felt empty and she was almost glad
to' hear the knock on the door.

Chela was on her feet when the thought hit her.  Was Kohl outside?  She
pulled her robe tighter around her and re knotted the belt around her
slender waist.  She could hurry into her bedroom and throw on some
clothes, but she didn't.  The shadowy figure waiting on the dark porch
was one she wanted to see--despite herself.

"Can I come in?"  Magadan asked.

Chapter Seven

"Is there something you want?"  Chela asked.  Although her heart was
pounding in her throat, she managed to keep her voice emotionless.

"You know there is."  Magadan's voice was sharp, his words clipped.  "I
wanted to make sure you got home okay.  May I come' in?"

Chela stepped back, accepting the change in the room as he entered it,
and closed the door behind him.  How was she go' trig to get him to
leave now that he was inside?  She retreated and found her way to the
rocker.  She picked up the newspaper as if to read it.  "Tm home."

"I can see that.  I would have come after you but"

"It's just as well," Chela interrupted, "I had a lot of thinking to do.
About what you told me."

"Did you come to any conclusions'?"

Chela gave up the pretense of looking at the newspaper and fastened her
eyes on his.  "In a way.  I appreciate your honesty.  You didn't have
to tell me any of that."  Her smile was bitter.  "After all, you won't
tell me anything about your present life.  I should be grateful that
you said anything about your past."

Magadan held up his hand, effectively stopping her.  "You didn't stay
around long enough to hear the rest of what I wanted to tell you.  I
did more than just regroup when I left Mexico."

"Oh."

"How do you think I got to know Ortez?"

"Ortez?  What does he have to do with this?"  she asked.

"Plenty.  Ortez was my foreman.  He,s running his own business now
because of the skills he learned while working for me.  Ortez's younger
brother is going to college on a scholarship I provided.  That's what I
did before I left Mexico."  Magadan sat down on the couch opposite
Chela, but his eyes never left hers.  "I went to the university and set
up a scholarship program in my name.  I provide for two new students a
year to go to college."

"Oh."  It was the second time in the space of a minute that Chela had
said the word~~ but she couldn't think of anything else.

"That,s right," Magadan pressed.  "Okay, so my company wasn't the best
thing to ever hit Mexico, but it wasn't all bad.  Remember, I didn't
know the bottom was going to drop out any more than anyone else did.  I
lost all the capital I'd put into the project.  At least a few people
are getting the chance to improve themselves.  0rtez's brother had been
working on his family's farm before he got the scholarship.  When he's
done, the farm is going to be able to compete in today's market."

"Ortez's family must be grateful to you."  .

"I don't want anyone's gratitude," Magadan said sharply.  "I don't
believe in putting anyone in my debt.

What do you want me to do, solve the country's unemployment problem
single-handedly?  "

"Of course not."  Chela's intensity matched Maga-dan's.  "l--I'm
pleased to hear what you're doing."

"Are you?  I wasn't sure you would be."

Why shouldn't L Magadan ?  Chela asked silently.  I feel it in you,
your intensity, your determination.  You're the kind of man who would
make amends for a mistake.  "I shouldn't be surprised that you'd drive
out here to find out whether I'd gotten home, should I?"  she said.
"After all, it's in keeping with your character."

"That's me, the boy scout.  I'm sorry: I meant to follow you, but I met
someone' before I could leave.  There were things we had to discuss."

"Things you aren't going to tell me about, that's what you're saying
isn't it, Magadan?"  she asked bitterly.

Magadan groaned.  "It can't be helped, Chela.  You have to trust me."
~

"Of course, I do."  Chela tucked her bare feet up under her robe and
wrapped' her hands around her knees.  Her insteps ached from walking on
heels, but the pulsing headache between her eyes was worse.  "You know
I do."  She started to massage her instep.

Magadan's eyes made their way down her body and fastened on her
fingers.  "Do you have blisters?  I'm

"No," she admitted.  "But my feet ache.  I'm not used to heels."

"I think I like you better in tennis shoes.  At least that's what I'm
used to seeing you in."

"And old denims?"

Magadan grinned.  "It's not the packaging that counts.  It's the woman
underneath."

Chela didn't blush.  Maybe- it was the night and her exhausted state.
Maybe it was the pleasant time they'd had together before he'd told her
about his oil connections.  At any rate she didn't think before saying
what was on her mind.  "Do you know what I said the first day I saw
you?  One of the workers said maybe.  you were looking for a woman.  I
told him you'd have to have me dead.  I don't feel like that anymore."
Magadan leaned forward.  "Why?"

"I don't know.  Maybe because I now know that you hadn't come to the
orchard looking for a woman."

"Can you he sure?"  Maga~'s eyes were burning~ with a challenge she
could weather only by locking her eyes with his.  "Maybe this is what
all this is about.

Maybe I've wanted you from that first day.  "

"Did you?"

"I think you know the answer to that."

Chela didn't speak.  The truth was, the few words they'd just spoken
had stripped away the layers and exposed what their eyes were already
saying.  Arguments, walking five miles, secrets, had nothing to do with
what was happening between them.  The only thing that mattered was her
resolve to build a barrier around her heart was crumbling.  She didn't
move when Magadan got to his feet and came to stand over her; she
didn't speak when he reached out and pulled her to him.

Chela lifted her head, a wild animal seeking something it didn't have a
name for but needed in order to go on living.  Magadan's gentle lips on
hers was the start.  She'd been given the first morsel necessary for
survival.

"You don't hate me?"  he asked.

"I tried.  I don't think I could ever hate you, Maga-dan," she answered
before he stopped her with his lips.  He had looked almost afraid to
come inside.  She should be thinking about why that was, but she
couldn'tThere was only one thing she could think about.

Magadan's hand was reaching past the barriers of her robe, pulling the
belt free and helping the fabric slide off her breasts.  As the evening
air touched her breasts, Chela sensed them responding.  She trembled
slightly, knowing how untested she was in such matters.  Was she
supposed to pull back, not expose~ her body this freely?  ~

It was too late for such questions.  Magadan had her robe all the way
open so that the fabric barely clung to her shoulders and upper arms.
From throat to feet, she was naked.  As she stood helpless before him,
she trembled anew.  His hands began a slow exploration that began at
her throat.

Magadan's fingers were on the side of her neck, her collarbone, the
swell of her~ breasts.  Slowly, so slowly that she thought she would
scream with wanting it, he finally took possession of her breasts. They
surged to life within the warm human prison, and Chela swayed slightly,
forgetting that muscles were needed to keep her from collapsing.  She
wanted him to keep his hands where they were for the rest of the night,
but when she thought she would sob from the emotions he was unleashing,
his fingers dipped lower, tracing slowly the outline of her ribs.

"God!  I've wanted to do this for so long.  Don't tell me to stop,"
Magadan groaned.

Putting an end to this exquisite torture was the last thing Chela
wanted.  Before tonight she had thought of her body as a tool necessary
to propel her through life.  Now she was learning that it was capable
of receiving and recording an emoflon that ~went to the center of her
being.

Magadan,s hands returned to her shoulders and slowly, reverently, it
seemed to her, pushed back the robe until it slid down her limp arms
and landed in a heap at her feet.  His eyes were hooded, giving her no
access to his thoughts.

"I said we'd make love when you were ready for it," Magadan said in the
same ragged tone he'd used a minute before.  "I have to know how you
feel."

Chela felt everything and nothing, emotions, sensations of a type that
couldn't be translated into words.  Yes, she wanted him.  She wanted to
feel his flesh against hers, to lie beside him in bed and give her body
to him.  But she feared that would be too much of a surrender.

"I don't know" was all she could tell him.

Magadan groaned but didn't leave her.  Instead he took her hands and
placed them on his chest where it showed through the open buttons of
his shirt.  He taught her to take his chest hairs between her fingers
and run her fingertips over the ridge of his collarbone.  Chela's
fingertips came alive against his flesh, but it was deeper, lower in
her body that the greatest response was taking place.  The uncivilized
little girl who'd been taken from a migrant camp was once more alive.

Chela didn't ask permission before ~he grabbed the hem of his shirt and
pulled it over his head.  If he could strip her naked, she had the
right to do this.  The truth was, she couldn't stop herself.

She wasn't sure which of them was the first to take the step that
pressed their naked flesh together.  She stretched her neck upward
until she could reach Maga-dan's mouth, Her lips parted slightly,
giving him access to the sensual cage beyond her teeth.  Their kiss was
another step toward surrender, another step that maybe couldn't be
taken back.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"  Magadan groaned.  "I
promised you this wouldn't happen until you wanted it.  But I don't
know if I can stop."

"I won't ask you that," she started shyly, and then suddenly turned
bold.  "Don't stop.  Magadan, I want yOU."

A shuddering sigh racked Magadan's body.  He lifted Chela in his arms
and held her close to his body.  She wrapped her arms around his neck
and buried her head in his chest.  Her hair tumbled forward covering
both of them.  Magadan stumbled slightly as they went through the
entrance to her bedroom, but site felt safer than she ever had in her
life.  As he lowered her onto the bed, Chela felt the rough finish of
her handmade Mexican coverlet against her backbone, the fabric
scratching her hips.

Chela didn't take her eyes off Magadan as he removed the rest of his
clothes.  She thought about getting up and pulling back the earth-toned
coverlet so they could make love on sheets, but the feel of familiar
fabric on her flesh was adding to her already increased sensitivity.
Magadan would have to accept that symbol of her world.

A moment later Chela wasn't thinking about the rough fabric or the
night air.  Her thoughts went no.  further than Magadan's lips on hers,
his hands exploring every inch of fiery flesh.

"I knew this was going to happen sometime," Maga-dan whispered as they
clung together, readying themselves for fulfillment.

"You were that sure?"

"It's what I've wanted since the day I saw you.  I didn't believe there
was anything strong enough to stop' it from happening."

The something Magadan was talking about had to do with mutual secrets,
but Chela wasn't going to think about that now.  She was going to arch
her spine, Cling to Magadan's shoulders with iron fingers, and try to
remember to breathe while he brought her body to a point it had never
been before.  The spot that existed deep inside Chela quickly absorbed
the heat in her flesh.  -Flames consumed her mind, her heart, her very
soul.  She didn't exist beyond the act of lovemaking.  She didn't want
to.

When it was over, when they had both been satisfied, Chela tried to
come to grips with how much time had passed, but it didn't matter.
They'd made love.  Magadan's body was next to hers on the boldly
colored blanket.  He had taken her on a journey she didn't know
existed. Whatever differences remained between them had been
erased--for the moment.

"Do you want me to leave?"  Magadan asked after a long time.

Chela stirred and pulled her mind back from the unthinking place it had
been.  Her answer came in the form of an arm around his shoulder and a
slim, tanned leg draped over his.

In the morning they made love again, and then Maga-dan soaped her back
after she'd climbed into her bathtub.  "You do that very well,
Magadan," Chela s'q~he'd.  She arched her spine, acknowledging the
heady, sensual feeling.

He gently directed her head until she had no choice but to face his
eyes.  "When are you going to call me Joe?"

Chela realized she had come a long way last night in giving herself to
Magadan, but she was unsure that now was the time when she would feel
safe calling him by his first name.  The fear of total openness held
her back.  "Don't rush it, Magadan," she warned, her eyes as
unrelenting as his.  "It may never happen.  I can't guarantee-"

Magadan kissed her wet face in interruption and then turned away.  "I
wouldn't be here if I believed that, Chela."

After he'd left her, Chela continued to stare at the door.  She was wet
from her bath, but there was another source for the moisture on her
face.  Chela was crying silent, wondering tears.  This feeling that she
wanted to share herself with someone else was too new for her to
understand it fully, but not so foreign that she wasn't aware of the
1oneFmess that had existed before Maga-dan had come into her life.  How
she was going to resolve that feeling could require more of her than
she ever thought possible.

She'd dried her hair and wrapped a large towel around her before
leaving the bath.  She could hear Magadan rummaging around the kitchen,
grumbling to himself as he opened and closed cupboards.  "Don't you
have any coffee around here?"  he mumbled.  "Don't tell me you're one
of those health-food fanatics who thinks coffee is bad for them."

"I thought you were in a good mood in the morning," Chela quipped,
relieved to throw off heavy thoughts.  "No, I don't have coffee, but
it's because it gives me the shakes, nothing more."

Magadan frowned and then smiled as he saw what she was wearing.  "I'll
have to remember to bring some.  over."

"Does that mean you'll be coming back?;'

"You better believe it, lady.  You're not going to get rid of me that
easy."

Chela didn't want to get rid of him, lbut she didn't know how to
respond, either.  "Are you going to be late for work?"  she asked
instead.  Then she realized her question wasn't as innocent as it
sounded.  Perhaps he would drop some clue about himself.

"I'm my~ own boss," he answered.  "No one can bawl me out if I'm late,
But you, re right."  He s~he'd loudly, "Much.  as I'd like to hang
around here and see what' you're going to replace that towel with, I've
got to leave."

"Oh?"

"I'm expect' rag some deliveries~ Besides, I have to stop somewhere for
a cup of coffee."

"When will I see you again?"  she asked, suddenly feeling like a shy
schonlgirl.

Instead-of answering, Magadan grabbed the top of her towel and pulled
her close to him.  He kissed~ her long and deep before speaking,
"Tonight."

Chela could o~y nod.  She was too shaken by his kiss to trust herself
to speak.  She didn't try to stop him when he walked out the front
door.  She'd turned around and was heading toward her bedroom when he
came back in again.  "I almost forgot something," he said, handing her
the box with her peach dress in it.  "Take good care of it.  I want to
see youin it as soon as possible."

"Maybe I'll wear ii to work today," she teased.

"You do and I'll have to ravage you in the middle of the orcharc~" He
kissed her again, briefly.  "Tonight."

Tonight, Chela thought as she dressed in her usual outfit and climbed
into her Jeep.  Tonight, she thought while she was sitting in the
middle of an orchard with three Mexicans leaning over the book opened
on' her lap, Tonight, she reminded herself after shed convinced a
teenage girl with: a baby in her arms to starL attending Engl~h night
classes.

Chela was sweaty and tired when she stopped by the grocery store for
coffee and some groceries.  The air-conditioned store made her shiver,
so getting back into her Jeep was a relief.  She was aware that a
couple of middle-aged women were staring at her, but she'd seen looks
like that before and was able to dismiss them.  They lived in
~different worlds, she thought.  Chela didn't understand theirs; they
didn't understand hers.

As she turned.  onto her road, Chela remembered how she'd gotten home
last night.  Stalking away from Magadan while he stared after her had
been a reckless move,~ one she didn't fully comprehend.  She wasn't one
to turn away from a confrontation.  Besides, a man capable of putting
her at ease in' the dark confines of the Blue Max deserved better than
to be left to stare at an uneaten meal.  As she slowed for her
driveway, Chela toyed with the idea of preparing a special meal for
Magadan.  It was the kind of thing other women did for the men in their
lives.

There was a car in her carport, but it wasn't until Chela was turning
off the road that she acknowledged its presence.  In the same instant
she recognized it as the glittering one Kohl drove.

Chela picked up her bag of groceries and got out of the Jeep, breathing
deeply.  Her tennis shoes made a dry, slapping sound as she climbed the
three steps to her front door.  She reached for the knob without
pulling out her key.  The door was unlocked.

"You're a trusting one," she heard Kohl challenge even before she was
all the way in the room.  "I knew it would be you."  Chelawalked psst
the figure on the couch, dropped her groceries on the kitchen table,
and slowly returned to the living room.  She hadn't had enough time to
get back into the role of a lovesick woman, frantic to have her lover
brought to her.  Would Kohl notice?  "You're back.  Did you get in
touch with Ortez?"

"Sit down," he ordered.  "Do you have anything to drink here?"

". " No.  " Chela sat down as he ordered and folded her fingers
together in what she hoped was a gesture of anxiety.  " Did you see
him?  "

"He didn't tell you?  Lovers talk to each other over the phone when
they can't be in bed together."

"He's hard to reach.  I tried twice this week," Chela said quickly,
praying she was saying the right things.  "He's looking for work.  I
don't always know where he'll be."

Kohl smiled the lipless smile that turned Chela's stomach.  "You're a
lush woman, Chela.  What do you want with a skinny man?"

Chela paused, wondering if Kohl was trying to trick her.  Magadan's
description of Ortez was of a man who loved the outdoor life but was
committed to expanding his mind even if that meant sitting at a desk
for long hours.  Chela knew that Ortez worked at keeping his body in
shape.  "If you think he's skinny, then you don't see him the way I
do," she said warily.

"Maybe.  And maybe I can't believe anything you tell me."  Kohl cracked
his knuckles loudly.  "You wouldn't do that to me, would you, Chela?
You wouldn't be that stupid."

"We've been over that before."  The man expected her to expose her hate
for him.  That required no acting.  "You wouldn't be here if you
thought I was ly " Maybe.  And maybe I'm here for//nother reason.  " "
I don't want to play games, Kohl," Chela said, forcing the anger to
retreat in her voice.  " You saw Ortez.  What happens now?  Are you
going to bring him to me?  His problems with the government"

"Not so fast.  A businessman doesn't succeed if he rushes into
situations without sniffing things out thoroughly first.  One wrong
step and it's all over.  You should know that, Chela.  You know what
brings a man to his knees."

Chela didn't want to talk about that.  She was sup posed to be a
lovesick woman.  "Are you going to bring Ortez to me?"  she repeated.

"Maybe.  And maybe not.  What's it worth to you, Chela?"

"You know what I can pay."  Was he trying to trip her up?  Chela
thought she knew all the twists and turns of Kohl's mind, but she
couldn't he sure.  He was right about one thing.  He wouldn't still be
free, rtwning his despicable business if he hadn't learned to keep one
jump ahead.  "I can't afford any more."

"Don't be so sure about that."  Kohilaughed.  "Everything can be
negotiated.  I've already made one trip to make sure you're telling me
the truth.  That increases my expenses."

So that was what -he was getting at.  His greed knew no bounds.  He was
going to feel her out, see if she would up the ante.  Slowly, testing
the direction the conversation was taking, Chela started.  "That isn't
my fault.  I didn't ask you to go down them.  I just want Ortez with
me."

"And you thought I would take what you say at face value.  I'm afraid
not, my wild one.  Don't take me for a fool.  You and I have growled at
each other too long for me to trust any thins you say.  You should know
that.  You want your precious Ortez with you, you pay for it."

"I can't," Cheh said with what she hoped was the right amount of
hopelessness in her voice.

"I think you can.  Anothe~ thousand isn't going to kill you, Chela.
Love has no limits, not even financial."

"One thousand dollars .... " Chela pretended to be weighing what Kohl
had told her.  She could sense his relentless eyes on her and was
grateful that she wore more than a bathrobe today.  "That much more?"

"That's the way it is.  There is another alternative involving your
body, but I don't like having to keep one eye open for a knife in my
back."  Kohl sounded as if they were settling on the price of a. dozen
eggs.  "I have expenses.  Overhead.  You want to be reunited with your
lover, you come up with the money."

"I don't have it, not now."

"Get it, or we'll.never discuss this matter again."

"You'll have to give me a little time."  God, she hated the begging
tone she deliberately let enter her voice.  "I don't know where I'll
get the money.  Can't you .... Kohl smiled and rose to his feet.  "
I'll be back in two days, Chela~ I want you to have all of it here
waiting for me.  "

She shook her head.  Now she could 'stop playing this hated role and go
back to being herself.  "No," she said firmly.  "Half now, half when
Ortez is here."

Kohl's "no" was so sharp that it was almost a phyS'l-cal slap.  "I want
all of it now or it's no deal."

Chela, too, rose to her feet.  "half now, half when I see Ortez.
Otherwise you get nothing.  It's the only way I can ensure Ortez's
safety."

She was ready for Kohl's menacing step, and yet.  there was no way she
could stop herself from leaning away from him.  The man's breath
assaulted her nostrils, but her retreat was caused by more than
that--she knew what he was capable of.  "All.  Now.  You'll have to
trust me to deliver Ortez."

Chela laughed, relieved that her voice betrayed none of her tension. "I
don't trust you any farther than I can throw you, Kohl.  I know what
you've done in the past."  That's why it has to be the way I say.  "

He frowned.  For a moment she thought he was going to strike her.
Instead he brought himself a step closer to her rigi0 body and swayed
over her.  "You drive a hard bar~in, my wild one.  I think you're going
to regret it."

"I regret e~verything that brings us together," Chela said, knowing she
was playing with the slimy man's serf-control but also knowing he
expected her to display her hatred of him.  "But you can't threaten
me."

"You don't think so You're a fool then, Ch~la, a fool.  I'!1 give you
two days, and when I return you'll understand why you can'tdouble-cross
me?"

He wasn't bluffing.  That was what made Kohl such a formidable
opponent--the man never made threats he couldn't back up.  "TII have
half of the money ready for you in two days," she said, clamping a lid
on the emotions that threatened to ~ everything she'd worked to
achieve~

"And I'!1 have a surprise for you."  Another cold smile contorted
Kohl's face.  "One that will bring you in line."  He took another step
and came so close that Chela was forced to move away to keep him from
touching her.

He took another step, a cat reYlshing the stalking of a mouse.  Chela
raged against the game but knew no way to end it.  If she stood her
ground, he would touch her and that she couldn't bear.  Backing away
from him was her only option.  She didn't stop until he had her pressed
against the wall of her living room.  I hate you,

Kohl.  I hate you with every fiber in me, was what she was thinking.
Instead she willed her voice to remain steady.  "What kind of
surprise?"

He laughed, revealing teeth that seldom if ever felt a toothbrush.
"Wouldn't you like to know?  But that would ruin things, wouldn't it? I
want you to be aware of how far my influence reaches, to remember that
there's no way you can get away from me."  As if to emphasize his
point, he placed his hands on either side of Chela and rested his palms
against the wall.  "Ah, my wild one, do you know what I see when Ilook
at you?  A prize.  The chase would be such a challenge because the
prize is worth the effort.  You hate me, which makes it all the more
intriguing.  Do you have any idea what we could accomplish if we worked
together?  The Mexicans trust you.  There would be no end to what we
could do together."

"Never!"  Chela didn't have to worry about letting her fury show.  It
was exactly what her adversary expected.  "I'd never turn against my
people!"  She turned her head to the side so she didn't have to feel
his hot breath on her lips.

"Your p9people?  Are you forgetting your father's blood running through
your veins?  Don't be so quick to deny that."  His mouth followed hers
until they were only inches away.  "There are ways of making you
faithful to that part of your bloodline."

Suddenly, surely, like a deadly premonition of one's death, Chela saw
what Kohl was driving at.  "Where is he?"  she whispered, wondering at
her ability to speak.  "That, Chela Reola, is.  for me to know and for
you to think about in the black of night.  Don't you want to see him?
What kind of woman are you not to want to see your own loving
father?"

She could tear Kohl's eyes out, bury her nails in his face, but what
wofild she have accomplished other than putting an end to his cruel
taunts?  "He doesn't want to see me any more than I want to see him,"
she said, mastering her emotions with an effort.  "You're trying to
bring back the past.  It won't work."

"Don't be so sure."  Before Chela could stop him, Kohl had captured her
mouth and was branding her with his thin, hard lips.  The kiss, if it
could be called that, was to establish the relationship between them to
let Chela know that he would never stand for a-woman, especially her,
to best him at anything.

Finally, when she thought she would lose her mind from the effort of
enduring his repulsive touch, Kohl laughed and released her.  "Think
about it, Chela.  Two days, then we'll talk again."

Chela didn't move as he backed away from her, smiling all the time, and
made his way to the door.  Her last view of him was his smiling yellow
teeth 'and tight.  lips as he closed the door between them.

For a moment Chela thought she was going to be able to endure it.  He
was gone.  She could hear his car pulling out of the driveway.  He
would be back in two days to make the contact that would, hopefully,
put him out of business.  That was what counted, nothing else.

"Damn!"  The oath burst from her with a life of its own.  She slammed
her strong hand against the wall,

her fist so tight that her nails dug into the palm of her hand.  "Damn
you, Kohl!  If you"

The phone rang.  At first Chela wasn't going to answer it because she
didn't trust herself not to rip the phone out of the wall.  But it
would be Magadan.  He'd come here if she didn't pick up the receiver.
She wasn't sure her greeting was loud enough for him to hear.  He said
something about coming over shortly, but when she didn't respond beyond
a monosyllable, he pressed her for an explanation of her mood.  "Kohl
was here when I got home."

"He's gone?"

"Yes."  Unexpectedly Chela's anger and agitation escaped.  "He doesn't
believe in small talk.  He left as soon as we'd conducted our
business."

"Whathappened?"  Magadan pres seeL "Are you going to tell me what he
said?"

"Not over the phone," Chela answered shortly.  She needed time to pull
herself together to drape a solid veil over the past Kohl dredged up.

"TIt be right over," Magadan,said and hung up.  Chela replaced ~the
receiver and paced to the window to look out.  No, she saw with relief,
Kohl hadn't come back.  She didn't want Magadan to hurry.  In fact she
would have preferred he didn't come to see her at all tonight.  This
wasn't the way a woman was supposed to feel about seeing her lover, was
it?  But Chela wasn't like most women.  She couldn't curl up with her
man and whisper sweet nothings until they were ready to make love.
Chela had secrets, dark passages in her past.  Kohl had trod those
passages, and she wasn't sure she could keep that from Magadan.

But, somehow, she had to.  Magadan had become special when she didn't
know that would happen.  Be-ca~e of him she had to keep that heavy veil
over the past.

Chapter Eight

Magadan didn't bother to knock.  He barreled through the door like an
avenger on his way to do battle.  He found Chela in the kitchen
measuring granules into a pitcher for iced tea.  She turned calmly
toward him, her feelings, she thought, well in check.  "Don't you
believe in knocking?"  she asked.  "If I'd locked my door, you would
have broken it down."

"To hell with the door.  What are you doing?"

"Making tea.  I'll have.  us some in a few minutes."  For a moment
Magadan seemed fascinated by what she was doing, then suddenly his hand
snaked out and stopped her.  "That's the fifth tablespoonful you've put
in.  No one can drink that?"

"Oh," Chela said and then watched as Magadan took out about half of the
dark grains.  When he finally filled the pitcher with water, the
resulting liquid was amber, not dirt brown the way it would have been
if he'd allowed her to continue.  "Do you have to criticize everything
I do?"  she asked as he was pouring tea over glasses filled with ice.

Magadan gave her an indulgent smile.  "I'm just glad lbuch a Wild Heart
you're not with your migrant ~kids now.  You'd have them so confused
theY'~d wish they were back across the border.  He gave you a rough
time, didn't he?"

Chela wondered if she'd ever find a way to hide her emotions from
Magadan.  She was so transparent around him.  But suddenly it no longer
mattered.  She accepted the frosty glass and drank deeply, the cool
liquid at least washing away a day spent in the orchards, if not what
had happened in her house a few minutes ago.  "I hate that man.  I
could kill him," she said with a conviction that didn't surprise her.

Magadan steered her out of the kitchen and onto the couch in the living
room.  "I don't think I'd like to have that statement tested if I were
Kohl," he said as he joined her.  "I just wish I understood why your
hatred of him goes so deep?"

Never, Magadan.  ~ That's something I'll never tell you.  "He's going
to be back in two days," she said instead.  "I told him I'd only give
him half of the money now.  He wants a thousand more."

"That figures.  But I think it's working, Chela."  Magadan leaned
forward but didn't touch her as if he knew she was on the brink of
igniting.  "He's failing for it.  If he delivOrs Ortez to you without
twisting a few screws, our case won't be as strong.  I'm just hoping
his greed will make him use Ortez as hostage for more money."

He wouldn't have to use Ortez if he thought he could get to her, Chela
acknowledged.  If only she could tell Magadan what Kohl was
threatening.  her with, but she'd held that secret all her life.  "Can
you come up with the money?"

"Of course."  Magadan smiled, but the gesture was without warmth.  "I
figured this would happen.  It's part of the game we have to play."

Rage, which Chela thought she'd conquered, surged through her.  "It
isn't a game, Magadan!  Not with me it isn't.  You don't know the
stakes" -- She slammed her gla.  ~ onto the nearby coffee table and
gprgng to her feet.  She was almost to the door ~when she realized that
this was her home and leaving it made no sense.  "Can you have' the
money in two days?"  she asked, her voice revealing none of what her
tense, trembling body

"You let me worry about the money.  You have to get control over
yourself.  That's your job."  He joined her by the door but made no
comment about her irrational behavior.  -"Did he hurt you this time?"

Chela stuck out her hands to reveal no marks on her wrists.  Magadan
didn't have to know of the kiss that had been far greater punishment
than any bruise.  "Do I look as if I've been hurt?"

"You certainly act like it."  Something angry and dan-gem us flashed in
his eyes but died an' instant death.  "Look, I was going to take you
out to dinner tonight, The offer still holds."

She couldn't think of eating, of controlling her emotions enough to
enter a restaurant.  She shook her head.  "You go.  I'm not hungry."

Magadan released his breath in an angry hiss.  "I'm not going to go eat
and leave you here.  I'd think you'd have realized that by now.  I'll
tell you what.  You've been out 'in the sun all day and your hair's
clinging to your neck.  Go take a bath.  It might help you relax."

Yes, that would feel good, Chela admitted.  Cold water on her flesh
might restore some sense of calm to her nerves.  "I don't want you to
come into the hath-room," she warned as she turned longing eyes in the
direction of the room.

For the first time today he touched her, gentle hands along the side of
her neck.  "I understand, Chela.  I understand you better than you
think I do.  What I said earlier about our being lovers only when you
want it still goes.  Now isn't the time, is it?"

She shook her head but didn't move out from under his touch until he
steered her into the bathroom and started to fill the tub with water.
Maybe he was right about understanding her.  She wanted him here--that
she wouldn't deny--but now wasn't the time for lovemaking.  Kohl's
visit and threats had placed her beyond that point.  Chela slipped off
her shoes but didn't start to undress until Magadan had closed the door
behind her.

She washed slowly, thoroughly, erasing from her flesh the imprint made
by Kohl's presence.  She gave special attention to her mouth, washing
and rewashing it until the bitter taste of soap stopped her.  Finally
she shampooed her hair and rinsed it thoroughly under the tap, taking
simple pleasure in the squeaking sounds she could make by running her
fingers through the strands.  She stepped out, toweled off, and wrapped
another towel around her hair.

When she opened the bathroom door, cooking smells reached her, but
Chela didn't go to investigate until she'd traded her twin towels for
the white sun dress that represented a complete departure from the
world that.  brought her into contact with Kohl.

"I hope you like eggs," Magadan said as she entered the kitchen.  "I
excel in omelets, but I'm afraid that pushes my culinary talents to
theft limit."  His voice dropped when he turned to face her.  "You're
beauti Embarrassed, Chela pushed her still-damp haft off her shoulders
and wondered, for the first time'in her life, what it would do to her
features if she was to wear makeup.  ," I. you've seen this dress
before.  "

"And I hope I never stop seeing you in it.  White is your color.  That
and peach."

Chela dropped her eyes.  "You didn't have to fix me anything."

"Yes, I did.  I'm starved, and you want to stay home," he reminded her.
"It's a good thing you had e~s.  There's everything but the kitchen
sink in this omelet," he went on conversatiohally.  "Onions, green
peppers, chilies.  You sure have a lot of vegetables around here."

Chela didn't dare come any closer because she wasn't sure she could
keep her hands off his body if she did.  Everything had been all wrong
before Magadan came into the house.  Now it was becoming ri~t again.
"Some of the Mexicans have gardens," she explained.  "They keep me well
supplied."

"Tn have to send them a the-you card."  Sit down.  First we eat.  Then
we'll talk.  "

Cheh wasn't sure she was up to the kind of talking Magadan was hinting
at, but by the time she finished off the omelet and American fries he'd
prepared to go with it, the hollow feeling in her stomach was no longer
crawling into her throat.  At length she stopped eating and smiled at
him across the kitchen table.  "I didn't know I was hungry," she
admitted.  "The Mexican women tell me that a whining baby is a baby
with an empty belly~"

"You weren't whining," Magadan pointed out.  "Something else had you
climbing the walls.  Now, I want to know all about it."

Chela shook her head and started speaking at the same time.  Briefly
she explained about Kohl's supposed contact with Ortez and his reasons
for increasing the payment.  She repeated that he would be back in two
day st What she didn't tell him was the part of the conversation that
followed.

"Did he threaten you again?"

"When doesn't he threaten?  That's the only way he knows how to deal
with people," she countered, instead of giving Magadan the answer she
knew he

Maga~ frowned.  "I want to be here, hidden somewhere when he comes
back.  When I think of him here with you"

Chola froze.  It would be too dangerous.  "No!  Kohl would find out.  I
know the man.  We've brought him this far We can't risk losing him
now."

Magadan cocked his head and fixed his eyes on her.  "What happened to
the confident woman I've always seen before?  Something happened to
Change you.  What is it?"  *

Instead of trying to answer a question she couldn't, Chela turned the
conversation around.  "Something's C~lged you, Magadan.  You were so
willing to have me deal with Kohl before.  What's different now?"  ~

Magadan reached across the littered table and took her hand.  "I think
you know the answer to that.  You.  You and I have changed.  I don't
see this the way I used to."

Chela freed her hand and nervously started clearing the table~ "You'll
have to go back to what you saw before," she tried to point out.  "You
can't change things this late in the game.  Kohl will smell it and slip
out of your grip."

"It doesn't matter.  Your safety is more important than that" He'd
picked up.  his dishes and was taking them to the sink.  " Maybe it was
a fool from the start, putting you in the position of working with Kohl
just because"

"Just because I'm the only one who would fit in with your plan."  Chela
turned on him, free at least for the moment of the uncertainties that
had assaulted-her since her enemy's visit.  "You supply the money and
the plan, Magadan.  I'll do my part."

"I don't like it."

"You don't have to like it."  She laughed softly.  "You aren't dealing
with a helpless female, Magadan.  I'm as much of a bulldog as you are.
Once I put my teeth into something, I don't give up."  No matter what
Kohl sends my ~ay, she thought.

Magadan put away the salt and popper without speaking.  Then he took
her hands and pulled her close to him.  "You don't look like any
bulldog, Chela.  You look like a beautiful, desirable woman, and I
feel' like protecting you.  If you don't like hearing that, I can't
help it.  That's the way it is."

"You've changed, Magadan," she challenged.

"You've changed me, Chela.  If I knew I was going to wind up feeling
this way about you .... " She didn't try to draw away.  Instead Chela
let her body lean toward his, gave acknowledgment~ to what she'd wanted
to do from the moment he walked in the door.  She freed her hands and
reached up to draw his face down toward hers.  "It's just as well you
didn't," she said softly, wisely.  " Neither of us did.  "

Those were the last words either of them spoke until they were in the
bedroom and Magadan had draped her white dress across the end of the
bed.  "I don't know what you've done to me," he said, his voice husky.
"I've never felt this way toward a woman before.  If I didn't know
better" --he stopped for a moment to caress her left breast-- "I'd
think you'd cast a spell over me."

It wasn't a. spell, she admitted silently.  She didn't know anything
about what took place between a man and a womar~ "Maybe you should go
back to Mexico.  The air here might he doing strange things to you."

"The air has nothing to do with this."  He kisseda nipple, smiling as a
groan escaped her.  "Let's see if I can cast any spells of my own and
make you forget what happened tonight."

He did.  It was still light outside when their bodies joined on the
Mexican coverlet.  Neither of them was aware of the deepening shadows
that swallowed the room and hid the difference between dark and lighter
skin.

They dozed briefly, got up, and read the paper to-gerber and then,
without approval having to be asked or given, made love again and fell
asleep with their bodies touching.

~

Sometime during the night Chela became aware of the breeze coming from
her open window brushing across their naked bodies.  Instead of getting
up to look for her nightshirt, she snuggled closer to Magadan, her arm
draped across the broad expanse of his shoulder as he lay on his side.
Chela ran her lips lightly over his hack before resting her head on
her.  pillow.  He had changed everything about the evening, taken her
from feeling like she'd been punched in the belly to acknowledging that
she'd never felt as secure as she did at this moment.

It was so easy to trust this man.  So easy.

Chela continued to feel Magadan's impact on her to cling to while she
waited for the next two days to drag by.  Although many school
officials were still on vacation, she met with the migrant education
supervisor to decide what they had to dc~ to make sure each migrant
child in the county would be accounted for and given bus route and
other essential information.  Chela had to cut back on her ~tutoring in
the orchards because she wanted to go to each barrio to make sure
parents were aware that their children needed to be registered.  Three
times she agreed to drive the parents to the various schools to make
sure the nece$~ry papers were signed.

The concentration of job activities gave Chela the opportunity to turn
her mind away from Kohl and the possibility that he could slip through
their net no matter ho~ carefully they'd planned.  He had eluded arrest
and conviction before.  It could happen again.  But Chela was immersed
in Magadan's warmth and the unreasoning belief that the man could make
everything right just by being there.

"You're mighty cheerful," Jeff Cline observed when

Chela volunteered to foot the bill for ice cream for the entire soccer
team Thursday afternoon.  "You uncover some rich uncle you didn't know
existed?"

"Not an uncle," was all Chela would reveal.

"I thought as much."  Jeff gave her a playful poke on the ann.  "It
wouldn't happen to be the guy who showed up here that time, would it?
It looked to me as if he wasn't going to go away until you at least
gave him the time of day."

Chela laughed.  "You're too young to understand such things."  She
didn't add that she was the one who didn't understand.  " Yes, Magadan
had changed her life.  The thing was, she'd never been able to figure
out what he'd done to change her.

Friday wasn't the time to think about Magadan and his impoct on her
life.  Friday was for seeing Kohl.  When she got off work, Chela toyed
with the idea of not going home at all, where she knew Kohl would be
sure' to try to contact her.  But Magadan had come out to the orchard
that afternoon with an envelope full of the money she needed.  He'd
reminded her--as if she needed reminding--that Kohl wasn't a man to be
taken lightly.  Not going home would only delay the .  meeti~ and
possibly ~ what she'd already worked hard to achieve,

At least Kohl wasn't waiting in her driveway When she turned off the
road.  Chela hurried inside, fought the urge to lock her door behind
her, and called Maga-dan to let him know that contact hadn't been made
yet.  "I'm not going to leave here," Magadan said firmly.  "And I'm
coming over there if I haven't heard from you in a couple of hours.,

"Tn be all right," Chela replied.  "This meeting isn't going to be any
different from the ones we've had before."

"Maybe, maybe not.  I'll be 'here.  Call me."

Where was here?  Chela asked as she hung up.  Maga-dan had spent the
night at her house, in her bed, with her arms around him, yet she
didn't even know where he lived.

She didn't have much time to think about that.  The knock on the door
came after she'd kicked off her tennis shoes but before she'd had time
to pour herself something cool-to drink.

Chela walked slowly to the door and opened it with numb fingers.  She
was ready to face Kohl.  But two men stood outside.  Even though she
knew who else might be there when she opened the doOr, there was no way
she could prepare herself to face Kohl's companion.

"Are you trying to keep us out?"  Kohl asked, his words cutting through
the whirring sound that had suddenly filled her brain.

A breathy oath escaped from Chela's lips.  She clamped down on the
sound before it could become more and pulled her eyes toward the
coyote.  Let the other man come to his own conclusions about her
refusal to acknowledge his presence.  "

Kohl's shirt was sticking to his bony chest and hung limp and damp from
his shoulders.  Chela focused on that fact, pleased to see that the hot
valley afternoon touched weasels as 'well as people like herself.  "You
keep your appointments," she said, moving back to let the two men in.
She didn't close the door after they were inside; neither did she
breathe.

Kohl's companion was the one to close out the sunlight.  "He was taller
than Kohl with too much flesh around his jaws and a belly that hung
over his belt.  There were still signs that the man had once been
athletic, but the years of sitting and letting others do his work had
taken their toll.  Chela was unprepared for the wave of emotion that
assaulted her when she realized he was going bald.  It made no sense to
feel as if she might scream if she opened her mouth, but she knew the
sound was dangerously close to breaking free.  Being in the same room
with the stranger.  who was in truth the farthest thing from a stranger
was somethinz she'd thought about a hundred times but doubted would
ever happen.

So this was her father.

"Aren't you two going to say hello?"  Kohl mocked, obviously enjoying
the moment.  "This should be a touching reunion, father and daughter.
What do you think of her, Lou?  I thought you said she was a dirty
little kid."

"She was the last time I saw her up close."

"I grew up.  No thanks to you."  Chela deliberately turned her back on
the two men and took her usual spot in her recliner.  Now that she'd
actually faced her father, the worst of the shock was over.  He was
just a man after all.

"Now, now," Kohl mouthed.  "There isn't going to be a fight between you
two, is there?  This really should be a touching scene.  Isn't anyone
going to say thanks for my bringing the two of you together?"

"Why did you?"  Chela wasn't sure she'd been able to contain her fury,
but maybe it didn't matter; he expected her to be emotional.  "Lou Dye
and I have nothing in common."

"

"Except that you're blood relatives."  Kohl sat down on the couch and
with eye contact ordered Lou to take a chaff opposite the recliner so
that Chela was trapped between the two men.

"That was an accident."  Chela pointedly avoided meet' rag the coyote's
eyes; instead, she allowed her eyes the freedom to bore into her
father's face, looking for what she didn't know.

"No accident.  Your mother and I were married;

"So she told me.  Why?"  Chela asked.  She haV'g having to talk to her
father, and yet it was a that had never been answered.  "Why did you
her?  You never wanted anything to do with was born."

Lou's voice was almost sad as he answered question, and he seemed to
have difficulty grinding gaze.  "Look at yourself, Chela.  Your was so
much like you at that age.  She was a woman.  I wanted her badly."

"You wanted a beautiful woman to it, isn't it?"  Chela could say those
words had no feelings for the man who was her father.  because she
wouldn't have you without marriage.  "

"Her people wouldn't have anything to even after we were married.  The
marriage was fore you were born.  But that isn't why we're Lou turned
toward Kohl.  " Can we

"What's the matter, Lou?  Isn't the out the way you wanted it to? Never
mind.  You can always reconcile with your daughter later."

"There isn't going to be any reconciliation," Chela spat.  "I don't
want him here.  Whydid you bring him?"

"We're getting to that, my wild one."  Kohl laughed.  "Don't rush
things.  This has to go my way or not at all.  First, the money,"

Chela shook her head She hadn't had time to switch from confronting her
father to talking about the reason for the meeting,.  but she'd played
this scene so many times in her mind that she didn't need time. "First,
you tell me when I'll see Ortez."

Kohl laughed again.  "You and I Should be working together.  We think
alike."  And we don't move quickly.

You want to know when you'll be able to take your lover to your bed, do
you?  "

Chela nodded, hating Kohl, knowing it showed.  '"" Two weeks.  Maybe,
Maybe a month.  "

"That's too long!  " Chela moved restlessly in her recliner but didn't
allow her eyes to hide from Kohl's stare.  ~If she wasn't very, very
careful now~ the men 'could overpower her.  Was her father capable of
that?

"I'm not paying you to stall."

"You haven't paid me anything yet," he.  pointed out.

"And I won't until I know when Ortez will be in the country."

"These things take time," Kohl started, and then, as if he'd grown
tired of his own game, he shrugged.  "I can have him here in ten days.
That's my end of the bargain.  Now for yours."

Chela waited.

"Good."  He nodded.  "You are learning the virtue of patience.  Now you
will learn about tell'u~ the truth.  Forgive me if I'm sfdl suspicious.
You have had nothing but hate for me from the beginning.  Forgive me If
I wonder if I smell a rat."

"What are you talking about?"  Chela asked because she knew Kohl wanted
some kind of response from her.  "I have the money.  What more do you
want?"

"Reassurance that you're telling me everything, that I'm not going to
come to regret this alliance of ours.  You asked why I brought your
father.  What would happen if Ortez was to learn you aren't an orphan
after all, that your father is Lou Dye?  Your father's -reputation is
known even in Mexico.  When he comes here, Ortez will learn much, much
more from the migrants."

Ortez thought she was an orphan?  Magadan must have told him to say
that.  And now Kohl was twisting it to his advantage, only in a way
even he didn't suspect.  It wasn't Ortez that Cheh was thinking about,
it was Magadan.  "Ortez has no way of know ins what the name Lou Dye
means," " Chela stalled.

"Not yet he doesn't..  But unless you keep him in your bed all the
time, he's going to find out.  Do you want your lover to learn that
your father is the man who cost more than one hundred Mexicans their
jobs, their homes, their reason for coming to this country?  Do you
want your precious Ortez to hear about the most unscrupulous orchardist
to ever do bus' mess in the valley?"

Chela cringed.  She glanced over at her father, but no emotion touched
his sagging face.  It didn't matter to him.  Nothing of what Lou Dye
had done mattered to him.  That wasn't important, Chela reminded
herself.  What was important was concentrating on what Kohl was saying.
"You'd tell Ortez that?"

"Ortez and everyone who'll listen.  You haven't told anyone who your
father is, I know that.  You've kept that knowledge to yourself, just
as your father has.  I've talked to your precious migrants, None of
them have any' inkling that your father is the man responsible for the
worst housing conditions a migrant had to endure here.  And, I'll bet,
neither do your employers."

Neither does Magadan.  Most of all, not Magadan.  Chela took a ragged
breath.  Kohl had her right where he wanted her.  It was just as bad as
she feared it would be.  "What do you want?"  she whispered, her eyes
on her father's impassive face.

"The wild bird' has been, caged.  Admit it, Chela.  I knew it could be
done, I always knew I could use what Lou told me one drunken night."
Hislaugh was both savage and victorious.  "I 'don't want you to do
anything, at least not yet.  All I want from you is your reassurance
that you won't double-cwss me.  I want half of that money now and the
other half in ten days.  Doyou understand what happens if you don't do
that?"

Chela~nedded.  She had never felt more like killing another human
being, had never felt more defeated.  "I have the money," she managed.
"Do you want it now?"

"That's right, my little wild bird.  How does your cage feel?  Tight?
Good.  I can make it much tighter, squeeze the life out of you, if
necessary.  Now, get me the money."

Chela found her feet.  She stepped past her father without looking at
him and padded into the bedroom.  It was somehow fitting that she was
barefoot: Slave owners kept their slaves barefoot so they couldn't run
off Chela's captive state wasn't because she didn't have shoes.  If
Kohl made good on his threat to reveal her parentage--something he was
completely capable of--Magadan would find out.

He would know that she was the daughter of a man whose ruthlessness
equaled Kohl,s,

The envelope was in her mid die dresser drawer.  As she drew it out,
she sensed something of the essence of the man who'd given it to her.
If only Magadan were here now!

But that couldn't happen.  He'd hear what was being said, look at Lou
Dye and know that in her veins flowed the same blood as a man who had
left more than one hundred migrants to starve.  What would he think of
a woman like that?  ~ Chela wasn't going to risk that.

She returned to the living room with the envelope stuffed with money in
her numb fingers.  She handed it to Kohl without say ins a word and
sank beck into her recliner, trapped.  Her father was hand in glove
with this man just as he'd been when he was a powerful man in the
valley, Kohl was capable of anything, any lie to further himself.  Why
should she expect her father to be any different?

Finally she lifted her head and faced her father.  ~ "If he goes
through with his threat, you'll have to acknowledge me as your
daughter.  Do you want people to know you were once married to a
Mexican?"

"Do you think anyone cares?"  Lou asked tonelessly.

"I'm dirt here, the lowest snake there is.  No one cares about my
past."

Chela cared.  She had to live with the consequences.  "It was a stupid
question, wasn't it?"  she said savagely.  "You never cared that you
had a daughter before, so why should I expect it to be any different
now?"

"Please."  Kohl waved skinny fingers and the envelope in Chela's face.
"Let's don't ',~ave any more of this touching reunion.  What matters is
that you understand the options I've given you.  You deal with me like
a businesswoman, and no one needs to know anything about your father.
Double-cross me and you'll have to slink out of this valley with your
tail between your legs."

"I understand," Chela managed.  Now that his ultimatum had sunk in, she
was less shocked by iC She hadn't had rune to come to grips with it.
That would have to wait for later.

"I thought so.  You're no fool, Chela.  In fact you'll probably survive
much better than your father has.  At least you aren't plagued by his
arrogance, his greed."  Thatis what caught up with him.  "

If Chela hadn't been numb, she might have agreed.  Arrogance had always
been the key to her father's personality.  He thought that money gave
him the right to be as ruthless as he deemed necessary to build upon
that wealth.  It took a long, long time for his downfall to take place,
because he had money behind him.  When it did, he took a lot of
innocent people with him.

Chela waited.  There was nothing more to say.  She was in no mood to
continue any kind of conversation.  The only thing she wanted was for
the two men to leave.  She was aware that Kohl was staring at her in
obvious glee, relishing his mastery over her.  But that didn't affect
her nearly as much as the way her father's eyes kept skidding off her
face instead of making honest contact.  What was he feeling?  In a
curious sort of way, Chela would have liked to ask him that.

"Aren't you going to kiss your daughter geed-bye, Lou ?"  Kohl asked
with a false innocence that was sickening.  "I brought about this
touching reunion, and you've hardy spoken to your daughter."

Lou rose.  "Let's get.  out of here.  There's nothing more to be
said."

Kohl hughed.  "You're right, there is nothing more to be said.  Do you
find that sad, Chela?  Your father came back to the valley to see you,
at my request, and the two of you are still strangers."

"We'll always be strangers," Chela said, taking small pleasure in the
punishing words.  "We've never been anything else.  Why should it
change now?"

"You don't understand," Lou broke in.  "Your mother and I, we were
worlds apart.  She wanted nothing to do with my life.  She wanted to be
with her people."

"So you threw her out of your life," Chela accused, standing so she
wouldn't have to look up at the man.  "She had your child, but that
didn't mean you had any responsibility toward' us No, don't say
anything."  Chela held up a restraining hand.  "I don't want to talk
about it any more than you do.  Being my father was just as much an
accident for you as it was for me.  I don't want any more to do with
you than you want with me."

"Your mother was never that bitter."

"My mother was too busy trying to raise me," Chela spat.  "After all,
she had to do it with no help from her husband.  She had no skills to
take her out of the orchards."  She could have said more, make Lou Dye
listen to her talk about how the orchards had stripped a fragile woman
first of her beauty and then her life.  But if Chela did that, she
might start crying, and she'd never let her father or Kohl see her
cry.

"You're right, Chela," her father sighed.  "She wasn't much more than a
child when we were married, but then neither was I. I didn't know how
to make her happy."

"Enough!"  Kohl in ten-up ted "It's the present we came to talk about,
not ancient history."

"I'm aware of~ that Lou said, turning on him with anger Chela couldn't
fathom.  Lou turned back toward his daughter.  " Don't try to cross
him.  That's what I'm here to tell you.  You'll regret it.  "

Chela could almost reach out and finger the vise that tightened around
her heart as she watched the two men head for the door.  She had to
clench her fingers to keep from attacking them, but clench them she
did.  Chela might indeed be a wild bird trapped in a cage, but she
wouldn't let her captors have the satisfaction of watching her
struggles"

She made herself wait for the sound of the car pulling out of the
driveway and then reached for the telephone.  Magadan answered on the
first ring.  "They just left," Chela blurted out, the words reaching
Maga dan before she could bring them back.

They?  Who was with KobJ?  "

"No one.  A partner of his."  Chela shut her eyes,

praying Magadan would believe what she was saying.  "I can't stay
here," she whispered, feeling her father in the room.  "Magadan, can I
come to your place?"

A pause.  "No, Chela, I can't let that happen.  I'll be there in five
minutes."

Chapter Nine

Chela was sitting outside on the porch when Magadan arrived.  She'd
tried to make herself stay inside, but her father's unrelenting image
was everywhere.  Chela hadn't realized that seeing him would be that
upsetting.  She felt a little like an accident victim trying to assess
her injuries.  On'top of that was the reoccurring thought that he'd
tried to warn her, as if he had some feeling for her.  It didn't make
sense.  Magadan would look at her and know she'd been deeply affected
by something, but he had no way of knowing her father was around, let
alone Lou's connection with Kohl.  Let him think her distracted state
had been caused by the latter.

Let him think anything he wanted to, she thought as his car pulled into
her drive.  He still wouldn't tell her where he lived.  Didn't that
entitle her to some privacy of her 'own ?

Magadan didn't speak.  The feeling that crawled up his throat and set
his heart to pounding made words impossible.  He'd been impressed by
Chela's independence, her courage.  Now he was looking at a wounded
creature who might slip away to suffer in silence if his approach was
wrong.  Slowly, carefully, he walked up to her, dropped to his knees in
front of her and took her icy fingers.  Another woman would have
collapsed in his arms, but not, he knew, this woman.  Somehow he had to
find the patience to wait until she was ready to explain the pain in
her eyes.  For a moment he simply ran his own warm hands from her palm
to the tip of her nails until some warmth had been restored to her.
"You want to talk about it?"  he asked.

Chela shook her head.  "I want to get out of here.  I can't go to your
place, so I don't suppose it matters where I go."  .

She thought she heard a groan from Magadan's lips.  Before she had time
to think.  about it, he was pulling her to her feet and pressing her
against him.  "I have an idea.  Will you go inside for a few minutes? I
want to make a phone call, and there's something I want you to do."

Chela didn't object~ For once she was willing to let someone else make
the decisions.  The house seemed less threatening with Magadan in it.
She was able to stand apart from him as he dialed and then asked for a
dinner reservation for' later that evening.  "I promised you that
lobster dinner," he said as he hung up.  "What if you go get dressed?
I'll stand sentry to make sure nothing happens."

"You?"  Chela almost laughed.  "Maybe it's you I need protection
from."

"Never.  I'd never do anything to hurt you.  Go on.  Please put on the
dress."

Because the day had already carried too many surprises, Chela found
nothing strange about what was taking place now.  She was still hurt
and angry because Magadan kept some part of himself separate from her,
but now wasn't the time to think about that.  She reached the bathroom
door and then turned around.  "What are you going to wear?"

He winked.  "I always carry a spare suit in the space behind the pickup
seat.  !  wear many hats during the course of a day.  I have to be
prepared."

Chela was satisfied with that simple explanation.  She, maybe more than
anyone else, was aware of the multitude of roles Magadan played.  That
he kept costume changes in his truck came as no surprise.

Because she felt a need to remove any lingering residue of Kohl's
touch, Chela spent several minutes in the tub scrubbing her skin
vigorously.  If only there was an effective way to cleanse her mind and
eyes of what they'd experienced today.  For the first time she applied
a little of the perfume the migrant education staff had given her for
her last birthday.  The scent cleared her nostrils of the memory of
sweat and tobacco and left her renewed.  Chela even' took time to braid
a small section of hair and let it drape down over her ear so she
wouldn't have to be constantly brushing her hair out of her eyes.  She
located her thinnest bra so no seams would show under her dress and
slipped on the soft, sensuous peach fabric.

When Chela looked at herself in the mirror, she had to admit that-the
transformation was complete.  Only her too-big eyes gave away anything
of what she'd gone through today.  Her slim body was the perfect frame
for the clinging dress.  Her dark coloring highlighted the changing
hues in the skirt.  Her broad shoulders and firm breasts gave
definition to the crossed bodice, Just before leaving the bedroom,
Chela applied a light touch of gloss lipstick.

Magadan had changed into his suit while she was in the bathroom.  As
she was recording the striking way his dark blue suit followed every
inch of his frame, he was taking her in with his eyes, his breath. "You
look nice," Chela said uncomfortably as she became aware of his
unrelenting gaze.

"And you look like a dream.  My God.  I may have to beat the men off
with a club."

Chela ducked her head, blushi~ig.  "Don't say that.  I'm nervous."

"Why would you be nervous?"  Magadan held out his hands but only held
her loosely when she came toward him.

"I don't know," She shook her head, her just-washed hair bouncing on
her shoulders.  "I've never been dressed up like this before.  I feel
like a character in a play?"

"If that's the case, then I want to be the only member of the
audience."  He brought his nose to the side of her neck.  "Perfume.  I
was going to buy you some."

"You don't have to," she said, feeling shy.  "I--I was given some."

"I want to.  It wasn't a man, was it?"

Chela thought of her proper supervisor and the two older female members
of the migrant education support staff.  "Not unless you count a man
old enough to be my father."  She fought her way around the comparison
and continued.  "I hope I don't trip.  I'm not used, to heels like
this."

"That's why ladies take the arm of their escorts: So they don't trip
and hurt themselves."

Chela laughed, grateful for Magadan's light mood.  "I've wondered about
that."

"I didn't think I'd hear you laugh.  It sounds good.  Chela, when I saw
you sitting there, I thought you looked as if you'd been hit between
the eyes by a board.  My mission tonight is to take away that look."
His wink lightened the mood.  "If I don't get sidetracked by thinking
about how much I want to take you to bed."

Magadan's male scent, accented by his suit, made him more sensual than
she thought a man should be.  But Magadan's talk of lobster dinners;
coupled with her outfit, was pulling her in another direction.  It was
the memory of what 'she'd gone through in this room not long ago that
tipped the scale.  "Are we going to be late?"

"The lady isn't going to take me up on my proposition?  Ah, Chela, what
am I going to do with you?  I have the feeling this is going to be.  a
very expensive evening."

"Oh, I didn't think about that" -- she started.

"Then don't.  You need this tonight.  It's something I want to do for
you."

Chela nodded and smiled gratefully.  She relished the protective way he
steered her out of her house by placing his hand in the small of her
back, She waited while he locked the door behind her and then guided
her to his car, a gentleman taking his date out for a night on the
town.

Chela didn't look back.  Thinking about the meeting with Kohl and her
father, let alone telling Magadsn about it, was the last thing she
wanted to do.  Maybe Magadan didn't trust her enough to let her see
where he lived.  Al least he was perceptive enough to sense how much
she needed what they were doing now.

Magadan explained the restaurant's decor as he drove.  The Bella
Mansion had been built during pioneer days to house the town's first
banker.  It continued in use as a home for several de~ des but
eventually no single family could afford the many rooms and extensive
grounds.  It had been converted into a restaurant over twenty years ago
and remained in the same hands since then.  "The cook has been to
schools in Europe and treats each dish as if it's his own personal
masterpiece.  There's no comparison between it and the hamburger stand
we went to.  Or the Blue Max for that matter.  This is true
elegance."

Chela had been past the Bella Mansion many times and marveled at the
spreading oak trees standing sentry over the extensive parking area.
She'd glimpsed some of the two-story mansion from the road, but the
one-hundred-year-old-plus trees hid most of the structure.  Although it
wasn't quite dark, there were already hanging lanterns lit to welcome
dinner guests.  Chela barely controlled a gasp as they walked up the
broad expanse of stairs and past two magnificent statues of stags.

They stepped inside and waited a moment while their eyes adjusted to
the muted lighting.  Despite her-serf Chela leaned toward Magadan,
fighting off an urge to turn and flee.  What was she doing here?  The
cavernous room stretching ahead of them was dominated by a large
circular fireplace in the center of the room.

Flanking the fireplace were intimate tables for couples wishing a
cocktail before dinner.  An arched doorway in the distance led, Chela
believed, to the dining room.  Magadan leaned toward her.  "Are you
okay?"  Chela blinked back tears.  So this was what she and her mother
had never experienced.  Her father had been here, she was sure of it.

No!  She wasn't going to think about that.  Magadan had brought her
here so she could forget her father~ "I'm all right," she whispered,
trembling a little.  "I--I guess I just didn't think it'd be like
another world."

"It is that I guess," Magadan acknowledged.  "But all of us need a
little fantasy once in a while~ Please let me indulge you."

With Magadan's presence to give her courage, Chela allowed herself.  to
be led into the room.  The thick carpet cushioned her steps and
increased the feeling that she'd stepped into another world.  She was
grateful when he pulled out a chair and settled her at one of the small
tables to the left of the fireplace.  "We have a little time before
dinner," Magadan said as he took the chair opposite hers.  "I'd like to
order you a drink."

Chela nodded.  It was hard to believe she had really spent the day
sweating in the orchards.  She wondered if this was her escape from her
first face-to-face meeting with her father in years.  Magadan was
right.  The Bella Mansion was for fantasies.  She focused on Magadan,
using him as her passport out of reality.  His voice was more rumble
than sound as he placed an order.  His hand over hers across the table
was a soft blanket.  "You are beautiful," he whispered, his eyes
shining

despite the dark interior broken only by candles at each table.  "The
most beautiful woman in this room."

"I'm a migrant teacher, although I don't feel much like one tonight."

Unexpectedly Magadan lifted her hand and brought it to his lips.  "You
don't look much like a migrant teacher tonight.  Just be what I see, a
beautiful worn What Magadan was saying filled Chela's mind.  There was
no denying that she'd thought of the differences between them many
times.  But tonight they were locked together in an environment that
made no such distinction.  " I don't know what we are to each other
anymore, Magadan," she said softly after the waitress had placed the
cool glass of white wine in front of her.  " Every time I think I know,
things change.  "

"That's because we're changing.  I thought you were beautiful, unique,
from the moment I met you.  But I didn,t know you then."

"Do you now?"  Chela took-a sip and challenged him.  "Do you know who I
am, Magadan?"

He shook his head.  "No, but I think I'm learning.  I want to learn
everything about you.  Like" -- He paused a moment as if hesitant to
continue.  "Like what happened this afternoon.  It wasn't just Kohl.
Something else happened."

An hour ago Chela might have fled or at least closed herself off from
his question, but the atmosphere had blunted her reactions, made her
less skittish.  "Something else happened, but I can't tell you what it
was.  Not now and maybe never.  Please.  You have to accept that."

For a moment Magadan's eyes sought to pierce h{ defense.  "All right,"
he sighed.  "I don't have an choice, do I?"

Chela shook her head, unaware that the move met caused a couple of men
to pause in their 6onversatior and stare at the striking, raven-haired
young worn at "Just as I have no choice when you close certain dool to
me."

"I don't like it having to be Ylke that," Magadan a mitred.  "I'd like
to tell you everything there is tote about me but" -- His eyes
narrowed.  Tonight feel good.  I don't want to risk anything.  "

"Neither do I," Chela admitted,.  smiling.  As the co wine warmed her
veins and blunted even more h( usual world, Chela told Magadan what she
could of h, latest contact with Kohl.  Despite her continued susg cions
of the coyote, she honestly believed he wou follow through with his
plans to relieve her, or Mag dan rather, of the money they were
dangling in front ( him.  She was equally sure that Ortez wouldn't be 6
livered to her until Kohl had drained her of every c~ he could.  He
relished playing cat and mouse.  "It could be dangerous for Ortez," she
pointed out.

"He's aware of that.  But Ortez dislikes the man ~ much as you do. He's
willing to take certain risks.  I'm lot more concerned about the risks
to you."

'. "I'm not afraid of Kohl."

"Arenit you?"  Magadan had been lounging again the back of his chair as
she talked, but now he lean, forward.  "Something made you look like a
deer abo to bolt."

"I didn't bolt," she pointed out.  "I'm still here."

"Will you be able to say that if the man with Kohl, whoever he is,
comes back again?"

Chela glanced around the room, desperately seeking the illusions that
were keeping her insulated from reality.  "Let me worry about that,
Magadan," she said as their waitress approached.  "I'm not asking you
to fight my battles for me."

Chela let Magadan take her hand as they walked from the cocktail room
into the main dining hall.  She distracted herself by studying the red
linen tablecloths draped over tables decorated with fresh flowers and
candles.  She marveled at the attire of their fellow diners, not
realizing that even the women were looking her way.  Heavy red
draperies covered the windows and the same thick carpet silenced the
sound of footsteps.  It seemed to Chela that everyone in the room was
whispering.  For some reason that made her want to laugh.

She tried to concentrate on 'the menu, but she'd never heard of most of
the dishes and the prices quite oyer whelmed her.  Finally she turned
the decision-making over to Magadan.  "Does it show?  Do I look like a
bull in a china shop?"

"Hardly."  He pointed out the lobster dish and placed their order with
the waitress.  "You're doing very well here."

Chela sighed.  "My foster parents were very proper.  They made sure I
learned table manners.  They tried to instruct me in the art of small
talk, but I never saw a reason for it."

"Were you at all close to your foster parents?"  Magadan asked, his
eyes never leaving her face.  "It doesn't seem right that you should be
so alone after your mother died."

Chela jerked her head up.  "No.  I never felt close to my foster
parents.  They believed it was their duty to provide for some of the
world's unfortunates.  I don't think it ever occurred to them that
those unfortunates needed love."  Chela shook her head angrily.  "I'm
sorry.  I didn't mean to say that.  I ha veri ~thought about that part
of my life for a long time."

"I didn't mean to stir it up.  I just want to know more about you.  I'm
going to keep asking questions like that until I get the answers I
want."

"I don't think so, Magadan," Chela challenged.  "You don't give me
certain answers.  Why should I be the only one?"

Magadan's eyes darkened until they resembled caves~ "There's no arguing
that and you know it.  Damn!  We make life complicated for ourselves,
don't we?"

Chela's eyes widened as their waitress brought a carafe of wine and
piaoed it between them.  She did nh remember Magadan ordering that.
"He's ompli.  cared.  More so than I want to think about.  Are you
trying to get me drunk?"

"Hardly.  I think you'd stop before you got to that~ point.  But you
need to relax tonight..  I want to make sure that happens."

" Magadan poured two glasses an handed one to her.  He sounded like a
tour guide as h{ explained that the wine came from a local vineyard
which, although small, made excellent dry white win~

"How do you know so much about local Wines?"  Chela asked absently as
she took a sip.  Magadan was right.  The wine slid like velvet down her
throat.

"I could tell you I have inside information on such things, but the
truth is there was an article on the vineyard in the newspaper's
business section a few weeks ago.  So much for impressing you with my
expertise."

Chela tried to digest that bit of information, but the wine had done
its work.  She was a lot more interested in dinner and people-watching
than trying to dig through the layers to the real Magadan.

It was dark by the time Chela and Magadan left the restaurant, but
people were still arriving.  "It's nine," she observed.  "How can they
wait so long to eat?"

"Probably because they don't have breakfast at 6:00 A.~!.  HOW did you
like the lobster?  I got to thinking, maybe it was too rich for you."

"T11 tell you in the morning," Chela admitted as she slid her arm
around Magadan's waist in response to his arm around her.  "Tonight was
special.  The dinner was the most perfect meal of my life."

"I think you should tell the chef."  He'd probably serve you for
nothing from now on.  It was a good evening, wasn't it?  " Magadan
started 'to open the truck door but wound up taking Chela in his arms
instead.  Overhead one of the lanterns cast a romantic glow on the two
caught in an embrace that took them beyond the Bella Mansion parking
lot.

Chela felt herself swaying in Magadan's grasp, but she knew she was in
no danger of losing her footing.  So women held on to their escorts'
arms to keep from tottering on their high heels?  In Chela's case her
precarious stance came, not from her shoes, but her reaction to a kiss
that seemed to hold no dimension of time.  It wasn't just the wine, or
the effects of a magnificent dinner.

Her state came from knowing that what led 1~ pened earlier in her house
was a world removed from what she was experiencing now.  Moths fiitte
the lanterns.  Night was cooling the summer?  ~

heated day The scent of roses from trailing vi~

'

around the restaurant piqued Chela s nostrils ar~

her aware of her heightened sensual response to even thing.  Her bare
arms felt the breeze, her ears ca~

real, o g response from what Ma~d~

lips were doing to her entire body.

Chela questioned if she existed as a separaW now or if her essence had
been interwoven dan's.  She wondered how she had gone this far without
knowing that this emotion was possible-.

I think I love you, Magadan.  I think that's what's happening gripped
Magadan's neck tightly, lation making her dizzy.

"Do you know what I wish?"  Magadan

"I wish tonight would never end."

"You do?  That's a beautifullhought."  Magadan kissed her lightly on
the nose.  "I even more interesting thought.  Do you know ~'hat like to
do?  I've never walked through an night."

"There's a mystery to it," Chela supplied as ~he into her side of the
truck.  "There are around, but you can't tell where they

You can smell the heat in the ground, even air's cool.  You can almost
feel things growing.  " " Do you want to go there?  "

The alternative was going back to her place.

"I could tell you I have inside information on such things, but the
truth is there was an article on the vineyard in the newspaper's
business section a few weeks ago.  So much for impressing you with my
expertise."

Chela tried to digest that bit of information, but the wine had done
its work.  She was a lot more interested in dinner and people-watching
than trying to dig through the layers to the real Magadan.

It was dark by the time Chela and Magadan left the restaurant, but
people were still arriving.  "It's nine," she observed.  "How can they
wait so long to eat?"

"Probably because they don't have breakfast at 6:00 A.M. How did you
like the lobster?  I got to thinking, maybe it was too rich for you."

"I'll tell you in the morning," Chela admitted as she slid her arm
around Magadan's waist in response to his arm around her.  "Tonight was
special.  The dinner was the most perfect meal of my life."

"I think you should tell the cheil~ He'd probably serve you for nothing
from now on.  It was a good evening, wasn't it?"  Mogadan started 'to
open the truck door but wound up taking Chela in his arms instead.
Overhead one of the lanterns cast a romantic glow on the two caught in
an embrace that took them beyond the Bella Mansion parking lot.

Chela felt herself swaying in Magadan's grasp, but she knew she was in
no danger of losing her footing.  So women held on to their escorts'
arms to keep from tottering on their high heels?  In Chela's case her
precarious stance came, not from her shoes, but her reaction to a kiss
that-seemed to hold no dimension of time.  It wasn't just the wine, or
the effects of a magnificent dinner.

Her state came from knowing that what had happened earlier in her house
was a world removed from what she was experiencing now.  Moths flitted
around the lanterns.  Night was cooling the summer-sun-heated day.  The
scent of roses from trailing vines around the restaurant piqued Chela's
nostrils and made her aware of her heightened sensual response to
everything.  Her bare arms felt the breeze, her ears caught the whisper
of moving wings from the moths, but the real, overriding response came
from what Magadan's lips were doing to her entire.  body

Chela questioned if she existed as a separate person now or if her
essence had been interwoven with Maga-dan's.  She wondered how she had
gone this far in life without knowing that this emotion was possible.

I think!  love you, Magadan.  I think that's what's happening.  Chela
gripped Magadan's neck tightly, her revelation making her dizzy.

"Do you know what I wish?"  Magadan whispered.  "I wish tonight would
never end."

"You do?  That's a beautiful~hought."

Magadan kissed her lightly on the nose.  "I have an even more
interesting thought.  Do you know what I'd like to do?  I've never
walked through an orchard at night."

"There's a mystery to it," Chela supplied as she slid into her side of
the truck.  "There are sounds all around, but you can't tell where
they're coming from.  You can smell the heat in the ground, even when
the air's cool.  You can almost feel things growing."

"Do you want to go there?"

The alternative was going back to her place.  "Yes, I

don't care where we go.  Why don't you try Walker Road?  There are
orchards there with histories that go 'back nearly a century.  " Chela
placed her head on Magadan's shoulder as he started the engine.  So
this was what it was like to be protected, to have someone take over.
It wasn't bad.

Chela might have dozed, she wasn't sure.  She didn't really become
aware of her surroundings until they'd been traveling for half an hour.
She rubbed her eyes, sat up.  Walker Road had narrowed down until there
was no longer any shoulder.  They were far from the city limits--and
closing in on her past.

"Here," Chela directed, surprised to hear the word come from her mouth.
"Please pull over here."

"Are you sure?"

"You wanted to walk through an orchard at night."  Chela took a' deep
breath to still the warning voice inside her.  Magadan was with her.
She was safe.  She could touch base with her past.  "There are
things... I haven't been here for two years."

Magadan gave her a look she took to mean he sought a further
explanation, but instead of giving it, she slipped out of the truck and
waited for him to join her.  The sounds and smells here were no
different from any other orchard.  She could take Magadan's arm, tell
him what she dared about the land.  "The nearest house is two miles
away," she said softly, gaining courage.  "The only building around is
a storage shed for the equipment."

It wasn't the orchard's fault that her father had once owned it.  There
were some thirty acres of Cornice pears sheltered from much of spring
frost by their secluded location between two low hills.  The pears here
might not be the first to ripen in the fall, but they were less likely
to be damaged by freezing temperatures.  "It's one of the few orchards
still to use smudge pots," she remembered aloud.  The pots, which
contained oil, were fired in the spring to protect fragile buds from
frost.  "The--the former owner didn't put much money in it."

"Look," Magadan said.  "Can you see the overhead sprinklers?"

Chela couldn't make out the high, thin metal pipes rising above the
trees, but it didn't surprise her that she didn't know about the
improvements.  She had avoided all talk about Hidden Valley Orchard.
"An ice coating on the buds does a much better job of protection from
frost," she explained.  "A lot has changed.  here.  I wonder what else
the current owner has been doing."

"Do you want to find out ?"  ~ Magadan's eyes were on her but
unreadable in the dark.

Chela leaned over and removed her shoes.  She started across the ditch
in her stockinged feet before answering.  "I think I do now."

He followed her.  They walked side by side down the open space between
the two rows of trees, not touching, silence settling comfortably over
them.  Chela was thinking about the sounds night birds made and what
the wild asparagus growing at the foot of the trees tasted like.  The
orchard hadn't been watered in the last day or two, which 'meant she
didn't have to worry about sinking into mud.  The carpet of grass under
her feet kept her stockings from being ruined, but she wouldn't mind
even if they were.  Stockings were things

Touch a Wild Hextrt she wore when she slipped into a fancy dress and
went off to a fantasy mansion for dinner.  They had nothing to do with
her real world.

"The pears look as if they'll be ready ih about two months," Magadan
observed, breaking a silence that had gone on for almost five minutes.
"For fall pears they're riper ting fast in the hot weather.  I'm glad
to see that, The dry cycle a few years ago was hard on the crop."

Chela stopped and turned toward him.  Not many people concerned
themselves with the weather's influence on the pear harvest, "You know
what happened here?"

"Of course.  I'm a businessman.  I also know that during the years when
this orchard wasn't being properly maintained, there was substantial
damage due to insects.  That's the best damn way I know of losing it
all.  Spraying isn't a luxury, it's a necessity."

"You know about... the man who used to own this place?"

"I didn't move here until things had gone sour for him."  Magadan
placed his hands on Chela's shoulders and held her firmly.  "I don't
want to talk about that, do you?"  ~

Chela dropped her head and muttered an anguished, "No."  She'd hidden
from them all evening, but now was the time to face what Kohl had
thrown in her face.  Magadan couldn't know about it, but he was talking
about her father.  Lou Dye was the man whose greed had allowed an
orchard to become neglected and unproductive, who failed to inform
seasonal workers of this until they'd already come here.  How many
workers had Lou Dye, her father, lied to?  But that wasn't all her
father had done.

She couldn't tell Magadan that.  Up until a few weeks ago she'd kept
her secret because she wanted to keep buried something that belonged in
the past.  Back then, her father's identity was none of Magadan's
business.  Now, however, her closed lips and clenched teeth were mused
by something else.

A woman falling in love didn't drag skeletons out of the closet when
she wondered if, for the first time in her life, maybe she wasn't going
to be alone anymore.  Maybe Magadan kept things from her, but tonight
she wasn't going to question that: What she had to realize was that as
a businessman Magadan was aware of the extent of Lou Dye's
ruthlessness.  What would it do to Mallarian's feeYmgs for her if he
knew Lou's blood ran in her veins?

No, Chela told herself.  That.  was her secret.  Her father made a lie
of everything she believed in.  She hadn't been able to reconcile that
in her own heart; she couldn't find words of explanation for Magadan.

"You're quiet," he said as he released her shoulders and took her
hand.

Chela started to answer, but something about his hand stopped her.  His
fingers were cold, and he was gripping her so tightly that it was.
painful.  "Am I?"  was the best she could offer.

"You were thinking about something," Magadan said, his voice deeper
than she remembered it being.  "Will you share it with me?"

"No," Chela said.  She knew she heard the quick escape of Magadan's
breath.

Again they walked in silence, closer this time because their fingers
were locked around each other.  Chela tried to make her thoughts go
back to her surroundings, but they wouldn't leave the ramification of
conversations toyed with, touched, and then put back in hiding. Secrets
were more blinding than any night.

Suddenly Magadan stopped.  He whirled on her and brought her fiercely
into the circle of his arms.  "God, you feel so good!"

What's wrong?  Chela asked inside, alarmed.  What are you thinking,
Magadan ?  But she didn't ask the questions pulsing through her.
Instead she surrendered herself to the man's strength.  She felt small
and fragile and vulnerable in her stockinged feet and delicate dress
with the top that allowed the night air to toy with the swell of her
breasts.  The woman who clung to Magadan wasn't the one who trod
through the orchards.  She felt like one of the women she'd observed
from afar but never thought she'd understand.  It took more than a hand
placed on a man's arm to make a woman feel protected.  It took a body
that blocked out the world, quick breaths on her hair, a masculine
chest beating against hers.

Suddenly hungry, Chela groped for Magadan's neck and drew him down to
her aching lips.  His mouth was both gentle and commanding, touching
and satisfying some nerve, some aching essence that had hurt so long
Chela didn't know there was any other way to feel.

Tonight she understood that thero was an alternative to loneliness. She
wasn't alone anymore.  The orchard had always been Chela's friend.
She'd been content to share it with Spanish-speaking migrants,
quick-learning children, even Anglo foremen: But that brand of sharing
wasn't anything like what was happening tonight.

Tonight Chela realized that the orchards had insulated her from what
was washing over her, threatening to throw her to her knees when she
least expected it.  The orchard was her friend, it wasn't her lover.
There lay the difference.

And Chela needed a lover, a man to sense the source of the hungry,
aching cry within her and satisfy that cry.  She' needed arms around
her, lips caressing hers.  Tonight, at least, Magadan was that man.

"I'm going to make love to you, Chela.  Here."  Magadan kissed her
again, a kiss.  that stripped away everything else.  He left her alone,
holding on to a branch for support while he went into the supply shed A
moment later he returned with a blanket tucked under his arm.  Chela
studied his dark outline as he shook out the blanket and spread it on
the ground between two trees, then he took her in his arms.  "It can be
good for us, Chela.  Better than anything either of us has had
before."

Only honesty could make it better was the thought that sliced through
Chela's mind.  Quickly it escaped into the night and was lost.

"I'm shaking," she admitted, clinging to him.  "Why?"

"So am I," 'he laughed.  "I don't think either of us knew this was
going to happen."

Chela didn't ask him if he was tai king about tonight or something
larger.  Instead she found the buttons on his suit jacket and undid
them.  She draped the jacket over the tree branch she'd used to support
herself earlier and then turned to his tie.

"I hate those things," he said when she gave up trying to figure out
how it was knotted.  "It's a costume I can do without."

"How many costumes do you have?  Who is the real you?"  Suddenly she
stopped him with a hand on his mouth.  "Don't answer that tonight."

Magadan had action, not words, on his mind.  Chela was fascinated by
the sure way he was able to undo her belt and pull the dress over her
head without tangling her hair.  He unfastened her bra without making
her turn away from him.  He removed both her panty hose and underpants
before taking her in his arms again.

"We keep winding up like this, don't we?"  he whispered against her
ear.  "No matter what happens, we wind up in each other's arms."

That's because it ~ the onb' place I want to be, Chela thought, but she
didn't say the words aloud because she knew that they represented too
much of a surrender.  What was happening between them was still too
new.  Things could happen at any moment to shatter their fragile
relationship.  All she could ask for was perfection tonight.

Magadan seemed to share her thoughts.  He undressed and pulled her down
onto the blanket with him.  He wasn't in a hurry; instead he seemed to
need to explore her body, commit her outline to memory.

Chela shut her eyes, completing the darkness that the night had begun.
She held on to Magadan with hungry fingers and locked her lips over the
animal moans that built every time he explored a new inch of flesh. Her
breasts, shoulders, waist, stomach, no longer belonged to her. They
were now part of Magadan, claimed by strong warm fingers that made her
as willing as a newborn kitten.

But no kitten felt the sensations Chela was feeling.  When he kissed
her, she could no longer deny the sounds inside.  Her deep groan,
accompanied by her spine arching toward him, told him everything he
needed to know.  She was his.  Completely.

"You do things to me," he whispered.  "Things that scare me."

Magadan, was scared?  That seemed odd, Chela thought; the man was
always in control, wasn't he?

She didn't have time to answer her question, though.  She was in the
act of surrender; that was the only thing that had any meaning.  She
wanted, needed Magadan.  Her hungry body sought his under the dark
sentry of pear trees.  The ground accepted the twin weights of their
bodies joined by lovemaking.

No human was within miles to observe what was taking place.  And the
night creatures who watched kept well their secrets.

Chapter Ten

Chela stayed away from Hidden Valley Orchard unffi midafternoon.  She
had no reason to return to the scene of last night's lovemaking, but
something, some kind of force, drew her there.  Despite the glow that
remained with her after Magadan brought her.  home, Chela slept little
and went through the day restless and upset.  Being with Magadan had
been able to erase, for the space of several perfect hours, the meeting
with her father.

In the reality of day, Chela realized there were things that couldn't
be denied.  Last night, in Hidden Valley Orchard, she had touched base
with the past.  It was here that her father's roots remained.  Right
or-wrong, she had to learn how much of herself was there as well.

The orchard looked even better by day than it had at night.  The two
years during which Chela couldn't bring herself to come here had been
kind to the trees.  Although work still needed to be done, trimming and
the installation-of both an effective watering system and overhead
sprinklers resulted in trees that now bore enough fruit to rival
competitive orchards.

Whoever had taken over the orchard once her father's bankruptcy was
settled hadn't wasted time or money bringing the orchard back into the
mainstream of cultivation.  But that wasn't Chela's concern.  She
needed to know what it had been like when her father had owned the
orchard.  If the rumors of his total disregard for workers' rights and
welfare were as blatant as she believed.  If he had really been so
unfeeling as to ignore the health department's regulations regarding
water and sanitary facilities at the adjacent barrio.

It seemed impossible that the man, who was despite it all her father,
could have believed he could continue to fly in the face of authority,
refuse to pay his bills, cheat his employees.  Those rumors had grown
and persisted until they were accepted as fact; even Chela didn't try
to deny their validity.  What she needed to learn, if possible, was
why.

She hardly believed she'd find any workers who'd been here two years
ago, but maybe those who lived and worked here now carried the thread
of the story.  Maybe they knew how much the new owner had done, how
much damage he'd had to undo.

-Pedro Cruz, who was the foreman here but came to another orchard to
take English writing classes, might supply at least some of the
answers.  The sunbaked older Mexican had lived here as a legal for
enough years to understand the politics and power plays that took place
in the pear industry.  In fact Pedro had been here long enough to have
known Chela's mother.  His was the only name in authority she'd heard
connected with Hidden Valley Orchard.

Chela found Pedro working with a section of irrigation pipe near the
supply shed less than thirty feet from where she and Magadan had made
love last night.  The man's face threatened to crack into a thousand
fray splinters when Chela called out to him.

"I thought you said it was too far out here for you to drive," Pedro
said in his practiced English.  "Have you come here to dig ditches with
me?"

Chela laughed away Pedro's challenge.  She wanted to touch his dry,
leathery face to return natural oils to it, but to do so would take
away Pedro's character and the proof of how he earned his living.  "I
heard the orchard was back in production," she said casually.  "I came
to see for myself."

"Let me finish with this," Pedro said.  "I'll take you on the tour.  It
isn't what it was before."

Chela squatted beside Pedro and watched silently as he rethreaded
fittings on' the thick white plastic hose, his small, powerful hands
doing what she would have needed a wrench for.  As long as she'd been
coming to the orchards, she never grew tired of watching men giving
their days in service to trees and the fruit they bore.  "Is your son
going back to school in the fall?"  she asked.  "He has magic in his
hands like you do, but his brain-He asks questions I can't answer."

Pedro looked up at her.  His mouth cracked into a smile, but his eyes
were deep and serious.  "Pascual has a scholarship.  Can you believe
that?  My son took a computer course and now he has a scholarship."

"

Chela blinked rapidly and rose to her feet.  Pascual with his straight
back and questioning eyes wouldn't spend his life in the, orchards
Someone, probably his computer teacher, had discovered his quick
mind.

"Keep him in school, Pedro," she said, knowing she sounded like a
teacher.

"It's a promise he already made.  Come now.  I want to get this pipe
back in so we can water tonight.  Pascual is going to be an aide at the
high school's Spanish class.  You taught him English, and now he's
teaching Spanish to Anglos."

Chela walked beside Pedro, sharing his pride.  It was the same kind of
feeling she was starting to have for the orchard: ?  edro would never
know that her father had been responsible for Hidden Valley Orchard's
downfall.  She could nod at his enthusiasm for what was happening to it
now, share that with him.  Unless Kohl made good on his threat to
expose her.

Chela jerked away ~from the thought and concentrated on what Pedro was
telling her.  The orchard, which was one of the larger ones in the
valley, still hadn't come back up to full production, but rot had been
removed from the t~ees.  In the fall some of the older trees would be
removed to make room for new seedlings.

"It's costing thousands," Chela observed when Pedro was through
reconnecting the plastic pipe.  They stood and gazed down an endless
row, where in the distance a jackrabbit stared back at them.  "The new
owner must be a rich man."

"He doesn't say much about himself," Pedro explained "When he first
came, he didn't have much knowledge of orchards.  I thought that kind
of man would take over a business he knows nothing about only if he has
confidence in himself.  He learns fast.  He listens to what I tell him
about what needs to be done

Touch a H~iid Heurt and brings in biologists and people from the
extension service.  The man isn't like many orchardists.  " Pedro
turned away from the rabbit and faced her.  " He has great respect for
migrants.  He speaks their language.  He tore down the old housing and
put in cabins with running water and inside toilets.  He made the
health department very happy.  "

"Then he must he rich," Chela repeated.

Pedro smiled.  "You know what he tells me?  He says he was able to buy
the orchard for almost nothing he-cause of the bankruptcy.  He says he
was there to take advam~$e of Lou Dye's misfortune.  The land cost him
lit He That's why he can spend money on improvements."

A chill touched Chela.  Lou Dye--there was no escaping the name.  "Does
he say much about Lou, about why so many things went wrong when Lou Dye
was the orchardist?"

Pedro shook his head.  "Joe Magadan talks about today and tomorrow, not
yesterday."

For the space of a breath Chela thought she was going to scream.
Magadan!  The new owner was Magadan!

"Are--are you sure that's who it is?"  Chela asked stupidly.  Her legs,
arms, everything, turned numb.  "You know him?"  Pedro asked,

Chela nodded.  "Oh, yes, I know this Magadan.  Or I thought I did."

"There aren't many Anglos like him," Pedro was saying.  "He doesn't
make mistakes that the migrants pay for with lost wages.  He doesn't
call the immigration officers for a raid when it's time to pay his
workers.  He says he doesn't care whether a migrant is legal or
illegal, just whether he does his work and has a place to live."

Chela couldn't concentrate on what Pedro was telling her.  Magadan had
kept secrets from her.  This was it.  But why?

The answers weren't in the orchard.  She couldn't ask Pedro why a man,
her lover, wouldn't tell her what he did for a living.  There was only
one person who could tell her the truth.

Pedro must have wondered at Chela's sudden departure, but she was too
upset to find the words to explain away the glazed look in her eyes and
the trembling in her fingers.  She knew she shouldn't be driving, but
her need for answers was greater than her sense of caution.  She wanted
to get away.  from Hidden Valley Orchard, find Magadan.

And, now, she thought she knew where to find him.  So lVlagadan had
taken over her father's orchard.  He had probably taken over the grand
house in the east hills as well--that was why he'd never wanted her to
come there.

By the time Chela reached the house she hoped to never see again, she
was barely able to command enough strength to keep her foot on the gas
pedal.  She pulled off to the side of the street and got out, aware of
the contrast her battered, dusty Jeep made with the expensive cars
parked behind shrub and fence-lined property lines.  She could have
pulled into the driveway herself, but because she'd never wanted to
claim the two-story, shake-roofed house with its swimming pool and
sauna, she didn't.

Although there was no sign of life from the house and Magadan's pickup
wasn't in the driveway, she waa sure this was where she'd find him.  He
now owned her father's orchard.  A businessman would see the advantage
of taking over the house involved in the ruptcy scandal at the same
time.

Chela walked along the brick Walk until she the step leading to the
front door.  The house rose above her like some monster.  She took a
deep breath that came out sounding too much like a moan reached for the
doorbell.  The chimes echoed out the interior, mocking her.  "No one
home.  You'll have to wait."

Chela turned around and sat on the locked around her upper body,
Sweating from cold within.  Magadan might not be home but she'd wait.
She had no choice.

In the silence that exists in a with acreage and well-tended trees and
hedges ing the houses from each other, Chela tried to come grips with
the ramifications of what Pedro had Thoro could be many, reasons why
Magadan want her to know where he lived or what he did living.  Keeping
this from her might of decreasing the distance between them or her into
believing that they didn't live in worlds.

It was also possible that in the process

Lou Dyo's holdings, Magadan had learned

Lou that no one except Kohl knew.  A sudden chill through Chela.  Did
Magadan know who her.  was?

For two hours Chela's brain pounded with answered questions.  No matter
which direction her tortured mind turned, there were too many questions
and not enough answers.  That was why she sat, unmoving, as the shadows
stretched first across the lawn and then up the walk to touch her legs.
If Magadan knew Lou was her father, then he must know how much she
hated that fact.  Perhaps he was holding his knowledge in reserve to
use against her should his lips and arms and body no longer be enough
to get hot' to do what he wanted.

Chola didn't want to believe that.  Anything but that.  She didn't move
when she heard the pickup pull into the driveway.  Magadan, with his
probing eyes and masterful hands that were teaching her what it felt
like to be a woman, was coming toward her: He seemed to be walking
slower than usual.

Finally; when she felt his eyes on her, she looked up, arms still
wrapped around her bent knees.  Her hair had fallen down around her
face.  As she lifted her head, her hair clung to her cheeks and
collarbone.  "I've been waiting for you, Magadan," she said in a voice
so lifeless she didn't recognize it.

"I see that.  Do you want to come in?"

Chela rose.  At least he wasn't lying, trying to tell her that this
wasn't his home.  "Yes."

She waited.  while he unlocked the front door and then stepped in ahead
of him.  He didn't touch her, which saved her, She had no idea what
would happen if.  he'd tried to kiss her.  The door opened into a tiled
entryway devoid of any furnishings.  It wasn't until they'd reached
what Chela took to be the living room that she saw any wall
decorations.  Despite her numb

u8state Chela was able to make out twin paintings of antique cars in
thin silver frames.  The paintings were lit He more than stark outlines
without warmth or person at ity.  They were, she supposed, expensive
but a mystery to Chela. She questioned why a man would want dark
sketches of a metal machine when he could afford something with
vitality in it, Were they Magadan's or had her father left them
behind?

She asked the same questions about the glass-topped coffee table, the
chocolate velvet couch and matching chairs, the thick, rich carpet
beneath her dusty tennis shoes.  She wondered how much of her father
was still here.

"Can I get you anything to drink, eat?"  Magadan -asked.  She turned to
see him standing to the side and 'behind her, his hands hanging at his
sides.  He looked defeated.

Although she was thirsty, she shook her head.  She didn't want to be
beholden to Magadan for anything until he'd been honest with her.  She
forced a sudden film away from her eyes and located a hardwood end
table near the couch.  Chela brushed aside the magazines and perched on
it.  The couch was too expensive for her dirty work clothes.

Chela waited for Magadan to sit on the couch.  He was wearing the same
boots and jeans she'd seen him in once before.  Why hadn't the pieces
started to come together then?  Magadan had said he wore many costumes
in his life.  The most telling was the one that said he was at home in
an orchard.

"How many orchards do you own?"  she asked.  "Three.  As of this week.
Chela, what's going on?"

Chela lifted her hand in a gesture designed to ward him off.  "Not now,
Magadan," she said coldly.  "Now I'm asking the questions.  Why didn't
you tell me you own Hidden Valley Orchard?"

"How did you find out?"  His eyes were on hers, but their outward calm
was being given away by the stiff manner in which he held his body.

"Don't ask me questions."  She took a deep breath.  "You've had your
secrets long enough~ Why didn't you tell me?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"You never gave me a chance!"  she shot at him.  "You never trusted me
enough totelllme the truth.  I went there today, to where we made love
last night."  Her voice dropped to a near whisper.  "I'm not sure why I
was drawn there.  Now I wish to God I hadn't."

"Whom did you talk to?"

She allowed him that question2 From another room she could hear a large
clock ticking.  She wanted to talk to cover up the hollow sound in the
otherwise silent house.  Briefly she told him about meeting his
foreman.  "At least you did that right," she spat angrily.  "Pedro is a
loyal man, He loves growing things and he has a quick mind."

"He also has a big mouth!  I told him I had to keep a low profile, that
no one was to know who bought the orchard.  No," Magadan relented when
she started to interrupt, "I don't blame Pedro..  He had no idea what
he was revealing.  What did he tell you?"

"Why should I tell yo/~ that, Magadan ?  You wouldn't tell me
anything."  Chela tried to clamp a lid over her emotions, but it was
too late.  "He told me that the new owner of the orchard Lou Dye left
behind was one Joe Magadan.  You have his orchard and his fine house.
That's why you didn't want 'me to know where you lived."

Magadan sighed and leaned forward.  For a long minute his eyes bore
into hers as if searching for something he hadn't found.  "It's an
orchardist's house.  I know how you feel about orchardists."

"Oh, yes, the mighty orchardists!  They take and take and give nothing
in return.  Your workers live in cabins while you live in this fine
house.  I have to sit on the ground with them in the middle of a summer
afternoon to give them an education because you and your kind expect
them to be nothing more than a means to a greedy end."  ~

"That isn't true, Chela," Magadan countered.  "You know that.  If you
talked to Pedro, then you must know what I've been doing out there."

"It isn't enough!"  Chela wasn't going to bend beneath Magadan's anger.
Her own fury, spurred on by pain, matched everything he could throw at
her.  "Pedro," your foreman, still can't write an English letter.  He
has to come to me for that.  " She lifted her lips in a cruel smile.  "
At least Pedro's son has escaped you.  He won't die in the orchards.
"

Magadan was on his feet, looming Over her.  "People don't die in the
orchards."

"My mother did."

Her words seemed to stop him.  He stared at her as if struck.  "That
was a long time ago, Chela," he said softly.

"I haven't forgotten,."  she said just as softly.

Magadan took a backward step.  "What do you want out of me ?"

"The truth.  Or maybe that's too much to ask."  Chela had to dig her
nails into her palms to keep her body still.  Having Magadan that close
was nearly her undoing.  No matter what fury raged through her, she
still wanted, needed, this man.  The end to what they'd begun was
agony.  "How much did yOU have to pay for Lou Dye's orchard, and for
this house?  Did you know his empire was falling down around him?  Were
you there waiting to attack, a coyote closing in for the kill?"

Magadan seemed to recoil from her accusation.  ~"Does it look like that
to you, Chela?"

"It doesn't matter," She shrugged.  "This house costs more than I'll
make in a lifetime.  Do you like living here, Magadan?  Do you like
being able to come home to this evidence of your power?"

"It's a place to live.  Nothing else.  Chela, I haven't had time to
think about that.  I became owner of Hidden Valley Orchard not that
long ago.  So much had to be done there.  Then, there was another
orchard, and last week I closed a deal on my third.  That--and seeing
you--is all there's been time for."

"Not anymore, Magadan," she managed, despite the agony his words caused
her.  "From now on you'll.  have all the time you need to increase your
empire.  Is this a game?  Are you trying to see how many orchards you
can take over?"  She knew she should stop attacking the man, but she
hurt and wanted to inflict pain in return.  "You say you hate coyotes
like Kohl, but aren't you one yourself?  You prey on the weakness of
other men, wait until you've found theft vulnerability, and close in
for the kill."

"Is that what you believe?"

The pain in Magadan's voice almost stopped her, but she struggled on.
"Why shouldn't I?  Haven't I been one of your victims?"

"You'll never be a victim, Chela," he interrupted.  "Don't tell me what
I am!"  she shouted, because shouts were better than tears.  "Don't
forget, I've watched you in action.  You came after me and after me,
got through to me because you knew how I felt about Kohl.  You knew
there was danger in your plan, but you kept on with it anyway.  And
when you sensed I might take the bait, you brought me around by taking
advantage of something else."

For once Magadan didn't speak.  He was still standing over her, but he
hadn't moved in several minutes.

"You were afraid I'd back out, leave you to deal with Kohl on your own,
so you found my most vulnerable point."  Chela took a ragged breath and
fought the tears that were making her eyes glisten.  "You knew I was
lonely.  Like a coyote you sensed my weakness.  You offered your body
as bait."

"It wasn't like that.  It was never like that!"

"Don't lie to me anymore, Magadan!"  Chela fairly screamed as she
surged off her perch on the end table.  "You lied about this house,
about the Hidden Valley

Orchard.  Why should I believe anything you say?  " " Our bodies didn't
lie to each other.  "

Chela whirled away from the truth of Magadan's words.  She was too
confused, too hurt to be able to deal with what he was saying.  Maybe
their lovemaking had been good, but that was the work of two bodies,
not two minds.  The crucial question still hadn't been answered.  Did
he know Lou Dye was her father?  Did he think she condoned anything he
did?  Maybe he did and that was how he was able to justify what he was
doing to her.

"I don't blame you for wanting to live here, Maga-dan," she said in a
voice as cold as death.  "Who wouldn't rather live here than in a
little house with wooden floors and an ancient bathtub.  No wonder you
didn't want to share this with me.  I belong in my little house, not
this mansion.  Forgive me for not understanding.  You didn't tell me
you were an orchardist because I'm not good enough to share your
life-style.  I was good enough to make love to in an orchard but not in
your bed."

"Don't say that, Chela."

"Why not?  It's the truth, isn't it?"  she mocked.  "Anyone would want
this grand house."  That was a lie, she admitted.  It was the last
thing she'd ever want.  "But it's too good for the dirty little Mexican
girl you've been playing with."

"Don't say that!"  This time Magadan reinforced his order by grabbing
her and holding her so she couldn't escape.  "You're not a dirty little
Mexican girl.  You were never that."

"Then what am I?"  she asked, tense and trembling in his grip.

Magadan answered by pulling her hard against him and sealing her lips
with his own.  He bent her backward and held her arms tight against her
side until keeping her balance~ was all Chela had the strength for.

Despite herself, despite pain and rage, Chela needed to feel his lips
against hers.  She closed her eyes, desperately trying to block out the
words that had been spoken here this afternoon.  If only they could go
back to those first gentle days when she was learning what it meant to
be a woman!

Maybe, for one last minute, she could.  Chela stopped struggling and
let Magadan support her.  It didn't matter if he took her response for
surrender.  Nothing mattered but those precious, desperate moments
when' she was aware of nothing but his lips turning from punishment to
pleasure on her mouth.  His hands still held her arms, but his fingers
no longer dug into her tanned, naked flesh.  He was strength and warmth
and life, everything she'd wanted him to be.

Magadan, I love you!  Despite it all, I still love you!  Tears stung
Chela's eyes and started pounding a path to her brain.  As her headache
came to life, she clung even more desperately to this last unreasoning
moment with Magadan.  He was a secret, private man who didn't trust her
enough.  He was also her lifeline.

"Don't go, Chela," he whispered.  "We can talk it out."

His words ruined the mood.  Chela swam back to reality.  "About what?
It's all been said."

"No it hasn't.  I don't want you to hate me?"

How can I hate you?  Chela cried silently.  I'm a million miles from
that.  All I feel is pain.  "You aren't what I thought you were," she
said as he was placing her back on her feet.  "That's enough."

"No it isn't."  He still hadn't let go of her.  "All right.  Maybe I
should have told you, but"

"It's too late for that."  She struggled briefly, wanting nothing more
than to escape this house, this man.  "It's too late for anything."

"I don't believe that.  Chela, what about Kohl?"

"I almost forgot," she laughed harshly, her words rasping her aching
throat.  "We still have an-agreement, a contract.  There's Kohl to
bring to justice.  Tell me again.  Why do you want to put an end to
him?"

"He's a coyote."

"Like you!"  Chela's fury was back full strength.  "You have your
magnificent new den," she taunted, whipping her eyos around the room
because she couldn't move her hands.  "Maybe that's it, Magadan.  Maybe
Kohl's in competition with you, and you want him out of the way."

"That's insane!  Will you listen to reason?"

"I was willing to listen to reason, and the truth, earlier.  It's 'too
late for that now."

Magadan released her and stepped back.  His face seemed to have aged.
"It can't be too late."

Because she couldn't stand to look at his face, Chela turned away.
"Don't worry about that," she said dully.  "I made a promise to bring
Kohl to justice..I'm not going to go back on my word."

Magadan touched her cheek briefly.  "That wasn't what I was talking
about."

"I know," Chela whispered and started to grope her way toward the door.
She still didn't have the answer she'd come for, but it no longer
mattered.  Maybe Magadan knew Lou Dye was her father, maybe he didn't.
She knew that her life was falling in ruin around her and that was all
she had the strength for.

Chela reached the door and had started to turn the knob before Magadan
stopped her.  "Don't go," he said softly.  "We've both said things we
regret," "

Chela kept her hack to him; she didn't dare turn around.  "At least we
agree on that.  It's sad that's the only honest thing that's been
said."  She wondered if her words hurt him.  They couldn't possibly
tear him apart as-much as they were ruining her.  "I don't ever want to
see you.  again," she said: "Do you understand?"

He grabbed her arm and pulled her hack around until she had no choice
but to show him her wounded eyes.  "No, I don't understand that!"  he
raged.  "And I'm not going to live by that insane rule.  Chela, we have
to talk."

Oh, yes, of course.  She'd almost forgotten.  "Kohl will be getting in
touch with me in a week," ~ she pointed out, keeping her voice
emotionless.  "We'll talk then."

"No!"  He shook her angrily.

"Let me go!  You're hurting me!"

Magadan stopped.  He backed away from her, his face contorted.  "Tm
sorry.  I didn't mean to.  But, damn it~ Kohl isn't what I want to talk
about."

Chela could only shake her head.  She'd done enough talking--and
yelling--to-last a life time "Not today."  She turned hack toward the
door.  "Not ever.," she whispered.

This time Magadan let her go.  She could hear him breathing even after
'she'd closed the door between them.  The sound of his breath was fresh
torture to an already tortured mind.

Why had she wanted to hurt him so much?  Whether or not she'd succeeded
wasn't the issue.  She'd been wrong, cruel, to call him a coyote.
Magadan was so far removed from what Kohl was that even in her worst
moments she didn't believe that.

But the words had been said; there was no taking them back.  Magadan
had kept certain things, vital things, from her.  That hurt.  In turn
she'd been determined to hurt him.

But what made the pain in her head almost blinding 'was the simple fact
that she'd been hurt far more than he could ever be.

Chapter Eleven

On Monday Chela boxed up the peach dress and placed it on Magadan's
doorstep.  When she got home from work the next day, the package was on
her doorstep.  There was a short note attached to it.  "It's yours.
It'll always be yours."

Chela removed the dress from its box and held it up to 'her.  Fumbling,
she unlocked her door and stumbled inside.  She'd lived in a kind of
mental and emotional vacuum for two days, but the sight of Magadan's
handwriting brought it.  all back.  There was no fighting the memories
that went with the dress and what happened after Magadan took it off
her in a dark orchard.  If only she could go back to that innocent
time!

Chela held the dress at arm's length for a long moment and then started
to hang it up.  babies and children.  What she'd been from the moment
Magadan entered her life was a fool.  Only a fool would be content with
the veil of secrecy Magadan wrapped around himself.  If she hadn't been
dangerously close to tears she would have laughed at the memory of what
she'd been.  Yes, she'd been cautious at first, but not cautious
enough.  What had happened to the instinct that kept her lonely but
separate all her life?  That was the one essential lesson her mother
had tried to teach her before she died.  Her true heritage was Mexican.
It was insane for her to think she could find happiness with an
Anglo.

No more!  Chela turned away from the dress hanging limp in her closet.
Too many hurting words had been said in Magadan's house the other day.
What was almost a joke was that she no longer cared whether Magadan
knew who her father was.  The chasm that existed between her and
Magadan now was too great.  It didn't matter whether either of them
could see across it.

You ?  e Mexican, Chela told herself.  This is where you belong.  Let
Magadan and his kind have their grand homes and.  vast orchards.  Her
life was as a migrant teacher, nothing more.

No.  That wasn't strictly true.  She would have to deal with Magadan
until this business with Kohl was over.  It was funny in a sad sort of
way, but right now Chela didn't care whether Kohl fell into their trap
or not.  Bringing him to the end of his evil career meant she would
have to be clever and determined.  Tonight Chela felt neither.  She
felt empty, wounded, in love, and hating herself for still being in
love.

Chela still felt the same way after cleansing herself of the day's dirt
and wandering aimlessly through the kitchen for a dinner her body but
not her spirit needed.  Chela turned on the ~'v and stared listlessly
at it until canned laughter forced her to turn it off.  She switched to
an FM radio station and tried to lose herself in the music.  But it
only made her feel like crying.

Chela was almost relieved to hear the knock on her front door.  She
knew by the sound that it was Maga-dan's hand, but maybe talking to him
was better than having her head fill to bursting with unspent. tears.

"We need to talk," he said before the door was fully open.

Chela nodded and stepped back.  He was hack in his more usual costume
of slacks and knit pullover shirt, but he seemed- to have lost some of
his usual bounce.  Chela didn't dare think about that; instead she
closed the door.  "What do you want to talk about?"  she challenged.

"Aren't you going to invite ~ne to sit down?"

"You didn't ask me to sit when I came to see you.  I wasn't clean
'~enough for your furnishings, was I?"  she asked bitterly.

Magadan shook his head like a weary bulldog after a battle and sank
into his accustomed seat.  "Those aren't my furnishings.  They belonged
to Lou Dye.  I haven't had time to do anything with them.  You can have
them."

"How nice.  They aren't anything but castaways, are they?  Why not give
them to the dirty little Mexican girl?"

"Will you stop that!  God!  Why didn't I tell you?  Why didn't I take
my chances then?"

Chela slid into her recliner.  But she didn't tuck her feet up under
her.  She wanted to be able to scurry away should Magadan try to touch
her.  "Would it have made a difference?"  she asked.

"Probably."  Magadan reached into his pocket and pulled out a hefty
envelope.  "I might not be giving you this if I had."

Chela looked at' the envelope as he placed it on her coffee table.
"Kohl isn,t supposed to be getting in touch with me yet," she pointed
out, clinging to the hope that their conversation could remain
impersonal.

Magadan frowned and ran his fingers through his hair.  "I tried to get
in touch with Ortez this morning.  He isn't there.  I think he's on his
way here with Kohl."

"Oh, so soon."  Chela frowned at the trepidation in her voice.

Magadan leaned forward, studying her.  "Have you changed your mind?
Maybe you want out of this."

"Don't you think it's a little late for that?"  she laughed bitterly.
"You must know what he would do if I didn't have his money ready for
him."

"TII kill him if he touches you."  Magadan's eyes glowed fiery lights
for several heartbeats before relenting.  "Look, you're going to have
to be very careful.  There's no telling what Kohl might do if he smells
something."

"He already has, Magadan."  Chela hug bed her bitter laugh again,
thinking of her father's alliance with the coyote and their threat to
expose Lou as her father.  "What do you mean?"

It didn't matter anymore, Chela told herself.  There was nothing left
to try to salvage between her and Magadan.  "I mean, Kohl thinks he's
done what he needs to to protect himself from me.  He doesn't need to
resort to violence.  Kohl has no reason to doubt that he'll get his
money from me."  She nodded at the envelope.  "All I have to do is hand
it over to him."

"Unless he asks for more."

That was a possibility Chela was well aware of.  "Then we'll give him
more.  After all, you're a rich man," she mocked.  "You can come up
with whatever amount he asks for.  I just hope you're as good at
bringing him to justice as you' are at providing money."

"You can't forget it, can you, Chela?"  Magadan asked, the challenge in
his voice laced with sadness.  "Is it such a crime to be rich?"

"I never said it was a crime.  Forget it, Magadan.  We have nothing to
talk about."  Chela hated the vindictiveness in her voice, but it was
the only defense against pain she'd been able to find.

Magadan shook his head.  "You're wrong about that.  There's one more
detail we have to work out.  The method of communication between us
when Kohl gets in touch with you.  I want to be there when that hap

" W9

Ho .  I'm not going to let you stay here.  Don't even suggest it.  "

"I know, you've made that very clear.  But there has to be a signal,
some way of letting me know when Kohl contacts you."

"I'll call you."

"Not good enough.  I don't want you alone here with him."

Chela knew she wouldn't be alone.  Her father would be there, too.
"Whateverhappens I can handle it," Chela snapped bitterly.  "You're not
talking to one of your laborers, Magadan.  Don't try to order me
around.  I've always been able to take care of myself."

"Maybe it's time that changed.  Chela, I'm not going to walk out
that-door and leave you to face this alone.  I don't care what you
want.  I'm getting in touch with the police, have them keep an eye on
you."

"Why?  So they can spy on me?"

"Will you stop that!  So they can protect you.  Look."  Magadan
fastened his.  eyes on her, the fire she'd seen before, glowing deep in
the dark depths.  "You need someone on your side.  If you won't have
me, then it'll have to be the police."

Chela shrugged, wanting to say things that would hurt him.  "Go ahead.
Everything we've done has been your way, on your terms.  Why should it
change now?"

"That's right."  Magadan got to his feet, his eyes boring a hole
through her.  "Why should things change now?  They're going to go my
way.  And when this is over, you and I are going to talk and not stop
talking until we have everything straightened out."

"I don't think so, Magadan," Chela retorted with equal determination.
"You can't always have the upper hand.  The.,re's a limit to your power
whether you want to admit it or not.  I have to deal with you until
Kohl is brought to justice.  After that ?  After that we have nothing
in common."

"Nothing?"  Before she could draw away Magadan took her hand.  He drew
her hand up to his chest and placed her palm against the exposure of
flesh above the opening in his shirt, "Don't.  try to lie to yourself,
Chela: We shared something once.  You can't deny that."

"Can't I?"  She tried to pull away, denying her fingers the pleasure of
feeling his flesh, "It was all a game with you.  You wanted to see if
you could fool the ignorant woman from the orchards.  Maybe I was doing
the same.  Maybe I never felt anything for you."

"If I believed that, I wouldn't fight for you."  Maga dan brought her
hand to his mouth, kissed it.  "We'll never know if there's anything to
salvage if we don't try "

Magadan left then, left his words to echo in the room.  Chela's mind
was filled with confusion.  She had thrown enough hateful words at him
to make him regret the day they'd met.  What could possibly possess him
to talk to a woman who wanted nothing to do with him?  That's what she
wanted--wasn't it?  " She wanted to forget his existence.  Then why was
she crying?

The pain of tears filling her already pounding head was what forced
Chela to fight for self-control.  She was already half blinded from the
headache that hadn't stopped since she confronted Magadan the other
day.  Her head couldn't stand any more.  Slowly Chela pulled herself.
into a sitting position and took a deep, shuddering breath.  Tears
weren't for independent women proud of their heritage.  They were for
weak children who leaned too much on others and depended not enough on
themselves.

"Tears, ChelaT'.

Chela strangled a scream and whirled around.  Standing in the doorway
to her bedroom was her father~ "What are you-- Get out of here!"

Lou Dye folded his arms across his chest.  His arms found a resting
spot on his belly.  "I don't think so.  I've been waiting down the
road, watching you for two days.  Now it's going to pay off."

For two days!  How much did he know?  "Why were you spying on me?"
Chela managed as she fought to pull her senses together.  "Did Kohl
tell you to do that?"

' "It's a good thing he did.  Can you blame him for not trusting you,
daughter?"

Chela rocked to her feet, her hands bailing into fists.  "Don't call me
your daughter!  It's too late for that."

"What I call you isn't going to change reality, Chela.  Maybe it's
something neither of us has been eager to acknowledge, but it is
reality."

"It doesn't have anything to do with today.  What are you doing here?"
Her father looked older than she remembered.  The power and arrogance
she remembered from a few years ago when she watched him from afar
seemed to have slipped.  Perhaps bankruptcy had really destroyed him.
"What do you want?"

"Answers."  Lou came into the room and closed the door behind him,
"What was Joe Magadan doing here?"

So he had seen Magadan, Chela acknowledged.  "What do you care?"

"Because that man mined me.  He lives in my house now.  He's taken what
should be mine."

"You lost everything on your own.  Your greed caught up with you,"
Chela snapped hack.  The thought that her father had closed her in the
bedroom bothered Chela, but she wasn't going to order him out, not
until she'd learned more.  "Don't blame anyone else."

"Is that what Magadan told you?  That he was there simply to pick up
the pieces, take advantage of my misfortune?  Don't believe him." Lou's
mouth tightened.

"The man will lie about anything, anytime."

"I don't believe you."

"Believe me, daughter."  Lou's eyes actually met hers for a moment.  "I
can understand the power a man

209'

like Magadan could wield over a woman like you.  He has an intensity
some people have mistaken for compassion.  But watch him, Chela.  He'll
bleed you and leave you the way he left me.  "

Chela clamped her hands over her ears.  "What are you talking about? He
isn't like that."  She couldn't decide why she was defending him. Her
father was simply rap eating accusations she'd just finished throwing
at Magadan herself.

"What do you know?  What do you know about deceit and lies?"  Lou
folded his hands and leaned against the door.  "where do you think I
got money for certain loans?  From Joe Magadan the businessman.  And
when I began to have losses, when the orchard failed for two years in a
row and I had no, thing to send to the canneries, who do you think
demanded his money hack?  Magadan wanted to see me ruined, Joe Magadan
wanted all I owned for himself."

"You're lying."  Chela's hands over her ears weren't enough.  She could
hear everything her father was telling her.  "Magadar~.  isn't like
that."

"Maybe not in bed, but he's a ruthless businessman.  He ruined me,
Chela: He's responsible for the bankruptcy.  I'd still have the orchard
if he hadn't come after me.  Put your trust in him, and he'll ruin you,
too.  I--I begged for the time to get back on my feet.  I could have
gotten another loan so I could improve the orchard, but Magadan saw to
it that no one would give me a penny."

Chela refused to think about that, Why should she believe anything her
father told her?  They had never spent an honest moment together.
"Don't talk to me about lies," she spat.  "You lied to yo/~r workers.
You gave them empty promises instead of paychecks.  It caught up with
you.  That's why you lost everything.

I've never spent a moment feeling sorry for you.  " " Why was Magadan
here today?  "

Chela blinked.  She wasn't ready for the quick switch in conversation.
Of course, she couldn't tell her father the truth.  He'd tell Kohl and
the coyote would bury himself before the law could touch him.  Besides,
Ortez was with him; that would place Ortez's life in jeopardy.  Chela
took a calming breath and thought quickly.  "Magadan came to tell me I
could have some of the furnishings in the house.  He said he had no use
for them, and Lou's daughter might as well use them."

"Liar!"  Lou pushed himself away from the door and brought himself
inches away from her.  "You're lying to me, Chela,"

"I'm not."

"Shut up!"  Lou's right hand snaked out and caught Chela on the face.
The unexpected blow caused her to lose her balance, and she fell back
on the bed.  "I want the truth!"  Lou screamed.

Chela simply gaped at the man standing over her.  Her father had
slapped her!  The disgust she'd felt for him all those years was a
distant thing, nebulous bo-cause she never actually came in contact
with the man.  Now he'd struck her, and all she could think of was the
fide of hatred surging through her.

"Let me tell you something, Chela," Lou said when it was clear she was
going to remain silent.  "Magadan wouldn't be offering you any
furnishings because unless you told him, he doesn't know you're my
daughter.  I never told anyone."

He'd never acknowledged her to a soul.  What did it matter?  Chela
wanted nothing from the man.  "He found out," she saidin a whisper that
lacked the ring of

"You're lying to me."  Lou grabbe~ a length of jet hair and hauled
Chela into a sitting position.  "There's no way anyone could know we're
related.  I think maybe that's the only thing we ever saw eye to eye
on.  Now, what was he doing here?"

Chela's mind whirled frantically within the confines of the trap she'd
placed herself in.  Magadan didn't know!  She scrambled for something
to say to her father.

"The money I have for Kohl," she stammered.  "It came from Joe Magadan.
He--he was taking his payment."

Lou's features underwent a slow but complete transformation.  It went
from challenging to a look of understanding and--was it resignation?
"Why would you go to Magadan for money?"  he asked, freeing her hair.

Chela was ready for him.  "Who else has that kind of money?"  Her head
ached where he pulled her hair, and she could feel her cheek stinging,
but she refused to touch those spots.  "I was desperate.  I went to
him.  He took what I had to offer in the way of payment."

She thought she saw a hint of doubt in Lou's eyes.  So you've become
Magadan's lover?  He paid for your services?  "

Chela recoiled from the trap she'd placed herself in,

but there was no backing down now.  She had to protect her true
alliance with Magadan.  Telling the truth now would endanger Ortez's
life.  "Magadan doesn't have to 'pay for any woman's services," Chela
said, not understanding why she should be defending the man.  "I was
the one who came to him.  What else was I going to do?"  She dropped
her eyes in a gesture she hoped sig-pitied both embarrassment and
defeat.

"Did you know Magadan had ruined me?"

"No!"  Chela spat.  "How could I?  I've never been privy to your
dealings.- I knew you'd declared bankruptcy, but I knew nothing of the:
reasons."  That was only partly the truth.  She would' have to be both
deaf and blind not to know that Lou Dye was leaving an increasing pile
of unpaid debts in his wake.  Long before his downfall, she'd expected
he'd be exposed.

"That's the way Magadan operates," Lou pointed out.  "He does
everything under cover of darkness.  And now you're caught in his trap.
So we have something in common after all, don't we, Chela?"

Her heart denied the accusation, but she kept that emotion to horse fl
"Are you going to tell Kohl?"  The question was a dangerous one to ask,
but she had no choice.  Her father'sanswer was essential to the success
of the plan to trap the coyote.

Her father appeared to be pondering the question.  He stopped backward
until he was once again resting his back against the closed bedroom
door.  Chela remained seated on her bed.  She was afraid her legs had
lost the strength to hold her.  Finally Lou broke the silence.  ~"Not
now.  I've fulfilled my obligation to Kohl.  Why should-I help him any
more than I have?"

"Thank you," Chela muttered.

"Don't thank me.  I'm not doing this out of any feelings for you.  I'll
never see any of the money you're going to pass on to Kohl.  Why should
I tell him anything."

Chela was confused Then why did you come here with him?  Why did you
threaten me with exposure?  "

In the space of five seconds, Lou's face seemed to age five years.  "I
have my reasons.  Don't cross Kohl.  He can destroy you, just as
Magadan destroyed me."

Lou turned, opened the bedroom door, and disap-peare~L~ Chela waited
until she heard the outer door close and then scrambled to lock it. She
leaned her hot cheek 'against the solid wood, trembling from the
aftereffects of her first true conversation with her father.  He wasn't
going to tell Kohl that Magadan was involved.  That should have filled
her with relief, but relief was tempered by some of the other things
Lou had said to her.

Not for a moment did Chela believe her father was a helpless pawn
trapped by Magadan's greed.  Lou had courted his own downfall by
cheating his workers and reneging on his contract with the packing
house.  He hadn't kept up his mortgage and loan payments with several
banks.  When Lou's little empire came crashing down around him, he had
no one to.  blame but himself.

There was another consideration.  It was possible that Magadan had been
waiting in the wings, that he had seen Lou Dye teetering at the edge
and provided that fatal push.  Lou had said he owed Magadan money.  It
was possible that Magadan had refused to wait for payment and that was
what had caused the final collapse.

And if that was the way Magadan operated his business life, maybe it'
carried over to his personal life as well.  Magadan had a deep
animosity toward Kohl.  For reasons Chela had never fully understood,
M~adan wanted the coyote put out of business.  Maybe Chela was truly no
more than a means to an end.

She didn't want to believe that.  God, anything but that!  But there
was no denying the facts.  She had tried several times to tell him she
wanted nothing to do with him, but Magadan had kept after her, trading
on her sense of outrage of what Kohl stood for, and then cementing
their alliance by the promise of something that had been missing from
her life.

Chela pushed' her weary body away from the door and stumbled into the
bathroom.  She tried to focus on her swollen cheek, but the pain her
father had inflicted was nothing compared to the pain her heart felt.

Secrets!  Magadan had had so damn many secrets!  She had only one.  She
refused to acknowledge her father's existence.  Was it possible Lou was
right, that Magadan didn't know who her father was?

It didn't matter.  Magadan had thrown a net over her without having to
use her father.  He'd offered her warmth and belonging, he'd offered
her his body; she'd accepted it all too willingly.  Magadan had very
nearly gotten away with his deception.  If Chela hadn't found out who
he was, she might at this moment be lying next to him.

Even the truth hadn't changed things.  Chela was still committed to the
pact she'd made with Magadan.  She doubted he'd care that she'd agreed
to meet with Kohl, not because she wanted to work hand in glove with

Mugarian, but because the safety of a young Mexican was at stake.  For
that, bringing Kohl to his knees was worth any cost to her.

Chela would land on her feet.  " She'd gone through life alone.  She
knew how to do that simple thing.  She had no further need for Joe
Mugarian.

Then why were tears blurring her reflection in the mirror?

For the next five days Chela drove herself at a killing pace.  She
doubled her efforts in the orchards to make sure that the new workers
coming ,in for the harvest season knew of the migrant services in the
valley.  She met several new families.  and accompanied them to the
schools so their children would be registered.  It bothered her to know
that these Children would probably move on once the harvest had been
completed, but at least they were assured of a few months of education
here.  A reporter from the local newspaper came out to interview her,
and Chela spent extra time making sure the reporter was aware that
migrant education went on both inside and outside the classrooms.  She
even convinced the reporter to let her add several paragraphs in
Spanishin the hopes the a~icle would reach migrants she didn't know
about.

~ The work filled Chela's days, and soccer games filled two more
evenings, but there was still too much time left for her to be alone in
her house.  She longed to slfim the door behind her, climb into her
Jeep, and drive until she ran out of gas, but she couldn't.  She had no
idea when Kohl would try to get in touch with her; she had to be
accessible to him.

Magadan didn't get in touch with her during that time, but once, near
the start of one of the soccer games, she knew she felt his eyes on
her.  She didn't want to look around for him, didn't want to give him
that satisfaction, but her heart ruled.  Chela shaded her eyes against
the setting sun and swept her eyes over the boundaries of the city
park.  It might have been he under a tree near the parking lot, but
Chela would never be sure.

So, Magadan had made good on his promise to give her protection, Chela
realized one evening when she saw a dark car parked down the road from
her house.  She tried to tell herself that that was simply a safety
precaution a shrewd businessman would take, but her heart' continued to
hope he was thinking of her and not Kohl,s capture when he arranged for
a surveillance.

Chela was sleeping restlessly on Friday night.  No' matter how hard she
drove herself during the day, she was unable to sleep through the night
without reaching out for something, someone, next to her.  When the
4:00 A. M. phone call came, she was almost grateful to be taken from
her dream.  She groped for the phone near her bed and propped herself
up on one elbow.

"You have a half hour to get here with the money," the disembodied
voice said.  "If you want to see him, I'll expect you at the city park,
near the parking lot."

That was it.  Kohl hung up before Chela could speak.  She swung out of
bed and snapped on the lamp next to the telephone.  For an instant she
stared at the phone.  It was the middle of the night, and she was going
to see Kohl--alone.

She wasn't sure why that should terrify her, that was how she'd
envisioned 'it from the beginning.  Chela shook her head angrily and
quickly threw on an old shirt, an equally old pair of jeans, and
slipped her feet into tennis shoes.  She tied the laces carefully: If
she had to run, she didn't want them tripping her up.  She pocketed the
money Magadan had given her and stepped outside.  It wasn't until she'd
reached her Jeep that she realized there was no sign of the car that
had been parked on the road for the past few days.  Wasn't anyone going
to follow her to the park where children played soccer by day and
coyotes dealt in human lives by night?

Chela ran back inside and dialed Magadan's number'.  The phone rang
hollowly at least ten times before she gave up.  Where was he at this
hour?  Chela slammed the receiver back down.  "Damn you, Magadan!  I
don't need you!"  she hissed at the instrument and hurried back
outside.

The night was cool for August, but Chela was sweating instead of
shivering as she forced herself to drive within the speed limit.  As
she drove, she tried to rehearse what she was going to say.  Ortez's
safety had to be the first consideration.  She had to plan her words
carefully, do or say nothing that would cause Kohl to be any more
suspicious than he already was.  It was Or-tez's testimony that would
guarantee the success of the case.  If Ortez had indeed been spirited
here under cover of darkness, slipped across the border by Kohl, he
would be exposed as a coyote.  Nothing could go wrong now.  She--and
Magadan--had invested too much in this.

Why weren't the police where Magadan said they'd be?  True, the case
could be built against Kohl at any time, but how much more solid the
evidence would be if he was picked up tonight while the transaction was
actually taking place.  That was supposed to be Maga-dan's department.
Chela only had to play the role of a love-struck woman willing to hock
her soul to have an illegal Mexican brought to her by Kohl.

If she hadn't been so tense, Chela would have laughed at the idea of
her having to pretend great love for a man she'd never met.  She could
only hope Ortez was an accomplished actor.

The park, which seemed friendly and filled with life when a soccer game
was being played, had turned into a sinister, empty stretch of grass
and trees.  As she neared the parking lot, Chela could just make out
the empty swings swaying under a dim fluorescent light.  There were too
many shadows and not enough light.  The shopping center across the
four-lane street, which was the only structure near the park, was
empty, a hollow skeleton waiting for the new day to bring it back to
life.

Chela pulled into the parking lot and killed her engine.  Hers was the
only vehicle there, but she still wished her Jeep had a top, something
she could lock to protect herself from prying eyes.

Maybe Kohl was already there.  It was just like the coyote to use
darkness to his advantage so he could observe her while keeping himself
hidden.  Because that was what she expected him to do, Chela took in a
deep gulp of air and swung her body out of her Jeep.  She allowed
herself an instant to glance down at her tennis shoes.  Given the state
of her nerves, she didn't think there was a man alive who could catch
her should she decide to run.

The knowledge gave her courage.  The park had enough open spaces so she
could stand in the middle of the grass playing field.  No one could
sneak up on her.  She moved quickly to the grass and stood 'there until
dew began to dampen her shoes.  She started at the sound of a distant
motor but dismissed it as she saw a lone street sweeper move into the
shopping center parking lot.  A moment later she glanced back at the
street sweeper.  Knowing that someone was working this early gave her a
small sense of comfort.  She wasn't the only one in this part of the
city.

Chela beard him~ It was nothing more than a foot crushing a fallen
twig, but her ignited senses recorded the sound and accepted it for
what it was.  Tense, she touched the envelope full of money in her back
pocket.  Where had the police gone?

Kohl wasn't in any hurry to reach her.  He seemed to amble along,
fascinated by the contours of the park, the size of a swing, the
material used to make a hack stop He even took time to test his balance
on the pitcher's mound.  When he finally came near enough for Chela to
make out his features, she could see that he was grinning.

Chapter Twelve

"Where's Ortez?"  she asked, when he came into full view.

"Not so fast, my wild one.  I'm not fool enough to turn him over until
I have my payment."

Chela acknowledged the wisdom of Kohl's words, but she also remembered
that she was supposed to be a woman in love.  "Where do you have him?"
she pressed.  "If he's been hurt"

"What would you do, Chela?  What would you doff your precious Ortez was
dead?  He's an illegal.  You couldn't run to the police with that
story. You and I are 'the only ones who know he's here.  It would be
your word against mine."

Chela spread her feet to balance herself and continued the sparring.
"My father knows."

"Your father wouldn't speak against me.  I know too much about him."

Chela didn't doubt that for a moment.  "What do you waxltg."

"Money."  Kohl stuck out long, skinny, tobacco-stained fingers.
"Now."

Chela reached into her back pocket and placed the envelope in the
outstretched hand.  "Count it," she challenged.  "Then take me to
Ortez."

Kohl handled the money as if it were a beloved child.  "Not new money.
You show wisdom, Chela, but" --he smiled his yellow-toothed smile
again"--it isn't enough."

Chela stiffened and clenched her fist, but inside she was calm.  She'd
expected that.  "It's all I have," she said, throwing a slight quaver
into her voice.

"Then you won't see Ortez."

"You can't do that to me!"  she begged with' what she hoped was the
right amount of desperation.  "You--I already came up with everything I
have."

"That was before your lover complicated things."  He sounded as if he
was trying to explain a simple concept to a child.  "The man did things
I didn't like.  He didn't show me the proper amount of respect."

"What did you do to him?"  This time Chela's concern was genuine.

"Nothing that will make him unacceptable as a lover..  He had the
arrogance to think that because a sizable amount of money was involved,
he could expect better treatment."

"What did you do to him?"  Chela repeated.

Kohl's lips curled back again.  "I taught him respect, just as I will
teach you respect.  It isn't enough money."

"Wh--what do you want from me?"  Chela stammered.  Now she was no
longer acting, She was fighting for the safety-of a man she'd never
met.  "Payment for my added trouble.~' " I don't have any more.  "

Kohl took a menacing step toward her.  "Get it."

"How?"  Chela retreated and spread her hands in a helpless gesture.  No
matter what other thoughts were going through her mind, she had to
remember her agreed-upon role.  She had to make Kohl believe he had the
upper hand.  "There's no way"

"You came up with a thousand earlier.  You can come up with another
thousand."  His long fingers snaked out and captured Chela's wrist. You
been a lot of trouble to me for a long time; maybe I should make you
pay for that, too.  "

Chela tried to jerk away, but Kohl's fingers were like iron digging
into her wrist.  "Let me go!"  she snapped, knowing how hollow her
order was.  "How do I know Ortez is here?  I need proof."

"Proof?"  He jerked on Chela's wrist until he'd pulled her next to him.
"You don't believe me?  I'm crushed."  His lips were only inches
away.

Chela remembered his lips on hers earlier and fought down a gagging
reflex.  "Why should I?"  she managed, despite the whirring sound that
started in her head.  Careful.  She didn't dare lose control now.  She
had, to make him take the money, reveal where Ortez was, and only then
when he'd let her go, she'd run to the police.  "Why should I believe
you?"  she challenged in the mocking tone she knew he expected from
her.  "There's never been any trust between us."

"You challenge me?"  Kohl's lips curled again but this time to reveal a
snarl.  "No one challenges me, Chela."

"Because you only deal with desperate, frightened people," she spat
back.  "I'm not afraid of you, and I'm not desperate."

Touch ~ W#d Heart

"Then you're a fool.  You were a fool to come here in the middle of the
night to meet me."

Maybe he was right, Chela acknowledged.  She had always been able to
control her life's direction.  Maybe it had lulled her into false
security.  But she wasn't going to let Kohl know what effect his words
had on her.  "I don't think so," she challenged again.  "Do you really
think I'd come here without telling anyone what I was doing?  I've left
word."

He wrinkled his brow and his fingers dug even deeper into Chela's
throbbing wrist.  "Who?"

"Do you think I'd tell you that?"  Chela sensed the crack in his armor
and zeroed in on it.  "If I'm not back home by daylight, they'll come
looking for you."

"You're lying," Kohl yanked her off balance.  "Tell me you're lying!"
,

"I'm not lying," she gritted, despite having been thrown against him.
She used her free hand to push against his chest and regained her
balance.  "Are you willing to take that chance?"

Before she had time to react, he was dragging her toward his car.  She
tried to struggle, but her wrist was throbbing, her fingers numb from
lack of circulation.  It was easier to go with him than to fight.  She
didn't dig in her heels until he'd reached the car parked in the trees
on a bike path where it couldn't be seen from the park.  "Where are we
going?"

"To take you to your precious Ortez.  You can see him, have your tender
reunion, and then" --Kohl yanked open the passenger door and shoved her
inside,-"if you don't want me to make good on my promise to reveal your
father's identity, you'll come up with that extra money."

Every instinct Chela possessed aimed at survival was screaming at her
to leap from the car and run, but she swallowed the impulse and sat,
rubbing her aching wrist while Kohl came around and got in next to her.
Her safety wasn't the only thing she had to consider.  There was Ortez.
What would happen to him if she fled now?

Damn Magadan!  Where was he?

As Kohl backed down the bike path, Chela concentrated on breathing. The
closed-up car reeked of sweat and stale tobacco and some vile odor that
clung to him no matter what new outfit he dressed himself in.  She
thought about her Jeep in the parking lot.  If she never returned, how
long would it be before it was identified as hers and before Magadan
started to wonder what had become of her?

While Kohl drove through the dark, familiar streets, Chela rubbed her
already bruised wrist and glared a~t him from under cover of her long
lashes.  She was afraid; there was no denying that.  But Chela was also
so angry that she could taste the emotion rising in her throat. Whether
her anger was directed more at Kohl or Magadan didn't matter. It was
enough that she had to fight her fury.

He drove through the downtown area and turned onto the southbound
highway that led past used-car lots, second-hand stores, and several
run-down trailer parks.  After a couple of miles, he turned right and
bumped over railroad tracks, ending up on a dirt road that angled
behind a large warehouse used by one of the fruit-packing companies
during the harvest season.  He stopped at the rear of a metal,
windowless building in the middle of an unimproved parking lot
surrounded by an open field with several box mrs and automobiles
rusting in it.  "My office," he snickered.

Chela waited for Kohl to turn off the engine and then got out.  There
was a distant rumble coming from well down the railroad track, but
other than that, the area was bathed in silence.  Chela felt heat
coming from the packed-earth parking lot and acknowledged the swirling.
wind that blew dust into her face.  Above she could see the
star-stenciled night.  Behind her was the eerie outline of silent
storage buildings.  She had been born and raised in this valley, but
this was the first time she'd come to this lonely, lifeless place.

"You like it?"  Kohl taunted~ "Go ahead.  Scream.  No one will hear."

"I'm not going to scream," Chela taunted back, "but I am surprised.  I
thought a snake lived in the grass, not an abandoned building."

His eyes blazed their hatred, but although his h/rods had curled into a
fist, he didn't strike her.  Chela clamped her lips shut.  Her outburst
showed a dangerous lack of wisdom; she wouldn't let it happen again.
"Ortez is here?"

"This is what I call my distribution point," Kohl said almost
conversationally.  "The workers come here first.  From here they're
dispersed to wherever they can find work.  '

Chela almost laughed.  What did he think he was, a businessman
providing a product for other business men?  Why not ?  That was what
her father had come to him for.  And maybe that's how Magadan used him.
"I want to see Ortez."

"In a hurry, Chela?  He must be quite the lover to be worth all this
trouble.  Wait."  As she started to move closer to the windowless
building, Chela felt Kohl grab her shoulder.  "Are you sure you
understand the rules?  Ortez is yours, but if I 'don't get my money, I
tell him and the rest of the valley about your dear loving father.  You
know the price of my silence, don't you?"

Chela nodded.  A thousand dollars?  She'd be a fool if she thought this
was all he would want.  How many times would the coyote reach out his
greedy hand?  But that wasn't going to be a problem, not if Magadan
made good on his promise.  Tonight Kohl was exposing his evil world.
The trap was in place.  A few more steps and he would be snared.

And if he shrieked the truth about Chela's father?  She had no choice
but to live with that.  Chela had struck a bargain with Magadan.  It
was too late to back out now.

Kohl pulled a key out of his hip pocket and freed the lock on the heavy
sliding door that made up one side of the storage shed.  He leaned his
shoulder into the door and pushed it back just far enough to let him
and Chela in.  Chela blinked repeatedly, but there was no way she could
see in the total darkness.  She recoiled against the feel of Kohl's
hand on her upper arm but had no alternative but to follow his lead.
Finally he finished picking his way past boxes and fencing material and
tractor parts and reached up.  A naked light bulb hanging from a
spiderweb-coated cord blinked into feeble life.  It was several seconds
before Chela could make out the figure propped up against a mound of
burlap bags.

The figure stirred, stretched, and came to its feet.  "gDende es Chela
?"

Chela stared at the man Kohl believed to be her lover.  Ortez was tall,
a broad-shouldered man with a thick shock of black hair, but in the dim
light she could make out little of his features.  She felt Kohl's eyes
on her and held out her hands.  "Ortez.  gEs bien?  iMe are ante "

To Chela's relief she was swallowed by strong arms.  "Me are ante "
Ortez Varela echoed.  "Pot dios.  "

"Calla!  Be quiet!"  Kohl snapped.  "Enough.  Have you seen enough,
Chela?  Do you believe me now?"

Chela strangled an insane impulse to laugh.  She was being smothered in
kisses by a man she'd never' seen and in turn was cooing over him as if
he were her long lost lover.  At least Magadan had been right about
that.  Ortez knew his role well.  "Are you all right?"  she asked Ortez
in Spanish and relaxed a little when he nodded his head.  She didn't
put anything past Kohl.

"I want to leave, now--with Ortez," she told him from the depths of the
Mexican's chest.

"How?"  Kohl taunted.  "Are you going to walk?"

"If we have to.  You have your money.  What else do you need?"

"Not so fast, my wild one."  He planted himself in front of the
embracing couple.  "You've forgotten something."

"I've forgotten nothing," Chela replied.  "I know what you want,"

"In three days.  I'll expect you back here in three days.  Otherwise
the world knows."

If Ortez was curious about what was taking place, he at least had the
wisdom not to ask.  He wrapped his arm protectively around Chela and
turned her in the direction of the heavy sliding door.  "Don't stop us
now," he warned Kohl in Spanish.

"I have no intention of stopping you," he returned.  He patted the
envelope in his back pocket.  " " I have what I want.  just remember:
One word about anything that's happened, and you're back across the
border so fast you won't have time to breathe.  Or may he can arrange
to have you thrown into jail.  You wouldn't like our American jails.
They don't allow conjugal visits.  ,

Chela flushed under the pointed jab, but Ortez was steering her toward
'the door.  "He was safe; for the.  moment they were both safe.  All
she could handle was one step at a time.  " Calla," Ortez whispered.
'~41 mo, men to "

Onez let her go through the heavy dc~or first.  He stood beside her in
the dark.  "You didn't bring a car?"  he asked in English.

Chela shook her head.  "That?s Kohl's," she whispered, although there
was no longer any need.  For some reason her legs w%re shaking.  She
wondered if she really felt that much relief now that everything was
over--or was it over?  Where were the police, Magadan?  "Are you all
right?"  she asked.  "He didn't hurt you?"

Ortez laughed.  "Other than leaving me locked inside that building
since yesterday, it hasn't been bad.  He doesn't know I speak English.
I heard many things he wouldn't want me to know.  He'll live to regret
that.  Are you up to walking?"

"It's better than staying here."  A gust of wind hit

Chela's face, but this time instead of closing her eyes against the
dust, she fastened her eyes on the dirt road, the distant railroad
tracks', the highway beyond.  The wind had revived her and reminded her
that she was outside.  There were no walls holding her.  Chela linked
her hands with the man whose face she'd yet to see and laughed up at
him.  "Me are ante you're a-good actor."

"Td do almost anything for Joe Magadan," Ortez said as they took
~:~their first steps away from what had recently been Ortez's prison.

and I've done all he asked me to do, Chela

From now on everything was out of her hands.  Her mind still was
battering its way against the prison Kohl's threat of exposure had
placed her in, but because she could find no way out, she concentrated
on finding secure footing on the uneven surface.  Weeds grew in clumps
along the dirt road, reminding her how isolated this base of operation
was.  It had been possible for Kohl to spirit illegals into the valley
without the authorities discovering him.  She was straining to catch
any sound from the shed when the distant rumble she attributed to a
train became the unmistakable sound of tires crunching along a gravel
road.

Chela stopped and with Ortez moved to one side as '~ first one vehicle
and then another approached.  The lead car bore the insignia of the
County sheriff's department; the other was Magadan's pickup.

For a moment Chela was blinded by headlights, then the lead car eased
past her and pulled to a stop next to Kohl's car.  Magadan stopped his
truck next to the two walkers and got out.

"It's been a long time, Ortez," Magadan said as he shook hands with the
Mexican.  "Are you all right?"

"Tm tired and hungry," Ortez explained, his left hand still holding
Chela's fingers.  "Where the hell were you?  I was starting to think
you weren't going to show up."

Magadan grinned, the gesture sending shock waves through Chela despite
her best efforts to ignore him.  "We tailed Chela and Kohl here, but we
had to wait until you were safely outside.  Do you have any idea how
hard it is to see anything through binoculars in the middle of the
night?  We'd probably still be waiting if we hadn't seen you two
holding hands.  That's how we knew you weren't Kohl."

"You followed me here?"  Chela asked, dropping her hand to her side as
Ortez released her.  "How?  No one was at the park."

"That's where you're wrong."  Magadan was stating at her with an
intensity she couldn't fathom and didn't know how to ignore.  "Do you
remember a street sweeper in the shopping center?  I followed you from
your house, got the sweeper operator to get me close enough to see what
was happening.  Then while the two of you were still talking, I called
the sheriff."

"Oh."  Magadan had been there all along.

"Would you like to go back inside?"  Magadan asked.  "I think things
might be more interesting in there."

Chela wanted nothing to do with the dark, stuffy storage building, but
Magadan seemed to have forgotten how much she hated enclosed spac~.  He
and Ortez were' already walking back to the building.  After a moment
of indecision, Chela followed them.

The lights from two heavy-duty flashlights had been added to the naked
light bulb, taking away much of the storage shed's mystery.  Chela was
surprised to see that there was a telephone and desk in a far corner of
the building.  Kohl had called it his office, and he wasn't joking.

Kohl, flanked by two sheriff's deputies, was spewing obscenities,
seemingly oblivious of the fact.  that his hands had been cuffed behind
him.  When he spotted the trio coming toward him, he threw a few Choice
words at Chela and then Ortez.  His eyes went blank when Magadan
stepped up and ordered him to be quiet.  "Who the hell are you?"

"You'll find that out soon," Magadan challenged.  "You're in enough
trouble already.  Don't make it worse by talking to Chela that way."

"How do you know her?  What the hell is going on?"  Kohl's piercing
eyes flashed between Chela and Maga-dan and then fastened on Ortez.
"You set me up, didn't you?  It was all a set-up."

Ortez grinned.  "Your greed set you up," Ortez challenged.  "Are you
surprised by my English?  I went to college in the United States.  I'm
not going to forget a thing: Not how you got me across the border, not
the immigration officer who looked the other way, not the name of the.
truck driver you paid to get me through California, nothing."

"It isn't going to work!  You can't make it stick!"

"You're wrong and you know it" Magadan broke in.  "We have enough on
you to put you out of businegs for the rest of your life."

Kohl drew his thin lips back over his yellow teeth.

His eyes confmued to bore into his captors', but he said nothing as the
officers began a minute search of his office.  Instead of joining
Magadan and Ortez as they watched the officers, Chela stood alone, her
fingers wrapped around her arms.  When she was in it before, the
building had threatened to close in around her, but that sensation was
gone.  She tried to tell herself it was the improved lighting and the
fact that Kohl couldn't touch her, but one glance at Magadan and she
knew she was only fooling herself.  It was the, man presence, his
strength, that turned confinement into something she could accept.  It
wasn't the first time that had happened to her.  Magadan--he hadn't
deserted her, not once, she realized now.

Even when Magadan turned from his study of what the police were pulling
out of Kohl's desk and fastened his eyes on her, she didn't drop her
gaze.  She tried to recall what Magadan had said the last time she'd
talked to him.  "I'll kill Kohl if he touches you."  Were those the
words o1' a man protecting his investment or the words of a man who
cared?  There was something else he'd said that day.  When everything
was over, they were going to start talking and not stop until
everything had been straightened out between them.  Chela was beginning
to think she believed that.

An exclamation from one of the deputies distracted Magadan.  As he
again bent over what they'd found on the desk, Chela went back to her
own exploration of the shadowy interior.  She wondered how many
illegals had been housed in.  this windowless, airless prison while
they waited for Kohl to find work for them.  She hoped it was possible
that it would never again be a holding pen.  Putting Kohl out of
business wasn't an end to the problem of illegals, but it was a
start.

"How do you feel now, Chela?  Do you really think you've won?"

She started at the sound of Kohl's challenge but refused to ignore him.
"I wasn't looking for a victory," she replied.  "I don't see it that
way."

"I think you do.  Chela Reola coming to me asking for something?  And I
believed you.  When you told me you had money, I believed you."  He
shook his head angrily.  "It wasn't your money, was it?  Whose was
it?"

"Can't you guess?"  Magadan asked.

Kohl turned from Chela to Mngadan.  The little man's eyes narrowed.
"Who are you?  Why would you give Chela money?"

"You said it yourself."  Magadan laughed bitterly.  "To set you up."

"And Chela went along with you?"  Despite the taunt in his voice, Kohl
was obviously puzzled.  "Chelaagreed to work with an Anglo?  She loved
Ortez that much?"

"Ortez isn't my lover."  What did it matter that Kohl now knew the
truth?  Those kinds of secrets were no longer necessary.  ii "Not your
lover?"  Kohl frowned.  Finally he ran his tongue over his yellow
teeth.  "But a man has gotten to you, hasn't he?  Chela Reola has
fallen in love with an

Chela turned her back on his cruel taunts.  She wasn't going to listen
to anything else he had to say.  She started toward the door, but
Magadan stopped her.  "Don't go," he ordered.  "Til take you home."

I don't want to go anywhere with you, Chela wanted to say, but
Magadan's arm around her stopped the words.  For a moment, but only a
moment, she let her body lean toward his.  There had been so many angry
words between them--had they erased the loving nights?  Right now Chela
couldn't remember what those words had been.  "Did you find what you
needed?"  she asked, because not talking left her with too much room
for thinking.

"It's all falling into place," Magadan supplied.  "Along with what
Ortez is go' rag to be able to testify to, I' think we've got enough.
You did your part well."

"When can I go home?"

"Do you really want to?"  Magadan pulled her into a darkened corner of
the building and dropped his voice to a whisper.  "I 'saw what Kohldid
to you in the park.  Are you all right?  I wanted to kill him."

"Tin fine.  I told you, I knew what Kohl was capable of."  Suddenly the
pain of Magadan's secrets came back.  "At least I knew what he was like
even if I knew nothing about you."

"Tin sorry about that.  Please believe me."  Magadan still hadn't
released her arm.  He was massaging her wrist with featherlight sweeps
of his fingers.  "I'd give anything to be able to start over, be up
front from the beginning."

"It's too late for that.  You said I wouldn't understand."  Chela
closed her eyes.

"I believed that," he whispered.  "If you'd known I was an orchardist,
would you have agreed to work with me?"

Chela shook her head.  "Maybe," she relented.  "If you'd let me see
what kind of a man you are."

"What kind of a man am I?"

"I don't know."  ~1 passionate man, a man like no other I've ever
known, Chela said internally.  "I called you a coyote," she said aloud
instead.  "You took Lou Dye's land."

"Because he was destroying it, because someone had to turn things
around.  That's not what I want to talk about," he whispered fiercely.
"I want to talk about us, but no there

"Where?"  Chela wasn't even sure she wanted this meeting.

Magadan's eyes told her he was deliberating the same question.  "Not
tonight," he groaned.  "There's so much more we have to do here."

Lack of sleep had caught up to her, and suddenly she was so exhausted
she could barely stand.  "I want to go home," Chela whispered.

Magadan dropped her wrist and wrapped his arm around her shoulder.
"I'll take you there as soon as we're done here.  Please be patient."

Maybe Chela could have denied him his request if he hadn't put his arm
around her, but that strong, warm blanket was her undoing.  For the
second time tonight she sagged toward him, let him bear the weight of
her tired body.  Her head pounded and her lungs ached for the clean
scent of the air outside, but if she was going to find her way outside,
it would have to be with Maga-dan's help.

As if he knew of her confusion, Magadan steered her toward the lighted
area where the activity was centered.  Chela lifted her head and
focused on the deputies preparing to take Kohl from the shed.  At least
one thing had come to a satisfactory conclusion tonight.  Kohl was
going to be brought to justice.

"You had better pray I don't get free," he taunted, the glitter in his
eyes just as strong as it had ever been.  "Because if I do, you're
going to regret the day you were born."

"I don't think that's going to happen," one of the deputies replied.
"I've got to hand it to you, you were a thorough businessman.  You kept
thorough records."  He waved one of the~ folders the police ~had found.
"You'd stand a much better chance if these didn't exist."

For the first time Kohl seemed to note what the deputies had uncovered.
The glitter in his eyes darkened, as if his glare could incinerate the
damning evidence.  His eyes flashed from one captor to the other like a
wild coyote sensing the extent of the trap closing down around it.

Magadan's body was there to shield Chela from the full impact of Kohl's
glare.  "I think you've said enough for now, Kohl," he warned.

Kohl,s teeth reminded Chela of a coyote snapping at its bounds.  The
police might be able to put his body behind bars, but there was no way
he could be silenced.  "Was it all a lie, Chela?  I couldn't have used
your father to silence you?"

"Her father?"  Magadan asked.  "What does he have to do with this?"

"You don't know?"  Kohl challenged, while the world buckled and3urned
red before Chela's eyes~ "Why don't you tell me?"

Chela heard the coyote's teeth snapping down around her heart.  "I was
right, after all.  Wasn't I, Chela?  That would silence you."  Kohl
turned the full force of his revelation on Magadan, "The wild one's
father should be in prison for what he's done.  Chela's father is Lou
Dye.  "

Chapter Thirteen

Even before the words were out of Kohl's mouth, Chela was running, She
ran without thought or direction, sprinting through the open door and
diving gratefully into the darkness.  She could hear Magadan behind
her~ calling, but she didn't slow long enough to turn to see whether he
was following her.

Even as her tennis shoes created small puffs of dust in the parking
lot, Chela wasn't sure why she was running.  The closed-in storage
shed, Kohl's eyes transmitting his loathing of her, the sudden tension
in Magadan's arm as Kohl's words registered, all confused her and
catapulted her into action.

Chela ran lightly, taking minute pleasure in the fact that her slight,
athletic body was made for running.  The ground around her was flat,
which meant there was little danger she would trip and fall in the
darkness.  Already Magadan's voice was becoming fainter.  The night had
swallowed her up.  Chela ran for another ten or fifteen minutes,
thinking of nothing except putting one foot in front of the other, the
feel of summer night air on her cheeks, the easy way 'her lungs
adjusted to what she was asking them to do.  She didn't know how, but
she felt running was a means of cleansing her mind of Kohl's hateful
words.

Finally though, Chela became confused by her surroundings and was
forced to slow down.  She was no longer on any kind of road or parking
area.  There was nothing but weeds under her shoes, weeds and rocks and
mounds of dirt.  Chela stopped, balanced on her toes and peered into
the night.  She could still hear the deep rumble that came from the
train tracks and that gave her a sense of direction, but she was
somewhere that was untouched by paved streets, buildings, even
orchards.

Her pulse was pounding in her head, but her headache was finally
leaving her.  She breathed rapidly, pulling needed air back into her
lungs until they no longer demanded so much of her.  Chela almost
laughed.  She was like a rabbit running from the threat of a pursuing
coyote-but the coyote had already been trapped.

She was running from words, then, Only words.

So Magadan and the deputies knew Lou Dye was her father.  That was
hardly the end of the world, she admitted.  The sun would still come up
tomorrow.  And--why should she care who was with her when Kohl let it
all spill out?

Chela glanced down at her dusty tennis shoes, kicked at the clumps of
weeds at her feet, and laughed.  There wasn't anything to run from,
just as there was nothing togo back to.  It was fitting that she should
be standing in the middle of this nothing stretch of land in darkness,
broken only by a few stars, gathering her thoughts about her.

It was still possible that Kohl would make good on his threat to expose
her to anyone and everyone who would listen, but she rather doubted
that.  Telling the newspapers or her employers that Chela Reola's
father was ruthless and unfeeling wouldn't save him.  He would be
better off concentrating on developing a defense for the case against
him.  He could no longer buy her silence with threats.  It wasn't her
testimony that would imprison him; it was what was contained in his
ledgers and what Ortez would be telling a judge and jury.

Again Chela laughed~ a hollow, aching sound that echoed through her
cold body.  There was no need to hide.  Magadan had what he
wanted--Kohl in handcuffs.

Chela slowly retraced her footsteps.  It was perhaps twenty minutes
before she came close enough to the storage shed to make out the lone
car still parked in front of the shed.  For a moment she toyed with the
idea of taking Kohl's car and driving hack to the park but decided
against it.  The car was probably going to be picked up by the
sheriff's department.  If she touched it, she might be tampering with
evidence.

It didn't really matter.  Although it was some four or five miles back
to the park and her Jeep, Chela didn't mind the prospect of a long
walk.  She'd walked like this before, when she and Magadan had argued
at the Blue Max.

A pink glow was accenting the morning sky by the time Chela reached her
Jeep.  She breathed deeply as she settled into her seat, acknowledging
the warm air signaling another summer day.  She was expected at the
migrant education center later that day to select supplementary texts
to be used in classrooms, but that would have to come later.  Right now
all she could think of was getting home and climbing into her tub.
Maybe, if she shampooed her hair and scrubbed her face, the sense of
lethargy would leave her.

l~n just tired, Chela tried to tell hem elf I've been up all night; I
saw a man arrested, and I came face to face with Magadan.  l~n having
trouble sorting through that, that ~ all.

Even as Chela was trying to convince hemeft that a hath was what she
needed to restore herself, both body and soul, she knew it was a lie.
Joe Magadan had touched her life.  Even though he was no longer part of
that life, she would never be the same again.

Chela started to back out of the parking lot, caught a glimpse of the
sun rising over the surrounding hills, and dropped her forehead to the
steering wheel.  She'd never share a moment like that with Magadan. For
the rest of her life, she'd have to struggle with the fact that she'd
come close, oh so close, to sharing herself with a man.

How do l go back to what I was before I met you Maga-dan ?  she asked
around her tears.  How do I forget what you did to my heart?  There was
no forgetting.  There was only coping.

It was five minutes before Chela had regained enough self-control to
trust herself to drive.  Her eyes ached from the unaccustomed team, and
she still saw through a film.  But she was determined not to cry again,
at least not until she was home.

Chela was vaguely aware that she'd developed blisters on her heels from
her walk, but it wasn't until she was in her driveway and getting out
of the Jeep that she realized how uncomfortable they had become.  She
limped to her front door, unlocked it~ and stepped inside.  She kicked
off her shoes and locked the door behind her--she didn't want to be
disturbed by any-one--then sat down and studied her heels, grimacing
because dirt had gotten into the blisters.  She was trying to work up
the energy to go into the bathroom when her phone began to ring.

Chela stared dully at the instrument, hating it.  Finally, when it had
rung a half dozen times, she took it off the hook and hurried into the
bathroom.  Water began to fill the tub as she pulled-off her dirty
clothes.  Chela eased her tired body into the tub and lay unmoving with
her head resting against the lip.  The warm water slowly seeped into
her, increasing her languor but easing some of the ache in her limbs.
If only the bath could do the same for her head.  If only she could
stop thinking about the telephone and wondering if it' had been Magadan
on the other end.

Chela stayed in the bathroom for over half~ an hour.  Although it
didn't need it, she washed her hair twice and gently scrubbed all the
dirt out of her blisters.  Finally, when the water turned cool, she
stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in a large terry-cloth
towel.  She limped into the bedroom and stared dully into her closet.
She knew she should go to work--they were expecting her--but she
couldn't even decide what to wear.

For a minute Chela didn't think she was going to surrender to the
impulse.  She'd be able to reach into the closet without touching the
peach dress Magadan had given her.  But her fingers acted with a will
of their own, sliding gently down the silky fabric, lingering at the
soft waistline gathers.  Chela snapped her eyes shut and grabbed at the
side of the closet for support.  She swayed, feeling light-headed and
dangerously close to tears again.  Why did that dress have to be
there?

In desperation Chela reached out again and grabbed the first garment
she touched.  It was the white eyelet sun dress she'd worn when she
went to Phillip's house to meet with Magadan.  Chela almost dropped the
sun dress but somehow found the courage to hold on to it.  Memories
would be part of her for the rest of her life: Today was soon enough to
start dealing with that reality,

Chela slipped into the dress, towel dried her hair, and limped to the
small bathroom mirror.  Her eyes were red-rimmed and dull, but she was
beyond caring about her appearance.  No matter how tired she was, how
much her blisters throbbed, she was grateful she had to get dressed and
go to work this morning.  It gave her an excuse to get out of the house
and away from the telephone~ Enough things had to be done today to keep
her moving and on her feet until she could fall into bed exhausted.

Chela poured herself a glass of orange juice and drank it, but her
stomach recoiled at the thought of food.  Her last act before leaving
the house was to slip into a pair of heelless sandals.  As she closed
the front door behind her, Chela was thinking about the phone lying off
its hook.

She didn't notice the figure waiting in her Jeep until it was too late.
She was more than halfway between it and the house when she stopped,
her body instantly tensed for flight.

"Don't run, Chela.  Please.  We have to talk."

She stood where she was, unable to think of anything except her
throbbing heels.  "I have to go to work," she said lamely.

"Not as much as we have to' talk.  Don't put me off.  It has to happen
sooner or later."

"No, it doesn't," she responded dully, the effect of her sleepless
night and empty stomach Weighing her down.  "There isn't anything left
to say, Magadan."

The man eased his body out of her Jeep but didn't come any closer.  He
was staring at her figure with an intensity that was nearly her
undoing.  "Why are you wearing that dress?"

Chela didn't feel strong enough toexplain the rationale that had gone
into that decision.  "It's hot.  The dress is cool.  Magadan, I have to
get to work."

"To hell with work!  I'm sorry," Magadan muttered, rubbing a big hand
over his eyes.  "We've both been through the wringer in the past few
hours.  I know how tired I am.  It has to be even worse for you."

For some inexplicable reason Chela'giggled.  "I have blisters.  That
didn't happen the last time I had to walk."

A tentative smile touched Magadan's lips.  "You can laugh.  That's
good.  Why did you run away from me last night?"

Chela's urge to laugh died as quickly as it had been born.  She shifted
her weight, aware of how many hours she'd spent on her feet since she'd
last slept.  "I don't think you really need to ask me that," she
pointed out in dipped tones because she was fighting for self-control.
"You know what Kohl said."

~

"I tried calling you earlier," Magadan said.

"I know.  I took the phone off the hook."

The tentative smile touched his lips again.  "I'm beat.  I know you
are, too.  Can't we go somewhere where we can at least sit down?"

"I have to go to work."

"The hell you do!"  Magadan's long, powerful legs ate up the distance
between them.  He took her hands in his, not touching the bruised right
wrist that bore the marks of Kohl's anger.  "Unless you want me to
follow you wherever you go today, you'd better agree to this
conversation.  I'm not going to walk out of your life, Chela."

Chela shook her head but didn't fight him.  '"We don't live in the same
world, Magadan."

"I don't ever want to hear you say that again," " he spat.  " The only
thing that matters is how we feel about each other, not our
backgrounds.  And we'll never know how we feel if we don't talk.  "

Maybe Magadan was right.  Chela still wanted to turn her back on this
intense man, give herself space, and rest, and thinking time.  But what
good would her thinking do?  Would that decide anything?  "We should
have talked a long time ago," she said, knowing her words could cut and
injure but needing to say them anyway.  "If only you'd been honest"

Instead of replying, Magadan pushed her ahead of him until they were at
the side of the road where his pickup was parked.  "You want honesty?"
he asked bitterly as he opened the passenger door and helped her step
up into it.  "I'll give you honesty."

Chela stared at Magadan as he got in next to her and put the key in the
ignition.  "Where are we going?"  she asked tentatively, tension
clipping off the ends of her words.  Talking to Magadan about the
twists and turns in their relationship could spell the end to
everything.  But maybe it was over already, and all that remained was
the burial.

"To my house."

Chela shivered.  "I don't want to go there," she said, surprised at the
frightened tone that had broken through her defenses.

Magadan touched her cheek before turning back to the task of driving.
"I understand.," he said softly, "but I have my reasons.  Please trust
me."

Trust was a strange word coming from a man who had never trusted her
enough to reveal anything of himself.  It would be much easier to order
him to stop now, to get out of his truck and tell him that-nothing
existed between them anymore, but a glance at Maga-dan's profile filled
Chela with proof that her heart was a long way from believing that. She
had always prided herself on her courage.  She wanted Magadan to see
that, if nothing else.  They traveled in silence until they reached the
east hills.

"I wouldn't have chosen this location if it had been up to me," Magadan
said conversationally but without looking at Chela.  "I was in a hurry
to find a place to live, and your father's house was available.  The
people here have cut themselves off from the rest of the valley.  They
live in their own closed-in community, safely insulated from certain
realities."

Chela looked at Magadan.  This time her glance lasted longer than it
had when they left her house.  "It's where the people with money in the
valley come to live," she said.

"Not me.  I have little personal use for money.  I'm too busy to think
about where I hang my hat, how many rooms a house has.  There are more
important things in life."

"Like what?"

"Like getting rid of men like Kohl.  He's been for-really charged with
things ranging from illegal transporting of migrants to fraud.  He may
even be charged with kidnapping Ortez.  I wanted you to know that.  The
DA believes the charges are going to stick.  There's even evidence he
blackmailed some orchardists.  The

DA hopes he can get them to step forward.  "

"Will I have to testify

'. "I don't know."  Magadan touched her cheek again before pulling into
his driveway.  "I hope not.  Kohl might still make good on his
threat,"

Chela slumped in her seat and closed her eyes.  "It doesn't matter.  I
don't care anymore."

"I think you do," Magadan objected before coming around to let her out.
"I think you care a lot more than you're willing to let on.  I hope I
can change some of that for you."

"You think you can change my relationship with my father?"  Chela asked
bitterly.  "I never wanted anyone to know who he was."  She closed her
cymes again, fighting a desire to lean against Magadan.  "Least of all
you," she managed, her words barely audible.

"Why?"  Magadan had started to unlock the front door, but now he
stopped.

"I don't know!"  Chela hissed.  "Why should it matter?  You know all
about what drives men to take and take and take in order to achieve
their end," she said in a bitter tone.

Magadan gabbed Chela's forearm and led her into the house.  His blazing
eyes boring down on her were echoed by the sound of the door slamming.
"What the hell do you mean by that?"

Chela would not cower before him.  If he wall ted a talk, it would
begin.  "My father told me."

"Your father told you what?"  Magadan asked as he released her.

Chela sank into the recesses of the reelinet, and, shaking off the need
to relax, began, her words tumbling out almost as if they existed
beyond her control.  "My'father tol~ me how determined you were to get
hold of his land, this house.  He told me you demanded repayment on the
loan you'd given him.  He couldn't come up with the money, and when you
sued, it broke him"

"He said that?"  Magadan hadn't sat down.  Instead he was leaning
against the wall nearest Chela's recliner.  He lifted one leg and
planted his shoe against the wall, oblivious of the marks he was
leaving on the white surface.  "Lou told you I sued him?"

"Yes.  Or words to that effect," she faltered slightly.  Did she
believe anything she was saying?  "I didn't understand it all; I've
never been part of my father's world.  How could I know everything
about his business dealings?"

"But you believed him when he blamed me for his downfall?"

Chela returned Magadan's glare.  To do otherwise would be to surrender
her will to his.  "Yes, he had no reason to lie to me."

"And what if I told you I didn't meet your father until I heard he'd
declared bankruptcy.  What reason would !  I have to lie to you?"

Chela blinked.  What was Magadan saying?  He would have to have some
contact with her father in order for Lou to borrow from him.  Either
her father or Magadan had lied to her.  "Are you telling me you never
had any business dealings with my father?"  she asked, stalling for
time while her mind sought a way out of the emotions bombarding her.

"I've seen him once--when we met to sign the necessary papers.  " I
assumed his debts, that's all.  What about now, Chela?  Which of us are
you going to believe?  "

"I don't know," she moaned.  But that wasn't the truth, She had no
reason to believe her father, there'd never been any trust, any
openness between them.  She'd known that so long that the knowledge
carried no pain with it.  "Is that why you brought me here--to talk
about my father?"

"That was one of the things."  Magadan pushed himself away from the
wall and finally settled himself in a couch.  Although a coffee table
stood between them, Chela felt anything but safe.  His eyes, which
never left hers, were chains linking them together.  "I need to know
how you feel about him.  I hope you trust me enough to be honest about
that."

"We're talking about us, not my father.  I want to know why you
wouldn't tell me anything about yourself, why I had to find out about
you and this house and " Hidden Valley Orchard on my own.  " Chela
kicked off her sandals and tucked her feet up under her white sun
dress.  She wanted to lock her arms around her knees, but that would
tell Magadan too much about the turmoil she was in.

Magadan gave an angry snort.  "Do you remember what you were like when
you found out ?  You were half crazy when I saw you sitting on my front
step that afternoon.  You accused me of a lot of things, of being a
coyote.  You said I was the kind of man who looked for weakness in
people and twisted that around to my advantage."

"I remember," Chela whispered.  There were a lot of things she
shouldn't have said that day.  "But you have to understand I've'
devoted my life to improving the lives of migrants.  I've seen what
orchardists can do to make sure those lives don't change.  Magadan, my
mother owed her soul to an orchardist, it wasn't my father--but she had
to borrow money from the orchardist to support us until the harvest
came in.  She was in his debt.  The debt grew and grew until there was
no way out.  Magadan, he owned her.  When I learned you were one of
them"

"You decided to hate me.  You don't see it, do you, Chela?  You still
don't see why I didn't want to tell you who I was.

"I did a lot more than talk to your boss and the sheriff before I
contacted you.  From my foreman I learned about the old system of
putting a laborer in an orchardist's debt.  It was a form of slavery.
Pedro knew your mother.  He told me she was trapped in the orchard.  I
understand how deep your hatred of orchardists was."

Chela closed her eyes in agony.  "You didn't think I

could take honesty from you because of that?  "

"Do you bhme me?"

"I don't know."  Chela tried to breathe, but it hurt too much.  '"Why
did she have to die?"  she sobbed.  "She was all I had in the world."

"Maybe, maybe not.  I found something this morn-hag."  Magadan surged
to his feet and held his hands out toward her.  "Come on, you need to
see this."

"See what?"  Chela pushed her back farther into the recliner, trying to
escape the impact of Magadan's eyes~

"Come."  He took her arms, pulling her out of the recliner as if she
weighed no more than a kitten.  "You want honesty?  I think I can give
you that now."

Chela straggled in his grip, but he didn't seem to notice.  He pushed
her ahead of him until they reached the flight of stairs leading to the
second floor; Chela stumbled twice as Magadan propelled her up the
stairs.  "When you ran away from me out there, I thought everything was
finished between us," he was saying.  "I

saw the pain in your eyes.  You looked so damn alone.  " Chela tried to
turn around.  " You don't have to"-- " The hell I don't.  "

"Then why didn't you tell me last night?"  Magadan steered her into a
room at the top of the stairs.  "You weren't in any mood to listen. You
were hurting and you needed to be alone at that moment."

He for cod her to look into his eyes.  "Do you know what I did when I
got back here this morning?  I started to tear into this room--your
father's bedroom.  I wanted everything that was his out of here.  I
didn't get far, because I found something 'you need to see."

"I don't understand" were the only words Chela could manage to form.

"You will in a minute."  Magadan released her while he strode across
the room, Chela looked quickly around, trying to take in as much as
possible of a nmghificent master bedroom dominated by a king-size bed.
The windows were covered by heavy brocade draperies.  A glass-top
mahogany dresser with a huge mirror reflected Cheh's startled, wary
eyes.

She was still trying to comprehend what she was learning about her
father when Magadan shoved a small jewelry box in her hand.  "I found
this in the hack of one of the closets.  Your father didn't take
anything except his clothes from the house.  That was part of the legal
agreement.  " Go on," he challenged.  " Open it.  "

Chela.  turned stricken eyes on Magadan, but he was giving her no way
out.  Slowly, feeling as if she were opening Pandora's box, Chela
unfastened the lid and lifted it.  Inside were a few newspaper
clippings, :a faded picture.

She lifted the picture in trembling fingers.  It was a black-and-white
snapshot of a beautiful Mexican woman holding the hand of a young girl.
Chela sobbed as she clasped the picture to her breast and collapsed on
the bed.  She dropped her head, her heart going back more than twenty
years.  "That's my mother," she whispered.

"And you're the little girl.  Think about that, Chela.  Your father
kept ~hat picture all those years."

Chela couldn't trust herself to speak; instead she unfolded one of the
newspaper clippings and started to read.  It was a story written when
she'd started going into the orchards to teach the migrants.  The story
contained a photograph of her surrounded by Mexicans.  Her father had
underlined her name in the picture caption.  The other newspaper
clippings were of the same kind.  There was one on the migrant
education program with a paragraph devoted to her role in it.  Another
article dealt with her activities in getting the county gleaning.
project under way.  There was even a yellowed column listing her name
along with the others graduating from college.

Chela let the papers slip from her fingers.  She stared up at Magadan,
her mouth open, but nothing came out.  She swallowed and tried . again.
"I never knew."

"There's more to the man than you thought."

"Magadan?"  Chela's head was filling with a roaring sound, but she
struggled to speak over the rushing tide.  "My father came to see me
the other day.  He--he said he wouldn't let Kohl do anything to me.  I
didn't understand then.  I--I've hated him so long, I believed he felt
the same way."  She touched the box beside her on the bed but lacked
the strength to pick it up.  "I was

Her revelation was the final blow.  Tears that had been bottled up
inside for years, tears she didn't know she possessed, burst free and
overwhelmed her.  Chela sagged forward and might have collapsed if
Magadan hadn't taken her in his arms.

He held her, rocked her, for long minutes as years of loneliness and a
night without sleep combined to hold her helpless in the grip of tears.
Magadan was whispering words that had to do with his understanding, but
it was the sound and not the words that reached Chela.  From the moment
of her mother's death, she had never had anyone to put their arms
around her.  She'd survived without that special brand of love and
learned to function.  But today, with Magadan to make her world right
again, she realized how much it had cost her to carve the strength and
independence that went into her being.

"Do you understand?"  Magadan whispered.  "Do you understand why you
had to see this?  Chela, darling, your father had some feelings for
you."

Darling?  He had called her darling.  Noone had ever done that.  "I
understand now."

"I hope so."  His voice held a trembling note, as if some of her
emotions had spilled over to him.  "But that isn't enough.  You deserve
someone in your life now, not memories and faded pictures."

Chela shook her head.  She still needed Magadan's arms around her, but
she was starting to regain some self-control.  Her memories Of her
mother were precious; her father had some feelings for her after all.
The thought warmed her and gave her the courage to speak.  "I didn't
trust you enough," she managed.  "I was afraid to tell you about my
father I--I sensed something good about you, but I didn't want to risk
losing you."

"That would never happen," he said, burying his face in her hair, still
rocking her trembling body.  "I'd never leave you, Chela."

"I--I don't know.  I didn't know enough about trusting people."

Gently Maga~lan pushed her away from his chest and helped her sit
erectly.  "That's what I'm here for, darling.  To show you how to trust
me.  And to learn to trust my instincts about you.  I should have told
you everything from the beginning.  I kept telling myself that, but I
was afraid to risk it.  Can you understand that?"

Could she understand experiencing the fragile birth of love and being
terrified of watching its death, being a part of what might be called
murder?  "Yes," she whispered, offering him her lips.  "I don't want to
be alone anymore."

"Neither do I," he replied, covering her lips with his.  "Neither do

I. "

"Joe?"  she managed.  "Joe, I love you."

"You called me Joe, not Magadan.  Do you mean it?"

"Yes."  It was time for the final barrier to fall.  "Yes,-Joe."

"I love you, Chela."

They didn't leave the bedroom until it was too late for either of them
to go to work.