Everyday for the past seven years, Angel had wondered what she would do if this moment ever came. What would she say? How would she control her violent hate for a man whom she had never laid eyes on ... before now?

The stench of unwashed bodies and stale smoke caused her to gag. She pushed the feeling away.

Angel pressed her way further into the crowded room of the Bucket of Blood Saloon. At least seven men stood around the gouged and scarred wooden bar, but Angel had known instantly which of these men was the infamous, Hunter Night.

Hunter stood apart from the others, but it was more than space that separated him from the other men in the room. There was something about him that was forbidden, as if the world was unwelcome to step into his personal space. He was a loner and liked it that way just fine. While practically every soul in the room stole glances at his back, curiosity was not enough for even the bravest present to intrude on the Hunter's solitude.

With slow, determined steps, Angel crept closer to the bar, her eyes burning with fury.

Known as The Hunter, he was said to be one of the most dangerous men in the west, but at this moment that fact could do nothing to deter Angel. Hunter was her prey.

The man who she held captive in her sights leaned his tall frame against the bar while he nursed a bottle of whiskey. His leather pants and beaded vest molded to his muscular flesh. Long, black hair fell over his wide shoulder.

He took no notice of the young lady who sat on the stool beside him, or of how oddly out of place she was in her flower-print dress and bonnet.

"Hunter Night?" Though Angel phrased it as a question, she already knew who he was.

Slowly, he turned ice blue eyes in her direction, but he said nothing to confirm his identity. Hunter waited patiently for the woman beside him to state her business.

His casual indifference brought a flush of humiliation to Angel's face. This spurred on her reckless intent. "My name is Angel Beaumont and I believe you were an acquaintance of my father, Trent Beaumont." Angel waited for a reaction, but the man was completely unreadable.

Angel felt her temper seeping to the surface with each passing second. "I would like to ask you a few questions about my father if you don't mind?"

Still Hunter said nothing, but he appeared to be looking at her with a touch more interest.

"My father disappeared eleven years ago while on his way to Santa Fe to meet you.... I demand that you tell me what happened to him!" Angel's anger toward this man was causing her to lose sight of her good sense.

Finally he spoke to her. His deep voice carried his words softly so that no one close would overhear. "Sorry Miss, but I never had the pleasure of meeting Trent Beaumont in Santa Fe." A hint of a smile played upon his lips.

"I believe you killed my father, Hunter Night!" Her voice quivered with barely controlled fury.

His smile only widened, making it very obvious that he found the conversation amusing. "Well, Miss, you would be wrong then."

Angel tucked an irritating tawny ringlet back into her bonnet. "Mr. Night, I demand satisfaction on behalf of my father." She spoke the words loud enough so that all could hear.

For a split second, Hunter was caught off guard and Angel felt a sliver of satisfaction at the startled look in his eyes.

The room had become so quiet that Angel felt sure he could hear her teeth grinding in nervous determination.

When Hunter realized that her challenge was not just mere words, he stood up to his full height and looked down on her with something between contempt and wonder.

"Miss, as much as I would like to give you the attention that you seem to be seeking, I have to get riding." He touched the brim of his black hat in a gesture of mock respect.

The urge to smack the smile right off his face was almost uncontrollable, but instead, Angel spread her full, red lips into a dazzling smile of her own.

"As you wish, Mr. Night, but our next meeting might not be quite as pleasant as this one has been." Angel turned away from him and strolled out of the Bucket of Blood. The other patrons parted to make way for her departure.

Angel's stepmother burst out of the Silver Lady Saloon and ran to where Angel stood on the wooden plank sidewalk.

"Girl, have you gone plumb mad?" May Beaumont's anger flared. "I just got word that my foolish stepdaughter was challenging the Hunter to a gun fight!"

May Beaumont wore a low-cut, blue silk gown that made her blue eyes look like sapphires in her tired, but pretty face. A gust of wind whipped through May's golden ringlets.

"That man will not get away with killing pa." Angel's own anger returned to the surface.

"Hang up your fiddle girl. That man you speak of happens to be the Hunter, and there isn't anyone who has been able to take him down yet." May's exasperation with her stepdaughter was apparent.

More from frustration than discomfort, Angel yanked her bonnet from her head, allowing a cascade of golden brown curls to fall to her waist. "I may be only a woman, but I am also Trent Beaumont's daughter, and his murderer will have some reckoning to do."

May shook her head sadly and gently clasped Angel's arm, leading her toward the church where Angel had left the wagon.

When she had heard the whispers in church that the Hunter was in the Bucket of Blood, Angel had been able to think of little else but a confrontation. She had shamelessly walked out of Sunday services in the middle of Reverend Duncan's sermon.

When they reached the wagon, May gently clasped Angel's shoulders and peered into her stepdaughter's determined face.

"I have failed you and your father if you go get yourself killed, Angel." There were tears in May Beaumont's eyes.

Angel was riddled with guilt for the anguish she knew her actions would cause her stepmother. "You are the only mother I have ever known, and you certainly have not failed me. What would have happened to me if you had not taken in Trent Beaumont's daughter?" Angel hugged May before climbing into the wagon.

May put one hand on her hip and pointed a finger at Angel with the other. "You stay away from that savage, you understand girl?"

Angel didn't answer. Instead she smiled and took hold of the reins with both hands. Waving to her stepmother, she led the wagon and their old roan down Virginia City's main street.

A few moments later Angel's wagon left the town behind and headed into the Comstock Mining District. Everywhere one looked, silver mines dotted the sage covered hills. Angel's thoughts were in a whirlwind and she hardly noticed the break neck speed in which the wagon was taking the steep decline from Virginia City.

Hidden in Devil's Canyon was the little two room cabin that Trent Beaumont had built for his family more than a decade before. Angel's thoughts drifted as she expertly maneuvered the horse wagon onto the deeply rutted canyon road.

The words May had spoken to her on the day the sheriff had brought them the news of her father's death replayed endlessly within her mind.

"Your father chose the way he lived and died the way he chose." Tears rolled down May's cheeks. "Trent was a good man, though most would probably dispute that fact. I know he would rather have died than admit it to me, but I think he never really stopped loving your mother. The day your mother died ... a part of him died. I believe he lived by the gun in hopes that some day ... someone would end his misery."

May Beaumont--a saloon girl and the wife of an outlaw--reached out and pulled her husband's only child to her bosom.

"Your pa was a very unhappy man and I believe he knew exactly what he was doing when he sought out the Hunter. You have been my baby since you were in the cradle, and that will never change. I'll raise you to be a right young lady, I sure will." May smiled at Angel and wiped the child's tears away.

True to her word, May had continued to be a mother to her late husband's child. She had insisted that Angel attend school on a regular basis and church every Sunday. Though May Beaumont was shunned, she dutifully took Angel to services every week, pretending that she did not hear the whispers and see the looks of disapproval. Eventually the town gained a grudging respect for May. After all she was attempting to raise Angel in a respectful way.

Once Angel was old enough to attend church alone, May let her off at the door and picked her up after services. Though there was always vicious talk, Angel had learned to ignore the clucking tongues of the town gossips.

Every day for the past eleven years, Angel had lived on the hope of one day finding the Hunter, and now that day had come and he would pay.

Angel quickly changed out of her Sunday best into pants and a loose fitting shirt. Securing her long hair in one thick braid, she tucked it into one of her father's old hats. Underneath May's bed lay one of the few things that remained of Trent Beaumont. Angel picked up the rifle.

Running her fingers along the cold steel of the barrel a knot formed in her stomach as uncertainty gripped her. Angel had never hurt another living thing in her life, and here she was preparing to shoot down the man who had killed her beloved father.

Reaching up to the pantry shelf, she grabbed her tin. This is where she had stored all the money she'd saved for the past few years while working as a seamstress in Cora's Dress Shop. The bank notes amounted to approximately one hundred dollars. She felt sure it would be more than enough to hide out for a while after she'd done the deed she was setting out to do.

Quickly, Angel wrote a note to her stepmother, telling her how sorry she was to have slipped away, but it was something that had to be done.

Guilt gnawed at her for taking the old roan so she placed some money on the small wooden table with the note. Hopefully it would be enough to help May buy a new wagon horse. Angel knew that she would be gone for some time, for after she took care of the Hunter she would no doubt be wanted by the law. Outlaws throughout the west feared the half-breed bounty hunter, but Angel knew she could bring him down. She must.