Texas Blonde

Chapter Nine

Felicity lifted her eyelids slowly, cautiously, hoping that when she was fully awake her pain would fade like a bad dream. But it didn't. Every muscle in her body throbbed, and her insides felt as if someone had seared her with a red-hot iron. It was labor, she thought, except that unlike labor, the pain did not recede.

She listened a moment for Blanche or Candace. They should have been bustling around her, wiping her brow, encouraging her, but the room was still. Too still. Only the faint sound of someone breathing broke the ominous silence.

Cautiously, Felicity turned her head toward the sound, afraid a sudden movement might jar new sources of agony to life. She blinked in surprise. Joshua was sitting in his wingbacked chair beside her bed, and he was sound asleep. His chair did not belong in the bedroom, her pain-fogged brain argued. And why would he sleep sitting up? And why was he in here at all? Men had no place in a birthing room. Candace had said so.

Except this was no longer a birthing room, she remembered with terrifying suddenness. Her hands went instinctively to her now-flat abdomen, heedless of the way her sore muscles protested the movement. The baby! The baby had been born!

But where was it? she wondered frantically, glancing around the shadowed room. The heavy draperies had been drawn against the afternoon sunlight, so at first she could not make out the cradle sitting empty in the corner. NO! her mind screamed when she saw it. The baby was here! She knew it was. She remembered…

But she did not remember, not exactly. Where was her baby? "Where's my baby?" she croaked, her voice hoarse and faint.

Joshua stirred, and his eyes flickered open. In another second he was fully awake. "Lissy, are you all right?" he asked anxiously, leaning over the bed to see her better.

"My baby! Where's my baby?" she repeated urgently, her fears growing with every passing second. When she saw Joshua's face twist in pain, her fear turned to horror. "NO!" she screamed aloud this time.

"There was nothing anyone could do. He was stillborn," Joshua's voice said, but she knew it was a lie.

"No! I want my baby!" she cried hysterically, struggling to sit up. If they would not bring him to her, she would go and find him.

Joshua's strong arms closed around her. "Lie still, Lissy. You'll hurt yourself," he cautioned, cradling her gently to his chest.

"I want my baby!" she sobbed over and over in a litany of despair as he rocked her and stroked the tangle of her hair. So deep was her anguish, she no longer even felt her physical pain.

Josh blinked away his own tears as he listened to her weep. How could he have done this to her? he asked himself for the thousandth time. The physical pain was bad enough, but he could not bear her grief. Once again he experienced the overwhelming helplessness he hated so much.

Felicity sobbed until her weakened body could no longer sustain her grief and she grew limp and quiet in his arms.

With infinite care, he laid her back against the pillows. Her face was pale and tear-streaked, her eyes closed, and she only whimpered slightly as he drew his arms away. With one long finger, he tenderly brushed the tears from her cheeks.

She was so quiet and so still that he thought she must be sleeping again. Reluctantly, he began to rise from the bed and return to his chair and his vigil, but the fragile sound of her voice stopped him.

"I want to see him."

"What?" Josh said, uncertain he had heard correctly.

"I want to see my baby," she repeated. With apparent effort, she lifted her eyelids again. Josh was startled by the determination reflected in the sky blue of her eyes.

But he was already shaking his head. "No, Lissy, it's better if you don't-"

"I want to see my baby!" she said fiercely, her blue eyes glinting.

"Let her see him."

Both Josh and Felicity glanced up in surprise to see Blanche standing in the doorway.

"No," Josh insisted, remembering some adage about not missing something you never had. He knew that the sight of his son lying cold and motionless, covered with Felicity's blood, would haunt him as long as he lived.

"Yes," Blanche insisted right back. "Joshua, he's beautiful. You can't let her spend the rest of her life wondering if she gave birth to a monster so hideous we were afraid to let her see it!"

"Please, Blanche," Felicity begged, her voice little more than a whisper.

Blanche turned in a rustle of skirts and disappeared. Before Josh could even think to protest, she was back, a tiny yellow bundle clutched protectively to her bosom.

Felicity recognized the blanket instantly. It was one she had hemmed so carefully in preparation for her child. She struggled back up to a sitting position and reached out eagerly.

Blanche placed the bundle in her arms with a care bordering on reverence, and then she drew back the edge of the blanket so Felicity could see the little face.

"Oh!" Felicity cried, new tears streaming from her eyes. "Oh, Blanche, you're right. He is beautiful!" Slowly, as one unwraps a precious gift, she peeled back the blanket so she could, like all new mothers, count fingers and toes. For a long time Felicity simply stared, not quite able to comprehend how something so perfect could not be alive. Gradually she came to accept that the pale, slightly bluish skin was cold and that the stiff little body would never move again.

Lovingly, she stroked the lush black fuzz that covered her son's head. Black, the way Joshua's must have been once. "He has your hair," she said, lifting her gaze to her husband and surprising a look of such naked agony on his face that she almost cried out herself.

"Yes," he said in a strangled voice, pushing himself up from the bed at last and striding away, over to the window, where he could look out and not have to see her heartbreak. How would she bear it when they had to take the child from her and put it in the ground? What comfort could he offer that would make things right? Would he ever see her smile again?

Felicity watched him in despair, knowing that she had failed him. Her one hope of winning Joshua's love had been to give him a child. That hope now lay cold and dead in her arms. Would he ever forgive her?

"I'm sorry, Felicity," Blanche said.

Felicity looked up, a little surprised to see that her friend was still in the room.

"We did everything we could," Blanche continued. "Candace said the cord must've gotten caught during the birth. I'd give anything if…"

Felicity nodded dumbly, understanding the silence as well as the words.

"I'll dress him for you if you tell me what you want on him," Blanche offered.

Oh yes, Felicity thought. There were practical things to consider. Grave clothes and burying and a graveside service. But how could she ever let him go? Her arms tightened around the infant protectively, and she lowered her face to his, pressing her lips to the ivory brow. But even her mother's kiss could not make this right again. "Something warm," she said around fresh tears. "He'll need a bonnet, too, so he won't get cold…" When this new spate of weeping ended, Blanche reached for the child.

"Not yet!" Felicity protested, not surprised to see tears on Blanche's face, too. "I just want to look at him a little while longer." But how long would be enough? Forever, she answered herself, knowing such a request was ridiculous. And yet…

"I want a picture of him," Felicity declared.

Josh turned in disbelief from his post at the window. "A picture?" he rasped stupidly, not really comprehending her request.

"Yes, I want to make a photograph of him so I'll have something to remember him by." She could see the disbelief on their faces. "We did it once for a lady in Sweetwater. Her baby had just died," Felicity defended herself, remembering the woman's pathetic gratitude and understanding it now for the first time. "Tell Cody to get everything ready. I'll want to make the plate myself, but he can do the rest," she planned, thankful that she had taken the time to train Cody so thoroughly. The boy had accompanied her on several photographic expeditions around the ranch, and he could now do everything. Unfortunately, he lacked her skill with plate making, something that came only with time and experience.

Blanche and Josh stared at her in stunned silence. What could she say to make them obey her? "If you don't do this for me, I'll do it myself," she threatened. Still clutching the baby, she made as if to scoot toward the edge of the bed, wincing as her battered body protested.

"Wait!" Blanche cried, coming forward at last. "What shall I put on him?" she asked, taking the baby from her.

"His christening dress, for the picture, and afterward his bunting," Felicity instructed, her eyes misting as she realized the futility of trying to keep him warm. "And tell Cody-"

"I'll tell Cody," Josh said, breaking out of his shock at last. He could not bring the baby back, but at least he could grant her this small request. "But you can't make the plate. You're too weak to go out to the wagon."

"Then you'll have to carry me," she told him stubbornly. "I want this plate to be perfect, and Cody can't do a perfect plate yet."

In the end, Josh did carry her out, bundled in a quilt. Blanche posed the baby in his cradle in the afternoon sunshine. To the casual observer, he appeared to be asleep. Before Felicity would let Josh take her back inside, she insisted on seeing the negative. Only when she judged that it was perfect did she consent to return to her bed. Unutterably weary, she was asleep even before Josh returned her to her bed.

When she awoke again, a new day had dawned. Joshua sat next to her bed, and he was wearing his black suit. This time Candace brought her baby to her. He was dressed in his bunting, as if for a long trip.

When Josh was sure that Felicity was not going to lose control of herself again, he said, "We have to decide on a name for him."

Oh yes, more practical matters. Something for the tombstone, she thought bitterly. Why couldn't they just leave her alone with her baby? "I'd like to call him Caleb, after my father," she said instead.

Josh smiled sadly. "I thought you wanted to name him after me," he reminded her. They had discussed the matter several times, and Felicity had been adamant that a firstborn son should be named for his father.

Felicity's head snapped up. He could not be serious. Surely he did not want to waste his name on a dead baby.

"How about Caleb Joshua?" he suggested, seeing her uncertainty.

Felicity nodded, still not able to understand him, but unwilling to analyze his offer too closely. It was the name she would have chosen herself had she suspected his willingness to accept it.

"Gus made a… a box," he said, loath to use the word "coffin." "And we're going to put him right next to my father."

"That will be nice," she said inanely, not knowing what response was appropriate. The thought of putting her baby in a box in the ground was too horrifying even to contemplate.

They sat in silence for a while, as Felicity made her peace with the fact that she would never see her child again. Then Blanche came in and took him for the last time. Once more Felicity kissed the cold brow, and once more Joshua held her while she wept.

Although no one told her what they were doing, she heard them come and carry the coffin out of the house. Joshua left her then, promising to return soon, and Blanche came in to sit with her. Her body still ached, but she could already notice an improvement, even after only twenty-four hours. Her heart was another matter entirely. Nothing would ever ease that agony.

"I know it's hard to believe right now, but someday soon it won't hurt quite as much," Blanche said.

Felicity stared at her.

"Oh, it never goes away completely. You'll always miss him, always wonder what kind of a man he might have become if he'd only had a chance, but the pain gets so you can live with it, after a while." Seeing Felicity's skepticism, she added, "I know. I've buried two myself."

"Blanche!" Felicity cried out in instant sympathy. How could anyone survive this twice? "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Blanche smiled sadly. "I didn't want to scare you. And I didn't want you to feel sorry for me, either. It's not much comfort, I know, but you're young and healthy. You'll have another chance, and maybe next time you'll be lucky. It won't make you forget the one you lost, but it will give you something to hope for."

As usual, Blanche's forthrightness had helped Felicity over a difficult situation. For the first time since she had awakened to discover her loss, she thought she might survive it.

Felicity gazed out the ranch house window at the endless stretch of prairie. Winter had turned the emerald grass a golden brown, curing the nourishing feed into hay right on the stem so the cattle could graze all year round. A very efficient process, she reflected absently, making it possible for a rancher to run thousands of head of cattle. If they had had to worry about penning and feeding so many cows, even during the relatively short Texas winter, then ranching would have been impossible.

But Felicity was not inclined to count such blessings today. A blue norther had blown in during the night, dropping the temperature below freezing and whipping stinging snow flurries across the prairie. Outside the wind howled, sending blue-black cloud scudding across the broad sky. Felicity pulled her new Paisley shawl more closely around her as the wind found a tiny crack beside the window and stole inside.

The shawl had been a Christmas gift from Joshua. She had never dreamed of actually owning such a fine garment. It must have cost at least twenty-five dollars. Even Blanche had said she'd never seen one so beautiful. A gift like that should have made Felicity extremely happy. Wasn't it proof that Joshua still cared for her even though she'd lost his child?

But he'd bought the shawl before the baby died, the voice of reason reminded her, back when he thought he would be honoring the mother of his son. And now, more than two months later, he still would not sleep with her. He had moved all his things back into his old bedroom, claiming that he did not want to disturb her rest while she recovered.

But she was recovered, completely, and she was tired of sleeping alone in their bed. She wanted her husband back. She wanted things to be the way they had been before. But how could she explain that to Joshua? And would it make any difference? What if he did not want things to be the way they were before?

Weary from her thoughts, she turned away from the window and returned to her seat by the hearth in hopes of chasing away the chill that seemed permanently settled in her soul. Picking up the Bible that lay on the table beside her chair, she flipped it open, turning automatically to the book of II Samuel and the story of David and Bathsheba. Not the part about their adultery, but the part where God punished them by killing their child. At first, right after her baby's death, Felicity had tortured herself, wondering what evil she might have done to have caused her baby's death. That phase was over now. Now she simply accepted the fact, as Blanche had assured her she would one day.

Still the story drew her, and she read it once again, up to the verse where David learns of the baby's death and says, "Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me." For the first time, she continued to read, her eyes drawn by something she had never noticed before in the next verse.

"And David comforted Bathsheba his wife, and went in unto her, and lay with her; and she bare a son, and he called his name Solomon."

David comforted his wife and she bare him a son! Of course! That was what Felicity needed. She needed Joshua's comfort. And she needed another son. That was the hope Blanche had told her about.

Felicity's lips twitched into a smile, her first real smile in a long time. It was all so simple, she didn't know why she had not realized it before. All she had to do was tell Joshua… That thought stopped her. How could she explain to him that she wanted him to move back into their room so he would make love to her and give her another baby? Joshua seemed perfectly at ease discussing such personal things, but Felicity knew she never would be. Maybe if she hinted…

But no, Felicity had hinted on more than one occasion that he need not sleep in the other room. He had ignored her. She would have to do more than hint if she wanted him back. Her smile puckered into a worried frown as she considered various possibilities.

After supper Josh sat down beside the fire, sincerely wondering if he would ever get warm again. All day long he had been riding against the icy wind looking for cows that had drifted too far afield trying to outrun the storm. Even his heavy sheepskin jacket had not adequately protected him from the cold. Now he turned his chair toward the hearth and stretched out his long legs in an attempt to absorb as much heat as possible into his frozen bones.

"Are you still cold?" Felicity asked. She, too, had pulled her chair closer to the fire.

"I'm starting to thaw," he allowed warily, glancing toward her and then quickly returning his gaze to the flickering flames. She had been acting strangely all evening. Well, not strange exactly, but different. He should have been glad to see the pall of sadness finally lift from her eyes, but those eyes were making him very uncomfortable.

She'd been watching him ever since the moment he'd come through the front door. Her smile of greeting had cheered him instantly until he noticed the overbright glitter of her eyes. She was just a little too happy to see him and more than a little too eager to please. Several times during the evening she had touched him, fleeting little brushes of her hands that lingered just a second too long to be accidental.

With heart-wrenching certainty, he knew what she wanted, and it was the same thing he wanted, too. She wanted to make love. Long ago, before tragedy had entered their lives, he had seen her like this often. He had lived to see her eyes kindle with desire, and in the past few months the sight of her face alight with wanting him had haunted his dreams.

Now she was almost giddy with that desire, although he supposed she would have died of embarrassment if she had realized how obvious her feelings were. In the past she had always waited for him to make the first move, only letting herself respond when she was sure of his intentions. But would she wait tonight? And what would she do when she discovered he had no intention of making love with her?

Felicity waited in vain for the invitation she wanted him to make, the invitation that would have followed naturally during the early days of their marriage. He would have said that he was freezing, and would she come over and warm him up? Then he would have pulled her down into his lap and kissed her in prelude to carrying her off to their bedroom.

Self-consciously, she touched the sleek line of her hair. Did he no longer find her attractive? Uncertain hands smoothed her dress. She had her figure back now. Surely he had noticed. But what if he had noticed and still did not want her?

No, she insisted silently, he did still want her. It was just that he thought she was still sick. No one had told him otherwise, but she would remedy that. "Spring will be here soon," she said conversationally. "I certainly would like to get some winter photographs before the trees leaf out. Especially that tree where we had the picnic, remember?"

Josh nodded, not daring to look at her as memories of that happy day flooded back to torment him.

"Now that I'm completely recovered, maybe you'd take me out on the first nice day after this storm breaks," she suggested.

"Cody would be more help," Josh said, knowing he could not trust himself alone with her under that tree.

"But you'd be more fun," she said, forcing herself to smile in what she hoped was an attractive manner and placing her hand on his arm.

Josh almost winced when he felt her touch and saw the fragile hope shimmering in her eyes. How could he smash that hope? But he would have to, and soon. "Lissy," he began, uncertain of what to say next.

Her name was enough. He had not called her "Lissy" since the day of the funeral, and at the sound of the word, her heart melted. No longer proud or even embarrassed, she flung herself out of her chair and into his arms.

"Oh, Joshua," she breathed against the warm curve of his neck before lifting her mouth for his kiss.

Desire scorched through him like wildfire, igniting every particle of his body. The smell, the taste, the feel of her were unspeakably wonderful, and like a man long starved, he wanted nothing more than to devour her. For one blissful second he held her fast, feasting on the lips she gave so willingly. Only at the last moment did sanity prevail.

Using his last ounce of strength, he pushed her away and held her there. "We can't do this," he said hoarsely, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Yes, we can," she assured him with a tremulous smile. "I'm fine now! Candace said-"

"I know you're fine, but we still can't do this. I can't make love to you, Felicity. Can't and won't," he added grimly.

Felicity stared at him in horror. The "can't" made no sense to her, but she understood the "won't" only too well. Humiliation welled up in her until she felt her very breath strangle in her throat. With a cry of anguish she broke free of him and scrambled to her feet. Away, she had to get away. She had made a fool of herself, throwing herself at a man who didn't want her. How could she ever face him again?

Catching up her skirts, she ran toward the sanctuary of her bedroom, but he was right behind her. When she would have slammed the door, he caught it and pushed it open again, sending her flying across the room.

"Get out of here!" she cried, frantically dashing away the tears that had already begun to streak down her face. What more could he want now that he had stripped her of the last vestiges of her pride?

"I have to explain," Josh said, cursing himself for a bumbling fool. How could he have handled this so badly? How could he have made her cry again when he had sworn he would protect her for the rest of her life? "There's a good reason why we can't make love ever again."

"I don't want to hear it!" she shouted. Did he expect her to stand here and listen to him say he did not want her anymore? Her old suspicions about him and Blanche rushed up again.

"Yes, you do," he shouted back, grabbing her by the arms and shaking her slightly. "Listen to me!" he commanded.

Unable to resist, she obeyed, but she refused to look at his face, focusing instead on one of his shirt buttons. How could she bear this?

"Felicity," he began, tempering his voice to gentleness, "if I… if we make love, sooner or later you'll get pregnant again."

Her eyes flew to his face, her mouth open in wonder. He had guessed her purpose, but why should he resist? He wanted a child as much as she did. Hadn't he prophesied that a hundred years from now Logans would still be living here?

Josh took a deep breath to steady himself against the onslaught of emotions her nearness and the vulnerability in her eyes produced. "If you have another baby, I'm afraid… I'm afraid you'll die."

She quailed under the impact of his words. Die? No! Such a thing was unthinkable. "I won't die," she insisted. "I didn't die this time and-"

"You almost did," he said grimly. "If I hadn't… done what I did, you would have."

Felicity shook her head in silent denial, but she knew he was right. They had never spoken of what had happened during the final stages of the delivery. Felicity had been afraid to find out his real reasons, afraid to learn that he had only been trying to save the baby. Now it seemed the truth was even more awful.

"Blanche and Candace came to me afterward. They told me that more than likely, any child I give you will be too big for you to deliver. Some women just aren't built for childbirth, and you're one of them. I won't put you through that again, Lissy. I can't."

"But the first time is always hard," she argued, unwilling to even acknowledge what his words would mean to their marriage. "Next time it will be easier! I promise!"

Josh shook his head. "I can't take that chance," he said, rubbing his hands gently up and down her arms. He took another deep breath and let it out on a shuddering sigh. "I love you too much to lose you, Lissy. I can't spend the rest of my life alone, knowing that I killed you."

"No!" she cried in protest, burying her face against his chest. How could this be happening? Joshua, her beloved Joshua, had just said he loved her, the words she had longed to hear for almost a year. Why did she feel as if her heart had been torn from her body? He loved her but he would not make love to her because he loved her too much to lose her. The irony of it made her want to laugh and cry at the same time. The choking sound that struggled out of her throat was a sob.

He held her as she cried, savoring the delicious warmth of her body next to his and knowing that when he let her go this time, he could not hold her again. After a long time her weeping ceased, and still they clung to each other.

"Joshua?" she said, her voice small and muffled against his chest. "I love you, too."

Josh crushed her to him, blinking rapidly so he would not disgrace himself. How could such beautiful words cause so much pain?

Her embrace was as fierce as his. The knowledge that he loved her and that he still wanted her made her strong. "We don't have to be apart anymore," she ventured. "I mean, you can sleep with me even though we can't…"

But Josh shook his head. "It's hard enough keeping my hands off you when you're on the other side of the house, Lissy. I'm not a saint."

Felicity pulled back so she could see his face. "But there must be something, something we don't know about. Candace isn't a doctor. Maybe if I saw a doctor, he could help. He could think of something, I know!"

Josh smiled down at her, a loving but regretful smile. "Maybe," he said, unconvinced but startled by the realization that he should have been the one insisting on finding some other solution. Maybe he really was a saint.

"There are doctors in San Antonio. We can go there, as soon as the weather breaks," she said, feeling better already. "We'll find a way. I know we will!"

Josh did not have the heart to disillusion her. "Sure we will," he said. "Now kiss me good night, Mrs. Logan. Gently," he added when she threw her arms around his neck.

The kiss was long and sweet, bittersweet, and it left them both trembling. When Josh closed the bedroom door behind him, he made straight for the liquor cabinet, hoping something inside it would have the power to quench the fire raging in his blood.

Felicity paced her room far into the night, wrestling with a problem that seemed to have no solution.

Asa Gordon reined up outside the ranch house and reached up to pull the scarf away from his mouth. Damn this weather, he thought with irritation. Last night he'd had to make camp on the frozen ground. At least the snow had only amounted to flurries. So much for sleeping under the bright Texas stars, he thought with a self-mocking grin.

"Hello, the house!" he called, giving the traditional western greeting. While he waited, he noted with regret the flowerpots on the porch holding the withered remnants of once lush foliage. If it were spring, he could have complimented the lady on her flowers. The way he was feeling right now-cold and tired and hungry-he would be hard-pressed to think of any compliments at all. Maybe he would settle for a comfortable night's sleep and forego any questions on this stop. In his present mood, he did not think he could cope with any more disappointments.

The front door opened slowly and a brightly clad figure stepped out onto the porch. The woman squinted in the bright winter sunlight, trying to recognize him.

"Good afternoon, ma'am," he said, doffing his hat. "My name is Asa Gordon, and I'm ashamed to admit I'm lost."

The woman smiled, a broad, brazen smile that lit up her whole face. "And I'm mighty glad to meet a man willing to admit it," she replied. "You must be half-froze, too. Put your horse in the corral and then come back here. I'll see if I can't scare you up some hot coffee and cold beans."

"I would be eternally grateful to you, ma'am," he replied gallantly, hoping his delight did not show on his face. The woman was spectacular, buxom and beautiful and bold. And a widow, too, or he'd missed his guess. "That is, if you're sure your husband won't mind."

"I'm a widow, Mr, Gordon. I make my own rules," she said, her smile still bright.

"Well then, I'd be glad to accept your hospitality, Mrs____________________"

"Delano. Blanche Delano," she supplied.

Mrs. Blanche Delano did better than cold beans. Asa sat down to a full meal of beef and beans and biscuits. When he had eaten his fill and drunk several cups of strong, hot coffee, he had already begun to plan how to extend his visit here. Widow Delano was simply too good to pass up. Perhaps he'd tell her his sad story and make her ranch his base of operations for a while.

"You mentioned you were lost, Mr. Gordon," she said when he had finished his meal. She was sitting across from him at the dining room table sipping her own cup of coffee. "Where was it you were heading? Maybe we can set you straight again."

"I guess I'm not really lost, not strictly speaking. I don't think you can be lost if you don't really know where you're going," he began with an apologetic grin. Certain he had her full attention, he continued. "You see, I'm looking for someone, my brother-in-law and his daughter, my niece. I've been in Texas for almost a year now trying to locate them, but so far I haven't had any luck."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Blanche said, taking another sip of her coffee. "Don't you have any idea where they settled?"

"That's just it, Mrs. Delano, they never settled anywhere. They kept on the move. My brother-in-law is a photographer, and he has a wagon that he takes from town to town and… Are you all right?" he asked in concern.

Blanche continued to choke on the coffee that had slid down the wrong way and waved away his concern with one hand. "I'm fine," she said when she could speak again. "Tell me more about your brother-in-law. Why are you trying to find him?"

"Well, it's not him I'm trying to find so much as my niece. You see, when my sister Claire married, our father did not approve, so she and Caleb ran away. We haven't heard from them in years, not since the girl was a baby."

"Then, last year, our father had a bad spell with his heart. The doctor warned him that unless he started taking it easy, he might not live much longer. I suppose he started thinking about dying without ever having seen his granddaughter, and he sent me off to find her."

"And you've been looking for a whole year," she marveled. "Don't you ever get discouraged?"

Asa grinned. "Every day for the past few months, especially when the weather's bad. But if you knew my father, you'd understand why I don't want to go back without her."

Blanche nodded, wondering just how formidable old Mr. Gordon would have to be to intimidate this man. Something told her Asa Gordon's tenacity was inspired by something far more noble than fear of his father's wrath. "And what did you say your niece's name is, Mr. Gordon?"

Every one of Asa's instincts piqued at her question. "Felicity. Felicity Storm."

Blanche could not believe her luck. After all these years she had finally found a man whose strength, both mental and physical, made her feel delightfully fragile and feminine. From what he had told her about his family, she gathered that his father was well-to-do, meaning any attraction he felt for her would be due to her considerable charms and not to her prosperous ranch. Finally, he had turned out to be her best friend's uncle. What could be better?

Asa Gordon could not believe his luck. After all these years he had finally met a woman who excited more than just his sexual interest. Blanche Delano was a woman he wanted to spend some time getting to know, both before and after he bedded her. Now any chance of that was shot to hell. But how could he have known she would turn out to be bosom buddies with Felicity Storm? And why hadn't he followed his first impulse and not told her his "story"?

Asa stole a glance at Blanche where she sat next to him in the buggy. She did not look like the kind of woman who approved of lies. Or liars.

"We'd better get a move on or we won't get there before dark," Blanche said, her smile bright with anticipation. She could hardly wait to see Felicity's face when she met Asa. The girl would be so happy to discover that she wasn't really alone in the world, that she had a family, a real family. Since the baby's death, Felicity had been so depressed. This was just the lift she needed.

Asa reluctantly slapped the horses into a faster gait. Getting to the Logan ranch quickly was something he was loath to do. How had he ever let Blanche talk him into going over there this very night? Or let her convince him that she needed to accompany him? The last thing he wanted was to have Blanche present him as the girl's long-lost uncle and then have to contradict the story right in front of the girl and her husband. If Logan was any kind of man at all, he'd run Asa off with a shotgun, and who could blame him? Asa would be lucky if they even let him explain the truth.

Oh well, he thought philosophically, Richard Winthrop had not hired him to bring the girl back, only to find her. Asa had already accomplished that. If Winthrop wanted her so badly, he could come and get her himself. The prospect of Felicity's husband running Richard Winthrop off his property at gunpoint cheered Asa considerably as the Logan ranch buildings appeared in the distance.

"Who could he be?" Felicity wondered aloud as she and Candace peered out the front window at the man accompanying Blanche up the ranch house steps.

"Never saw him before," Candace said. "I'd of remembered a man like that. He looks like he'd be a handful, but then I reckon that's how she likes her men."

Felicity stifled a giggle at Candace's outrageous remark. "And what a strange time to come calling, right at suppertime," she mused. "Unless she has news that just won't wait. Oh, Candace, do you suppose…"

Candace sniffed dismissively. "If she had a man like that courting her, everybody in six counties would know about it by now. Course, judging from the way he took her arm to help her up the steps, I'd say something might be just starting up."

They had no further opportunity for speculation because their visitors had reached the door. Felicity ran to open it.

"Blanche! It's so nice to see you. You're just in time for supper, too," Felicity greeted her, trying not to stare too openly at the man as he stepped into the parlor and closed the door against the outside chill.

"You'll be glad to give me supper when you hear the news I've brought," Blanche said after giving Felicity a hug. "Where's Joshua?"

"He's getting cleaned up. I'll call him. Mr. Logan! We have company!" she called, a little self-conscious that Blanche would see him coming out of his old bedroom. Would her friend wonder at their sleeping arrangements?

But Blanche seemed too excited to notice. In fact, Felicity was afraid Blanche might just burst before she could tell her news. Luckily, Josh came right out at her call.

"You picked a mighty cold night to come all this way fora free meal," Josh teased as he came through the bedroom door, but at the sight of a strange man in his parlor, his smile faded to polite wariness.

"Joshua, Felicity, I'd like you to meet Asa Gordon," Blanche offered, barely suppressing her triumphant smile.

Josh stepped forward and shook hands with the stranger, and Felicity nodded and smiled, completely puzzled by Blanche's mysterious mood. Of course, simply knowing a man like Asa Gordon must be rather exciting, Felicity admitted. He was, as Candace had said, a real handful, big and tall, and he looked as if he'd probably walk right up and spit in the devil's eye, given the opportunity. His face was brown and weathered, but not as weathered as most men's his age. She had the feeling he had not lived an outdoor life. When she heard his accent, she realized she had judged correctly. He was an easterner.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Logan, ma'am," Asa said, nodding to both of them. He'd been right. Logan was definitely the shotgun type. He'd better watch his step. "You'll have to pardon us for dropping in right at mealtime like this-"

"It's all my fault," Blanche interrupted. "I couldn't wait another minute to tell you. Felicity, Mr. Gordon is… oh, you'll never guess! He's your uncle!"

"Uncle?!" Josh and Felicity repeated in unison, both equally astonished.

Asa could have groaned aloud. He'd wanted to tell them himself, carefully skirting any reference to his supposed relationship to the girl. He should have known Blanche would beat him to it.

"Yes," Blanche hurried on, heedless of Asa's dismay. "He lives in Philadelphia, and you have a grandfather, too. He almost died last year, and he decided he wanted to see you after all these years that your mother and father kept you from him, so he sent Asa to find you. He's been looking for you for almost a year, since right around the time you came here, I suppose, but he couldn't find you, of course, until today when he stopped by my house and…" Blanche paused for breath, throwing up her hands in surrender when she realized her explanation was making no sense. "Anyway, don't you see? Asa is your uncle and you have a grandfather and maybe even cousins and who knows what else. Felicity, you have a family!"

Even in her confusion, Felicity understood that much. This fascinating man was her uncle, her own flesh and blood. In an instant she took in his curly brown hair with its distinguished gray streaks at the temples, his perceptive chocolate-colored eyes with the squint lines at the corners, and his broad mouth that she knew smiled too seldom.

Her own mouth opened into a smile of delight. "Welcome to our home, Uncle Asa," she said, moving toward him. Impulsively, she reached out to him and, rising up on tiptoe, placed a small kiss on his whisker-roughened cheek.

Asa stared down at her in growing horror, watching the joy flicker in her lovely blue eyes. How had he gotten into this? he wondered frantically, feeling the heat rise in his neck. And when was the last time he had blushed? Long before Felicity Storm Logan was ever born, he was certain. He had to end this charade immediately.

"I'm not your uncle, Mrs. Logan," he said gruffly.

Felicity stepped back as if she'd been burned. "What?" she said, confused all over again.

"But Asa, you told me-" Blanche protested.

"I know what I told you, Blanche… Mrs. Delano," Asa corrected himself. She had given him permission to call her by her given name when she had thought him an honorable man. He could no longer claim that privilege. "It was a lie."

"A lie!" Blanche echoed incredulously. "You mean everything you told me-"

"Not everything," Asa informed her, grateful that for once he had told the real story. "I'm not her uncle. The rest is true."

"And what is the rest?" Josh Logan demanded with quiet menace, his gray eyes narrowed to deadly slits. Asa noted that he had stepped forward and placed his hands protectively on his wife's shoulders. Asa could still feel the girl's sweet kiss and could not bring himself to look at her face, to see the disappointment written there. He sighed wearily.

"The truth is this. Twenty years ago, when Claire Maxwell married Caleb Storm, her father disowned her. She and Storm ran away. Mrs. Storm kept in touch with her sister for a while, so your grandfather knew when you were born, Mrs. Logan, but then your mother stopped writing. For years, no one knew where you were. Your father wrote to tell your aunt when your mother died, and he mentioned that he was making a living as a photographer. More years passed, and then your grandfather had a mild heart attack. He started thinking about putting his life in order and decided he wanted to see his one and only grandchild before he died. That was a little over a year ago. He hired me to track you down."

"Hired you?" Josh repeated scornfully.

"Yes," Asa admitted, uncowed. "I'm a Pinkerton detective."

"A Pinkerton!" Blanche cried in outrage. "Oh, Josh, I'm so sorry! If I'd known-"

"It's not your fault, Blanche," Josh said quietly. "He lied to you."

Felicity listened to all this like one in a trance. Too much information had entered her brain at one time for her to take it all in. This man was her uncle, except he wasn't really, but he had come to take her to her grandfather whom she hadn't known existed.

"Lissy, are you all right?" Josh asked.

She nodded, but he did not seem to notice. "Here, sit down. This has been a shock." Josh led her to the big chair by the fire and seated her in it.

"How could you!" Blanche railed at Gordon. "I told you she just lost a baby. She's not well, and now this on top of everything else. If I was a man, I'd shoot you where you stand!"

That much was obvious, Asa acknowledged. At the moment, he felt so low he might even have let her.

"And a detective." Blanche spat out the word as if it left a bad taste in her mouth. She did not need to say more. Asa knew only too well what many people thought of private detectives, that they were only one step-if that-above the criminals they investigated. Allan Pinkerton was fighting hard to improve their image, but many people fiercely resisted the concept of peacetime spying. Obviously,

Blanche Delano was one of them.

"I'm sorry," Asa said, successfully hiding his own disappointment over Blanche's contempt. "I never meant to distress you, Mrs. Logan. I'll tell your grandfather where you are. I'm sure he'll be in touch. Goodby." He turned to the door, grateful he was going to be allowed to make such a dignified retreat, and even more grateful he had thought to tie his own horse on behind Blanche Delano's buggy for just such a contingency.

"Wait!" Felicity cried. "Don't leave!"

"You don't want that man here," Josh insisted, placing a restraining hand on her shoulder. "Get out of here, Gordon, and don't come back."

"No, please, Joshua! I want him to stay! There are so many things I need to know. Please!" Felicity entreated.

Josh looked into her eyes, and for the first time in many months, he saw hope reflected in their depths. As much as he detested Asa Gordon and everything he stood for, he could not snuff out that hope.

"All right, Gordon, you can stay until you've answered my wife's questions. You owe her that much," Josh said.

Asa studied Joshua Logan's steely gray eyes for a moment before deciding to accept the invitation. As much as he respected Logan's eagerness to protect his wife, Asa also had a strong sense of self-preservation that warned him to be very careful in how he treated Mrs. Logan.

"Please, sit down, Mr. Gordon," Felicity urged, impatient with Joshua's attempts at intimidating their visitor. She indicated the settee which faced the chair in which she sat, and with apparent reluctance, Gordon came over and sat down. She noticed he had not removed his coat. Probably he was prepared to make a hasty retreat if necessary. "Tell me everything you know about my grandfather," she entreated.

Asa cleared his throat, aware that Blanche had removed her cape and taken a seat to his left. Not allowing himself to look at her, he concentrated on Felicity Logan's perfect face.

"Your grandfather is Henry Maxwell. He makes his home in Philadelphia, and he made his fortune in railroads. Perhaps you've heard of him."

Felicity had not, but Blanche had. "Henry Maxwell? Not the Henry Maxwell!" she exclaimed.

Asa nodded grimly.

"Who is he?" Felicity asked.

"Like the man said, he made his fortune in railroads," Josh explained. He was sitting on the arm of her chair, and now he took her hand gently, as if he were delivering bad news. "Your grandfather built a lot of railroads over in Europe somewhere. He's famous."

"It was Russia," Asa corrected, "but your husband is right. Henry Maxwell is quite well known."

"And he must be a millionaire," Blanche added.

"Oh yes, many times over," Asa confirmed. "That is why he could afford to hire a Pinkerton detective to search for you. I've been on the case for almost a year, but we had someone else looking for you long before that."

"Then someone was following me!" Felicity said. "I always had this funny feeling that someone was chasing us. My father always said I was silly, but somehow I knew."

"I doubt that anyone really was 'chasing' you, Mrs. Logan," Asa said. "You see, we didn't actually start on the case until just a few months before your father passed away. What you may have sensed was that your father was running away-from your grandfather."

"But why?" Felicity asked, appalled at the thought that her father had feared or disliked her grandfather so much that he had actually fled to avoid him.

"Because when your mother died, Mr. Maxwell offered to take you in," Asa said. "Actually, it was more of a demand. I think he even sent someone to get you, but when they got there, you and your father were gone. Your father covered his tracks well, and after a few months, Mr. Maxwell gave up hope of ever locating you."

"Until now," Josh corrected grimly.

"Yes, until now," Asa confirmed. "As I told Mrs. Delano, Mr. Maxwell had a bad spell with his heart. He began to consider his own mortality and decided to find you if it was the last thing he did. Somehow he traced you to Texas, and you know the rest of the story."

"Mr. Gordon has been on the trail himself for almost a year," Blanche supplied bitterly. "He's been traveling up and down the state telling his lies and asking for word of you. He's a very dedicated man."

Asa winced at the sarcasm in her voice, but he decided not to respond. Instead he waited to see if Felicity had any more questions.

Felicity considered all the things he had told her. It explained so much that she had never understood before. And to think, she had a family about which she had never known. An emotion she hardly recognized stirred in her. Her life had been joyless for so many weeks, she needed a moment to comprehend the surge of happiness she felt. "Do I have any more relatives besides my grandfather?"

"Your mother's sister is still living, and there's a… a cousin or two, I think," Asa said, thinking of Richard Winthrop and deciding not to give him too much importance. With luck, the girl might never even have to know Winthrop existed.

"Oh, Mr. Logan, I have a family," Felicity said, reaching out to squeeze his hand, so overwhelmed with her own wonder that she did not notice the dread that flickered over her husband's face. "Do you suppose they'd like to come and visit us?" she asked hopefully.

Asa Gordon shook his head. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but the last I heard, your grandfather was not doing very well. He's bedridden, and his doctors don't hold out much hope for his recovery."

"No!" Felicity cried, unwilling to accept the possibility that the grandfather she had only just learned about could be snatched from her so suddenly.

Asa did not bother to suggest that she might want to visit the old man. She would think of it soon enough herself, even though her husband would not like the idea, judging from his expression. Far better that the suggestion come from her than from Asa. "Is there anything else you'd like to know?" he asked, eager to be on his way.

"Yes," Josh said, rising to his feet. "What are you going to do now?"

Asa took the cue and rose also, not wanting to be at even the slightest disadvantage with Josh Logan. "I am going to telegraph Mr. Maxwell and tell him where his granddaughter is. After that my job is over."

Josh curled his hands into fists as he fought for control over his warring emotions. Part of him was happy for his wife, and grateful to see that beautiful face once more alight when once he had wondered if she would ever smile again. The other part of him was twisted in agony over the knowledge that Felicity-the woman he had chosen particularly because she had no one else in the world except him-now belonged to one of the richest men in America also. Her grandfather would want her back, too, the way his mother's family had wanted her back. Hadn't Gordon said that when Maxwell had sent for her the first time, it had been a demand?

Maxwell would demand her again, Josh knew. If he did, whom would she choose? Did Josh have a chance of holding her when all he had to offer was the sterile mockery of a marriage? When to offer her more might cause her death? And when Maxwell could offer her the world and more?

Although Asa did not understand the reasons for it, he recognized Josh's fury. "I reckon I'll be on my way now," he said, turning once more for the door.

"You can't go now," Felicity said, rising swiftly and rushing to her husband's side so she could stop any protest he might make. "It's pitch-dark out and freezing cold. Your horse might fall and break a leg, or you might get lost, or anything could happen. Please, stay to supper and then spend the night in the bunkhouse. You won't be able to send your telegram until morning anyway."

She watched Asa Gordon's brown gaze dart first to Blanche and then to Josh, judging their reactions to the invitation. Obviously they did not approve, but Felicity was not going to let that stop her. Whatever their opinion of Asa Gordon and Pinkerton detectives, the man had brought her wonderful news. Besides, she could not seem to shake loose of that very brief moment when she had thought he was her uncle. If she ever had an uncle, she wanted him to be just like Asa Gordon. "You're very welcome here," she assured him, giving Josh a glance that dared him to contradict her.

"You might as well stay till morning," Josh agreed grudgingly, surrendering to the inevitable.

"And Blanche, you'll stay, too, won't you?" Felicity added, noticing for the first time the odd look on her friend's face. Felicity suddenly realized that Blanche's disappointment went far deeper than having been duped by a clever detective. Blanche had seen all the same things in Asa Gordon that Felicity had, but Blanche had not seen him as an uncle. Blanche had seen him as a man. Instinctively, Felicity knew she had to keep the two of them together somehow. Blanche was angry now, but when she cooled off, she might forgive Asa Gordon. That, Felicity also knew, might be very good indeed.

Asa stayed for supper, and Felicity seated him at her right hand. The men of the Rocking L accepted him immediately, perhaps because they were all so glad to see Mrs. Logan cheerful once again. At any rate, by the time the meal was over, Felicity had managed to draw out at least a sketchy outline of Asa Gordon's very eventful life.

If Blanche was impressed, she gave no indication of it. Instead she sat in uncharacteristic silence throughout the meal and retired to her bedroom soon afterward. She took time only to apologize once more to Felicity and Josh for her part in bringing Asa Gordon into their lives.

Josh was equally as reticent, treating Gordon more like an intruder than a guest, but Felicity bade Gordon a sincerely kind "good night" when he left for the bunkhouse.

"I'll leave for town early, Mrs. Logan, so I'll have time to get a reply to my telegram before the day is over," he told her.

"Please tell my grandfather how happy I am to find out about him, and that I hope he's feeling well," she said. "And then come back here to stay the night. I'll want to know what he has to say."

"I'll bring back any message," he promised, not committing himself further than that. He didn't bother to look to Logan for a confirmation to her invitation, knowing the rancher would not give one.

Josh listened to the exchange with reluctant admiration. As much as he detested what Gordon had done to them, he had to respect the man. The detective had managed to maintain his dignity in a very difficult situation. Not many men could have so stoically endured a meal with people who so obviously disapproved of him, and fewer still could have stood up under Blanche Delano's contempt, especially not if they were as taken with her as Gordon so obviously was. Still Josh could not help but wish he would never have to see the detective again.

When the door closed behind Gordon, Felicity turned back to face Josh. "Isn't this wonderful?" she demanded, hugging herself for fear she might burst with happiness. "Just think! I have a family! A real family!"

"I thought I was your family," Josh remarked, the calmness of his voice giving no indication of the raw emotions churning inside him.

But Felicity sensed them, and when she focused on his face, she saw the anger and the hurt he was being so careful to hide. "Of course you're my family," she said, hurrying to him. "You're my husband, my very, very closest family." As if to prove that, she slipped her arms around him and held him close, but to her surprise, he did not return the embrace. Instead, he stood ramrod-stiff and unresponsive.

Josh stared down at the top of her golden head, gritting his teeth against the wave of desire that threatened to drown him. He had wanted her every minute of every day since the first time they had made love, but never more than at this moment. He needed to take her and love her as he had never loved her before, to bury himself in her velvet depths until the two of them became one being. He needed to confirm the newly spoken bond of love between them, but he knew he could not. To do so might put her life in danger, the life he now knew meant more to him than his own.

Added to the agonizing knowledge that he could not confirm their bond was the suspicion that that bond now lay in grave danger of being broken. Asa Gordon had brought with him a threat, the threat that Felicity might leave Josh the very same way his mother had left all those years ago. What would Felicity do when Maxwell demanded her presence, as Josh knew he would? Was her love for him strong enough to hold her here when he could offer her only half a life? Josh's mother had loved him, but she had left him anyway, unable to resist the temptations her family's money offered.

Felicity held Josh more tightly, unable to understand his resistance. Beneath her ear she could hear his heart hammering. Beneath her hands she could feel his muscles strain as he held himself in check. "Joshua, I love you," she whispered.

Her words snapped the slender thread of his control. His arms closed around her with bone-crushing force and his lips found hers in a devouring kiss. Felicity surrendered eagerly, clinging to him with every ounce of her strength. She offered herself to him with complete abandon as her blood turned to liquid fire and warmed places that had been cold for far too long.

"Love me, Joshua. Please, love me," she breathed against the heated skin of his face. "I'm not afraid."

But Josh was afraid, afraid of losing her. Which did he fear more, losing her to Maxwell or losing her to death? He could not have said, and in the next moment, it no longer mattered. He had made his choice.

She was feather-light in his arms. The bedroom was dark and cold, but neither of them felt the chill. Urgent hands stripped away constricting clothing until flesh touched naked flesh. Lips met and explored, teased and tormented, until all distinctions between male and female vanished, and only desire remained. They came together in a fiery burst of need so sudden and all-consuming that Josh thought his soul must have melted into hers. For long minutes after, he simply held her, inhaling the intoxicating fragrance of her body and luxuriating in the silky woman-softness of her skin.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked at last, his voice still ragged with passion.

"No," she lied as she lay quivering in the delicious aftermath of release. What did a few bruises matter when he had just shown her how much he loved her? "You could never hurt me," And that was true. Joshua would never knowingly hurt her. Gently, she stroked his love-dampened shoulders, savoring the possessive way he held her, the way his manhood rested inside her, as if he could not bear to be separated from her.

And then she felt him stirring to life again. "Yes," she whispered, seeking his mouth once more.

But this time Josh was sane. The raw edge of his desire now blunted, he could think rationally, and every rational cell in his brain was screaming in protest. "No," he said, tearing himself from her embrace. "No, this is crazy," he rasped, fighting the delicate hands that clutched at him. "Do you know how dangerous this is for you?"

"I told you, I don't care! I'm not afraid!"

"Well, I am!" he said, rolling to his feet beside the bed and searching frantically for his clothes in the dark. "I'm the one who'll hear your screams, and I'll know I did that to you. I'm the one who'll put your body in a box in the ground, and I'll live for the rest of my life knowing I killed you. I won't do that, damn it, I won't!" he vowed as he furiously jerked on his pants. His hands stilled on the buttons when he heard her crying.

"Don't! Oh, Lissy, don't cry," he begged.

But she couldn't seem to help it. Nothing made sense anymore. She had won Joshua's love, but in doing so, she had lost him, too. Death had stolen both her child and her husband from her. Why had she been spared to suffer such misery? Her body shook, but whether from emotion or from the cold she could not have said. Nothing could comfort her except Joshua's warmth, and when he took her in his arms again, she settled against him gratefully. "It just isn't fair!" she sobbed brokenly. "I love you so much."

"No, it isn't fair," he agreed, tenderly wrapping the bedclothes around her and cradling her against his heart. "But there's nothing we can do about it." After a long time, when she had quieted, he spoke again. His voice was soft but inexorable. "You know what this means, don't you? We can never make love again. You'll have to help me, Lissy. I can't fight you. You saw what happened tonight."

"But Josh…"

"Promise me, Lissy," he demanded.

"But there must be some way!" she insisted. "We'll find a doctor someplace and… Oh, Joshua! My grandfather!"

Josh felt the clammy hand of apprehension stroking up his spine. "What about him?" he asked warily.

"He lives in Philadelphia! They must have wonderful doctors in Philadelphia, even better doctors then they have in Texas!" she exclaimed. Why hadn't she thought of it sooner? It was the solution to everything. "We can go to visit him. I know he's going to invite us, and while we're there… Oh, Joshua, don't you see? This is the best thing that ever happened to us!"