Texas Blonde

Chapter Fifteen

Felicity stared at Joshua in horror, unable to believe what he had just said to her. It was late evening, and they were sitting in the parlor, waiting for the air to cool enough for them to go to bed. But despite the heat, Joshua was pacing the room restlessly, pausing only to make his shocking suggestion that she return to Philadelphia.

"Why?" she asked, certain she did not want to hear the answer. She knew that the last place the Joshua she thought she knew would send her was Philadelphia. Unfortunately, she was very much afraid that she did not know this Joshua at all.

Josh paused again, forcing himself to look at the hurt expression on her lovely face. "I've been thinking about this a lot," he said, grossly understating the fact. In truth, he had thought of little else since she had finally admitted her condition to him and shamed him into admitting to himself that he was responsible for it. "You should have a doctor this time." Unable to stand the pain in her eyes a moment longer, he turned away.

Felicity winced at the way he turned away, as if he could not stand the sight of her. And that was probably true, if he still believed those awful things about her and Richard. She tried not to think of that, though, and concentrated on what Joshua had said. He was right. She would need a doctor this time. "There are doctors in San Antonio," she pointed out, trying to keep her voice steady. "I could go there, or even to Dallas."

Josh had already thought of that, of course. "I know, but remember what Asa said about the doctors in Philadelphia. They're the best in the world." He stood with his back to her, gazing into the empty hearth, his hands jammed into his pockets. The idea of sending her back to Philadelphia now, when things were so shaky between them, was tearing him apart. That old shark Maxwell was bound to sense her feelings and play on them. She was already somewhat of a celebrity in that town. As soon as the baby was born, Maxwell would set her up in a studio and make her the toast of Philadelphia. If she was still alive…

Josh shook off the horror of that thought and forced his attention back to the present. "I'm sure your grandfather would be glad for you to come back and stay as long as you like," he continued, masking his true feelings on the matter.

Felicity only half heard him as she tried to weigh his words for hidden meaning. The doctors in Philadelphia were the best in the world, but was that his real reason for sending her there? Or did he still doubt that the baby was his?

"Joshua," she began, unable to keep her voice from wavering slightly. "You believe me about the baby, don't you?"

"Of course!" he said, whirling to face her. Her question seared his soul, reminding him of the pain his insane accusations had caused her. "I told you I was sorry. Can't we forget I ever said that?" he asked, running a hand impatiently through his silver hair.

"Y… yes," she said reluctantly, effectively silenced. She knew he was still not certain, but his insistence that he believed her made it impossible for her to defend herself. How could she argue with someone who claimed to agree with her?

But there was still some hope. He had not mentioned his own part in this plan. "Are you going to come with me?" she asked, clinging to this final straw.

Josh studied her face a moment, trying to read her thoughts. She must hate him for what he had said to her. How could he blame her when he hated himself? Would she want his company during the months until the baby came? He at least owed her the choice. "If you… that's a long time for me to be away from the ranch, but… if you want me to come, I will," he offered stiffly, realizing suddenly how easy it would be for him to leave the land he loved so much to be with the woman he loved even more.

Felicity blinked against the sting of tears as she considered his perfunctory offer. Her worst fears were true. He did not want to go with her. He really was sending her away. But she would not cry in front of him. He had falsely accused her of adultery, had tried to deny his own child, and now he was sending her away, but she would die before she would let him see how he had hurt her. She still had some pride left. All this time she had loved him with mindless devotion. She had even humbled herself by returning to him without being summoned. What a fool she had been! But no longer.

She lifted her chin, proudly covering her humiliation. "That won't be necessary. As you say, that's a long time for you to be away from the ranch. You can… you can come later," she proposed, a small lie to protect herself from having to hear him admit he was not ever going to come.

Josh nodded, stung by her rejection but knowing he could expect nothing else. "When do you think the baby will arrive?" he asked, his voice husky from the emotions churning within him.

"Around Christmas," she said. Calculating the date was relatively simple since she knew the exact day she had conceived.

Christmas. It seemed awfully far away from this sweltering August night, Josh thought. "I'll be there long before Christmas," he promised, but she would not meet his eye.

"How soon do you want me to leave?" she asked, deciding not to comment on his lie.

Josh frowned at her choice of words. He did not want her to leave at all, but he had no other alternative. "I don't know. I guess you shouldn't wait much longer. It'll be dangerous to travel if you're too far along."

"I'd like to wait until the weather breaks. A few more weeks, at least," Felicity said, trying to be practical although her heart was breaking even as she made her plans.

"Fine," Josh agreed, thankful that he would have her for even this small amount of time. "That will give you time to contact your grandfather. I think you should ask him to send his car for you again, so you can travel in comfort."

"Yes," Felicity said, no longer caring. She had to get away from him while she could still maintain her composure. She rose. "I'm tired. I think I'll go to bed now."

Josh watched her move toward the bedroom door and disappear behind it. He wanted to follow, wanted to take her in his arms and tell her how sorry he was, but he did not. She wouldn't want his comfort. Remembering only too well how she had reacted the last time he had tried to make her understand, he went instead to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a shot of whiskey.

Almost a month later, Josh rode wearily home to his ranch. Several days earlier he had put Felicity on a train to Philadelphia, Just as he had predicted, Henry Maxwell was thrilled at the prospect of having her come for a visit, although Josh strongly suspected she had neglected to tell him the real reason she was coming. Maxwell would know the moment he set eyes on her, however, Josh thought grimly. And so would Winthrop. They would both know that she carried Josh's child.

Josh consoled himself with the knowledge that in spite of the way he had hurt her, she was still his wife, and their child forever bound them together. That child would bring them back together, too. If it was born alive, Josh periodically reminded himself. And if Felicity survived. Like one probing a sore tooth, he tortured himself with such reminders as punishment for what he had done to the woman he loved.

But he also remembered her last kiss, the desperate way she had clung to him at the station, and the tears that had sparkled in her eyes when she asked one last time, "You'll be there before the baby is born, won't you?"

And he had promised yet again that nothing could keep him away. Oddly, he had gotten the impression that she did not quite believe him. So engrossed was he with this puzzle that at first he didn't notice the commotion in the ranch yard.

"Boss! Thank God you're home!" Grady called, catching sight of him.

What appeared to be all of Josh's men were milling about in the yard, saddling horses and loading gear onto pack animals. Josh spurred his horse, racing the final distance to the ranch.

"What's going on?" Josh demanded, reining up in the midst of the men.

"It's Ortega," Grady explained. "He's back. He and some men came to the ranch this afternoon and… and they got Candace."

"What do you mean, they 'got' Candace?" Josh asked in alarm, swiftly dismounting.

"They took her, kidnapped her. They left a note, but it's kind of hard to read. Something about five thousand, but we can't tell if he wants dollars or pesos. Part of it's in Spanish, and the English isn't very good."

"Where is it?" Josh asked, fighting the terror that gripped his heart. A hundred visions of Candace, the woman who had been more than a mother to him, flashed through his mind. What would Ortega do with her?

"In the house," Grady replied, leading the way. "Cookie and Candace were the only ones here when they came. Cookie got beat up pretty bad, but I think he'll be all right. They ransacked the house," he warned as Josh entered to see the mess. "We figured they were looking for money or something."

"Thank God Felicity wasn't here," Josh murmured, wondering how he could have stood the double horror. If they had taken her, too…

He glanced over the note. "Looks like Ortega's gotten mighty greedy," Josh remarked when he had managed to decipher most of it.

"You're not going to pay him, are you?" Grady demanded.

"No, I'm going to hang him," Josh replied with cold fury, crumpling the note. "Can Cookie talk? I want to ask him some questions."

Unfortunately, Cookie did not have much to add to the meager information in the note except to be able to point out in which direction the bandits had made their escape. Since the tracks clearly showed in the dusty ground, such information was worthless. The only thing left to do was to follow them and hope the tracks remained as easy to read.

Josh asked Grady to scare him up something to eat and have a fresh horse saddled for him while he changed his clothes. He was still chewing his hasty meal as he made his way down the front steps to join the rest of the men.

"Look, Mr. Logan," Cody said as soon as Josh appeared. The boy pointed off toward the north, where Josh saw a lone man carrying a saddle and approaching the ranch on foot. The sight of a man on foot in this country was alarming, signifying as it did that some trouble had befallen him. The sight of this man was doubly so.

"It's that Jeremiah fellow," Grady said in outrage. He reached for the rifle hanging from his saddle, but Josh stopped him.

"No shooting," he ordered, swinging up into his own saddle and spurring his horse toward where Jeremiah Logan labored toward them.

Seeing Josh approaching, Jeremiah wearily dropped the saddle and waited, his hands hanging limply by his sides. Josh could easily see that his half-brother had been walking for quite a distance, but before Josh could greet him, Jeremiah said, "I'm too late, aren't I? Ortega's already been here."

Josh nodded grimly. "This afternoon."

Jeremiah swore viciously. "He got her, I guess."

Josh nodded again. "We were just going after them."

"I don't suppose you'd like some help?" Jeremiah asked.

"Sure," Josh replied, realizing that Jeremiah had more right on this mission than even he himself did. Josh kicked free of his left stirrup. "Climb up. Leave the saddle here. I'll send someone back for it."

When Jeremiah was seated on the horse behind him, Josh turned his mount and headed back for the ranch.

"The tracks are pretty clear. We shouldn't have too much trouble following," Josh remarked.

"You won't need to track them," Jeremiah replied. "I know where they went."

Josh glanced over his shoulder in surprise.

"I stayed with Ortega after the fire," Jeremiah explained. "I wanted to be sure he'd given up, but as soon as we got away, he started talking about coming back. When he told me he was going to take your wife-"

"My wife!" Josh echoed, suddenly realizing what he had overlooked before. Why would Ortega have kidnapped a Negro servant? His intention had been to take Mrs. Joshua Logan. What perfect revenge that would have been. Josh shuddered in horror at what might have happened if the bandit had come a scant week earlier. But then a new horror struck him: Ortega would have had a reason to keep Felicity alive. He had no such reason where Candace was concerned. "My wife wasn't here," he told Jeremiah. "I just got back from putting her on a train to Philadelphia. Ortega kidnapped your mother."

Jeremiah swore again. "My God, he'll kill her if he finds out who she is! I stayed with him, trying to talk him out of this plan. When I couldn't, I left and headed here to warn you, but my horse went lame. Ortega didn't know where I was going, but he wasn't too happy that I left him."

Sensing the new urgency, Josh spurred his horse once more, taking them quickly back to the yard. The other men were waiting, wary and alert, guns at the ready, to greet the newcomer. "Gentlemen, I believe you all remember Jeremiah Logan," Josh said, ignoring their murmurs of surprise at the name. "He's going with us to get his mother back."

"His mother?" the men echoed incredulously, but Josh ignored that, too.

"Cody, go fetch Jeremiah's saddle and cut him out the best horse you can find."

The moon was high, illuminating the dark prairie in a kind of ghostly brilliance, when Jeremiah called a halt to the search. "The camp is up in there," he said, pointing to a huge outcropping of rocks several miles distant, the result of some prehistoric cataclysm.

"He's lying, boss," Grady insisted. "There's no way to get up in there."

Josh examined the possibilities skeptically and came to the same conclusion.

"There's a path up the other side," Jeremiah explained, undaunted. "I found it by accident when I was scouting this area for hiding places. It's steep and dangerous, but it's there. And so is Ortega. See the smoke?"

After a few minutes of careful scrutiny, the other men could distinguish a faint wisp of smoke threading up into the darkened sky.

Sensing that they now believed him, Jeremiah turned to Josh. "They'll have guards posted. We should wait here until the moon goes down. When it's dark enough, we'll move in close. Your men can watch the trail to make sure none of them get away. I figure one man has a chance of making it up to the top. I'll see if I can't talk Ortega into surrendering."

But Josh was shaking his head. "If one man can make it up, two men can. I'm going with you."

Jeremiah made an impatient sound. "She's my mother."

"She was a mother to me, too. You don't think I'll wait down here while you get all the glory, do you?" Josh demanded.

"Damn it, I'm not after glory," Jeremiah insisted, but he stopped when he saw Josh's understanding smile.

"She'll be mighty pleased when she hears what you've done," Josh said.

Jeremiah muttered something Josh didn't catch, and then he said, "I reckon I owe her that much… We better rest the horses," he added, dismounting.

The others followed suit, removing their saddles, too. Josh noticed that Jeremiah paused before pulling off his own saddle, as if gathering the strength to do so. Then he remembered how Jeremiah had approached the ranch.

"How long were you walking?" he asked, stepping over to take the saddle from Jeremiah's unresisting grasp.

"Two days," Jeremiah said wearily.

Two days, carrying a fifty-pound saddle. Josh shook his head. "You must be beat. Why don't you catch a nap while we're waiting? I'll call you when it gets good and dark," Josh offered.

Jeremiah glanced warily at the other men, as if he did not quite trust them.

"Don't worry," Josh assured him. "They won't bother you." For a moment Josh thought that Jeremiah might not quite trust him either, but then the black man dragged his saddle away from the horses and stretched his long body out on the ground, using the saddle as a pillow. Josh noticed the careful way he worked the stiffness from his ruined right arm.

"Does that arm give you much trouble?" Josh asked in genuine concern as he hunkered down beside him.

Jeremiah's wariness instantly returned. "Not since I learned to shoot with my left hand," he replied, eyeing Josh cautiously.

"Damn, I wish we'd had a doctor to set it," Josh muttered. "I hated like hell to mess with it myself. I probably crippled you because I didn't know what I was doing."

Jeremiah did not reply for a long moment during which he studied Josh's face as if measuring his sincerity. "I went to a doctor down in Mexico. He said he couldn't of done any better himself," Jeremiah admitted, no trace of bitterness in his voice. "He said I was lucky to have any use of it at all."

Josh showed his amazement. "I thought you blamed me."

"I wanted to," Jeremiah said simply.

Josh nodded his understanding. He gave his half-brother a friendly pat on the shoulder. "You'd better get some sleep. We've got a long night ahead."

"Josh?" Jeremiah said, stopping Josh before he could move away. "There's something you should know about this kidnapping. Ortega wanted your wife; I told you that. But he didn't just want the ransom. He wanted revenge, too, and the men he hired… He was going to turn her over to them to… to use…"

Josh shuddered as the horror of it washed over him in sickening waves. Felicity… He saw her beautiful face for just a moment and thanked God once again that she was safe. But then he remembered another who was in danger. "Candace?" he asked.

"I don't know what they'll do to her," Jeremiah said, the tightness of his voice revealing his own horror. "I doubt that they'll find an old black woman as appealing as a young white one, but who knows about men like that? And they may have killed her already…"

"We'll get her back," Josh promised, praying that he was right.

Much later, Josh crouched in the shadows at the edge of Ortega's camp, his pistol cocked and ready, aimed at Ortega's heart. Two guards lay dead at the top of the trail, and no one within the circle of the firelight even suspected that their hideout had been invaded.

From his hiding place, Josh could see Candace, gagged and tied hand and foot, but perfectly still. No one was paying any attention to her, but Josh could not tell if that was because they had lost interest or because she was dead.

The outlaws were arguing, their shouts liberally sprinkled with Spanish curses, and Josh understood enough to know they were angry because they had gotten the wrong woman.

At that moment, Jeremiah stepped casually into the firelight. "You fellows having a problem?" he inquired.

The argument instantly ceased as everyone turned to face the black man. Ortega broke into a new spate of cursing. "How did you get here?" he demanded.

Jeremiah shrugged with unconcern. "Your guards were asleep. Lucky for you I wasn't Logan. You'd all be dead now." He glanced with apparent nonchalance around the camp until his gaze lighted on the captive. "That's not Logan's wife," he pointed out impudently.

To Josh's great relief, Candace's eyes opened at this, and Josh saw them widen in recognition. No one else seemed to notice, however. They were too concerned with Jeremiah's presence.

"You can't expect Logan to pay a ransom for that," Jeremiah said, making a contemptuous gesture toward his mother.

Ortega grew defensive, unwilling to admit he had made a mistake in kidnapping the old woman. "She raised him. He will have loyalty."

"For a darky? And an old one, at that?" Jeremiah sneered.

"If a nigger dies, you just go find another one. That's the way it works now that we're free. 'Free' means we don't cost the whites nothing. Some colored folks say we were better off as slaves. At least the whites took care of us then, but those days are gone. She's worthless now. Logan won't give you a cent for her."

This started a new argument in which the other men reminded Ortega of his promises. Now they had no money and no woman, since they considered Candace unfit for their attentions.

Suddenly, Ortega silenced them all by drawing his pistol and waving it wildly, sending them all racing for cover. His black eyes glittered furiously as they searched the camp for any hints of further rebellion. At last his gaze settled on Candace. "I will kill the bitch, then," he said, taking aim.

"NO!" Jeremiah cried, just as Josh prepared to shoot the Mexican down. Ortega whirled to face the black man.

"No?" Ortega repeated suspiciously. "Why do you care what I do with her?"

"She's harmless. Let her go," Jeremiah urged as Josh debated shooting Ortega in the back. Every instinct deplored such an act, but he could not let the bandit shoot Candace or Jeremiah.

"Why did you come back?" Ortega asked, his suspicions growing. "To plead for the life of an old woman?"

"No!" Josh shouted from his hiding place. "He brought Logan here!"

Ortega turned, firing blindly at the sound of Josh's voice. Josh felt something strike his chest, but he fired back, and a splotch of red appeared on the bandit's shirtfront. Then the night exploded as guns roared everywhere at once.

In the confusion, Josh caught sight of Jeremiah, his pistol still holstered, dragging Candace off into the shadows and out of the line of fire. Josh aimed carefully, keeping his half-brother covered as the black man shielded Candace with his own body.

Josh kept shooting, switching to his spare gun when the first one clicked empty. His shirt was clinging, soaking wet, and some distant part of his brain registered that fact, but he took no time to analyze it. Then he thought he heard familiar voices shouting his name, but he could not be certain. A mysterious fog had settled over the clearing, distorting sights and sounds.

His spare gun clicked empty, too, but when he tried to open the cylinder to reload, his fingers fumbled and the gun slipped from his grasp. He reached to pick it up, but it was just too far away.

"Josh! Josh, are you all right?" Grady's voice asked through the fog. Josh opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. "Oh, my God," Grady's voice said, and then the fog closed in, dark and silent.

Felicity stared bleakly out the window as the train pulled into the Philadelphia station. Self-consciously, she smoothed the fabric of her homemade Mother Hubbard over the obvious mound of her stomach. All the beautiful clothes she had gotten during her last visit to the city were now packed away, too small for her burgeoning figure.

Richard would lift his elegant eyebrows when he saw her gown, but then he would discern the reason for it. Heaven only knew what his reaction would be then. Felicity sighed wearily at the thought. After her long trip, she simply did not feel up to dealing with him at all. Unfortunately, she was afraid she would not have a choice. Knowing Richard, he was bound to be meeting her train.

As Simon Duvalier bustled about the car, moving her luggage so it could be easily unloaded, Felicity was reminded of her first visit here and how Joshua had stood by her side. Thoughts of Joshua caused an unpleasant throb in the general region of her heart, which she would have thought was past feeling any pain at all.

What was she going to tell Richard and her grandfather? How could she admit to them that Joshua had sent her away when she couldn't even admit it to herself quite yet? But she didn't have to tell them, not at first. She could tell them Joshua's lie. He had sent her here for expert medical attention. He would be joining her before the baby's birth.

And maybe he really would come, she found herself thinking. Maybe all her fears and suspicions were ridiculous notions caused by her delicate condition. Hadn't she once thought that Joshua and Blanche were having an affair and wanted her to die so they could be together? Pregnant women were not always completely rational, as she knew from experience. And he had promised, several times during the past month and again at the station just before she left.

But then she recalled the way he had treated her all during that month. He had been polite and solicitous of her, but aloof and cold, too, never touching her if he could help it. Only in the dark of night had they come together at all, and although her body had responded to his touch, her heart had recoiled at the cautious way he held himself back, as if unwilling to give too much.

The memory brought tears to her eyes, and she was wiping them away when Simon announced, "We're here, Mrs. Logan. I believe that's Mr. Winthrop coming for you."

"Oh, perfect," Felicity muttered, rising from her seat just as Richard burst into the car parlor.

"Felicity!" Richard exclaimed. He looked just as elegant as she remembered, every raven lock combed to perfection, his suit uncreased and exquisitely tailored, his face flawlessly handsome. He spread his arms wide as if to embrace her, and Felicity noticed he was carrying a bouquet of flowers.

The way his welcoming smile gradually changed into a look of stunned surprise was almost comical. The flowers slipped unheeded from his hand and tumbled to the floor. His arms dropped to his sides.

"Felicity," he whispered, aghast. "What has he done to you?"

Felicity experienced a quick flash of fury at his reaction, but before she could give Richard the edge of her tongue, her grandfather spoke from behind them.

"That's fairly obvious, isn't it?" Maxwell asked, stepping around his nephew into the car.

"Grandfather!" Felicity cried in delight, rushing to kiss him. "I didn't expect you to come to the station."

"And why not?" he asked, feigning offense. Indeed, when he stepped away again and she got a good look at him, she realized he was now completely recovered from the malaise he had previously suffered. Before her stood the same Henry Maxwell who had built a legendary financial empire.

"You look wonderful," she said with a smile.

"And you look… different," he said with a significant glance at her protruding stomach. Almost overnight, several weeks ago, her figure had changed. Suddenly she looked pregnant, and her long-kept secret was now public knowledge.

"Yes, I-" she began, placing one hand defensively on her belly, but her grandfather didn't wait for her to explain.

"When do you expect it?" he asked, his canny eyes narrowing speculatively.

"Around Christmas."

"Well," he said, growing cheerful again, "at least one good thing happened to you when you were here last spring."

Ignoring the strangled noise that Richard made behind him, Maxwell led Felicity back to the settee where she had been sitting. "But why has Joshua sent you back here?" he asked as they sat down. "Should you be traveling in your condition?"

Felicity felt herself blanch at her grandfather's unintentional choice of words, but she recovered quickly. "You remember I told you that our first child died?" she began, looking down at where her hands were clenched in her lap so he would not see her eyes as she told this half-truth. "We want this child to have every chance. Joshua thought… we both thought that the doctors here would be better."

"Yes, of course, I understand completely," Maxwell said, patting her hands reassuringly. "But why didn't young Joshua come with you? I thought it odd when you said he wasn't coming, and now that I know the reason for your visit, it seems doubly so."

Felicity managed a smile and forced herself to meet her grandfather's eyes. "He couldn't be away from the ranch that long, but hell be here before the baby is born," she said, reciting her carefully prepared speech. For one horrible second she thought her grandfather was going to challenge her statement, but then he, too, smiled.

"Of course," he said, so blandly that Felicity could not tell whether he believed her or not. Then he turned to where Richard still stood. "Are you going to stand there gaping all day, boy?" he inquired. "You act as if you had never seen a lady who was enceinte before."

Richard visibly shook himself, flushing at the rebuke. "I'm sorry," he said tightly. "I didn't mean to be rude. It was just such a… a shock." He made a great show of picking up the flowers he had dropped and rearranging them. By the time he had them orderly again, he had recovered his poise. "Welcome home, Cousin Felicity," he said quite formally, presenting her with the bouquet.

"Thank you," Felicity replied through stiff lips. Although she managed to maintain her own poise, inside she was seething over Richard's reaction to her condition. He had no right to be angry. He was acting as if she had somehow betrayed him. Their mutual fury seemed to amuse her grandfather, who coughed to cover a chuckle.

"The carriage is waiting if you're ready," Maxwell said after a long moment of silence during which Richard and Felicity glared at each other.

To Felicity's annoyance, Richard lingered at her grandfather's house long after their arrival, and she soon discerned that he was waiting for a chance to speak with her alone. When she recalled their last meeting and the strained goodby after he had escorted her to the Maxwell family railroad car for her departure two short days after he had proposed marriage to her, she dreaded having another private conversation with him again. Unfortunately, she could not avoid it.

After some less than subtle maneuvering by her grandfather, Felicity found herself closeted with Richard in the front parlor.

"How have you been, Richard?" she asked perfunctorily.

To his credit, Richard had apparently come to terms with her pregnancy, and he seemed determined to put their relationship on some kind of normal footing. "Considering that I fell in love with the wrong woman, I've been doing very well," he said with a self-mocking grin.

"Richard, please," Felicity begged him.

But Richard shook his head. "There's no use pretending that I'm not in love with you. That's something we're both going to have to live with, but I promise not to make a nuisance of myself."

"I never wanted to hurt you," Felicity said, instantly contrite. She had forgotten that Richard had been hurt by all of this, too. "You knew I was married the moment you met me, and I never gave you any reason to believe-"

"Ah, but I loved you even before we met, my dear cousin," Richard confessed with a wan smile. "Haven't you figured it out yet? I wanted the Maxwell millions. Uncle Henry is planning to leave you everything he owns."

"Not everything, surely!" she protested. "There's Isabel and you're his nephew…"

"A pittance." Richard dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand. "I wanted everything. I was determined to win my cousin Felicity's hand, even if she turned out to be a homely drab. And when she turned out to be the loveliest of creatures…" He shrugged eloquently. But when she would have protested again, he held up his slender hand to stop her. "I promised not to be a nuisance, and I won't be. You will never hear another confession of undying devotion from these lips," he vowed dramatically. Then his expression changed to one of infinite sadness. "I would, however, like to be your friend. If you can find it in your heart…"

She studied his face for any trace of chicanery, but she found none. Her heart was touched by his sincerity and his pain. How much it must have cost him to make such a confession, she thought as she saw him reach out a hand toward her beseechingly. How could she refuse to forgive him? And she really would need a friend in the days ahead. "Of course," she said, placing her hand in his.

His beautiful face contorted for a moment in mingled joy and relief. Then he lifted her hand to his lips and placed a chastely worshipful kiss on it. But before she could be offended, he released it, grinning boyishly.

"We'll have such fun," he said. "Friendly fun. The first thing we'll do is go to the Exposition so you can finally see your photographs, and there's a new play in town…"

Felicity could not help but smile at his enthusiasm. She really had no desire to see her photographs, not when she knew the painful memories they would stir, but how could she offend Richard when he had humbled himself so to win her friendship? Then she recalled a legitimate excuse.

"But I can't go out like this," she reminded him, indicating the mound of her stomach. No lady would parade her delicate condition before an unsuspecting populace.

Richard waved away her objection. "We'll call in the dressmaker first thing tomorrow. When she's finished, no one will even suspect."

With the last of her excuses overruled, Felicity had no choice but to agree.

"It's a lucky thing for you that Miz Blanche is a respectable married lady now, so she can stay here, Mr. Josh. I'd never be able to take care of you myself," Candace said with forced cheerfulness as she changed the bandage covering the bullet wound on his chest.

Josh looked up from his bed and gave her a weak smile. "What makes you think I want either one of you taking care of me?" he rasped.

Blanche accepted the pile of soiled bandages from Candace and gave Josh a disapproving look. "I'm sure you don't want either one of us here, not when you've got a perfectly good wife who would love to have the job if only she knew about it."

"Blanche," Josh said in warning, but his voice was so soft that she almost didn't hear him.

"Miz Blanche, please don't," Candace chastened gently, and Blanche turned away from the bed to dispose of the bandages, wagging her head in disapproval. As soon as she had heard the news about Candace's kidnapping, she and Asa had ridden to the Rocking L, making themselves available to help in any way. Mostly they had simply waited until the bedraggled but victorious Rocking L crew had ridden in late the next morning.

Blanche did not think she would ever forget the sight of that black man cradling Josh's limp body as gently as if he had been a sleeping child. The men told her that after the fight, Jeremiah had carried his wounded brother down the steep trail and all the long ride home, permitting no one to relieve him of his burden.

Jeremiah now waited out in the parlor, refusing to leave even though every minute he spent at the ranch increased his chances of being recognized and arrested. He would not go until he was certain Josh would recover his wound. Unfortunately, Blanche could not yet give him such an assurance.

She slipped quietly out of the sickroom into the parlor, where Jeremiah, Asa, and several of the other men waited anxiously.

"How is he?" Asa asked as soon as she appeared.

"The wound is festering. He's running a high fever, and he's lost a lot of blood. He's so weak…" She let her voice trail off, unwilling to speak aloud of the danger they all understood too well.

"We ought to send for Felicity," Asa insisted, but Blanche quickly shushed him.

"Not so loud! He'll hear you. The last time I mentioned it, he almost got up out of the bed to stop me. He's so worried about that girl that if he even thinks we've sent for her, I don't know what he'll do. Besides, if he…" Her voice caught and she turned away, discreetly wiping the moisture from her eyes. "Felicity might not be able to get here in time anyway."

Her husband came and put his arm around her shoulders in a comforting gesture.

Back in the bedroom, Candace tenderly adjusted the covers over her patient, reminding Josh of the many times she had performed that task for him when he was a young child. He managed another weak smile before his feverish thoughts returned to his main concern. "Don't let them send for her," he murmured.

"I won't," Candace promised, smoothing the silver hair from his burning brow.

"It's too dangerous for her to travel, and I don't want her upset…" he continued.

"Shhh, don't talk," Candace soothed, but he could not hear her. He had slipped into delirium.

"She can't lose the baby," he muttered. "She'll never forgive me…"

"She won't lose it," Candace crooned. "Be quiet now." She stayed with him until he settled into a deep sleep, and then she joined the others in the parlor.

Everyone's gaze immediately flew to her as she came out of the bedroom. "He's sleeping now," she reported reassuringly.

"Candace, you'd better get some rest yourself," Blanche urged, wondering at the older woman's stamina. In spite of the fact that Candace had been kidnapped, carried off into wild country, held prisoner by men intent on killing her, and then had ridden back home again without one moment's sleep, she still looked as dauntless as ever.

Candace was shaking her head to Blanche's suggestion. "I've got to make some soup for when Mr. Josh wakes up again…"

"I can make soup, and you won't be able to do anything if you keel over dead of exhaustion," Blanche warned. "Jeremiah, take your mother out to her cabin and see that she goes to bed."

Jeremiah looked up in surprise. For a moment Blanche thought he might resent being ordered about, but she quickly realized he was only amazed at being entrusted with such a responsibility.

"She's right, Mama. You're dead on your feet. You won't be any help to Josh if you get sick, too." Now Candace was equally amazed by her son's concern, although she readily admitted she shouldn't have been. After all, hadn't he saved her life at the risk of his own during the shoot-out at the outlaws' camp? And hadn't he cared for Josh the way a true brother would have? Candace allowed her tall son to lead her from the room.

Asa turned to his wife. "I'll sit with him while you make the soup, and then you need to get some rest, too." Blanche nodded, remembering her own delicate condition, which she had only recently confided to Asa. "And I still say we should send for Felicity," he added as he moved toward the bedroom door.

Blanche agreed, of course, but Josh's reasoning was also sound. If they sent for her now, she would rush right back, having only just arrived in Philadelphia. She would be frightened and worried, and the added strain of the round trip might bring about a miscarriage. But as Blanche had pointed out to the men, even if Felicity came straight back, she might not arrive in time. And if Josh pulled through, she would have made the dangerous trip for nothing. No, Josh was right. They should wait and see what happened. And pray. A lot.

"Mr. Winthrop is here to see you, ma'am," Bellwood announced.

Felicity looked up from her letter writing and smiled, grateful for the interruption. Now that even Mademoiselle Fabian's creations could no longer conceal her condition, Felicity was confined to the luxurious imprisonment of her grandfather's townhouse. Because of that she found it increasingly difficult to think of anything to write to Blanche, who had so faithfully written to her during the two and a half months she had been in Philadelphia. Richard's visit was a welcome diversion.

"Tell Mr. Winthrop to come in," she said to Bellwood, pushing aside the letter she had been composing. As she waited for Richard, she absently stroked the enormous mound of her stomach and thought for the thousandth painful time of her child's father. In spite of Joshua's promise to arrive long before the baby was born, only a few short weeks now remained before her due date. Since Joshua was well aware that her first baby had arrived almost a month early, he had already broken his promise.

She thought back on the few letters she had received from him. For the first month, he had written not a line, and strangely, Blanche had corresponded faithfully, assuring Felicity that she and Asa were fine, and Candace was fine, and all the ranch hands were fine, and Joshua was fine. Then Joshua had finally written himself, but such terse and formal notes that Felicity almost would have preferred not hearing anything at all. All his letters said that he was fine, too, but they said little else. He never even mentioned whether he missed her and when or if he was coming. If he was so damn fine, where was he?

Unwilling to admit the probable answer to that question, Felicity smiled gratefully as Richard entered the rear parlor, where she now spent most of her days idling away the remainder of her pregnancy. "Richard!" she greeted him, rising and offering her cheek. His kiss was brotherly, as his behavior had been for the past months. Occasionally Felicity caught him looking at her with what could only be called yearning, but he had kept his promise never to mention his love for her again. Consequently, he had won her affection as well as her gratitude. "You're just in time for supper."

"I know," he replied with a mischievous grin. "Only, when are you going to remember that we call the evening meal 'dinner' here? If you're going to be living in the East, you must learn our customs…"

Felicity's quick frown surprised him into silence. "What makes you think I'm going to be living here?" she asked defensively, wondering if he knew something about Joshua's failure to arrive that she didn't.

"I… I'm sorry," Richard stammered, instantly sorry for letting such a remark slip out because he knew how upset she became over any mention of the length of her visit here. He and his uncle had long ago decided that there was something seriously wrong between Felicity and her husband, but they had also decided that the best way to deal with that knowledge was to ignore it until she spoke of it first. "I guess I was just speaking of my own personal wishes."

"You know I'm only here until the baby comes," she chided him, moving restlessly around the room as her own private doubts tortured her. "Then Joshua will come and take me home…"

But Richard was beginning to have his own doubts. Perhaps this was the moment for which he had been waiting. "Will he?" Richard challenged.

Felicity whirled to face him, her heart pounding in fear. Richard did know something! "Yes, he will," she insisted, as much to convince herself as to convince Richard. "He promised."

"Then where is he?" Richard asked angrily, unable to hide his emotions any longer. "Felicity, if he was coming, he would have been here by now. I wrote to him myself, almost a month ago, telling him that if he was any kind of a man at all, he'd be here with you, and he still didn't come!"

"No! I won't listen," Felicity cried, dashing tears from her eyes. Surrendering to the urge to flee from this unbearable discussion, she made a lunge for the door, but Richard caught her.

"You have to listen, my darling," he urged, holding her in spite of her struggles to get free. "Please, calm down. You mustn't upset yourself."

That much was true, and with great effort, Felicity managed to regain her control. "You can let me go now, Richard," she said after a moment. Her voice quivered only slightly.

"Please, sit down," he begged, leading her over to a nearby chair. She obeyed, continuing to fight the battle against tears. "You know I don't want to upset you," he said, and Felicity believed him. He never so much as alluded to her pregnancy, but he was unfailingly solicitous of her comfort. He would do nothing to cause her distress if he could possibly avoid it. So why was he doing so now? "You have to accept the facts, darling," he said, answering her unasked question as he knelt beside her chair. "Your husband has sent you to us, placed you in our care with no intention of claiming you again. You must make some plans."

Felicity listened in growing horror. Her fears were not just the strange notions that came along with morning sickness and mysterious cravings. They were real, and Richard-and probably her grandfather as well-had them, too. But then she recalled the one thing that had kept her hopes alive until now. "Joshua loves me," she said.

Richard's expression grew tender. "I don't know how he could help but love you," he assured her, taking her hands in his. "But his actions speak for themselves. If he loved you, he would be here."

"Then I'll go to him," Felicity cried, brushing Richard's clinging hands aside and rising to her feet. Yes, that's what she would do; she would go to Joshua, just as she had before. Once the child was born, and it would be born; of that she was certain. Dr. Strong had explained to her that there were instruments called forceps which could aid nature in difficult births like hers had been. He had also explained that subsequent births were often not as difficult. When her baby was born, she would take him home. Surely Joshua would want to see his own child…

"You'd go back to him after he threw you out?" Richard asked, struggling to his feet. "Have you no pride?"

She did, and it rebelled now. "He did not throw me out!" she informed her cousin.

But Richard was no longer in a mood to quibble. "He sent you away, Felicity. You can't deny it."

Felicity opened her mouth to do just that, but the words died in her throat as the truth of his statement hit home. "Oh, Richard," she whispered as the agony of betrayal twisted her heart.

He was beside her in an instant, his comforting arms embracing her. "You don't need to think about him anymore, my darling," he crooned. "We'll take care of you. I'll take care of you and your baby."

That fervent promise crushed her fragile control, and she broke down completely, sobbing against his chest. She needed someone to take care of her at that moment, and Richard was the kindest man she knew. After a few minutes, she allowed him to lead her over to the settee, where they sat down together, his arms still around her.

He was murmuring nonsense to soothe her, but after a while his words began to make sense. "There's no reason why you should be expected to bury yourself on a ranch out in the middle of nowhere. You have a great talent, and you should be allowed to develop it. You saw for yourself how well your pictures were received at the Exposition. You could have your own studio, and people would come from all over the country to have their portraits made…"

Felicity knew he was right. She would never forget the thrill of attending the Centennial Exposition, of seeing all the marvels of the world gathered into one central spot for display. But the marvels that had impressed her the most had been those housed in the Women's Pavilion. Felicity would have found this exhibit honoring the accomplishments of women fascinating even if her pictures had not been included among those accomplishments. The fact that they had been was wondrous, but even more wondrous was the reaction her pictures had caused. Had she not been enceinte, and consequently not receiving visitors, people would have been flocking to her door, just as Richard predicted.

Richard gently wiped the last of her tears away with his snowy-white handkerchief, thankful beyond words that she was calm again. "So you see, you don't need your husband," Richard explained. Behind them he heard the parlor door slide open. Bellwood would be summoning them to dinner in a moment, so he spoke quickly, urgently. "You can have a wonderful life here. You'll have the work you love to keep you busy and make you famous, and you'll have people to love you and take care of you. I love you, Felicity. Let me take care of you."

"A very generous offer, Winthrop," a sarcastic voice decreed from the doorway.

Felicity broke from Richard's embrace and turned toward the tall figure standing silhouetted by the gaslight in the hallway. Her heart seemed to have lodged in her throat at the same time it was pounding a tattoo against her ribs. Slowly, carefully she rose from the settee as she stared at the apparition, unable to quite allow herself to believe her eyes. After what seemed an eternity of uncertainty, she managed to whisper, "Joshua?"

"I'm here, Lissy," he said simply.

Heedless of how ungainly she would look, Felicity picked up her skirts and ran to him. He met her halfway, enfolding her in his arms. Felicity clung with all her strength, inhaling his blessedly familiar scent mingled with the lingering odors of train soot and fresh evening air. But what was so familiar was also slightly different, and after another moment, she realized why. Where before his beloved body had been generously padded with muscle, now she felt only the sharp angle of bones. He was much thinner. Too thin.

She pulled away, her joy suddenly turning to alarm when she took a closer look at his face. Still handsome, his features were now sharpened by the pale gauntness of a long illness. "Dear heaven, what happened?" she demanded.

But Josh did not hear her question. He was glaring over her head at Richard Winthrop. "That was an interesting proposition you were making my wife when I came in," he said, his voice hard with suppressed fury. "Would you like to repeat it now?"

Felicity turned in Joshua's arms to see Richard's reaction. His elegant face was beet-red, as if he were strangling. "Where in the hell have you been?" he demanded, giving Felicity some indication of how upset he was. He had never before used profanity in her presence. "You should have been here a month ago."

"So you said in your letter," Josh replied. Felicity could feel the tension vibrating through his too thin body.

"Joshua, please," she tried, but again he did not seem to hear.

"Do you make a habit of professing your love to married women, or is my wife a special case?" Josh inquired menacingly.

"Your wife is a very special case, as you well know," Richard grated, his slender hands forming into fists.

"Stop it, both of you!" Felicity shouted, giving Joshua a shake to get his attention. "You're acting like two dogs fighting over the same bone, and the bone doesn't like it one bit!"

Josh lowered his gaze to her upturned face, and for an instant his expression softened as he took in her beauty, the glittering gold of her hair, the glimmering azure of her eyes. Even her body, so distorted by his child, was beautiful to him. But then he pictured her in Richard's embrace, as she had been a few seconds ago, and his hands came up and clutched at her shoulders possessively. "Has he been making love to you ever since you've been here?"

"No!" she replied, outraged that he thought she would allow such a thing. "I wouldn't have let him in the same room with me if he had even tried."

"But he was making love to you when I came in," Josh pointed out, his grip tightening until she winced.

"He was comforting me because I was crying."

"And what did he say to make you cry?" Josh challenged.

Felicity did not even consider sparing him. "He said that if you loved me, you wouldn't have sent me away," she reported, and ignoring his profane reaction, she went on relentlessly. "He also said that if you were half a man, you would have been here with me. And he was right and that's why I cried, but you were sick, weren't you Joshua?" she demanded, giving him another shake.

"Not sick exactly," he said, lifting his steel-gray gaze to Richard again. "We had a little trouble with Ortega again, and I… I caught a bullet," he admitted reluctantly.

"Oh, Joshua!" Felicity cried. "Where were you hit?" She stepped back, examining him from head to toe as if she could see the wound right through his clothes.

"In the chest," he explained with equal reluctance.

With an anguished cry, she drew him to her again, as if she could somehow shield him from any further pain, and she felt a tremor go through his body. Whether it was caused by fatigue or fury, she could not tell, but she decided he had been standing long enough in any case. "Come in and sit down by the fire. You must be frozen after that ride from the station," she said, releasing him and leading him over to the settee where she and Richard had been sitting.

Richard stepped away as they approached. His face was still red, but now he looked more embarrassed than angry. Josh sat down with carefully concealed relief. Felicity saw it, but she knew Joshua would rather die than betray any weakness before Richard. She realized that she needed to be alone with her husband as soon as possible. "Richard, thank you for coming by to see me today. I'm so sorry you won't be able to join us for supper," she added, purposely using the wrong word because she knew the interpretation he would place on it.

Richard needed no subtle hints, however. "It has been my pleasure to care for you, but now I see that you no longer need that care, Cousin Felicity," he said stiffly. "I… I'm very happy for you," he added graciously, although his brown eyes were full of pain over his loss.

"Thank you," she replied, and those two words held a wealth of meaning. She gave him her hand. He carried it to his lips briefly, but before Josh could even react, Richard dropped her fingers, turned on his heel, and was gone.

Even before the door slid shut behind him, Felicity turned back to her husband, appalled at his appearance. But before she could speak, he said, "How are you?" He gestured toward her stomach.

"Oh, Joshua," she cried in frustration. "I'm perfectly fine. You're the one we have to worry about!" She took the seat beside him and reached out to stroke the beloved angles of his face. "What happened? Tell me everything."

He captured her hands and kissed each one fervently, not at all the way Richard had kissed her earlier. "Joshua," she whispered lovingly. "I don't think you kissed me hello."

For one second his gray eyes grew dark, and then his mouth came down on hers, scattering the last of her doubts.

Joshua loved her and he had come for her. Everything was going to be all right.

His kiss was long and sweet, a reconfirmation of the vows they had made to each other. When at last he pulled away, she murmured, "I love you," and he echoed her tender pledge.

"Now tell me everything," she insisted, taking his hands.

He frowned, obviously loath to do so, but after another moment of hesitation, he began. "The day I got back from taking you to the train, Ortega and his gang raided the ranch and kidnapped Candace…"

"Oh, dear heaven!"

"She's fine," Josh assured her. "They didn't hurt her. It was… it was you they really wanted."

"Me?"

Josh nodded grimly. "Of course. Ortega had decided that was the only way to really get revenge. But when you weren't there-and they tore the house apart looking for you-they deckled taking Candace was better than nothing. What they hadn't planned on was Jeremiah."

Felicity's eyes grew wide. "Jeremiah! He wasn't in on the kidnapping, was he?" she asked, unwilling to believe he could have agreed to such a thing after the way he had saved Joshua's life.

"No, he tried to warn us, but his horse went lame, and he couldn't get to the ranch in time. But he did help us find the place where they were holding Candace. He and I had this wonderful plan. We sneaked up into the camp. It was hidden way up in some rocks. I stayed in the shadows to cover him and Jeremiah walked right in. He was going to talk the rest of them into letting Candace go. What we hadn't figured on was what he would do if Ortega refused. Lucky for us, Grady got to thinking."

"We'd ordered him and the other men to stay down below and capture anybody who got away from us. After we left,. Grady realized that if the plan didn't work, Ortega would probably kill Candace and Jeremiah and me, so what good would it do if Grady and the others managed to get the rest of the gang? He and the other men followed me and Jeremiah up into the the hideout. I reckon it was the first time Grady ever disobeyed orders, but it's a good thing he did. Ortega wasn't about to listen to reason, so I had to shoot him before he killed Jeremiah and Candace. Unfortunately, he got me, too."

Felicity made a small, anguished sound and laid her palm reverently on her husband's chest. "Where?" she asked as tears threatened to fog her vision.

He moved her hand inside his suit coat to the left side of his chest, just above his heart, and she cried out again as she realized how close death had come. But then another thought intruded. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you send for me?" she asked, and in her mind she asked the unspeakable question, What if you had died and I wasn't there?

Josh lifted the hand that rested against his scar and brushed his lips across it before clasping it firmly in his own again. "I didn't want to put you in any danger."

"Danger! You were the one in danger!" she protested.

But he shook his head. "The trip back would have been too hard on you, and if you were upset, you might have…"

"It wouldn't have been too hard on me!" she objected.

But he ignored her. "And you needed to be here, where you could have Dr. Strong taking care of you."

"But you needed someone taking care of you, too!" she pointed out in exasperation.

"Candace and Blanche did a fine job of that," he said, and when she would have protested some more, he cut her off. "Lissy, I wanted you to be safe, where I wouldn't have to worry about you. And I didn't have any intention of dying." He smiled tenderly. "I had a promise to keep."

"Oh, Joshua," she cried in dismay. "Do you know what I thought when you didn't write?"

"I wrote to you this time," he insisted.

Felicity stared at him, picturing him propped in his sickbed, painfully penning the terse little notes that had made her think he did not care. Now she understood why they had been brief. Now she knew why he had made such a point of telling her how well he was, and why Blanche's letters had done the same. They were afraid she might suspect the truth. All that misunderstanding, all that misery over wondering whether he loved her, and all those weeks when he had lain weak and helpless when she could have been with him, helping to ease his suffering.

"Joshua Logan, I ought to take a stick to you!" she said, no longer bothering to fight the tears that sprang so readily to her eyes. He looked a little puzzled, but she was crying too hard to explain just now. There would be time for all that later. For now she would just hold him and thank God that he was safe.

Josh took her in his arms and cradled her gently against his chest. Her body felt cumbersome, weighed down as it was with the burden of his child, and he closed his eyes against the agony that thought caused. Thank God he had come in time to see her before the birth, before it might well be too late to tell her all the things he should have told her before she left Texas. For a while, as he had lain half-delirious from the fever and the pneumonia, he had feared his chance was gone, that he would never see her again. But his prayers had been answered. She was here, in his arms again.

"And what does your doctor say about the baby?" he asked, gently stroking the swell of his child.

Felicity brushed away the last of her tears and lifted her face to Joshua's. His silver eyes were clouded with the same emotions she herself felt over the knowledge of how close she had come to losing him. "Dr. Strong says the baby is big," she replied, managing a small smile. "But of course, you can see that for yourself."

Josh did not return her smile. "And?" he insisted.

"And he says that second births are much easier than first ones," she hurried to explain. "He has an instrument that can help with the delivery, too." But she could see he wasn't reassured. "I'm not going to die, Joshua," she said, her voice low and urgent. "I promise! And this baby isn't going to die, either; you'll see. I promise that, too, and we Logans keep our promises, don't we?"

Josh looked at her, taking in the diamond glitter of her sky-blue eyes and the shimmering gold of her hair and the fragile beauty of her face. In spite of the child she carried, she was still tiny and delicate, too small to be expected to endure the ordeal he knew lay ahead, the ordeal that was his fault. He loved her more than life itself. How could he bear it if she was unable to keep her promise? But even as the agony of that question tore at his heart, he forced himself to smile. "Yes, we Logans keep our promises."