Texas Blonde

Chapter One

"Are you sure it was a real girl, Cody? It's been a while since you've seen one, and you might've got it wrong," one of the cowboys said with a snicker.

"Did you see her out on the range or did she come to the line shack?"

"Do you see her in the daytime or just at night?"

"Is she pretty?"

"Hell, if I'd knowed you'd get a girl, I'd of volunteered to ride the line, too!"

Up on the ranch house porch, Josh Logan paused in the process of rolling himself a cigarette, distracted by the commotion down in the yard. His men had preceded him out of the house after the noon meal, and he could see them all clustered around someone. Someone who looked a lot like Cody Wells.

Josh frowned. Cody was one of the cowboys assigned to ride the line during the long winter months and protect the far reaches of the ranch. His being here at the house meant something was wrong, and that could only mean Ortega.

Josh felt a surge of excitement at the thought of once again encountering his old enemy. The bandit must have come north early this year to be causing trouble already. Josh hurried down the stairs toward the group of men, but as he got closer and heard the things the men were saying to Cody, his enthusiasm quickly changed to perplexity.

"What's going on here?" Josh demanded, all thoughts of his nemesis Ortega wiped completely from his mind. As he worked his way through the crowd to where Cody stood, the other men stepped back to allow him room. He was the boss, and that was one reason they did so, but they probably would have anyway. Something about Josh Logan gave him an air of authority that other people just naturally respected. He wasn't especially tall, not more than an inch or so taller than any of the other men, so it had to have been his manner that commanded attention. Or perhaps it was the way he looked, the calm steadfastness of his gray eyes or the venerable mane of silver hair. Like all the men in his family, Josh had begun to grow gray at the age of eighteen. Now, ten years later, his hair was completely white, lending him an air of dignity far exceeding what he had earned by living twenty-eight years. "What's all this about a girl?"

Cody looked up at him with relief,, happy to be rescued from the taunting. "I found a girl out on the range, Mr. Logan, about five miles east of the line shack. She's all alone with her wagon. She said her pa was out hunting, but I didn't see no sign of him, so I think she was lying about that, and I tried to get her to come back to the ranch with me, but she wouldn't do it, and-"

"Hold up there, son," another voice admonished. Cody turned impatiently to Bill Grady, Mr. Logan's foreman, who was chuckling good-naturedly. "Are you sure you really saw a girl? Maybe you just wanted to. You've been out on the line a long time, you know," he allowed, referring to the custom of having men posted at various outlying cabins during the winter months. Their job in this era of open range was to ride the boundaries of the ranch on a daily basis and drive back any cattle they found drifting onto a neighbor's property. The men would be stationed out there months at a time, alone, and Cody would not have been the first to start imagining outlandish things.

Cody scowled, first at Mr. Grady and then at Mr. Logan and the ring of grinning faces that surrounded him. "She was real, all right. I talked to her," he said defiantly. Seeing only skepticism, he appealed to Mr. Logan again. "We can't just leave her out there. Something might happen to her. We've got to do something."

The rancher studied the boy's flushed face. Josh knew he might be wasting his time, but he'd never seen Cody so upset before. What would it hurt to check out his story? "All right, Cody. I'll go and see your girl. I haven't seen one in a long time," he added with a grin, drawing an understanding laugh from the rest of the men. "You go and grab a bite to eat first. Grady and I will wait for you, and then you can take us out."

Bill Grady rolled his eyes in silent protest at accompanying Josh on this wild-goose chase and scrunched his homely, sun-browned face into a disapproving frown. Josh ignored him.

"I ain't hungry, Mr. Logan," Cody insisted. "We can go right away."

Josh shook his head at Cody's impatience. "Go eat. She'll wait for you," he promised.

Defeated, Cody stamped into the ranch house to bolt down his dinner.

"Josh, that's a two-hour ride," Grady began in disapproval.

"I was going to ride out that way anyhow in the next day or so," Josh explained. "And besides, what if there really is a girl?"

Felicity squinted anxiously into the distance for the tenth time in as many minutes. Still no sign of that cowboy and his friend, she noted with relief. But her relief was short-lived. A hasty glance at the position of the sun informed her that several hours had passed since he had ridden away, promising to return with his boss, Mr. Logan. They would surely be here any time now, and what would she do then?

Frantically, she hurried over to where her father's rifle was propped against the wagon. Picking up the weapon carefully, she tested its weight. If only she knew whether it was loaded or not. If only Papa hadn't insisted that ladies did not need to know anything about guns. And if only Papa hadn't died and left her all alone…

No! She would not think about that. Felicity lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders and gingerly set the rifle back down again. There was no use wishing for things that could not be. And there was no use in working herself up for a case of the vapors either.

"'Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day…" she quoted doggedly. Quoting Scripture always used to calm her down. Until recently, that is. Since her father's death several weeks ago, she had quoted it almost constantly, but she was still afraid. Mortally afraid. And so lonely that sometimes she thought she might even die herself.

For just a moment this morning, she had been thrilled to see the cowboy riding toward her camp. He was the first person she had seen in such a very long time, and his presence proved that she must be getting close to civilization after all of her wanderings.

He had been nice, too, concerned about her being alone out in the middle of nowhere. She had known better than to confess to being alone, of course, but her lies about her father being out hunting hadn't fooled him.

"Look, miss," he had said, "it isn't safe for you to be out here all by yourself. The Rocking L Ranch is just over there a ways. Why don't you let me take you there? Mr. Logan-he's the boss-he'll see that you get to town or wherever you want to go."

Felicity had been tempted, very tempted. The chance to see other people, the chance to get to a town, was compelling, but she knew better than to go off with a stranger, especially a man. Her father had warned her about men. Even the ones who acted nice were only after one thing. She could not trust this boy, no matter how young and harmless-looking he was. "I'm not going anywhere with you. Now you go on and git. I've got a gun in the wagon and I know how to use it," she had lied.

He had argued with her, reminding her of the wolves and the other wild creatures that posed a threat to her safety-a threat of which she was only too aware already-but he had not been able to convince her. At last he had ridden away, promising to return with his Mr. Logan.

Felicity slumped down into the sagging canvas chair, the only furnishing in the camp, and closed her eyes against the fatigue of too many sleepless nights. Mr. Logan. The name had haunted her since the first time the boy had spoken it. What would she do when this Mr. Logan came? And what if Mr. Logan was the one? What if he was the man who had been chasing them? How would she get away and…

Felicity shook herself, forcing her weary eyes open. She must be going crazy to be thinking such thoughts! No one was chasing them. Her father had told her that over and over again. She had only imagined they were fleeing from some invisible danger. He had explained that they had to keep moving to get work, so they could never stay in one place very long. And if sometimes they left a town very suddenly, without even finishing all their business, it was only because her father hated towns and sometimes he just had to get away onto the open prairie.

Felicity supposed that losing her father had spooked her, making her imagination run wild. Without his constant reassurance, she had been almost overwhelmed by the sensation of being followed. She had kept moving restlessly, hoping to escape whoever or whatever was behind her almost as much as she hoped to find a destination.

No, she told herself, this Mr. Logan could not be the man who was following her, because there was nobody following her. And she was a grown woman, eighteen years old, no longer a little girl to be frightened by shadows. She did not fear Mr. Logan for that reason. Mr. Logan presented an entirely new and different threat, a threat with which she must deal right now, she suddenly realized. Three riders had just appeared on the horizon. Felicity raced for the rifle.

The three men reined in their horses at the top of the rise overlooking the small camp. "I'll be damned," Grady grunted. "I told you," Cody declared. "A photographer," Josh muttered. "A what?" Cody was unfamiliar with the word. Josh pointed at the gaily painted wagon. "It's a traveling photographer, a fellow who goes from town to town and takes pictures of people."

"Oh, like that picture of you back at the house," Cody remembered.

Josh nodded, recalling how he had once, on a trip to the "big city," succumbed to the temptation to have his portrait made.

The three men studied the scene below in silence. They could clearly see the girl who was watching them right back. She was standing and she was holding a rifle. They saw no one else.

"Where's her horses?" Grady asked after a few moments. "When I was here before, I just figured they was picketed off somewheres, but they ain't, are they?" Cody asked.

Suddenly they all understood the reason the girl was here, still here. She had lost her horses somehow.

"Let's go on down," Josh suggested, "but take it nice and easy. She's got a gun and we don't want to spook her."

Felicity took a deep breath in a futile attempt to still the clamoring of her heart. Now there were three of them, and if one man was dangerous, then three were… well, three times as dangerous. Felicity still had no idea if the rifle was even loaded, but she raised it in what she hoped was a threatening gesture. She only prayed she would be able to hold it up. The thing was monstrously heavy and her arms were already starting to tremble.

"Stay right there," she called in a quivery voice when they were within easy speaking distance.

The man in the middle stopped the others with a lift of his hand. She knew instinctively that this was Mr. Logan, the man the cowboy had called "the boss." She recognized the cowboy who had been here before, of course, and she mentally dismissed the third man. Although he also had an air of authority about him, she could tell by the way his lanky body draped over the horse that he was not too worried about the present situation. He was merely here to follow orders. Mr. Logan was the man in charge.

Felicity brought her attention back to the man in the middle, the one she knew was Mr. Logan. He had a handsome face, square-jawed and strong-looking, with a straight nose and a well-formed mouth that was set now in a grim line. His eyes were narrowed down, crinkling the corners into a web of laugh lines under heavy, masculine brows. He was studying her, and she forced herself to meet his gaze, in spite of the fact that her whole body seemed to be quaking in terror.

"Afternoon, miss," he said, tipping his hat and revealing a shock of silver hair that glistened in the noonday sun.

Felicity blinked at the sight of that white hair. He was older, older than she had first thought. Perhaps he was also kind. Kind and old, a mature man in whom she could place her trust. Oh, please, God, she prayed silently.

"I'm Josh Logan," he was saying. "Did you know that you're camped on my property?"

Something in his voice when he said "my property" sent a shiver of unease over Felicity. "Oh, no, I didn't… I mean…" Felicity stammered, suddenly realizing that he might very well have her arrested for trespassing. "I didn't know where I was. I got lost," she explained lamely. The rifle was so heavy. She shifted it slightly.

Josh watched the girl. She was scared out of her wits, shaking so bad, he wondered that she had not dropped the rifle. She was a pretty little thing, with a head full of golden hair and eyes as blue as cornflowers. And so young. He judged her to be about fourteen or fifteen, as slender as a reed, with only the tiny teacup breasts barely visible beneath her ragged dress to hint at her burgeoning womanhood. How on earth had she gotten out here all alone in this wagon? In an attempt to put her at ease, he forced himself to smile reassuringly.

Felicity watched, mesmerized, as the smile lit up his face. She barely noticed when he swung a leg over the saddle and slid down from the horse.

"Don't be afraid," he said, speaking softly so as not to frighten her further. "We're here to help you. If you'll just tell me where your horses are, we'll hitch them up for you so you can be on your way."

He really was a nice man. She could tell now that he was closer. His eyes were kind. She lowered the rifle a bit.

"My horses are lost," she told him.

"Lost?" he repeated. The smile disappeared and Felicity knew a small regret.

"They bolted the other night during the thunderstorm," she confided, shuddering involuntarily at the memory of that fearsome storm.

"That was night before last," she heard one of the other men remark, but she did not bother to look to see which one. She could not seem to take her eyes from Mr. Logan's face. He was very close now. He smiled again.

"Where's the rest of your family, honey?" he asked. His voice was soothing, like a warm hand on her heart, but when she thought of the answer to his question, tears sprang to her eyes.

No, she would not think of that, she told herself. Mr.

Logan would help her. Desperately she tried to focus on his face, but something was wrong, horribly wrong. Her heart felt funny, as if it were pounding against her ribs, and she was shaking all over. There were spots, too, black spots everywhere. The rifle slipped from her hands but she could not stop it. "Help me," she cried, or thought she did, before everything went black.

Josh rushed forward, catching her just as she fell. "Damn," he swore under his breath as he scooped the frail body into his arms. The other two men were at his side in an instant.

"What happened?" Grady asked anxiously.

"She fainted; what did it look like?" Josh replied sarcastically, casting about for someplace to lay her down. Finding no place suitable, he seated himself on the rickety canvas chair and draped her across his lap, taking the gamble that the chair would hold them both. He looked down into the lovely little face that had gone chalk-white and tried desperately to remember what you were supposed to do when a woman fainted. He had never encountered such a situation before.

After a moment of silence, Grady ventured to suggest, "When a woman faints, you're supposed to loosen her stays."

"She's not wearing any," Josh informed his friend. He had already thought of that, but the suppleness of the body he held had convinced him he would be wasting his time.

"Rub her wrists, then," Grady suggested.

Josh did so, marveling at the graceful, delicate bone structure of her hands. After a moment, she moaned softly. Josh glanced swiftly around the camp. "Cody, is there any coffee in that pot? Pour me out some if there is," he ordered, pointing toward where a battered, smoke-blackened pot sat near the campfire.

In a minute Cody handed him a half-filled cup. "That ain't real coffee, boss," he cautioned.

"What is it?" Josh demanded, sniffing the contents of the cup himself.

"Mesquite beans," Cody replied, naming the wild fruit of the Mesquite plant which was often substituted for coffee when the real thing was unavailable.

Josh grunted his disapproval and glanced around the camp again, searching for any signs that a meal had recently been prepared here. He saw none. If the girl was making coffee from Mesquite beans, she might also be low on food. If she had skipped a meal or two, that would explain why she had passed out. "See if you can find anything in the wagon and rustle up a meal. This poor kid looks like she hasn't eaten in a week."

Cody disappeared into the back of the wagon, and Josh held the cup to the girl's lips. Instinctively, she drank a few sips and then turned her head away.

"Miss? Wake up, honey, and tell me your name," Josh coaxed. Long, golden eyelashes fluttered up, revealing huge azure eyes that glittered suspiciously. "That's better," he said, rewarding her with a smile. "Now, tell me what your name is."

"Lissy," she whispered.

"Lissy? What's that short for?" he insisted, shaking her slightly when her eyelids began to droop again.

"Mr. Grady? Will you come in here a minute?" Cody called from inside the wagon. Josh noted vaguely that Grady left, but he did not dare take his eyes off the girl.

"Felicity," Felicity told him, forming the word with difficulty. She was so very tired. She just wanted to sleep. It had been a long time since she had slept, really slept; a long time since she had felt safe enough to sleep. Mr. Logan made her feel safe. He was strong and he smelled good, too, the way her father had smelled. She forgot that she had been afraid of him. She just wanted to curl up on his shoulder and go to sleep.

He wouldn't let her, though. He shook her again. "Now tell me what happened to your family, Felicity," he ordered. Felicity responded instinctively to the authority in his tone, even though she did not want to answer his question.

"Papa died," she said, her eyes welling up. She blinked furiously, unwilling to surrender to the urge to cry, not now.

"When did he die, and how?" Josh insisted. Felicity swallowed loudly. She didn't want to talk about it, but she understood on some unconscious level that Mr. Logan needed to know what had happened and that he would not leave her alone until he did. "A few weeks ago, in his sleep, I woke up one morning and he was dead, just like that," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "I think it was his heart. Sometimes he'd hold his chest, you know, when he thought I wasn't looking." Mr. Logan nodded encouragement. "I buried him, but I didn't know where we were. I tried to find a town, but I was lost." A crystal tear slipped down her cheek, and Josh brushed it away with uncharacteristic tenderness.

"That's all right. You don't have to tell me any more." Josh didn't want to hear it. He could picture only too clearly how difficult it would have been for this frail child to dig a grave in the unforgiving ground and then to place her father's body into it. And he didn't need to hear the rest of her story. Obviously she had been riding around for days, probably in a circle, looking for help, until the other night when she had lost her horses.

"Boss?" Josh looked up to find Grady and Cody standing nearby. They both looked grim. "There isn't a speck of food in this whole camp. When you said she hadn't eaten in a week, you might've been right," Grady informed him.

Josh swore again and, taking a more secure grip on the girl, awkwardly rose from the chair. "Let's get out of here," he said, carrying her toward the horses.

"Where are we taking her?" Grady asked.

"To Blanche's," Josh said, deciding in an instant that Blanche Delano's ranch would be the most proper place for a young girl to stay.

"Uh, Mr. Logan, we can't take her to Mrs. Delano's," Cody said. "I ran into one of her men yesterday, and he said she'll be in Dallas for at least another week."

Josh swore again, but before he could think of an alternative, Grady said. "We'd better get somewhere quick. Did you get a look at that sky?"

Josh looked. Only moments ago the day had been perfect, sunny and clear, but now black clouds loomed on the horizon. The haze beneath them signified rain, and rain in the distant mountains meant untoward dangers to those on the plains. They had to get the girl and themselves to shelter.

"We'll take her back to the ranch, then," Josh compromised, and headed for the horses. "Candace can look after her for the time being."

Felicity lay against Mr. Logan's chest and listened to this exchange very carefully. She had to be careful or else her eyes would slide shut and she would miss a word or two and lose track of the conversation. They were taking her to Mr. Logan's ranch, and Candace would take care of her. Felicity liked the name Candace. Candace was the queen of Ethiopia, or at least she had been, back in Bible times. Felicity knew she would like Mr. Logan's wife.

"I'll take her, boss," Cody offered eagerly, heading for his own mount. "Just hand her up to me."

"No," Josh said, for some reason unwilling to trust the girl to anyone's care but his own. "I'll take her. You hold her a minute while I mount up." Reluctantly, he passed the limp little body over to Cody, noting with some satisfaction the startled way she looked at the boy before her big blue eyes searched his own out again.

With equal reluctance, Cody passed the girl up to Josh, who settled her across his lap for the long ride back to the ranch. "Are you comfortable?" he asked her.

"Mmmmm," she replied, snuggling down into his arms and inhaling deeply of his man-smell. In her semiconscious state, she almost imagined that her father was holding her, making everything better. She was hungry, of course, but she'd been hungry for so long she hardly noticed it anymore, so that didn't count. What did count was that she could close her eyes and not have to worry about something bad happening to her while she slept. This man would take care of her.

"Felicity?" he said, coaxing her from the beckoning oblivion.

Her eyes flew open, and for an instant he was so startled by how very blue they were that he forgot what he was going to ask her. "How long has it been since you've eaten?" he finally remembered.

Her sweet face puckered with the strain of concentration. "I caught a rabbit two days ago," she remembered, "and I gathered some wild things."

Josh frowned. A rabbit wasn't much nourishment to last for two days, even for a girl as small as this. She needed a good square meal and fast. He nudged his horse into a trot. The other men followed closely behind.

The rocking of the horse lulled Felicity, and she closed her eyes again, settling herself against Mr. Logan's shoulder. Inhaling, she smelled the mingled scents of his cowhide vest and tobacco and his own musky fragrance. She felt like a little girl again, curled up in her father's lap, long before all the bad things had happened, long before her mother had died and she and her father had taken to the road, and long, long before she had found her father's cold, lifeless body. She slept.

Josh squinted into the distance, studying the progress of the storm. He could hear the rumble of thunder in the distance and knew the rain would reach them before they reached the ranch. Instinctively, he urged his horse faster, but not because he was afraid of getting wet. They had to get to higher ground before the tons of water washing down the far mountains swept onto the prairie in a giant wall and devoured them.

Still, he felt no fear but only a curious sense of excitement, even though he understood perfectly the danger they were in. Savage and merciless though it was, this was his land, as much a part of him as his own flesh and bones. He owned the ground they rode upon, legally and outright, but he also knew that whatever the government papers might say, in reality the land owned him. The Indians had accepted that fact, never comprehending the white man's idea of property, and Josh accepted it, also.

As the endless canopy of sky turned slowly gray above him and thunder echoed from afar, Josh recalled what his father had told him time and again. "Never put your trust in other people," he had warned. "They come and they go, but the land is always here. You can love the land, son. It will never betray you."

Josh and his father knew well the pain of betrayal, the pain that loving a person could cause. They never spoke of it, but it was always there, hovering and haunting, coloring every aspect of their lives. And when Josh had buried his father, bequeathing him finally to the earth he loved, Josh had found himself completely alone except for his land. But that had been enough, then.

Lightning streaked across the horizon, and Josh tightened his grip on the girl in anticipation of the noise that would awaken her. He knew a sudden pity for this little Felicity, this rootless wanderer whose only remaining bond with the earth was a wagon which might not even survive the fury of the coming storm. She was as alone as he. For the first time he felt the burden of that loneliness as he cradled her protectively.

The crash of thunder jarred her awake, and for one horrible moment Felicity thought she was once again alone on the plains with that horrible storm breaking over her. But only for a moment. Strong arms tightened around her in silent comfort, and she became fully aware of her surroundings. A storm was breaking, all right, but Mr. Logan would protect her.

Shifting a little from her half-reclining position in his arms, she looked around. The clear blue sky was now gray and overcast, and a chill wind cut through the worn fabric of her dress. She had seen many of these storms in her life and knew the havoc they could wreak. She turned her gaze to the face of the man who held her. His grim expression chilled her more thoroughly than the cool breeze.

"How far are we from your ranch?" she asked.

"Too far," he replied, telling her that they would not make shelter before the storm hit. What he did not say, and hoped she would not notice, was that they were crossing a large gully. The ground beneath them was bone dry, but at any moment a flash flood could turn the gully into a raging river capable of carrying them and their horses to oblivion. But they had no other choice than to cross the gully, since to avoid it meant adding several hours to the trip. If only they could make it before… "Hold on!" Josh yelled, leaning forward to provide her body greater protection as he spurred his huge Appaloosa into a gallop.

Felicity clung for dear life. At first she only feared falling from the running animal, but then she heard the distant roar and understood with terrifying clarity the reason for the mad run. Flash flood!

Jarring, bouncing, clutching, and praying, Felicity caught a glimpse of the water, the enormous gray mass a hundred feet high, churning and foaming and charging relentlessly toward them. Closing her eyes against the horrible sight, she realized the Appaloosa was straining. They were running uphill. Uphill, away from the water-to safety! Her prayers changed, thanks mingling with entreaties for the other two men whom she could no longer see.

Josh was cursing his own stupidity. Why had he not allowed Cody to take the girl? The two of them together would not weigh much more than Josh alone, and Cody's mount could have easily carried them both at a dead run. He had stubbornly insisted on taking her himself, and now his horse was laboring under the double load. Would they make it? Would his stubbornness cost the girl's life as well as his own?

Expecting to see Cody and Grady race by him at any moment, Josh guided his mount up the ever-steepening incline to the plateau above that beckoned mockingly. The Appaloosa was straining but he wasn't winded. Thank God he had thought to ride the big animal this afternoon. A smaller pony would have faltered long since. A few more feet, only a few more. Josh risked one last glance at the water. Still plenty of time if they didn't slip. And then they were free.

The Appaloosa reared when Josh jerked him to a halt and turned him around to check the progress of his two friends. Just as the horse's front hooves hit the ground again, an agonized animal scream pierced the now constant thunder of the approaching flood.

The scream came again and again, and Felicity stared in horror at the horse that lay thrashing halfway up the hill, its foreleg snapped and shredded into a gory mass. The boy, the boy who had found her, had struggled free and was scrambling up the hill, but he would never make it ahead of the water. Even she could see that. He would disappear beneath the liquid avalanche as if he had never even existed.

Josh took in the scene in an instant. From the corner of his eye, he saw Grady's horse clawing its way over the top. Grady had not yet seen, and by the time Josh could call to him and get him to turn…

"Stay here!" he commanded, thrusting the girl to the ground. Without even making a conscious decision to do so, he spurred his horse back down the hill.

Somehow Felicity found her feet, barely conscious of the huge raindrops that had suddenly started to assault her. Some distant part of her brain registered the fact that the third man had reached the safety of the plateau and was calling something to the others, but she could not make out his words. She could only watch the tableau before her, the wall of water roaring toward them, the magnificent gray horse with his equally magnificent rider racing back down the hill to certain destruction, the boy lifting his arm with a shout, the man grasping it and pulling him up to the saddle even as he turned the gelding and began again the long climb to safety.

But this time rain was sluicing down the hill, turning it into a quagmire. The Appaloosa faltered once, and then again. "No!" she screamed, but the wind tore the sound from her, and even she could not hear it above the deafening rush of the water. Closer, ever closer, the flood roared onward, and again the horse slipped.

Felicity raced to the edge of the plateau as if she might somehow draw them up by force of will. Seconds, they only had seconds left before the water crushed them. Someone grabbed her arm. "Stay back!" he yelled, shoving her away from the edge. The other man was reaching, grabbing the horse's halter as it came, pulling for all he was worth.

She ran, her wet skirts dragging at her legs, and she grabbed, too, catching a handful of leather and throwing her whole body backward toward safety. For one awful second, the animal would not budge as his hooves gouged into the mire, and a blast of spray pelted them, the harbinger of disaster. "Oh, please!" she cried, tears mingling with raindrops.

And then the flood came, smashing, surging, swirling, its dark tentacles reaching out for victims. At the very last instant, the Appaloosa caught his footing and charged over the crest of the hill. Flung aside like a rag doll, Felicity slammed to the ground as the horse frantically raced by.

After what seemed only seconds, Felicity was surrounded. Three men knelt beside her. Gentle hands lifted her. Concerned faces looked into hers. "Are you all right?" Mr. Logan asked her.

Felicity felt a hysterical urge to laugh. He, who had just moments ago almost been swept away by a maelstrom, was asking if she was all right. Blinking away the water that was now running in rivulets down her face, she managed a small smile. She would be black and blue tomorrow, but what did that matter? "I'm a little wet," she admitted.

The three men stared at her in stunned silence for several seconds, the rain pouring unheeded over them. They were not quite able to believe their ears. Death had sent its hoary hounds snapping at their heels, they had escaped by a hair's breadth, and she was making jokes.

"I'll be damned," Josh murmured, sinking back on his heels.

"Me, too," Grady agreed, plopping down onto the muddy grass.

The two men exchanged a glance, and Josh felt his lips twitching. Grady gave him back a puzzled grin, and the next thing either of them knew, they were laughing uproariously as they experienced the almost overwhelming sense of relief that they had survived the disaster.

Felicity watched them, smiling in response to her own sense of relief, but when she turned to the boy Cody, she saw that he had not joined in the merriment.

Cody was just staring off into space. And then she noticed something else. "You're bleeding!"

Cody raised an unsteady hand to his forehead, where the girl was pointing, and touched the small cut. "It's nothing," he said, but his voice sounded unnaturally calm, and Felicity suspected that the shock was settling in on him.

"You'd better lie down flat," she advised, gently easing him back onto the oozing ground. None of them could have been any wetter or muddier, so it did not matter that she had no blanket to put under him.

Josh watched her minister to Cody with fascination, and for the first time he took a good, hard look at her. The golden hair was now plastered to her head, but that only served to accentuate the fine structure of her face-a face already smoothed into maturity-and the depth of her huge blue eyes. The rain had turned her dress into a sodden rag that could no longer conceal the woman's body underneath. Josh shook his head and looked again. No, he wasn't dreaming. How could he have made such a mistake?

"You'll be fine," she was crooning to Cody. "Just rest a minute." Then she turned back to Josh. "Do you have a handkerchief or something I can use on this cut?"

Josh didn't even hear her question. "How old are you?" he asked, his voice gruffer than he would have liked.

Felicity stared at him in surprise. What did that have to do with anything? "I'm eighteen." He stared right back as if he did not believe her, and this rankled. She should have been used to having people doubt her true age since it happened often enough, but for some reason, she didn't like the idea of Mr. Logan's thinking she was a child. "I'm almost nineteen," she added defensively. When he still did not respond, she sighed in defeat and returned to her original question. "Do you have a handkerchief?"

He fumbled in his vest pocket for a bandana, which he handed to her. She took it without so much as brushing his fingers with her own.

Dear Lord, she wasn't a young girl. She was a woman. Josh Logan was taking a woman to his ranch. Just wait until folks got wind of that. He'd never hear the end of it. And just wait until Candace saw what he was bringing her. At least Blanche was out of town. Maybe he could get rid of the girl before the Widow Delano got home. Yes, he'd have to get rid of her as soon as possible, for everyone's sake.

"We'd better get going," he said, rising to his feet. He was eager to get started. The sooner he got the girl to his ranch, the sooner he could get her off it.

The others stared at him in surprise for a moment but quickly recognized the wisdom of getting on with their journey. The open prairie provided no shelter, and the storm showed no signs of abating anytime soon.

Josh and Grady helped Cody to his feet. "I sure do thank you, Mr. Logan," Cody was saying. "I never would have made it____________________"

"I couldn't let one of my best hands get away, now could I?" Josh said with a smile that quickly stopped the flood of gratitude that threatened. "You'll have to ride with Grady. We'll take it slow. Come on, now." He led Cody over to Grady's horse and began to untie the slicker from behind the saddle.

"I'll do that," Grady offered. "You'd better see to your own passenger."

Josh gave Grady a wary glance, just enough to make certain that Grady had also noticed the curves the wet dress had revealed.

"Of course, if you want to ride with Cody…" Grady ventured, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Josh pretended not to hear. Swiftly, he moved to his own horse, which was standing with its head bowed against the storm. "Come on, boy, we've got a lot of riding left to do today." With practiced hands, he removed the slicker from his own saddle. "Here, put this on," he told the girl, hardly daring to look at her lest he be caught staring.

Felicity tried to reach for the slicker, but her hands just did not want to cooperate. She was shaking again, just as she had shaken when she had been afraid of Mr. Logan. Except she was no longer afraid, or at least she didn't think she was. For some reason, she could not keep herself from watching the raging river that flowed below them, carrying with it the broken refuse of whatever got in its way. Branches and stones and drowned animals and even whole trees swept by. The rain beat down on her and the wind whipped around her, chilling her to the bone. She shivered uncontrollably, and her trembling hands dropped the slicker.

Josh swore under his breath as he stooped to pick it up and hand it back to her. Only then did he notice the way her teeth were chattering beneath her bluish lips. Christ, why hadn't he realized it before? For a minute there, when she had helped haul his horse over the crest of the hill like some tiny Amazon and then maternally wiped the blood from Cody's face and forced him to lie flat so he would not faint, Josh had forgotten her true condition. During the emergency, she had responded on pure nerve, but half-starved and exhausted, she now had no reserves of strength left on which to call.

He shook the grass from the slicker and slipped it quickly over her head, not bothering to put her arms into the sleeves, and buttoned it to her throat. Not that it would do much good since she was already soaked, he noted cynically. Without another word, he lifted her to the saddle and climbed up behind her, drawing her trembling body against his.

She was shaking in earnest now, bone-rattling shudders that frightened him. He knew that people could die from a chill like this, even when the weather was fairly mild, and the oilcloth slicker would do little to hold in her body heat. Had she been a man, or even the child he had originally taken her for, he would not have hesitated over doing what must be done to save her life. As it was, he only hesitated a moment. Reaching around her, he unbuttoned the slicker and then lifted the thing over his own head, too, so that he joined her in its billowing folds. Turning her slight body until she rested across his lap as she had before, he settled her comfortably and then nudged the Appaloosa into motion.

Felicity knew she should not be snuggled up to Mr. Logan so intimately, especially under the cover of the oilcloth. Even though he was an older man, propriety prohibited such things. Of course, survival dictated something else entirely, and drawn by his warmth, Felicity tightened her grip on him. Even in her distress, she noticed the hardness of his chest, the strength of the muscles under her hands, and his pleasant, masculine scent. Proper or not, she savored the security of his arms. After what seemed a long time, her shivering slowed and then, finally, ceased. Once again she fell into an exhausted sleep.

From time to time, Josh looked down at his passenger. She was sound asleep, sleep she sorely needed, judging from the purple smudges beneath her eyes. She murmured something and shifted slightly, and he knew she must be dreaming. Telling himself that he was only trying to comfort her, he cradled her more closely, and tried not to notice how good her body felt pressed up against his.

Josh drew a shaky breath and struggled to concentrate on something else. He'd been without a woman for too long, that's all it was, he decided. Why else would he be having such lustful thoughts over this poor, helpless creature? He hadn't had any trouble at all before the flood, when he'd thought she was a child. She was still the same person with the same body. He should be able to hold her just as dispassionately as before.

But he couldn't, he admitted reluctantly. It had just been too long. He guessed he was a fool not to take what the buxom Mrs. Delano offered. Any other man in his position would have, and gladly, too. Of course, Josh knew that there was a price attached to Blanche Delano's favors, and that price included marriage. Josh Logan simply did not want to get married.

Or at least he never had before. For some reason the idea suddenly did not seem quite so distasteful. He was, as he had admitted a little while ago, alone in the world, as alone as the girl he held in his arms. He recalled the protective, almost fatherly, feeling he had experienced earlier when he thought her a child. He had enjoyed that feeling and could not help wondering how it would be to hold his own child.

Memories of him and his father enjoying moments of companionship teased at him. Along with them came the security of knowing his father had cared for him enough to preserve the land he loved, the land that was his heritage. But whose heritage was it now? If Josh had no children, what would become of this ranch when he was gone? The question disturbed him.

Of course, to have children meant having a wife, something Josh had studiously avoided all his adult life. Maybe, just maybe, he had been wrong to do so. Maybe he should now consider marriage. He wasn't getting any younger. If he wanted to see his own son grown and settled, he would have to get started soon.

Unfortunately, the only available woman around who didn't completely repulse him was Blanche Delano. A man could do worse-a whole lot worse-but Blanche Delano was simply not the woman he wanted. How odd, Josh thought. He knew exactly what he did not want but did not have a clue as to what he did want in a woman. He supposed he would have to give the matter some more serious consideration.

Meanwhile, he thought, shifting the girl he held to a slightly less intimate position, he should make a trip to San Antone and ease himself at one of the bawdy houses there before he found himself tempted beyond endurance.

The girl in his arms stirred again, shifting her small breasts against his chest, and Josh inhaled the fresh, clean scent of her rain-washed body. San Antonio suddenly seemed very far away.

The trip that had taken two hours going out took almost three coming back, but at last the ranch buildings materialized out of the murky dimness that surrounded them. The full fury of the storm had blown itself out, and the rain had settled into a steady downpour. Grady and Cody were also sharing a slicker, but no one was more grateful to reach the ranch than Josh.

"We're here," he said, shaking the girl a little to rouse her. He did not relinquish his hold on her as he threw one leg over the saddle to slide down to the ground.

The movement jarred her awake. Momentarily disoriented, Felicity glanced around, getting a vague impression of ranch buildings and a large, substantial-looking house before her gaze came to rest on Mr. Logan's face. All her old fears came surging back. This man was taking her to his house. What would he do to her? Was he the one who had been following her? Her sleep-fogged brain stumbled over the questions, but before she could find any answers, Mr. Logan's shout startled her.

"Candace! Come see what we've brought you!" he called loudly enough to be heard above the downpour.

Candace. Of course. Felicity had forgotten that Mr. Logan's wife would take care of her. Her fears began to ebb again.

"Land sakes! What have you got there?" a woman's voice demanded, and Felicity looked up at the strangest person she had ever beheld.

Candace was glaring down at the three men mounting the porch steps. Glaring down came easily for her since she stood almost six feet tall. Her high-breasted body was slender and regal and her beautiful ebony face unlined, even though gray now threaded her glossy black curls. Clearly, her African forebearers had been a noble race, and her direct ancestors must surely have been chieftains. The queen of Ethiopia, Felicity thought wildly. "It's the girl I told you about," Cody was saying, his voice cracking with excitement. "Nobody believed me, but now they will," he added triumphantly.

"What are you doing, bringing a girl here, Joshua Logan?" Candace asked angrily. "You should take her to Miz Delano. That's the proper place."

"Blanche is in Dallas for at least another week," Josh explained testily, "and in case you hadn't noticed, it's raining." He really did not need a lesson in etiquette from his former mammy, especially when he was wet and cold and tired. He knew only too well that a Negro servant could not properly chaperone a white girl. Although no one who knew Candace would ever classify her as a servant, the fact remained that she fit no other description.

Sensing his irritation, Candace softened immediately. "Well, if Miz Delano is out of town," she mumbled as Josh approached carrying the girl. "Let's see what you've got there." She pulled back the edge of the slicker to get a better look at Felicity.

Felicity stared at the black woman in astonishment. She had met many Negroes in her life, but she had never heard one chastise a white person. The formidable Candace reached out a work-worn hand to brush the dripping hair back from Felicity's forehead and test for fever. Too proud to flinch, Felicity met her concerned gaze steadily.

"Poor little thing, she's half-drowned!" Candace exclaimed. "Get her inside. We'll put her in the yellow room."

Candace started issuing rapid-fire orders, and before Felicity could even think, the ranch cook had been commissioned to prepare her something to eat, and Grady and Cody were sent off to haul hot water for her bath.

As Mr. Logan carried her into the house, Candace whipped the dripping slicker off over their heads and disposed of it. For one awful moment, Felicity almost cried out a protest, feeling suddenly exposed, but she managed to bite back her words just in time. She was being completely ridiculous. She was fully clothed beneath the covering of the slicker. How silly to have such an odd sensation.

But once inside the shelter of the house, with the storm only a gentle patter against the tile roof and the thick adobe walls, she realized what had caused the uncomfortable sensation. Mr. Logan was still carrying her, still holding her tightly against his chest, and she still clung to him as if her life depended on it. Without the danger that made such behavior necessary, Felicity became acutely aware of how intimate, how unseemly, was her position. White hair or not, Mr. Logan was a man, and she was a woman. Felicity blushed hotly, especially when she realized that she had no desire to be put down.

Mr. Logan carried her across the front room, an enormous place with beamed ceiling and a stone fireplace and comfortable leather-upholstered furnishings, and on through a door which opened into a smaller room. Felicity's eyes widened as she glanced around the prettiest bedroom she had ever seen. The whole place was done in yellow- yellow walls, a yellow rug, and a quilt pieced in shades of gold covering the bed. Yellow curtains hung at the window, hiding the drops that still beat mercilessly against the glass outside.

"Put her in the rocker," Candace commanded, and Mr. Logan took Felicity to the corner where a small rocking chair sat. Very carefully, he leaned over and placed her on the chair. She hazarded one glance at his face as he straightened from the task, and for just a second she imagined that she saw her own regret at being separated from him reflected in his gray eyes.

Robbed of the warmth of Mr. Logan's body, Felicity began to shiver again, but Candace immediately noted her discomfort and produced a woolen blanket to cover her. "As soon as the men have brought the water, we'll get you out of those wet things," Candace whispered, tucking the blanket around her.

Felicity watched in amazement as the tall black woman managed to make up the large feather bed that dominated the room, build a fire in the small corner stove, and gather towels and other bathing paraphernalia in the time it took Grady and Cody to haul enough water to fill the hip bath Mr. Logan carried in.

"You all should get a hot bath, too," Felicity ventured when they had finished their task and were standing around at a momentary loss. Only then did they seem to take notice of their own bedraggled condition.

"Yeah, I reckon we should," Mr. Logan allowed with a self-mocking grin. "If Candace doesn't have anything else for us to do…" He gave the woman an ironic look of inquiry.

"Scat, all of you, before this poor child catches pneumonia," she said, shooing them away with her apron.

They were almost out the door before Josh thought to correct his previous omission. "Oh, by the way, Felicity, this is Candace," he said, sticking his head back in the door that Candace was trying to close behind him. "She's twice as mean as she looks, but don't let her bully you," he advised with a wink.

Felicity smiled as the door slammed behind him. Candace whirled, catching the look of merriment on her small face. "What's so funny?" Candace asked indignantly.

Knowing she was being forward, Felicity still could not stop her words. "I was just thinking, you really do look like the queen of Ethiopia."

Candace's black eyes grew wide with surprise and then narrowed in speculation as she took inventory of the girl for the first time. She was a puny little thing, but she had good bone structure. With the proper hairstyle and clothes, she could be quite lovely. And she had a brain. Few people even knew that Candace was a biblical name. Not even those who were very familiar with the New Testament story of Phillip and the Ethiopian eunuch recalled that the eunuch was employed by a queen named Candace.

"Well, now, let's get you into that bath," Candace decided after a long moment of speculation. She threw off the blanket covering Felicity and began to unfasten the buttons of her dress.

"Oh, please, I can do that myself," Felicity protested, blushing scarlet at the knowledge that the woman intended to undress her.

Candace raised her eyebrows. "Right now you need all the help you can get," she informed the girl. "Besides, I was helping ladies get undressed before you were even a gleam in your papa's eye. I'd think you'd want to get shed of that dress, anyways. It's nothing to brag about. I got dishrags in better shape than that." She watched with great interest as the girl's blue eyes kindled with wounded pride and her sweet little mouth thinned in an effort to hold back a sharp retort.

Good. She was proud, and she had manners, too. She wouldn't even reprimand a colored woman. And she was pretty and knew the Scriptures. "Can you cook?" Candace inquired, gently pulling Felicity to her feet so she could slip the tattered dress down her body.

"Cook?" Felicity echoed, completely puzzled. "Yes, I can cook," she replied faintly. The woman had removed her dress and was stripping the sodden undergarments from her, but Felicity was powerless to stop her. Before she even had time to feel humiliated at standing nude before a total stranger, Candace had her in the tub and was lathering her hair with soap that smelled like wildflowers. The warm water felt so wonderful against her shriveled flesh that Felicity surrendered to the comfort at last, giving herself up completely to Candace's ministrations.

Candace kept up a steady stream of conversation while she worked. "Back in Georgia, at the Fair Oaks plantation, where I was born, Miss Sarah-that's Mr. Josh's grandmother-she always called all the slaves together of a Sunday evening for Scripture reading. My mama loved that story about Phillip and the eunuch best, and when I was born, she named me after the queen. Not many people know that." Candace waited, and the girl murmured some sort of agreement. "Miss Sarah, she was a beauty. Even Miss Amelia, that's Mr. Josh's mama-couldn't hold a candle to her."

Even in her groggy state, Felicity had no trouble following the story. Candace went on to tell her how Mr. Logan's father had married Miss Amelia and_ brought her and Candace to his ranch. They had fought Indians in the early days, and Yankees and carpetbaggers later on. Things had finally started to settle down when old Mr. Logan had passed on. Felicity got the distinct impression that Candace had admired Mr. Logan's father a great deal, but she suddenly realized that Amelia Logan, Mr. Logan's mother, had not figured in the story Candace was telling at all.

"Is Mrs. Logan dead, too?" she asked.

Candace did not answer right away, causing Felicity to look up to see her face. She appeared to be considering. After a moment she said, "Well, now, it's been more'n twenty years. She might very well be, at that."

Before Felicity had time to wonder at such a peculiar remark, Candace was drawing her out of the bath. "Come on now, before that water gets cold. We don't want you catching another chill."

"Really, I can dry myself," Felicity insisted, but the bath had steeped her muscles until what little strength she had was gone, and she could not even wrestle the towel away from Candace's capable hands.

"What on earth happened to you, girl?" Candace asked, pausing in her task of drying Felicity's back. "Looks like somebody's been after you with a stick."

Felicity closed her eyes, imagining the marks that Candace was seeing, marks that would be bruises by morning. "I… Mr. Logan's horse knocked me over and-"

"Knocked you over!" Candace repeated indignantly.

"It was an accident," Felicity quickly explained. "During the flood-"

"The flood!" Candace wrapped the girl securely in several towels and set her back down in the rocking chair. "Now, what's this about a flood?"

Felicity shivered slightly at the memory. "There was a flash flood. Mr. Logan got me to high ground, but the boy-"

"Cody," Candace supplied.

"Yes, Cody, his horse fell and broke its leg. Mr. Logan went after him, but the hill was wet and his horse was having a hard time…" She shivered again. "The other man grabbed the horse's bridle to pull it up, and I tried to help, too." She smiled sheepishly. "I guess I shouldn't have gotten in the way," Felicity admitted, unwittingly impressing Candace with her modesty.

Candace made no comment but went over to the dresser to fetch a garment for the girl. Smart and pretty and proud and well-mannered and now brave, too. Why, the little thing had helped save Joshua's life, the man she loved as much as her own son. Candace was humming softly when she returned to help Felicity into the shirt.

"This is a man's dress shirt," Felicity noticed, appalled that Candace would use such a fine garment as a nightdress.

"Mr. Josh don't have much use for a dress shirt. You can see this one's hardly ever been worn. Besides, it's about the only thing I could find that might fit you," Candace explained, easily overcoming the girl's objections with her physical superiority. In another minute, she had her tucked up in the bed and had started brushing out her long blond locks.

Felicity started at the discreet knock. "Who could that be?" she asked, unable to hide her alarm at having anyone- anyone male-see her in bed.

"Probably just Cookie with your supper." Candace moved confidently to the door but stood in the breach so that whoever was outside would not be able to catch so much as a glimpse of her guest. When she turned back, she held a tray of food and wore a satisfied smile. "Just like I said."

Candace stood over Felicity, watching every bite the girl took. Cookie had prepared cornmeal mush laced with molasses, a dish of stewed apples, and tea, the soft, easily digested food that Candace had specified.

After a short time, Felicity lay down her spoon in defeat. "I'm sorry. I just can't eat any more. I was so hungry, but now…"

"Don't you worry none," Candace comforted her, whisking the tray away. "That happens when a body ain't had enough food for a while. Tomorrow you'll eat like a field hand, most likely. Right now you need rest more than anything."

Felicity did not object. In fact, before Candace even left the room, she was asleep.

In the warmth of the kitchen, Josh and Grady and Cody were bathing away the effects of the storm. Josh, now dressed in dry clothes, toweled his hair while he toasted his backside in front of the fire. Grady was still dressing, and Cody sat soaking in the tub.

"What did she say her name was?" Cody asked.

"Felicity," Josh told him. "It's a mouthful, isn't it?"

The boy smiled his agreement and tried it out. "Felicity. What else did she tell you? Do you know where she came from?"

Josh told the other men what little he knew about her background.

"It's a damn shame," Grady said when he heard about how her father had died. "What's going to become of her now?"

Josh shrugged, wishing he knew and knowing that it mattered very much to him, in spite of the fact that a few short hours ago he had firmly believed the girl to be a figment of Cody Wells's imagination. He would not soon forget the vision of her rain-soaked body straining to pull his horse over the crest of the hill. A tiny Amazon.

Josh combed out his hair, and then pulled a chair over close to the fire and rolled himself a smoke. After taking a long, satisfying drag, he tried out her name again. "Felicity." It really was a mouthful. "Her name, it means something, doesn't it?" he asked the others.

Cody looked blank, but Grady strained to remember. "I think it means something about happiness," he offered.

"Happiness," Josh echoed. He liked that.

"Wonder what her last name is," Cody said.

In the yellow bedroom, Felicity Storm slept peacefully.

In a town several hundred miles distance from the Rocking L Ranch, a nondescript little man strolled negligently down the street and into the telegraph office. The operator glanced up but, seeing no one of importance, finished transcribing an incoming message before asking the stranger his business.

"Would you send this out for me right away?" the man asked, although nothing in his voice or manner betrayed that the message might be urgent.

The operator rose slowly and walked to the counter where the customer waited. He glanced over the scribbled message with a practiced eye. It was addressed to a Mr. Asa Gordon at an address in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. It read: "Found Storm and girl. Lost them. Still looking. Will report."

Ten words. He told the man the price and took his payment. The man waited as he clicked out the letters. The operator had the uneasy feeling that the man was checking to make certain he did so correctly. When the operator was finished, he glanced up to see if the stranger approved.

He did. He nodded once and then turned to go, but he paused at the door. "Say, do you know of a place where I could get my picture made?" he asked.

The operator considered. "Can't say that I do. Hasn't been a photographer around here in more than a year."

The man shrugged resignedly. "Thanks," he said, and then he left, closing the door softly behind him.