Texas Blonde

Chapter Two

Dawn had barely broken as Josh made his way across the muddy ranch yard. The rain had stopped sometime during the night, and the day promised to be fine. Josh should have been in a good mood this morning, having noted that the storm had done little damage to the ranch buildings and that the rich prairie grasses were already beginning to green up. Spring would be here soon, the time of the year when he felt most alive, most in tune with the land. Yes, he would have taken great pleasure in this sparkling, rain-washed morning except that Candace had run him out of the house the night before, forcing him to sleep in the bunkhouse with the other men. He'd gotten another lecture on propriety which he did not need, and this morning he had awakened to discover he had forgotten to bring clean socks with him.

In a foul humor, he stomped up the ranch house steps. Candace met him at the door, a disapproving scowl marring her majestic features.

"I forgot my socks," Josh said, annoyed that he now must make excuses to enter his own home.

"Wait here. I'll get them for you," Candace said, swiftly disappearing into his bedroom, the room next to the one where the girl slept.

"How's she doing?" he asked when Candace returned and handed him the neatly rolled socks.

"Haven't heard a peep out of her since yesterday afternoon," Candace reported.

Josh frowned. "Shouldn't somebody check on her?"

Candace raised her eyebrows in shocked surprise. "Ain't nobody going into that girl's bedroom 'long as I'm walking around on two feet," she informed him.

Josh considered explaining that he hadn't planned on doing so himself, but decided that arguing with Candace when she was in this mood was a definite waste of time. Still, somebody ought to check in case the girl was sick or something.

Candace interrupted his thoughts. "Get along now. Breakfast'll be ready soon, but don't come till Cookie calls. And tell the men to use the back door and to be mighty quiet when they come in the house."

Grunting his agreement, Josh headed back down the stairs, but he paused as he reached the last step. Damn it, somebody ought to check on the girl. For all anyone knew, she could be dead. Turning with renewed purpose, he climbed the stairs again, prepared to assert his authority over his recalcitrant mammy. But she had disappeared. Josh opened his mouth to call her back, then quickly closed it again. If he yelled, he might disturb the girl. Besides, why get into a flap with Candace? He'd just peek in on the girl himself, satisfy his concerns, and be on his way.

Quietly, so he would not wake the girl, he stole over to the bedroom door. Turning the knob with infinite care, he pushed the door open just a crack, just until he could see her where she lay on the bed.

Her back was to him and she had the covers pulled up to her chin so only that mop of golden hair was visible. From here he couldn't even tell if she was breathing. Tiptoeing, he entered the room, stopping a respectable distance from the bed, and peered over the hump of her shoulder. She looked even more like a child this morning, he thought, with her face flushed from sleep and one delicate hand curled against her cheek. When those blue eyes were closed, he could almost forget how attractive he'd found her as a woman.

Almost.

After a moment, he could see the rhythm of her breathing as the bedclothes rose and fell almost inperceptibly. Well, at least she was alive. She looked a lot less exhausted, too, and the purple smudges under her eyes had disappeared. Now all she needed was a little fattening up, and she'd be as good as new.

Suddenly, Josh knew an overwhelming urge to stroke the top of her head, where the hair lay burnished against her skin, or stroke her cheek to see if it was really as soft as it looked. Caught unawares, he almost gave in to that urge before his common sense warned him away. Sure as hellfire, if he touched her, she would wake up, and Lord only knew what she would think. And if Candace found out, she'd raise the roof, and rightly so.

Turning quickly, Josh was just about to leave as stealthily as he had entered when he caught sight of her dress hanging on a peg by the door, where Candace had put it to dry. He stared at the dress for a long moment, unconsciously visualizing the girl in the bed without it. Was the rest of her as soft and golden as her face? Painfully aware of how close she lay-so close he could almost imagine the heat from her body reaching out to warm him-he had to strain every nerve to keep from going back to find out.

This is crazy! he told himself sternly, taking a firm grip on the socks he still held in an attempt to resist the compelling temptation. Using all his willpower, he forced his feet to move away from her and toward the door. As he got closer to where the dress hung, he tried to focus on it as just a garment, but when he did, that made him think of something else. Noticing once again how ragged and worn the dress was and remembering how pathetic it had looked hanging on her slender body, Josh knew that he never wanted to see the thing again. Snatching it from its hook, he was about to carry it out and burn it when he remembered something else: Without the dress, she would have nothing else to wear. Although he had already told some of the men to go out and fetch her wagon and the rest of her things as soon as the ground was dry enough, he had no way of knowing if those "things" included a dress of which he would approve.

No, he decided, he would not take the chance on what else her wardrobe might contain. It was still early. He would have plenty of time to take care of this. If he was quick, he might even get back before she woke up, and she wouldn't even have a moment of apprehension. As an afterthought, he reached down and picked up her shoes, too, from where she had set them neatly beside the dress. Pulling the door shut carefully behind him, Josh grinned to himself. This would make her happy.

It never occurred to him to wonder why that should matter to him.

Felicity sat bolt-upright on the bed, her heart pounding wildly in her chest, every muscle strained for flight. But the wolves were gone and the night had turned to day and the cramped interior of the wagon was now a spacious bedroom. Her body sagging with relief, Felicity whispered a prayer of thanks that her fears had only been phantoms in a dream, and that she was, at least for the moment, safe.

As her heartbeat and her breathing settled back down to normal, Felicity glanced around the cheerful room and considered her situation. She need no longer fear wild animals or starvation, but her father had taught her that civilization held its own set of dangers. As kind as everyone at this ranch had been to her so far, they were still all strangers to her. She could not plan on their generosity for much longer. Soon she would have to make her own way in the world, but the thought filled her with a nameless dread. If she left this place, where could she go? And how? The sad truth was that she didn't even know where she was to begin with, and had no idea where she might go.

Sighing with frustration, she threw back the covers and swung her feet to the floor. She should be counting her blessings instead of worrying herself to death, she decided. For the first time in weeks she had a place to stay and food to eat and people-nice people-to take care of her. The terror that she had felt at being alone was gone, and the terror of facing what lay ahead was something she need not consider just yet. For this time, at least, she was safe. She would be grateful for that.

Determined not to let her fears spoil this glorious day, Felicity climbed out of the big bed and rose unsteadily to her feet. She had to wait a minute for her head to clear from having risen so suddenly, but when it had, she felt remarkably strong and alive. Drawn by the irresistible lure of the sunlight, she moved over to the window and pulled the curtain back a bit to peer out. What she saw pleased her very much.

Mr. Logan certainly knew how to run a ranch. The buildings, from her vantage point at least, appeared to be in good repair, and the corral fences were strong and straight. Felicity had seen enough ranches where the buildings were tumbling down and the fences were patched and held together with spit and rawhide to know a well-run operation when she saw one. This was the kind of ranch she and her father loved to come across because the owners took pride in their possessions and were both willing and eager to have them immortalized in photographs. Not only would a ranch like this provide enough work to support her and her father for weeks, but the owners would usually insist that the Storms stay around for a few days as guests. That meant good food, free food, a real blessing for folks whose only home was a wagon.

Maybe Mr. Logan would like for her to take some photographs of his ranch. She would be happy to, and she wouldn't even charge him, except maybe for the chemicals. That would be a way to thank him for all he had done for her.

Josh glanced back over his shoulder as he reentered the house and tried to judge the hour by the position of the sun. If his estimate was correct, he had made the trip to town and back in record time. He had left a lathered horse at the corral for one of the men to cool down for him, and he was carrying a rather large package.

He paused in the front doorway, prepared to do battle with Candace, but she was nowhere to be seen. Just as well, he told himself. He would simply place the package inside the girl's door and let her find it when she woke up. He walked quietly across to her bedroom.

Yes, Felicity decided, she should be concerned with other things besides selfishly worrying about herself. She reached up and ran her fingers through her long blond hair and shook it free down her back. Sighing again, this time with determination, she stretched her arms wide as if to embrace the vision of the Rocking L Ranch.

"Christ Almighty."

Gasping with surprise, Felicity whirled around to find Josh Logan gaping at her from the doorway. For a second she just stood there, too stunned to move or even lower her arms, but then she remembered what she was wearing, or rather, not wearing. With a cry of alarm, she raced back to the bed and dove under the covers.

Josh discovered his mouth was hanging open, and he closed it with a snap. He felt like he'd been kicked by a mule.

She had been standing in front of the window with her golden hair tumbling down and her arms stretched wide and the rest of her… God, the rest of her was just there, those long, shapely legs that went on and on up under his shirt until they joined those curving hips that gave way to that slender waist… And he had seen it all. The sunlight coming through the shirt had outlined everything quite clearly.

Josh tried to swallow but found that his mouth had gone very, very dry.

Felicity stared at him in complete mortification, clutching the bedclothes to her chin. "Don't you know you're supposed to knock before you come in here?" she demanded to cover her confusion. She was blushing furiously, and those azure eyes were flashing sparks of mingled anger and embarrassment.

Well, he was embarrassed, too, but there was no use in admitting it. That would only make things worse. "I just wanted to be sure you were all right," he said. "But you're right, I should have knocked." He didn't know whether he was glad or sorry that he hadn't, but never mind that. "I listened at the door, and when I didn't hear anything, I figured you were still asleep. I didn't want to wake you, so I was just going to set this inside the door for you." He held up the parcel he was still holding.

Felicity glanced at the package. "What is it?" she asked warily.

Josh shrugged. "Some things I thought you'd need. Here." He walked over to the bed and offered the paper-wrapped bundle to her.

Felicity fought down the surge of excitement his words had caused. "I… I can't take a present from you, Mr. Logan. You've already done enough for me." She clutched the bedclothes more tightly in an effort to avoid the temptation of reaching for the package.

Josh set the package in her lap. "Well, there's nothing in here that'll be of any use to me, so if you don't take it, it'll go to waste."

"Please, Mr. Logan, don't you know that a lady cannot accept gifts from-"

"It's not a gift," he said, annoyed.

"What is it, then?"

"Open it and see."

Carefully tucking the blanket under each of her arms so she would still be modestly covered, Felicity reached for the parcel and began to untie the string. Going slowly so as to savor every second of this delicious experience, she peeled away the paper to reveal the contents of Mr. Logan's surprise.

"Oh!" Felicity blinked back the tears that sprang to her eyes. She was silly to cry, but she couldn't seem to help it. She'd never had anything so pretty in her whole life. Reverently, she touched the blue gingham dress, marveling at its softness.

"There's two of them," Josh told her gruffly.

Wide-eyed and openmouthed, Felicity lifted her gaze to him for one disbelieving moment, but then lowered it quickly when she saw the look on his face. Mr. Logan was very displeased with her, and he probably had every right to be. She must be behaving very rudely. How many times had her father warned her that a lady should always be courteous, meek, and gentle-spoken, the way her mother had been? She should have refused the gift-and it was a gift, no matter what he said-in a more gracious manner. She would do so in just a moment, too, but first she had to see the other dress.

Very carefully, she lifted the neatly folded blue gingham to discover a blue calico underneath. This one was a slightly different shade, light blue with darker blue flowers sprinkled on it. "They're both beautiful," she whispered, afraid almost to say it aloud for fear they would evaporate before her eyes. Felicity could not remember the last time she had owned anything brand-new, if she ever had. Itinerant photographers were not well paid.

"Mrs. Hankins-the lady at the store-said she thought they'd fit all right, but just in case, she put in some needles and thread," Josh explained. The girl didn't look up but just kept staring at the dresses. "She also said she thought the color would be good, because of your eyes and all," he ventured.

Finally, those blue eyes lifted to his again. Not quite willing to explore the implications of his hint that he had matched the dresses to her eyes, she chose a safer topic. "How did she know what size?" Felicity asked curiously.

Josh was uncomfortable having to explain this particular detail of his shopping trip. "I took her your old dress to go by, and your shoes, too. There's a new pair in there somewhere," he added in an attempt to distract her so she would not realize that he would have had to come in her room earlier, while she slept, in order to have gotten those items. "And I told Mrs. Hankins to put in everything-else you'd need, two of everything."

Warily, Felicity lifted the calico dress a bit and caught a glimpse of something white and lacy folded underneath. She quickly covered it again, acutely conscious of Mr. Logan looming over her. The motion jarred loose a shoe from the bottom of the stack and it rolled free into Felicity's lap. With another startled "Oh," she picked it up, marveling at the shininess of the supple black leather. She wanted it so badly. She wanted it all so badly, but she knew she couldn't take any of it. These things had cost a fortune, and Felicity knew she would have to do a lot more than take a few photographs to repay Mr. Logan's generosity. If she worked a year, she would not be able to pay for all this.

"It's all so lovely and I thank you very much for thinking of me, but I can't take any of this," she told him sadly.

Josh stared at her in shocked disbelief. "Why not?"

Felicity sighed. "Because I can never pay you back for them, that's why. I don't have a cent to my name and-"

"Did I ask you to pay me back?" he demanded in exasperation. "This is a gift."

"You said it wasn't a gift," she reminded him, her own exasperation growing.

"Well, I lied."

"Then I certainly can't accept such a generous gift from a stranger," she said stubbornly.

"Generosity has nothing to do with it. I'm being selfish. I can't stand the thought of seeing you in that rag you had on before, so do me a personal favor and take these things instead. Don't you want to look nice?" Josh glared down at her, arms akimbo.

Felicity glared back. Of course she wanted to look nice! Did he think she wasn't like normal girls just because she was poor and lived in a wagon? Clamping her lips together over the ugly retort she really wanted to make, she said instead, "'Favor is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.'"

Now, wasn't that just like a woman? When you had her backed into a corner, she started quoting Scripture at you, Josh fumed. "I don't reckon the Lord'll mind if you have a decent dress to wear," Josh said, and when she started to reply, he added, "And besides, I burned your old one, so you'll have to wear these unless you want to go around buck-naked."

Gasping in shock and outrage, Felicity was very glad that she was much too angry to speak, because heaven only knew what blasphemy she might have uttered.

Satisfied that he had silenced all her objections, Josh turned on his heel and started for the door, muttering imprecations about ingratitude.

"Mr. Logan?" she called after him.

Slowly, warily, he turned to face her from across the room.

"I… you did a very nice thing for me," she stammered, uncertain exactly what to say. "You did a lot of nice things for me, when it comes to that, and you must think I'm horribly ungrateful." He looked very much as if he did, and Felicity swallowed before continuing. "I haven't got any excuse, except maybe that nobody ever gave me anything this nice before, and I don't know exactly how to act."

Looking into those huge blue eyes, Josh felt the anger drain out of him. "You don't have to 'act' any way. Just take it and say, 'thank you,'" he advised.

"Thank you," she repeated solemnly.

Josh frowned. What he really wanted to see was her smile. "Don't you like the dresses?" he asked.

"Oh, yes!" she hastened to assure him. "They're beautiful. I've never had anything so beautiful in my whole life!"

She was serious, Josh realized with amazement. Ordinary gingham and calico were the nicest things she had ever owned. Josh knew a sudden and unreasonable anger against all the forces that had conspired to deprive this poor girl thus far in her lifetime. He smiled, a slow, conciliatory smile. "Then if you like them, wear them, and no more silly talk about paying me back."

Felicity felt the impact of his smile all the way across the room. She smiled back. "I'll wear them, and thank you again."

Felicity twisted and turned, but try as she might, she could not see her whole self in the small mirror that hung above her washstand. How frustrating. Here she was, wearing the most beautiful dress in the whole world, and she couldn't see herself! Sighing in defeat, she made a last adjustment to the blue satin ribbon that held her hair back from her face.

She wasn't being vain, she reasoned. She just wanted to know that she would look presentable when she had to face the men of the Rocking L at supper. She would need all the confidence she could muster, because the mere thought of the coming meal terrified her. To make matters worse, her imagination seemed determined to increase that terror. Her father had warned her that men wanted a girl like her for only one thing. What that one thing was, Felicity was not certain, but she knew it was evil and wicked and that she must avoid it at all costs. And what if one of these men was the one who had been following her? What if he recognized her? What if he…?

Felicity pulled herself up short. What on earth was wrong with her to imagine such things? Hadn't she already convinced herself that no one was following her? Hadn't her father assured her of that time after time? And even if someone was following her, he had not been able to find her in weeks and weeks of wandering. How could he show up here on Mr. Logan's ranch? Felicity had enough to worry about without seeing phantoms where none existed. She should concentrate instead on protecting herself from the very real dangers that she must face.

In a desperate attempt to distract herself from these tormenting thoughts, she made one last attempt to see herself in the mirror. That lady at the store had thought of everything, Felicity discovered. Not only had she included needles and thread for any necessary alterations, but she had even remembered hair ribbons and hairpins, and a brush and comb. All that in addition to the fanciest, frilliest set of undergarments Felicity had ever seen. Felicity's frugal heart ached at having to cover them up. What a pity to have such wonderful things when no one would ever see them. Far better to have saved the expense and bought plain cotton, or at least that was what Felicity knew she should be thinking. What she was really thinking was how confident she felt knowing that she was pretty from the skin out, even if she was the only one who knew it.

Impulsively, Felicity spun around, testing the buoyancy of her skirts and petticoats-more petticoats than she had ever owned, much less worn, in her lifetime. Then she stopped abruptly, letting all that material twist and swish around her legs before falling gracefully still again. She smoothed the fabric of the dress with her hands, starting at the tiny collar and moving over her bodice and down the skirt, marveling at how soft it was. She had chosen to wear the gingham today because she liked the calico better. This was her way of doing penance because she felt so greedy over the new clothes.

The sound of horses in the ranch yard alerted her to the fact that the men were returning from their afternoon's work. Felicity put a hand over her quivering stomach. Earlier that day, as soon as Mr. Logan had left her room, in fact, Candace had come in to see what Mr. Logan had brought her. Felicity had overheard the two of them exchanging words outside her door, and she discerned that Candace had been scolding Mr. Logan. Felicity was somewhat mollified that someone had taken him to task for entering her bedroom unchaperoned.

Candace had admired her new finery and gotten her up out of bed and dressed in short order, clucking over her like a mother hen. For a reason Felicity did not understand, Candace seemed even more pleased about Mr. Logan's gifts than Felicity was.

"Can you really cook?" Candace had asked at one point.

"A little," Felicity admitted, reluctant to brag.

Candace sniffed impatiently. "Well, can you or can't you?" she demanded.

"Yes, I can," Felicity said defensively.

Candace raised her eyebrows skeptically, forcing Felicity into an explanation. "Whenever we'd stop at a farm or a ranch, I'd help out in the kitchen. Ladies always want to show off, so they'd tell me their secrets and teach me how to make their favorite dishes."

Candace considered this information. "How are you with pies?" she inquired, the light of challenge glittering in her black eyes.

Felicity rose to the challenge. "My pie crust is so light, you'll have to hold it down with a weighted sheet," she replied with an impish grin.

Candace laughed at that. "Well now, how'd you like to prove that?"

Felicity stared at her in surprise. "You mean you want me to cook? Here?"

Candace looked down her long, straight nose at the girl. "You want to start earning your keep around here, don't you?"

Of course! Why hadn't she thought of it herself? "Yes, I do. I'd gladly make some pies for the men," she said, experiencing a curious relief that Candace had provided this opportunity for her.

Felicity had been wary of approaching the ranch cook with the purpose of invading his kitchen, but Candace had no such qualms. The two women shooed him away and got down to work immediately. They had the entire afternoon in which to work, and by the end of it, twelve pies sat cooling on the kitchen table.

Now the moment of truth had arrived, and Felicity went to the window to listen for the men's approach. Through the glass she could hear them talking.

"What's that smell?" somebody asked.

"It's probably you, Gus. I told you, you gotta take a bath every month."

"Hey, I smell it, too!" a third voice exclaimed. "It smells like…"

"Apple pie!" the first voice announced.

"Apple pie!" a chorus of voices echoed in wonder.

"Hurry up, there."

"Yeah, hurry up."

Felicity could imagine them jostling each other for a turn at the pump in an effort to be the first to the table, and she smiled slightly, almost forgetting her own fears. In a few minutes she heard booted feet clomping swiftly into the house and on into the kitchen, and then silence.

Taking a deep breath to calm the butterflies that were fighting to the death inside her stomach, she moved cautiously to the bedroom door. Why had she ever allowed Candace to talk her into joining the men at their evening meal? The black woman had managed to make her feel guilty and selfish and ungrateful for wanting to take her meals in her room. At last Felicity had agreed to eat at the table this evening. Funny, it no longer seemed like such a good idea. She supposed her father's training was too deeply ingrained. She simply did not like drawing attention to herself.

She listened for another moment to be certain that the men had all gone on into the dining room, and then she opened the door a crack. Yes, the parlor was empty. Feeling moderately relieved, she opened the door wider and stepped through. Still no one in sight. So far so good. She would slip unobtrusively into the dining room, take her place at the table, and with any luck at all, no one would even notice her. In all her life, scarcely anyone had ever noticed her, so this should be no different.

Following the sound of voices and the clinking of eating utensils, Felicity crept silently toward the dining room doorway.

"There she is!" someone said the instant she stepped into view.

Felicity jumped at the announcement and almost looked over her shoulder to see who might have come in behind her. In another second she knew that no one was behind her. She was the one they were all staring at. And they were coming toward her, too, she realized with alarm. Chairs scraped across the plank floor as seven men rose from the table and closed in on her.

Their faces blurred as she desperately searched the group for someone she knew. Where was Cody? Or Mr. Logan? What were they going to do to her? Should she run?

But they didn't do anything. They just stood there grouped about her, gaping. Then one of them cleared his throat importantly, making her jump, and Felicity looked up into a blessedly familiar face.

"How are you feeling, miss?" Cody Wells asked timidly.

Felicity stared at his reddening face in surprise. Why, he was as nervous as she! And so were the others, judging from the way they were hanging back and shuffling their feet and hardly daring to meet her gaze. Her momentary panic subsided a bit, and she looked up at Cody again.

"I'm fine, Cody," she said softly. "And I don't think I ever thanked you for finding me," she added politely. To her horror, the other men began to make taunting, moaning sounds, and she felt herself begin to blush.

"Ain't you gonna introduce us, Cody?" one of them inquired.

Cody rolled his eyes heavenward for a moment. "I reckon I have to," he allowed. "Miss…" he began, but then stopped and frowned. "What's your last name?"

Felicity blinked up at him. "Storm," she replied, beginning to feel less intimidated with every passing minute. Her fears seemed foolish in the face of such good-natured and courteous behavior.

"Miss Storm, these here are the men of the Rocking L." He called their names, but the names, like the faces, were just one big blur to Felicity, who was trying not to let on how uncomfortable she felt with seven pairs of eyes riveted on her. She couldn't help thinking how her father would have scolded her for putting herself forward in such a way. He had never liked for anyone to notice her at all and had always insisted that she keep her golden curls tightly braided and covered with a bonnet so no one would. The thought of her father reminded her of so many other unpleasant things that she could only nod silently in response to the introductions.

"What's going on here?" Josh Logan demanded as he came into the dining room. "Felicity?" he asked, frowning at the scene before him.

The men backed away guiltily, although none of them could have said at the moment what they had been doing to feel guilty for. They only knew that when Mr. Logan got that look in his eye, a smart man gave him a wide berth.

Josh's frown deepened. "What's going on here?" he demanded again.

Felicity looked to Cody, who she expected would offer an explanation, but Cody was busy examining the toes of his boots. Her glance darted back to Mr. Logan, who was watching her as if he thought she was responsible for whatever it was that had so displeased him. A little affronted, she managed to keep it from her voice. "Cody was introducing me to the other men," she explained.

"How nice," Josh said, but he obviously didn't think it was nice at all. He waited, but nobody said anything else. Finally he remarked, "I reckon the food will be getting cold."

As if on cue, the other men scrambled into motion and back over to their places at the table, where they began to eat with enthusiasm.

Felicity wasn't quite sure what she should do next, so she did nothing.

Josh, satisfied that the men had been taken care of, turned back to Felicity. He looked her up and down, noticing things about the simple gingham dress he had never suspected. "I see it fits," he said with elaborate nonchalance.

Self-conscious once again, Felicity glanced down at the dress she wore and nervously smoothed the skirt with one hand. "It fits perfectly. Everything does," she added, making a vague reference to the myriad undergarments she wore. To her horror, she could feel the color rising in her cheeks again. Resolutely, she pulled herself up to her full five feet nothing and met his gaze, flinching only slightly at the directness of those silver eyes.

The dress did fit perfectly, he acknowledged silently. In fact, it fit a little too perfectly. Seeing the way the light cotton fabric hugged her small, round breasts and that slender waist, he realized that no man in his right mind would ever mistake her for a child now. His cowboys had judged her age correctly, if the way they'd been sniffing around her was any indication. Maybe he'd made a terrible mistake in burning that old baggy dress of hers.

Josh cleared his throat. "Are you joining us for supper?" he asked, half hoping that she would say no. Perversely, he wanted to send her back to the bedroom and lock her in, out of sight of the other men.

Felicity frowned, understanding only too clearly that he didn't want her to eat with the men and wondering if there was some reason why she shouldn't. "Yes," she said, hastily adding, "if it's all right."

"Let's eat, then," he suggested with resignation. Then, from some distant part of his memory, an image stirred of a time when life at the Rocking L had included a lady. Vaguely, he recalled his father escorting his mother into the dining room, and for once the memory brought no pain. Without bothering to question the impulse, Josh offered his guest his arm, as he had seen his father do for his mother countless times.

Felicity stared at it for a moment. Shyly, she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and allowed him to lead her the rest of the way into the dining room.

Hardly daring to let herself touch him, she rested her hand as lightly on his arm as she could and kept her eyes lowered until he had seated her in the nearest empty chair. Good heavens! Her face felt like it was on fire, and so did the rest of her. She knew it was just embarrassment at making such a spectacle of herself. It had to be.

Josh looked down at the top of her golden head as he pushed her chair in. She was such a little, innocent thing. A girl like this had no place among the rough men who populated the Rocking L, and if she stayed here, she certainly wouldn't be innocent for very long. No, Josh knew he had made a mistake, and he would rectify it as soon as he could. In a few days, whenever Blanche returned from her trip, he'd have to take her over there.

Felicity barely had time to recover her composure when one of the men set a plate of food in front of her. Glancing up, she saw Mr. Logan helping himself from serving bowls placed on the sideboard. She already knew that the usual method of service on a ranch was every man for himself.

She turned back to her benefactor. "Oh, thank you, but you don't need to wait on me!" she assured him.

The man, who she vaguely recalled was named Gus, grinned and told her it was his pleasure, drawing a series of moaning taunts from the other men for his trouble. Felicity looked down the long table where Mr. Logan was just taking his seat. He gave Gus a disapproving look but said nothing.

Felicity noticed that the other men had already gobbled up half their meals, and Mr. Logan wasted no time in digging into his own.

Felicity watched in surprise for a moment and then said, "Excuse me."

Every movement abruptly ceased and all eyes turned, once again, expectantly to her.

She stammered, "Is… isn't anyone going to ask the blessing?"

Stunned silence greeted her question.

Josh didn't know whether to be annoyed or amused. He tried to recall the last time a meal at the Rocking L had been prayed over, and could not. When it became increasingly apparent that no one was going to be able to eat until today's meal had been, however, Josh shrugged resignedly. "Maybe you'd like to do it, Felicity," he suggested.

She really preferred not to, of course, but obviously no one else was about to volunteer. Primly, she folded her hands, closed her eyes, and bowed her head. "Thank you, Lord, for the bounty of this table. Bless the food to the nourishment of our bodies and bless the hands that prepared it. Amen," she said, reciting words that were as natural and familiar to her as breathing.

When she lifted her head, she was startled to note that she was the only one who had bowed for the prayer. Everyone else was simply staring at her, waiting. Honestly, didn't they have anything better to do than stare at her? "Amen," she repeated loudly, and reached for her fork.

"Smells like Cookie made something worth praying over tonight," someone remarked as the men resumed their eating.

"Yeah, and I'll bet Miss Felicity had something to do with it, too," Grady commented, giving her a sly smile.

Felicity looked up, surprised that they had guessed her secret so quickly, but then Cody said, "Cookie never bakes fancy stuff when it's just us. Maybe we ought to think about keeping Miss Felicity around permanent."

Felicity gave him a small smile to acknowledge his compliment. She did not notice Mr. Logan's second frown of disapproval.

Since custom prohibited conversation during meals, no one spoke again until everyone had finished eating. Then they waited expectantly as Cookie carried out the pies.

"Come and get 'em," he called.

The men made a dash for the sideboard, where Cookie had set the pies. Felicity couldn't help but smile to notice that every man claimed an entire pie for himself. Some of them simply dug in with a fork, while others took the time to slice theirs and pick up each individual piece to devour it.

"You outdid yourself this time, Cookie," Grady declared when he had disposed of his first piece. The others readily concurred.

The cook grunted sourly. "I never had nothing to do with them pies. Miss Felicity made them."

A moment of silence greeted this announcement, and then the room exploded with compliments and reaffirmations that they were all very glad indeed that Miss Felicity had come to visit.

Shyly, she lifted her gaze to where Mr. Logan sat, but when her eyes met his, her heart sank down to her shoes. He wasn't pleased. He wasn't pleased at all.

As Josh listened to the men raving over Felicity, his expression grew grimmer and grimmer. Even the pie-which was, he admitted grudgingly, the best he'd ever had-began to taste like sawdust as he watched them mooning over her. As delicious as the pie was, he knew she'd be a much sweeter morsel, and he guessed the rest of them knew it, too. At least none of them would pass up an opportunity to find out.

After what seemed like hours, the men finally finished off every last crumb of the pies. Ordinarily, at this point they would have adjourned to the front porch for a smoke, but today no one was about to move from the room as long as Miss Felicity was in it. Felicity picked at her pie, trying not to feel unnerved at the attention she was getting. After a few moments of hemming and hawing, Cody Wells, who had managed to claim the seat to her immediate right, thought of something to say to break the silence.

"Your wagon… it said you're a photographer," he ventured.

Felicity looked up. "Yes… that is, my father was," she admitted reluctantly, not wanting to pursue the subject of her late father.

As if sensing her wishes, he skirted that topic. "Do you know how to make pictures, too?" he asked hopefully.

Josh almost snorted at the idea of such a thing. "Don't be ridic-"

"Yes, I do," Felicity replied simultaneously, silencing Josh.

"I've always wanted to get my picture made," Cody reflected to no one in particular, and several of the other men chimed in with "Me, too."

Felicity glanced around the table. The men were perfectly sincere and pathetically eager in their enthusiasm. The tiny seed of an idea that she had been nursing began to sprout. Here was a perfect way to earn some money with which to repay Mr. Logan. He obviously didn't like the idea of her in his kitchen. "I'd be happy to make your pictures," Felicity said, eliciting whoops of pleasure from the men.

Felicity once again lifted her eyes to meet Mr. Logan's across the table. Her breath caught at the intensity of that silver gaze. Unable to quite read his expression, she knew a shivering unease at the thought that he might not approve this plan either. "That is, if Mr. Logan says it's all right," she amended.

"Don't be pestering her, boys. She's had a hard time of it, and she needs some rest," he said, effectively dousing everyone's enthusiasm.

"They aren't pestering me!" Felicity objected, but the sight of Mr. Logan's frown silenced her further protests. She swallowed the irritation that was rapidly building into anger over his interference in her idea and forced a placating smile to her lips. "I really don't mind. It's the least I can do after all you've done for me. This is such a fine-looking ranch, you really ought to have some photographs of it to have for your grandchildren to see," she said, repeating something her father had often said to convince reluctant customers. Of course, she didn't know if Mr. Logan even had any grandchildren or whether he ever hoped to have any, but it was an argument she knew to be effective. Mr. Logan didn't look all that convinced, though.

He wasn't, but mention of his future grandchildren struck a responsive chord. "Well, if you want to…" he said, a little reluctantly.

"Oh, I do," she assured him.

"How about tomorrow," someone suggested eagerly.

"No, I gotta wash my good shirt…" someone else objected.

"Wait a minute!" Josh silenced them. "You men have work to do tomorrow, and besides, Miss Felicity is still recovering. I think Saturday would be soon enough."

Felicity, who wasn't sure exactly what day it was today, asked, "How soon is that?"

"Day after tomorrow," Cody Wells told her, and from his expression she knew he was far from pleased about it.

Understanding his disappointment, she comforted him. "I have to check my chemicals anyway. I may need to get some fresh supplies before I can do the pictures. And we'll need to move my wagon to the ranch," she added, suddenly remembering that important detail.

"We'll fetch it tomorrow," Cody offered with puppylike eagerness. "The ground should be plenty dry by then."

Again Josh dampened everyone's enthusiasm by asking, "How much do you charge for making someone's picture?"

"Fifty cents a picture," she said, a little chagrined at having to discuss her fees so publicly. Naturally, she would never accept money from Mr. Logan.

From their murmurs, the men thought her price more than fair. For a few minutes the men discussed possible poses and the clothes they would wear, until Josh blandly suggested that the meal was over and Cookie might be wanting to clean up. Reluctantly, the men began to rise and carry their dirty dishes to the wreck pan by the kitchen door and make their way out of the room.

As he passed by where Felicity still sat, Cody Wells leaned over with a happy smile and said, "I'm real glad you'll be staying at least until Saturday, and not just for the pictures, either."

At any other time, Felicity would have blushed at such a flirtatious remark, but this time she hardly registered Cody's implied meaning. His words about her staying at least until Saturday had lodged in her mind, stirring up all sorts of unpleasant images.

Very soon she would have to decide where she would go when she left the Rocking L Ranch. For so long she had had just one goal, to get to civilization, to where other people were who could help her. Now that she was here, she suddenly realized that her problems were just beginning. Where was she going to go now? Not even one possibility came to mind, and Felicity found the blankness of that future horrifying.

She barely even noticed when some of the other men made parting remarks along the same lines as Cody's, and she only nodded absently in response.

"Felicity?"

Felicity looked up to where Mr. Logan still sat at the head of the table. The rest of the men had gone, and the two of them were now alone in the room. She waited expectantly.

Josh fought the urge to wince at the vulnerability reflected in those enormous blue eyes. He was a fool to keep her here. If he had a lick of sense, he'd be trying to think of someplace besides Blanche's to take her instead of planning activities for her here. "Felicity, we need to talk," Josh said, rising from his chair.

Felicity waited, watching as he moved toward her. He was so tall, so forbidding, and she felt her heart racing in her chest. What was he going to talk to her about? Nothing good, she knew, not from the way he had been glaring at her all during the meal.

She tried to meet his gaze as he lowered himself into the chair that Cody had earlier vacated. His grim expression did little to reassure her.

"Have you thought about where you're going to go and what you're going to do now?" Josh asked after a few seconds of silence.

Felicity shook her head.

"Well," he continued, with forced heartiness, "you must have some family, some relatives someplace. We could contact them and-"

"I don't have any family," she said.

"But you must," Josh insisted. "An aunt or uncle? Cousins?"

Felicity shook her head again. "No one. My mother died about ten years ago. If she or Papa had any relatives, I don't know about them, and now that Papa is…" Her voice quivered and she paused a moment. "Now there's no one," she concluded simply.

Josh stared at her. This was going to be even harder than he thought. "Ah, well then," he said, searching around for another solution, and then one occurred to him. "You could take photographs! You could open up a shop in town," he continued, visualizing the storefront operation in San Antonio where he had had his own photograph made. "There must be lots of folks around here who'd like to have a picture of themselves…"

But Felicity was shaking her head again. "That wouldn't work, Mr. Logan," she explained. "A photographer needs a steady stream of new customers, and there just aren't enough people around here for that. Once everyone got their pictures made, my business would dry up. That's why Papa and I had to travel so much."

Josh frowned. "But shops like that do exist. I've seen them."

"Only in big cities," Felicity said apologetically.

Josh brightened momentarily, but then he tried to picture a young orphaned girl setting herself up in business in a large city. Such a thing was unthinkable, just as unthinkable as her continuing to travel alone in that wagon. "There must be something you can do," he muttered, as much to himself as to her.

"About the only things I can do are cook and keep house," she said. "And I can probably take care of children, although I've never been around them much," she mused, wondering what her chances might be of getting a teaching job. But she quickly dismissed that idea. She had only a few years of formal schooling, and although her father had tutored her well, she doubted anyone would take her word for how much she knew.

Josh considered her meager qualifications. Cooking, cleaning house, taking care of children. She wasn't suited to being anything except… Josh's body stiffened. She was giving him her qualifications for being a wife!

Josh had heard enough eager mamas and avid matchmakers expound the charms of every eligible girl within a hundred miles of here to recognize a sales pitch when he heard one. She wanted to be someone's wife, and whose wife could she plan on being? The answer was obvious, he realized, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. That explained the pies. He knew the old saw about the way to a man's heart being through his stomach. But, he admitted, studying Felicity's guileless blue eyes, the girl didn't look cunning enough to have thought of it herself, not already.

That left only one possibility. Could Candace have put the idea into her head? How many times had Candace hinted that it was time and past time for Josh to think about getting married and settling down? As if he weren't already perfectly settled. And marriage was for fools, as Candace well knew.

The girl looked up at him with those cornflower eyes, the picture of innocence, and Josh began to doubt again. No, she wasn't hinting, not yet at any rate. Even Candace had not had enough time to set such a plan in motion. And what if she had? Josh wondered, surprising even himself. Would that be such a bad thing? The girl was pretty and sweet-tempered, and she could bake a mean apple pie. But Josh still hadn't decided whether he wanted to get married or not. He stood abruptly. "You can't stay here," he announced.

Felicity stared at him in surprise. "I know that," she said. How well she knew it, too. She should not even be here now.

"There's a widow lives on the next ranch," he began reasonably. "She's gone now, to Dallas, but as soon as she gets back…" His voice trailed off as he experienced a strange reluctance to complete the sentence.

Nodding her understanding, Felicity rose, too. "Meanwhile, I'll try to make myself useful around here," she promised in an attempt to mollify him.

Unfortunately, her offer had the opposite effect. "No," he said a little too sharply. "I mean, no, you don't have to do anything. Just consider yourself a guest."

"But I-"

"How did you like those pies, Mr. Josh?" Candace inquired slyly from the kitchen doorway.

Josh and Felicity glanced up at her in surprise, and she studied their faces carefully. Having taken her meal in the kitchen, she had heard everything, including the private conversation between Josh and Felicity. That was why she had chosen this particular moment to interrupt. Josh was already running, and no one had even started chasing him yet. The man was certainly suspicious. She would have to be very careful.

"The pies were delicious," Josh admitted grudgingly, imagining the gleam of satisfaction that would be in Candace's eye.

"Maybe we'll plan a treat for breakfast, too," Candace remarked with apparent casualness. "Do you know how to make Bear Sign, miss?"

Felicity's forehead wrinkled a moment until she remembered that Bear Sign was the cowboy's slang for doughnuts. "Oh yes, I know a special recipe…"

Josh swore silently. Of course she did. "Well, if you ladies will excuse me," he said, the sarcasm thick in his voice.

"Why, certainly…" Felicity began, but stopped when she realized she was speaking to his back.

"Don't pay him no nevermind," Candace advised, moving over to place a comforting arm around the girl's slender shoulders. "We haven't had a lady around here in so long that he's forgotten how to act. He liked the pie. I could tell. Apple pie is his favorite in all the world," confided the woman who had taken him from his mother's body. "And he's got a lot on his mind just now, what with the spring roundup starting. There's this Mexican bandito name of Ortega who shows up about this time every year, too, to bedevil us. Mr. Josh just can't help being grouchy."

Felicity gave Candace a grateful smile. The woman seemed determined that Felicity not grow discouraged. If only Candace could provide her with some answers about what her future held.

As they left the room, Candace hummed softly as she envisioned exactly what that future was going to be.

Asa Gordon read the telegram again and muttered a very satisfying curse before crumpling it and tossing it into the wastebasket. He leaned backward in his desk chair and closed his eyes wearily, but the words of the message still teased against his eyelids. "Found Storm." "Lost them." Someone was going to be very angry about this piece of information. Someone had already spent several years and several thousands of dollars on the search, and now to come so close without making contact.

Gordon's chair squeaked as he swiveled to view the framed picture that hung behind his desk. The large, staring eye. The Eye That Never Sleeps. He himself had lost more than a little sleep over this particular case, and now he would lose even more. But he would not give up. His client would continue to pay, he knew, and Asa Gordon had never yet failed to satisfy a customer. Even if he had to travel all the way from Philadelphia to Texas himself, he would find Felicity Storm.