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.