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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hired you?" Josh repeated scornfully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Blanche Delano was one of them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Asa nodded grimly.

"Who is he?" Felicity asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Until now," Josh corrected grimly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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