"Uh, yes, Uncle Henry," Richard said, hastily searching his pockets for a notebook. Few remaining days indeed, he thought bitterly. If Gordon had waited another month to locate the girl, that might well have been true. Now, it seemed, the news of Felicity Storm had brought the old man back to life.

"She would bring me great joy if she would accept my invitation…" Henry dictated. Richard winced again.


Not only did Henry Maxwell invite them for a visit, he sent his own private railroad car for them. Felicity convinced Blanche to accompany them to the railhead at San Antonio so she could see it before they left. Felicity had also convinced Mr. Gordon to remain as their guest at the ranch during the interim, so the four of them shared the uncomfortable stagecoach ride from Prospect to San Antonio.

Although she was excited and full of her own thoughts, Felicity could not help but notice the careful way Asa and Blanche were still treating each other. Even a fool could sense the attraction between them, the almost visible spark that flashed whenever necessity forced them to speak to each other. Felicity had taken every opportunity to throw them together, too, insisting that Blanche stay on at the ranch to help her prepare for the trip while they waited for the special car to arrive.

All her matchmaking efforts had been in vain, though. No matter how loudly Felicity sang Mr. Gordon's praises, no matter that even Joshua had come to like him after being forced to know him, Blanche simply refused to be reconciled to him. For whatever reason, Blanche was determined not to succumb to Mr. Gordon's charms. Or at least, not to let him know that she had.

As the time for their departure drew near-Mr. Gordon was taking the same train back to Philadelphia-Felicity began to lose hope of ever seeing the two of them get together. It simply wasn't right that two people who were so perfect for each other should deny themselves happiness because of a misunderstanding. Unfortunately, Felicity could not seem to grasp the exact nature of that misunderstanding, so she had little expectation of helping them straighten it out.

Her frustration over the matter robbed her of some of her joy over the trip. When she occasionally glimpsed a worried frown on Josh's handsome face, she began to wonder whether she should really go to Philadelphia at all.

She had, in fact, expressed her doubts on the matter to her husband the night before they left the ranch.

"You don't seem too happy about making this trip," she had said to him. "If you don't think we should go…"

"Of course we should go," he had insisted, smiling to reassure her. The smile did not quite erase the wariness in his eyes, but he had explained that, too. "And I'm perfectly happy about making the trip. It's just that I'm a little worried about being away from the ranch. Not that there's anything to worry about," he had added hastily. "But I've never been away from the Rocking L for very long. Grady says I'm acting like an old maid about it. Maybe he's right."

"He is right," Felicity confirmed, showing him her dimple. "Grady can run this place with one hand tied behind him. And we're going to have such fun in Philadelphia. You'll see."

She watched his face grow somber, and he took her hand gently in both of his. "I'm not going to Philadelphia to have fun, Lissy. I'm going so you can meet your grandfather. I know what it's like not to have any family, and I don't want that for you, not when you have a family who wants to know you."

Felicity felt the prickle of tears as she savored the fierce determination in his gray eyes. He might not be happy about the trip, but he was genuinely glad for her, glad she had this opportunity. He understood how anxious she was to see her grandfather and how important it was for her to get to him before it was too late.

"Thank you, Joshua," she whispered, making him smile for real.

"Don't thank me yet. Wait and see how I do in Philadelphia. I might ruin your whole trip," he teased.

But she had been certain he wouldn't, and now that their journey had begun, she knew she was right. All the way from Prospect to San Antonio he had exerted himself to keep the conversation going and make sure of the women's comfort. Several times she had been hard-pressed not to throw her arms around him in pure gratitude when he skillfully covered an awkward moment between Blanche and Asa.

At first she had assumed he was simply making a noble sacrifice for her sake, but she soon realized that pleasing her brought him genuine pleasure in return. She had never imagined that the love she felt for Joshua could grow more intense, but so it did, with every passing mile. By the time they reached the train depot in San Antonio, she positively adored him.


Henry Maxwell's private car was everything Felicity had imagined and more. A smiling black man in a trim navy-blue uniform greeted them as they approached the siding where it was sitting. "Hello, Mr. Gordon. It's good to see you again, sir," he called. "And this must be Miss Storm."

"That's right, Simon, only her name is Mrs. Logan now, and this is her husband, Joshua Logan, and her friend, Mrs. Delano. Folks, this is Simon Duvalier. He will be looking after you on your trip," Asa explained.

"Pleased to meet you," Simon said, doffing his cap to reveal dark, curly hair liberally streaked with gray. "Mr. Gordon's right. I work for Mr. Maxwell, taking care of his private car, and anything you need, you just ask me. Come on inside. I've got some refreshments waiting for you."

Felicity had never dreamed that anyone would fix a railroad car up fancier than any house she had ever been in. They entered to discover a parlor paneled in lustrous mahogany and furnished with fashionable pieces upholstered in red velvet and made of the same wood as the walls. On a small, low table in front of the settee, Simon had laid a spread fit for a king. High tea, he called it, served in an ornate silver pot which rested among a lavish display of matching silver accessories, some of which Felicity could not even identify. Accompanying the tea was a tray full of freshly baked pastries that proved to be as delicious as they were beautiful. Another black man who identified himself as Simon's son William appeared and began to load their luggage onto the car.

"Simon, have you worked for my grandfather very long?" Felicity asked when she had sampled one of the flaky pastries and complimented him on it.

"Yes, ma'am, I've worked for Mr. Maxwell more than thirty years. He liked me so much that about ten years ago he put me in charge of this car," Simon explained, grinning even more broadly than before.

"Have you seen him lately? Do you know how he's feeling?" Felicity asked, eager to get an updated report on her grandfather's condition.

"Oh yes, ma'am, I saw him just before I left. He called me out to the house to tell me I'd better treat you extra special. He's been mighty poorly the last few months. I heard he'd taken to his bed, but when I saw him, he looked real fine. I think just knowing that you're coming to see him perked him right up." Simon's smile reassured her even more than his words, and for the first time Felicity began to believe she might actually have time to get to know her grandfather instead of arriving just in time for his funeral.

"Can I take this bag for you, sir?" William asked Joshua, indicating the small carpetbag Josh had carried in with him.

"Oh no!" Felicity objected before Josh could respond.

"Felicity," Blanche chastened. "He's not going to hurt it! He just wants to put it back in the bedroom; isn't that right, William?"

"Yes, ma'am," William confirmed, a little confused. His dark gaze darted from Blanche to Josh and back to Felicity.

"I'm sorry, William," Felicity apologized sheepishly. "It's just… there's a special present for my grandfather in there. I don't want anything to happen to it." Indeed, she had made Joshua carry the bag all the way from the ranch, not trusting it to the luggage boot of the stage.

"I'll be extra careful, Mrs. Logan," William promised with an understanding grin. He lifted the bag with such exaggerated care that he made Felicity smile.

"Nothing's going to happen to those pictures," Josh assured her indulgently. "The way you have them packed, they'd have to get caught under a stampede to even get bent!"

"I know," Felicity admitted, feeling more foolish by the minute. But she could not seem to help feeling protective. She had used the days they had spent waiting for the car to arrive to make prints of all her favorite photographs. Blanche had decorated a cigar box for her by gluing hundreds of tiny scraps of material to it in a beautiful mosaic pattern. The photographs now rested in that box, surrounded by wads of packing to ensure a safe arrival in Philadelphia. It was to be her way of sharing the first nineteen years of her life with her grandfather. The only one of her pictures she had not included was the one of tiny little Caleb Joshua lying in his cradle. That memory was too private and still to agonizing to share just yet.

"Excuse me, folks, but they're coming to hook us up to the rest of the train," Simon reported.

"Well then, I guess I'd better be going," Blanche said, rising from her chair. She was planning to spend a few days in town and had already checked into the hotel.

"May I walk you to the hotel, Mrs. Delano?" Asa asked, rising also.

"Well, I…" Blanche stammered, feeling absurdly flustered at the prospect. "Won't you miss your train?"

"It won't leave for a while yet," Asa replied confidently.

Felicity watched the silent struggle Blanche was enduring between her pride and her desire. "You really shouldn't be walking the street alone in this part of town, Blanche," Felicity ventured, hoping to tip the scales a bit in Mr. Gordon's favor. Maybe it wasn't too late, after all.

"Yes, of course," Blanche agreed brusquely. "I would appreciate your company, Mr. Gordon."

When she had made her farewells to Josh and Felicity, she allowed Asa to help her down the wrought-iron steps of the railroad car and onto the wooden sidewalk that ran beside the station. They walked a few steps. "It looks like they'll be traveling in style," Blanche remarked to fill the awkward silence that threatened, a silence she was afraid he would fill with something she did not want to hear.

"Henry Maxwell is a man of style," Asa replied.

That reminded Blanche of one of her most serious concerns. "What kind of a man is he?" she asked, not bothering to keep the concern from her voice.

Asa stopped, forcing Blanche to stop, too, and for a moment they just stood there looking at each other, oblivious to the people rushing past them on their way to this train or that. "He's the kind of a man who could carve out a place for himself in the world and make a fortune before he was thirty-five. And he's the kind of a man who could disown his own daughter, so I guess that makes him the kind of man you don't want Felicity exposed to. Is that right?"

Blanche nodded, her lips tight with suppressed anger. It was just as she had feared. Just as she knew Joshua feared, too, although they had never spoken of it. Asa Gordon was delivering her sweet friend up to a monster. "How can you do this to her?"

"She deserves to know him," Asa insisted. "He is her grandfather, after all. And don't underestimate her. She has his blood. She may be stronger than you think. She may even be stronger than he is."

"And what if she isn't?" Blanche challenged.

"Then she has Josh," he replied.

There seemed no argument for that, so Blanche resumed her journey to the hotel, no longer even caring if Asa Gordon accompanied her or not. She had been right. The man was a stubborn, overbearing, arrogant…

"I owe you an apology," he said at her elbow.

She almost missed a step but managed to otherwise control her surprise. "Do you?" she asked with apparent unconcern.

"You know I do," he continued, undaunted, increasing his pace to keep up with her.

Blanche could see the hotel just across the street. She hurried toward it, darting around a wagon and narrowly missing a collision with a buggy in her haste. She had to get away. She did not want to hear what he had to say, not when she was already having a hard enough time maintaining her dislike of him.

"Blanche, wait," he said, grabbing her arm and halting her on the steps up to the hotel sidewalk.

He swung her around to face him, and for a long moment, she simply stared into his eyes. For the first time in days she looked directly at him and really saw the torment he was enduring, a torment every bit as agonizing as her own. The thought that he had suffered, too, undid her. She could feel her body sag with surrender as the last of her resistance drained away. "All right," she sighed.