Josh looked down into her eyes, overwhelmed as always by her beauty. She looked as if she might cry, but he could not let that sway his resolve. "How many weeks?" he asked, wondering if he might be able to placate her with a small compromise. A week or two longer wouldn't hurt.

Felicity's hopes soared. He was going to be reasonable. "I don't know," she began, making some quick calculations in her head. "Another month or two?"

Josh scowled in quick fury. Obviously, his small compromise was out of the question. "Only two months?" he inquired sarcastically. "How about three or four? Or why don't we just hang around until the old man's string runs out? If you're lucky, he'll leave you the house, and then you'll be able to stay here forever!"

Stung, Felicity jerked away from him. "Is that what you think? That I want to stay here forever?" she asked. Apprehension shivered over her as she recognized his worst fear come to life. Was that why he was so anxious to get her away from here? Did he trust her so little?

"It doesn't matter what you want," he declared coldly. "You're going home with me-now, and not two months from now." He turned away, knowing he was being, unreasonable and even cruel, but unable to stop himself.

Just as he had suspected, Richard had woven his spell around her. After only two weeks she was already reluctant to leave. Josh did not dare to let her stay any longer.

Felicity could only stare at his rigid back. What was wrong with him? He had never treated her like this, like a piece of property with no feelings. Even when he had been cold to her during her pregnancy, he had been considerate of her needs and wants. Now it seemed that her needs and wants no longer even mattered to him. Was this the way a man desperate to keep the woman he loved would act? She had no way of knowing, and before she could consider it further, a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Pardon me, Mr. Logan. I have a… Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am," Bellwood hastily apologized from the doorway. "I thought Mr. Logan was alone."

Felicity drew a ragged breath. "He will be, in just a second," she said, whirling in a rustle of skirts and sweeping past the butler out of the room. She needed some time alone, away from this unfamiliar Joshua, to get control of herself and to figure out how to deal with this new situation.

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything, sir," Bellwood said, his usually inscrutable face betraying a hint of unease at Felicity's precipitous departure.

Josh sighed wearily. He was grateful for the interruption. He hated hurting Felicity, even when he knew it was in her best interests. "What is it, Bellwood?"

"There is a letter for you, sir, from Texas."

"A letter?" Josh repeated, forgetting everything else for the moment. He picked up the envelope Bellwood offered to him on a small silver tray and began tearing it open. "Call my wife, will you? She'll want to read it, too."

But instead of responding to Josh's command, Bellwood cleared his throat. "Excuse me, sir, but perhaps you should read it first." At Josh's quizzical look, he explained. "I would not have brought it had I known Mrs. Logan was in the room. You see, the letter is addressed only to you and… ahem, in a woman's hand."

Josh examined the front of the letter more closely. Sure enough, Bellwood was right. The only woman in Texas he could imagine needing to write him a letter was Candace, and she had never learned to write. Alarmed now, Josh finished opening the letter. He quickly scanned the closely written sheet, and when he was finished, he swore quietly and crumpled the paper viciously into a tiny ball.

"Bad news, sir?" Bellwood inquired solicitously.

Josh started, having forgotten the butler's presence. "I'm afraid so, Bellwood," he said purposefully walking over to the grate and tossing the crumpled paper and the envelope into the flames. "Please don't mention anything about this letter to Mrs. Logan, will you?"

"Oh no, sir," Bellwood promised.


Blanche hurried up the steps, heedless of her long skirt. Candace waited at the door of the ranch house for her. "I came as soon as I could," Blanche said as she crossed the porch. "How bad is he?"

"Just some bumps and bruises, but his arm's broke for sure," Candace replied, stepping back to allow Blanche to enter the house. "I put him in Mr. Josh's room."

But Blanche needed no directions. She could hear her old friend Bill Grady swearing the moment she got through the front door. "That language could singe the hair off a cat, Billy-boy," Blanche protested cheerfully as she entered the bedroom. "It might offend a lady, too," she added with a wink.

Grady grunted. "If there was any around," he replied sourly.

Blanche shot him an offended look. "There's no call to be mean just because you're feeling poorly," she admonished him. "One more remark like that and I might just accidentally poke you in the arm."

Blanche laughed when she saw the comic way he cringed from such a suggestion. "Beg your pardon, ma'am," he muttered with mock humility, making her laugh again.

"Now that we've improved your manners, what's all this I hear about you falling off your horse?" Blanche inquired.

"Hellfire!" Grady howled. "Is that what Cody told you?"

"No," Blanche said innocently. "He had some fairy tale about how you were ambushed," she teased, but her grin faded when she saw Grady's bleak expression. "You mean you really were ambushed?"

Grady nodded solemnly. "Shot my horse right out from under me. I busted my arm when I fell. Lucky thing some of the boys were nearby. They heard the shots and came on the run, but whoever was doing the shooting got away."

"God Almighty," Blanche breathed. "Have you sent word to Josh yet?"

Grady squirmed uncomfortably. "Not yet," he admitted reluctantly. "See, that's why I asked you to come over. I need someone to write a letter for me." He made a gesture toward his splinted right arm.

"Letter! Why don't you just send a telegram!" Blanche exclaimed.

Grady gave her an exasperated look. "Because he'd think somebody died, that's why," the foreman explained. "Besides, you can't explain much in ten words. He needs to know everything that happened. He may not even want to come home just for this. Mrs. Logan's relatives are pretty important people, and he might think visiting them is more important than this."

Blanche considered that highly unlikely, but she had to agree that Josh needed to know all the details. "All right," she said, and then called, "Candace, can you scare me up some paper and a pen?" Candace did so, and when Blanche was comfortably seated by the bed, Grady began to tell her exactly what had been happening around the ranch the past few days, strange events that had culminated in Grady's ambush.

"Well now, that's quite a story," Blanche said when she was finished writing. "Joshua should find it quite interesting, but if he hollers at you for not sending a telegram, don't blame me," she warned with mock sternness as she prepared to leave Grady alone to his misery.

"I'm much obliged, Blanche," Grady said wearily. "None of the other men were brave enough to write to the boss."

Blanche nodded her understanding. Most of the cowboys were probably illiterate. The few who could read and write would not want to tax their feeble skills with such an important task. "Glad to be of help," Blanche replied. "You just let me know if you need anything else written… like your will or anything," she added wickedly.

Grady glared at her. His look warned that if he hadn't been injured, he would have made her pay for that remark.

Blanche smiled tauntingly, inwardly regretting that Bill Grady was such a short man. He was certainly a lot of fun, and he'd been a good friend through the years. If only he were a foot taller and about forty pounds heavier… if only he looked like Asa Gordon, she admitted silently, she'd be giving him more than a smile. But of course, he didn't look a bit like Asa Gordon, so she simply smiled. "I'll tell Candace to break out Joshua's whiskey for you. You look like you could use some."

Candace was waiting when Blanche came out of the bedroom, her dark face twisted into a worried frown. "What all did he tell you to write?" Candace asked apprehensively.

Blanche's smile quickly faded. Candace looked a little more upset than a broken arm or even an unsuccessful ambush would justify. Was there more to the story than Grady had told her? "Here, I'll read you the letter, and you can tell me if I left anything out," Blanche offered. When she had finished reading, she asked, "Does that cover everything?"

Candace turned away, twisting her hands in her apron. "There's more, Mrs. Delano. Something even Mr. Grady doesn't know."

The tiny hairs on the back of Blanche's neck prickled in warning. "What is it, Candace? I think Joshua should know everything."

Candace hesitated, chewing her lip anxiously for a moment before finally speaking. "You remember last year when Mr. Josh caught Ortega's bunch? There was a colored man with them…" She paused uncertainly.

"Your son?" Blanche asked, letting Candace know she did not have to beat around the bush.

"Yes, my… my son," Candace said the word reluctantly. "He came to see me a few days ago. He said he was going to pay Josh back for ruining his arm." Candace paused over a shuddering sigh. "Oh, Mrs. Delano, he said some terrible things about… about what he was going to do to Miss Felicity."

"Oh, dear Lord," Blanche murmured. "If anything happened to that girl, Josh would just go crazy."

"I know," Candace replied. "I reckon I would, too. This is all my fault. I asked Mr. Josh not to kill Jeremiah, and now…"

Blanche rushed to her as Candace's voice broke in a sob. "There, now, don't think that," Blanche soothed, putting a comforting arm around her. "It's not your fault. And you were right to ask Josh not to kill him. How could he live with that, killing his own flesh and blood? No matter what the man's done, they're still brothers."

Candace lifted startled eyes to Blanche. Few white people would acknowledge such a relationship. Fewer still would grant it any importance. "Thank you," Candace whispered.

But Blanche shrugged off her gratitude. "About those threats, do you think he really meant to hurt Felicity, or was he only trying to scare you?"

"I don't know," Candace admitted.

"Well, we can't take a chance. I'm going to add a postscript to this letter. Maybe it would be a good idea for Felicity to stay in Philadelphia for a while, visiting her relatives. That way we know she'll be safe."

Chapter Twelve

Josh spent the better part of that afternoon and evening stewing over Blanche's letter. Grateful for the fact that Felicity seemed to be avoiding him, he gave considerable thought to his various alternatives. None of them were very appealing, especially when weighed against what was happening back at the Rocking L.

Josh really wasn't very surprised that Ortega was back. What did surprise him was the vehemence of the attacks. Grady and the men had found over twenty head of cattle shot dead out on the range. Rustling was something Josh could understand-stealing valuable property for profit- but wholesale slaughter was incomprehensible.

And then there were the attacks on his men. At first the incidents had been little more than annoyances, small groups of cattle stampeded across roundup camps and supplies mysteriously missing from the chuck wagon. Then Grady's ambush had solidified suspicions into certainties. Combined with Jeremiah's warning to Candace that Ortega was out for revenge now, too, the evidence was overwhelming.

Josh knew he had to return to the ranch. The only decision he really had to make was what to do with Felicity. He had already determined that Philadelphia was a dangerous place for her, a place full of too many temptations that would lure her away from him. But Candace's warning had convinced him that, for the time being at any rate, Texas held an even greater danger for her.

He really had no choice. In spite of how much he hated the idea, in spite of how reluctant he was to give Winthrop and Maxwell full rein with Felicity, Josh would have to leave her here.

But how could he tell her without arousing her curiosity? After so adamantly insisting that she go home with him, he did not dare change his mind without a good reason. If she even suspected that Jeremiah had returned to terrorize Candace again and that the ranch and the men were in danger, Felicity would ignore any potential danger to herself and insist on returning to Texas. No, the instinct that had made him destroy Blanche's letter was the correct one. He would tell her nothing of what was happening at home. He would take a different approach.