Victoria Thompson - Texas Blonde

Candace kept up a steady stream of conversation while she worked. "Back in Georgia, at the Fair Oaks plantation, where I was born, Miss Sarah-that's Mr. Josh's grandmother-she always called all the slaves together of a Sunday evening for Scripture reading. My mama loved that story about Phillip and the eunuch best, and when I was born, she named me after the queen. Not many people know that." Candace waited, and the girl murmured some sort of agreement. "Miss Sarah, she was a beauty. Even Miss Amelia, that's Mr. Josh's mama-couldn't hold a candle to her."

Even in her groggy state, Felicity had no trouble following the story. Candace went on to tell her how Mr. Logan's father had married Miss Amelia and_ brought her and Candace to his ranch. They had fought Indians in the early days, and Yankees and carpetbaggers later on. Things had finally started to settle down when old Mr. Logan had passed on. Felicity got the distinct impression that Candace had admired Mr. Logan's father a great deal, but she suddenly realized that Amelia Logan, Mr. Logan's mother, had not figured in the story Candace was telling at all.

"Is Mrs. Logan dead, too?" she asked.

Candace did not answer right away, causing Felicity to look up to see her face. She appeared to be considering. After a moment she said, "Well, now, it's been more'n twenty years. She might very well be, at that."

Before Felicity had time to wonder at such a peculiar remark, Candace was drawing her out of the bath. "Come on now, before that water gets cold. We don't want you catching another chill."

"Really, I can dry myself," Felicity insisted, but the bath had steeped her muscles until what little strength she had was gone, and she could not even wrestle the towel away from Candace's capable hands.

"What on earth happened to you, girl?" Candace asked, pausing in her task of drying Felicity's back. "Looks like somebody's been after you with a stick."

Felicity closed her eyes, imagining the marks that Candace was seeing, marks that would be bruises by morning. "I… Mr. Logan's horse knocked me over and-"

"Knocked you over!" Candace repeated indignantly.

"It was an accident," Felicity quickly explained. "During the flood-"

"The flood!" Candace wrapped the girl securely in several towels and set her back down in the rocking chair. "Now, what's this about a flood?"

Felicity shivered slightly at the memory. "There was a flash flood. Mr. Logan got me to high ground, but the boy-"

"Cody," Candace supplied.

"Yes, Cody, his horse fell and broke its leg. Mr. Logan went after him, but the hill was wet and his horse was having a hard time…" She shivered again. "The other man grabbed the horse's bridle to pull it up, and I tried to help, too." She smiled sheepishly. "I guess I shouldn't have gotten in the way," Felicity admitted, unwittingly impressing Candace with her modesty.

Candace made no comment but went over to the dresser to fetch a garment for the girl. Smart and pretty and proud and well-mannered and now brave, too. Why, the little thing had helped save Joshua's life, the man she loved as much as her own son. Candace was humming softly when she returned to help Felicity into the shirt.

"This is a man's dress shirt," Felicity noticed, appalled that Candace would use such a fine garment as a nightdress.

"Mr. Josh don't have much use for a dress shirt. You can see this one's hardly ever been worn. Besides, it's about the only thing I could find that might fit you," Candace explained, easily overcoming the girl's objections with her physical superiority. In another minute, she had her tucked up in the bed and had started brushing out her long blond locks.

Felicity started at the discreet knock. "Who could that be?" she asked, unable to hide her alarm at having anyone- anyone male-see her in bed.

"Probably just Cookie with your supper." Candace moved confidently to the door but stood in the breach so that whoever was outside would not be able to catch so much as a glimpse of her guest. When she turned back, she held a tray of food and wore a satisfied smile. "Just like I said."

Candace stood over Felicity, watching every bite the girl took. Cookie had prepared cornmeal mush laced with molasses, a dish of stewed apples, and tea, the soft, easily digested food that Candace had specified.

After a short time, Felicity lay down her spoon in defeat. "I'm sorry. I just can't eat any more. I was so hungry, but now…"

"Don't you worry none," Candace comforted her, whisking the tray away. "That happens when a body ain't had enough food for a while. Tomorrow you'll eat like a field hand, most likely. Right now you need rest more than anything."

Felicity did not object. In fact, before Candace even left the room, she was asleep.

In the warmth of the kitchen, Josh and Grady and Cody were bathing away the effects of the storm. Josh, now dressed in dry clothes, toweled his hair while he toasted his backside in front of the fire. Grady was still dressing, and Cody sat soaking in the tub.

"What did she say her name was?" Cody asked.

"Felicity," Josh told him. "It's a mouthful, isn't it?"

The boy smiled his agreement and tried it out. "Felicity. What else did she tell you? Do you know where she came from?"

Josh told the other men what little he knew about her background.

"It's a damn shame," Grady said when he heard about how her father had died. "What's going to become of her now?"

Josh shrugged, wishing he knew and knowing that it mattered very much to him, in spite of the fact that a few short hours ago he had firmly believed the girl to be a figment of Cody Wells's imagination. He would not soon forget the vision of her rain-soaked body straining to pull his horse over the crest of the hill. A tiny Amazon.

Josh combed out his hair, and then pulled a chair over close to the fire and rolled himself a smoke. After taking a long, satisfying drag, he tried out her name again. "Felicity." It really was a mouthful. "Her name, it means something, doesn't it?" he asked the others.

Cody looked blank, but Grady strained to remember. "I think it means something about happiness," he offered.

"Happiness," Josh echoed. He liked that.

"Wonder what her last name is," Cody said.

In the yellow bedroom, Felicity Storm slept peacefully.

In a town several hundred miles distance from the Rocking L Ranch, a nondescript little man strolled negligently down the street and into the telegraph office. The operator glanced up but, seeing no one of importance, finished transcribing an incoming message before asking the stranger his business.

"Would you send this out for me right away?" the man asked, although nothing in his voice or manner betrayed that the message might be urgent.

The operator rose slowly and walked to the counter where the customer waited. He glanced over the scribbled message with a practiced eye. It was addressed to a Mr. Asa Gordon at an address in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. It read: "Found Storm and girl. Lost them. Still looking. Will report."

Ten words. He told the man the price and took his payment. The man waited as he clicked out the letters. The operator had the uneasy feeling that the man was checking to make certain he did so correctly. When the operator was finished, he glanced up to see if the stranger approved.

He did. He nodded once and then turned to go, but he paused at the door. "Say, do you know of a place where I could get my picture made?" he asked.

The operator considered. "Can't say that I do. Hasn't been a photographer around here in more than a year."

The man shrugged resignedly. "Thanks," he said, and then he left, closing the door softly behind him.

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.