Texas Blonde

by Victoria Thompson

  Josh was uncomfortable having to explain this particular detail of his shopping trip. "I took her your old dress to go by, and your shoes, too. There's a new pair in there somewhere," he added in an attempt to distract her so she would not realize that he would have had to come in her room earlier, while she slept, in order to have gotten those items. "And I told Mrs. Hankins to put in everything-else you'd need, two of everything."

  Warily, Felicity lifted the calico dress a bit and caught a glimpse of something white and lacy folded underneath. She quickly covered it again, acutely conscious of Mr. Logan looming over her. The motion jarred loose a shoe from the bottom of the stack and it rolled free into Felicity's lap. With another startled "Oh," she picked it up, marveling at the shininess of the supple black leather. She wanted it so badly. She wanted it all so badly, but she knew she couldn't take any of it. These things had cost a fortune, and Felicity knew she would have to do a lot more than take a few photographs to repay Mr. Logan's generosity. If she worked a year, she would not be able to pay for all this.

  "It's all so lovely and I thank you very much for thinking of me, but I can't take any of this," she told him sadly.

  Josh stared at her in shocked disbelief. "Why not?"

  Felicity sighed. "Because I can never pay you back for them, that's why. I don't have a cent to my name and-"

  "Did I ask you to pay me back?" he demanded in exasperation. "This is a gift."

  "You said it wasn't a gift," she reminded him, her own exasperation growing.

  "Well, I lied."

  "Then I certainly can't accept such a generous gift from a stranger," she said stubbornly.

  "Generosity has nothing to do with it. I'm being selfish. I can't stand the thought of seeing you in that rag you had on before, so do me a personal favor and take these things instead. Don't you want to look nice?" Josh glared down at her, arms akimbo.

  Felicity glared back. Of course she wanted to look nice! Did he think she wasn't like normal girls just because she was poor and lived in a wagon? Clamping her lips together over the ugly retort she really wanted to make, she said instead, "'Favor is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.'"

  Now, wasn't that just like a woman? When you had her backed into a corner, she started quoting Scripture at you, Josh fumed. "I don't reckon the Lord'll mind if you have a decent dress to wear," Josh said, and when she started to reply, he added, "And besides, I burned your old one, so you'll have to wear these unless you want to go around buck-naked."

  Gasping in shock and outrage, Felicity was very glad that she was much too angry to speak, because heaven only knew what blasphemy she might have uttered.

  Satisfied that he had silenced all her objections, Josh turned on his heel and started for the door, muttering imprecations about ingratitude.

  "Mr. Logan?" she called after him.

  Slowly, warily, he turned to face her from across the room.

  "I… you did a very nice thing for me," she stammered, uncertain exactly what to say. "You did a lot of nice things for me, when it comes to that, and you must think I'm horribly ungrateful." He looked very much as if he did, and Felicity swallowed before continuing. "I haven't got any excuse, except maybe that nobody ever gave me anything this nice before, and I don't know exactly how to act."

  Looking into those huge blue eyes, Josh felt the anger drain out of him. "You don't have to 'act' any way. Just take it and say, 'thank you,'" he advised.

  "Thank you," she repeated solemnly.

  Josh frowned. What he really wanted to see was her smile. "Don't you like the dresses?" he asked.

  "Oh, yes!" she hastened to assure him. "They're beautiful. I've never had anything so beautiful in my whole life!"

  She was serious, Josh realized with amazement. Ordinary gingham and calico were the nicest things she had ever owned. Josh knew a sudden and unreasonable anger against all the forces that had conspired to deprive this poor girl thus far in her lifetime. He smiled, a slow, conciliatory smile. "Then if you like them, wear them, and no more silly talk about paying me back."

  Felicity felt the impact of his smile all the way across the room. She smiled back. "I'll wear them, and thank you again."

  Felicity twisted and turned, but try as she might, she could not see her whole self in the small mirror that hung above her washstand. How frustrating. Here she was, wearing the most beautiful dress in the whole world, and she couldn't see herself! Sighing in defeat, she made a last adjustment to the blue satin ribbon that held her hair back from her face.

  She wasn't being vain, she reasoned. She just wanted to know that she would look presentable when she had to face the men of the Rocking L at supper. She would need all the confidence she could muster, because the mere thought of the coming meal terrified her. To make matters worse, her imagination seemed determined to increase that terror. Her father had warned her that men wanted a girl like her for only one thing. What that one thing was, Felicity was not certain, but she knew it was evil and wicked and that she must avoid it at all costs. And what if one of these men was the one who had been following her? What if he recognized her? What if he…?

  Felicity pulled herself up short. What on earth was wrong with her to imagine such things? Hadn't she already convinced herself that no one was following her? Hadn't her father assured her of that time after time? And even if someone was following her, he had not been able to find her in weeks and weeks of wandering. How could he show up here on Mr. Logan's ranch? Felicity had enough to worry about without seeing phantoms where none existed. She should concentrate instead on protecting herself from the very real dangers that she must face.

  In a desperate attempt to distract herself from these tormenting thoughts, she made one last attempt to see herself in the mirror. That lady at the store had thought of everything, Felicity discovered. Not only had she included needles and thread for any necessary alterations, but she had even remembered hair ribbons and hairpins, and a brush and comb. All that in addition to the fanciest, frilliest set of undergarments Felicity had ever seen. Felicity's frugal heart ached at having to cover them up. What a pity to have such wonderful things when no one would ever see them. Far better to have saved the expense and bought plain cotton, or at least that was what Felicity knew she should be thinking. What she was really thinking was how confident she felt knowing that she was pretty from the skin out, even if she was the only one who knew it.

  Impulsively, Felicity spun around, testing the buoyancy of her skirts and petticoats-more petticoats than she had ever owned, much less worn, in her lifetime. Then she stopped abruptly, letting all that material twist and swish around her legs before falling gracefully still again. She smoothed the fabric of the dress with her hands, starting at the tiny collar and moving over her bodice and down the skirt, marveling at how soft it was. She had chosen to wear the gingham today because she liked the calico better. This was her way of doing penance because she felt so greedy over the new clothes.

  The sound of horses in the ranch yard alerted her to the fact that the men were returning from their afternoon's work. Felicity put a hand over her quivering stomach. Earlier that day, as soon as Mr. Logan had left her room, in fact, Candace had come in to see what Mr. Logan had brought her. Felicity had overheard the two of them exchanging words outside her door, and she discerned that Candace had been scolding Mr. Logan. Felicity was somewhat mollified that someone had taken him to task for entering her bedroom unchaperoned.

  Candace had admired her new finery and gotten her up out of bed and dressed in short order, clucking over her like a mother hen. For a reason Felicity did not understand, Candace seemed even more pleased about Mr. Logan's gifts than Felicity was.

  "Can you really cook?" Candace had asked at one point.

  "A little," Felicity admitted, reluctant to brag.

  Candace sniffed impatiently. "Well, can you or can't you?" she demanded.

  "Yes, I can," Felicity said defensively.

&nb
sp; Candace raised her eyebrows skeptically, forcing Felicity into an explanation. "Whenever we'd stop at a farm or a ranch, I'd help out in the kitchen. Ladies always want to show off, so they'd tell me their secrets and teach me how to make their favorite dishes."

  Candace considered this information. "How are you with pies?" she inquired, the light of challenge glittering in her black eyes.

  Felicity rose to the challenge. "My pie crust is so light, you'll have to hold it down with a weighted sheet," she replied with an impish grin.

  Candace laughed at that. "Well now, how'd you like to prove that?"

  Felicity stared at her in surprise. "You mean you want me to cook? Here?"

  Candace looked down her long, straight nose at the girl. "You want to start earning your keep around here, don't you?"

  Of course! Why hadn't she thought of it herself? "Yes, I do. I'd gladly make some pies for the men," she said, experiencing a curious relief that Candace had provided this opportunity for her.

  Felicity had been wary of approaching the ranch cook with the purpose of invading his kitchen, but Candace had no such qualms. The two women shooed him away and got down to work immediately. They had the entire afternoon in which to work, and by the end of it, twelve pies sat cooling on the kitchen table.

  Now the moment of truth had arrived, and Felicity went to the window to listen for the men's approach. Through the glass she could hear them talking.

  "What's that smell?" somebody asked.

  "It's probably you, Gus. I told you, you gotta take a bath every month."

  "Hey, I smell it, too!" a third voice exclaimed. "It smells like…"

  "Apple pie!" the first voice announced.

  "Apple pie!" a chorus of voices echoed in wonder.

  "Hurry up, there."

  "Yeah, hurry up."

  Felicity could imagine them jostling each other for a turn at the pump in an effort to be the first to the table, and she smiled slightly, almost forgetting her own fears. In a few minutes she heard booted feet clomping swiftly into the house and on into the kitchen, and then silence.

  Taking a deep breath to calm the butterflies that were fighting to the death inside her stomach, she moved cautiously to the bedroom door. Why had she ever allowed Candace to talk her into joining the men at their evening meal? The black woman had managed to make her feel guilty and selfish and ungrateful for wanting to take her meals in her room. At last Felicity had agreed to eat at the table this evening. Funny, it no longer seemed like such a good idea. She supposed her father's training was too deeply ingrained. She simply did not like drawing attention to herself.

  She listened for another moment to be certain that the men had all gone on into the dining room, and then she opened the door a crack. Yes, the parlor was empty. Feeling moderately relieved, she opened the door wider and stepped through. Still no one in sight. So far so good. She would slip unobtrusively into the dining room, take her place at the table, and with any luck at all, no one would even notice her. In all her life, scarcely anyone had ever noticed her, so this should be no different.

  Following the sound of voices and the clinking of eating utensils, Felicity crept silently toward the dining room doorway.

  "There she is!" someone said the instant she stepped into view.

  Felicity jumped at the announcement and almost looked over her shoulder to see who might have come in behind her. In another second she knew that no one was behind her. She was the one they were all staring at. And they were coming toward her, too, she realized with alarm. Chairs scraped across the plank floor as seven men rose from the table and closed in on her.

  Their faces blurred as she desperately searched the group for someone she knew. Where was Cody? Or Mr. Logan? What were they going to do to her? Should she run?

  But they didn't do anything. They just stood there grouped about her, gaping. Then one of them cleared his throat importantly, making her jump, and Felicity looked up into a blessedly familiar face.

  "How are you feeling, miss?" Cody Wells asked timidly.

  Felicity stared at his reddening face in surprise. Why, he was as nervous as she! And so were the others, judging from the way they were hanging back and shuffling their feet and hardly daring to meet her gaze. Her momentary panic subsided a bit, and she looked up at Cody again.

  "I'm fine, Cody," she said softly. "And I don't think I ever thanked you for finding me," she added politely. To her horror, the other men began to make taunting, moaning sounds, and she felt herself begin to blush.

  "Ain't you gonna introduce us, Cody?" one of them inquired.

  Cody rolled his eyes heavenward for a moment. "I reckon I have to," he allowed. "Miss…" he began, but then stopped and frowned. "What's your last name?"

  Felicity blinked up at him. "Storm," she replied, beginning to feel less intimidated with every passing minute. Her fears seemed foolish in the face of such good-natured and courteous behavior.

  "Miss Storm, these here are the men of the Rocking L." He called their names, but the names, like the faces, were just one big blur to Felicity, who was trying not to let on how uncomfortable she felt with seven pairs of eyes riveted on her. She couldn't help thinking how her father would have scolded her for putting herself forward in such a way. He had never liked for anyone to notice her at all and had always insisted that she keep her golden curls tightly braided and covered with a bonnet so no one would. The thought of her father reminded her of so many other unpleasant things that she could only nod silently in response to the introductions.

  "What's going on here?" Josh Logan demanded as he came into the dining room. "Felicity?" he asked, frowning at the scene before him.

  The men backed away guiltily, although none of them could have said at the moment what they had been doing to feel guilty for. They only knew that when Mr. Logan got that look in his eye, a smart man gave him a wide berth.

  Josh's frown deepened. "What's going on here?" he demanded again.

  Felicity looked to Cody, who she expected would offer an explanation, but Cody was busy examining the toes of his boots. Her glance darted back to Mr. Logan, who was watching her as if he thought she was responsible for whatever it was that had so displeased him. A little affronted, she managed to keep it from her voice. "Cody was introducing me to the other men," she explained.

  "How nice," Josh said, but he obviously didn't think it was nice at all. He waited, but nobody said anything else. Finally he remarked, "I reckon the food will be getting cold."

  As if on cue, the other men scrambled into motion and back over to their places at the table, where they began to eat with enthusiasm.

  Felicity wasn't quite sure what she should do next, so she did nothing.

  Josh, satisfied that the men had been taken care of, turned back to Felicity. He looked her up and down, noticing things about the simple gingham dress he had never suspected. "I see it fits," he said with elaborate nonchalance.

  Self-conscious once again, Felicity glanced down at the dress she wore and nervously smoothed the skirt with one hand. "It fits perfectly. Everything does," she added, making a vague reference to the myriad undergarments she wore. To her horror, she could feel the color rising in her cheeks again. Resolutely, she pulled herself up to her full five feet nothing and met his gaze, flinching only slightly at the directness of those silver eyes.

  The dress did fit perfectly, he acknowledged silently. In fact, it fit a little too perfectly. Seeing the way the light cotton fabric hugged her small, round breasts and that slender waist, he realized that no man in his right mind would ever mistake her for a child now. His cowboys had judged her age correctly, if the way they'd been sniffing around her was any indication. Maybe he'd made a terrible mistake in burning that old baggy dress of hers.

  Josh cleared his throat. "Are you joining us for supper?" he asked, half hoping that she would say no. Perversely, he wanted to send her back to the bedroom and lock her in, out of sight of the other men.

  Felicity frowned, understanding
only too clearly that he didn't want her to eat with the men and wondering if there was some reason why she shouldn't. "Yes," she said, hastily adding, "if it's all right."

  "Let's eat, then," he suggested with resignation. Then, from some distant part of his memory, an image stirred of a time when life at the Rocking L had included a lady. Vaguely, he recalled his father escorting his mother into the dining room, and for once the memory brought no pain. Without bothering to question the impulse, Josh offered his guest his arm, as he had seen his father do for his mother countless times.

  Felicity stared at it for a moment. Shyly, she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and allowed him to lead her the rest of the way into the dining room.

  Hardly daring to let herself touch him, she rested her hand as lightly on his arm as she could and kept her eyes lowered until he had seated her in the nearest empty chair. Good heavens! Her face felt like it was on fire, and so did the rest of her. She knew it was just embarrassment at making such a spectacle of herself. It had to be.

  Josh looked down at the top of her golden head as he pushed her chair in. She was such a little, innocent thing. A girl like this had no place among the rough men who populated the Rocking L, and if she stayed here, she certainly wouldn't be innocent for very long. No, Josh knew he had made a mistake, and he would rectify it as soon as he could. In a few days, whenever Blanche returned from her trip, he'd have to take her over there.

  Felicity barely had time to recover her composure when one of the men set a plate of food in front of her. Glancing up, she saw Mr. Logan helping himself from serving bowls placed on the sideboard. She already knew that the usual method of service on a ranch was every man for himself.

  She turned back to her benefactor. "Oh, thank you, but you don't need to wait on me!" she assured him.

  The man, who she vaguely recalled was named Gus, grinned and told her it was his pleasure, drawing a series of moaning taunts from the other men for his trouble. Felicity looked down the long table where Mr. Logan was just taking his seat. He gave Gus a disapproving look but said nothing.