Texas Blonde

by Victoria Thompson

  "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.

  "Let's sit over there," Asa suggested, motioning toward some rocking chairs on the hotel porch.

  Blanche nodded and, easing out of his grasp, made her way over to them. When they were both seated, he said, "I'd like to apologize."

  "For what?" she asked haughtily, unwilling to make this any easier for him.

  "For lying to you. For using you. And for whatever else it is that you'll never be able to forgive me."

  Blanche was hard-pressed not to gape. He knew! He really understood why she was so furious at him. And from the expression on his face, the knowledge disturbed him greatly. He was too proud a man to be humbling himself like this otherwise. But if he knew… "Why did you wait so long to ask my forgiveness?" she demanded, thinking of all the days she'd wasted nursing her anger toward him when they might have been getting to know each other better.

  He smiled sadly. "Because I wanted you to know I really meant it. If I'd done this last week, you wouldn't have believed me. You would have thought…" He paused, uncertain how much to tell her.

  "What would I have thought?" she prodded.

  "You would have thought I was only trying to get on your, good side so I could get in your bed," he admitted at last.

  Blanche blinked in surprise at his frankness. "And would I have been right?" she asked, experiencing a flutter of excitement.

  "Yes," he said.

  The flutter became a surge. Emotions she had thought dead and buried with her husband flickered to life. A startled "Oh." escaped her lips, and a delicate blush heated her cheeks. When had she ever felt like this, so flustered yet so elated? Never, she knew, because until now she had never known Asa
Gordon. It was as if she had spent her whole life preparing for him, and now he was here.

  Except now he was leaving!

  Asa rose reluctantly, knowing he had said everything necessary and a lot more than he had intended. The memory of Blanche Delano would haunt his dreams as long as he lived, but at least now he would know she did not hate him. That was the best he could hope for. As a lifelong student of human nature, he had understood the instant he had learned Blanche was Felicity's friend that Blanche would never be able to forgive him his deceit. The one thing a person like Blanche could not tolerate was being used, being made a fool of. He had committed the sin in ignorance, but that would not excuse him. "I'd better be going. Don't want to miss my train."

  "But…" she started to object, then stopped. For a moment she could make no sense of this. He had just told her that he… that he wanted her. Not loved, only wanted, and not even wanted enough to use his apology to get her. He had apparently sensed the enormous attraction she felt for him, but had not felt it quite so strongly himself. He was leaving her with regret, but he was still leaving. "No, you don't want to miss your train," she said, rising also and gathering the remnants of her pride around her. If he did not want to stay, she would not beg. No man-not even Asa Gordon-was worth that.

  "Have a good trip," she said with false heartiness, "and take care of my girl."

  Asa did not return her forced smile. "I'll let her know that she can call on me if she ever needs anything," he promised. "Goodby, Blanche."

  "Goodby, Asa," she said, her smile fading as the dull ache in her chest became a sharp pain. She stood on the porch, watching until he was out of sight. He never looked back.

  "I'm out," Asa said, throwing in his poker hand.

  "Me, too," Josh sighed, tossing his cards aside also.

  "You can't be out!" Felicity exclaimed. "I have two aces!" She slapped her cards down on the table indignantly. "I would have won this time!"

  Josh and Asa exchanged a glance. "We know," Josh told her, barely suppressing a grin.

  "How could you know?" she demanded in outrage. "Did you look at my cards, Joshua Logan?"

  "We didn't have to," Josh explained, no longer suppressing his grin. "All we had to do was look at your face."

  "My face?" Felicity lifted both hands to her cheeks, wondering if her cards might somehow have been reflected by her skin.

  Asa had started chuckling. "All we have to do is look at your face, and we know from your expression whether your cards are good or bad, Mrs. Logan."

  "Why didn't you tell me? No wonder I haven't won a single big pot!" she complained in dismay. Josh and Asa had decided the first night on the train that Felicity needed to learn to play poker. They had been playing two-handed, but the possibilities for a good hand were too sum with only two players.

  Felicity resisted at first, having been taught all her life that cards were sinful, and gambling absolutely blasphemous. But since she was bored with nothing to do except admire the furnishings in the exquisite railroad car, and since they were only playing for matchsticks, she had finally agreed. The game was easy to learn, but Felicity was rapidly discovering that mastering the rudiments was only the beginning.

  "You two are nothing but a couple of… of…" she blustered.

  "Cardsharps?" Josh supplied cheerfully.

  "No, worse than that," Felicity informed him with a comic pout that made him laugh. "Stop making fun of me and deal the cards."

  In spite of her pique, Felicity could not help the rush of tender feelings she experienced as she covertly examined her husband. Watching his strong hands shuffling the deck, Felicity shivered slightly, remembering how those fingers felt stroking along her sensitive flesh. She had thought that the passing of time would make Josh's edict easier to bear, but time only increased her longing for him. How could she live with him for the rest of her life and never again know his touch? And how could she bear never being able to give the man she loved a living child? When she remembered their tragic loss, her baby, so tiny and helpless in death…

  "Mr. Gordon, do they have good doctors in Philadelphia?" she asked suddenly.

  Asa's broad face puckered into a puzzled frown for a moment and then cleared. "Oh, you're worried about the care your grandfather's getting," he surmised. Felicity nodded, grateful she did not have to explain her real reason for asking. "Yes, in fact, Philadelphia is a renowned medical center. Jefferson Medical College is located there. It's one of the best in the world. And then there's the College of Physicians. That's a group of doctors who investigate the causes of disease. You don't have to worry. Your grandfather is getting the best medical care from the best doctors in the world."

  Felicity knew a moment of profound relief. Perhaps there really was hope, just as she had assured Joshua before they left. She flashed her husband a smile that reflected that hope just before she reached for the cards he had dealt her.

  Josh looked quickly away, only barely able to contain the urge to kiss her sweet expression. She was still hoping, still determined to find a solution to their problem. As much as he hated to see that hope die, he looked forward to the day when she accepted their future for what it would be. Then maybe she would stop flirting with him, stop trying to arouse him. He didn't even let himself consider the possibility that she wasn't trying.

  Thank God Asa Gordon was along on this trip. Without him, they would have been alone every minute of every day, except for Simon Duvalier's discreet service. Alone with Felicity in this sumptuous railroad car with food the likes of which Josh had never seen and nothing to do but eat and sleep and look at each other, Josh might have gone completely out of his mind. At least the car had two bedrooms. What Simon thought about the fact that Josh and his wife did not sleep together, heaven only knew. That wasn't Josh's problem. He would just be grateful for Asa Gordon's company.

  Felicity examined her cards and made an elaborately despairing face. "I hope you gentlemen have figured out that I don't have anything in this hand," she said, and tossed down her cards. "I'm out, and since it's awfully late, I think I'll retire."

  "It is late," Asa agreed, pulling a large pocket watch from his vest pocket to check the time. "I'd better be getting back to my berth."

  "Stay for another hand, Asa," Josh insisted. "With Felicity gone, we can break out some of Maxwell's liquor."

  Felicity made a noise to indicate she was scandalized and rose from the table. "Don't get up," she told them with a smile. "And don't get too drunk. I imagine the swaying of this train would be awful if you had a hangover. Good night, Mr. Gordon. Good night, Mr. Logan."

  Asa watched her kiss Josh chastely on the cheek, but there was nothing chaste about the look that passed between them or the way Josh's gray eyes smoldered as he watched her walk away. "Hey, Josh, you don't have to sit up with me if you'd rather go on to bed," Asa said when Felicity was gone.

  Josh's attention wandered back to Asa. "What? Oh, no, I…" He hesitated, uncertain how to explain the unexplainable. Obviously, Asa had sensed that Josh would far rather be following. Felicity to her bed than continuing to play cards. "It's… it's still too soon after the baby," he said at last, deciding that was the best ploy. "You'll do me a favor if you stay and help keep my mind off it, too."

  Asa considered this a moment. "AU right, but first, where's that drink you promised me?" he said at last, having finally figured out why these two young, healthy lovers had invited him to join them for their meals and had insisted that he spend every evening and most of every day with them. They needed a chaperone. He tried not to smile at the thought. Asa Gordon was the last person in the world anyone should choose as a chaperone.

  Candace shivered slightly as she entered the cold emptiness of her cabin. With Josh and Felicity gone, the whole ranch seemed strangely deserted, even though a dozen people still lived and worked on it. To her, however, Josh and Felicity represented the life of the ranch. Until their return, the place and the people on it would only be existing.

  Smiling g
rimly at the thought, she made her way slowly in the darkness toward the table where the lamp and matches sat. She had just reached out, expecting to touch the edge of that table, when she heard a slight rustle behind her. Before she could turn or even identify the sound, something clamped around her neck in a vicelike grip, choking off her wind and stunning her into nerveless immobility.

  "Where is he?" a vaguely familiar voice demanded beside her ear. Something hard and cold pressed against her left temple, and the ominous click of a.45 being cocked reverberated in her head.

  "Who?" she rasped, buying time until she could gather her wits. She did not need time to identify her captor. Instinct told her his name.

  "You know who, old woman," Jeremiah snarled. "Logan! Where is he?"

  Candace made a strangled sound, all she could manage against the pressure of his arm on her throat. He eased the pressure slightly, just enough so she could breathe and speak. "He's gone," she gasped. "They went to Philadelphia."

  "Philadelphia!" he echoed contemptuously. Obviously, he thought she had spoken the most outlandish lie she could dream up.

  But Candace nodded frantically. "Yes, Mrs. Logan's grandfather lives there. He's dying and they went to visit him." Relief surged through her as she realized how far Joshua and Felicity were from the danger her son represented. If only she could keep him away from them forever. "What do you want?" she asked tentatively in an attempt to judge his motives for returning.

  "I want Logan, but it looks like I'm not going to get him this trip," Jeremiah said, releasing Candace in one quick thrust that sent her staggering into the table. "Light the lamp," he ordered.

  Taking a deep breath and attempting to get hold of her reeling emotions, Candace found the matches and did as he commanded. She had to remain calm if she hoped to salvage this situation and find out just what Jeremiah's intentions were.

  When the lamp was lit, she turned slowly to face him. What she saw startled her so much that for an instant she was unable to hide her shock. Her son had lost a good twenty pounds since she had last seen him, weight he could not easily spare. His clothes hung on his wasted frame, and only his dark, burning eyes revealed any sign of vitality in his gaunt face.