Texas Blonde

by Victoria Thompson

  But it was his right arm that drew her gaze. It hung at an awkward angle by his side, twisted and shriveled. That it was still strong, she knew from the way her neck throbbed, but the fact that he held his gun in his left hand now told her all she needed to know about its usefulness to him. "Your arm…" she began, letting her voice trail off when she could think of nothing appropriate to say.

  "Yeah, my arm," he echoed sarcastically, waving his pistol at her in a threatening motion. "Logan fixed me up good."

  "But Joshua didn't… He said you got caught in the stampede."

  "Oh, that's how it got broken, all right, but it was Logan who set it for me," Jeremiah told her venomously. "He said I'd never use a gun again. I guess he took care to make sure that was true."

  "Oh, no!" Candace protested, tears springing to her eyes. "Josh would never-"

  "Don't defend him!" Jeremiah shouted, waving the gun at her again. "I should have known you'd take his part against me, even with the evidence right here in front of you," he charged, shoving his withered arm into her face.

  Strangely, his fury was making her feel calmer. She took another deep breath and asked, "What are you going to do now?"

  The question seemed to confuse him, and Candace realized he had made no other plans past wreaking his vengeance on Josh Logan.

  "I… I'm going back to Mexico," he said quickly, as if he had only just made the decision. "I spent the past few months there learning how to use a gun with my left hand. Ortega will be glad to get me back, bad arm or not. He's a mean little devil, and he hates Logan almost as much as I do now that Logan put a slug in him. The little Mexican got blood poisoning from that wound and nearly died. Yeah," he mused thoughtfully, "me and Ortega will make a good team." Jeremiah pondered that possibility for a moment and then said, "How long is Logan going to be gone?"

  "A long time," Candace hastily improvised. "Maybe the whole summer."

  "The whole summer?" Jeremiah repeated skeptically. "I thought you said her grandfather was dying. If he's going to last the whole summer, why'd they rush off to visit him now?"

  "I didn't say he was dying," Candace corrected quickly. "Only that he's sick. They plan on staying until he gets better."

  "You're a rotten liar, old woman," Jeremiah growled. "But however long it takes, I can wait. I been looking forward to this for a long time, especially since I got a look at Mrs. Logan." He grinned at Candace's horrified gasp. "Yeah, I saw her once through the field glasses. She's a tiny little thing. I bet she wouldn't last any time at all with a real man."

  "No! You wouldn't!" Candace cried.

  "Why wouldn't I?" he asked with a taunting grin. "Everybody knows how colored men love to get their hands on white women. Can't you just see Logan's face when he finds out what I did to his precious wife?"

  "No!" Candace shrieked, throwing herself at him, heedless of his gun. "Not Felicity! She's innocent! She never did a thing to you!"

  "I was innocent, too, but I still had to suffer, didn't I?" he demanded, effortlessly shoving her away.

  "Josh will kill you!" Candace tried in desperation, but her ploy backfired.

  Jeremiah's face twisted in rage. "He'll kill me? Is that what you think? Or are you just afraid that I'll kill him? That's it, isn't it? You know your precious rich boy is no match for Jeremiah Logan, and you're afraid I'll cut him down like so much rotten wood. Well, I'll tell you something, old woman," he said, grabbing her around the neck again and pulling her close until her face was almost touching his, until she could smell the liquored stench of his breath and see the crazed gleam in his eyes. "I'm gonna kill me a Logan if it's the last thing I do, and you can tell him that. When he comes back, I'll be waiting."

  This time when he let her go, she slumped to the floor, her quaking knees no longer able to support her. Jeremiah slipped silently away into the shadows, his final threat echoing in the now silent room.

  Felicity glanced once more around the luxurious bedroom she had occupied during the long trip from Dallas to Philadelphia, checking to see if she might have forgotten to pack anything. Familiarity had made the room seem almost normal to her now, although she doubted she would ever quite get used to the naked cupids molded into the ornate plaster ceiling.

  What she would miss most, she supposed, was the convenience of hot running water in the basin almost at her bedside and the cleverly designed chair that made fumbling in the dark for a chamber pot unnecessary. How she would have loved having such a device for her use during the long months of her pregnancy. But there was always next time, she thought with a smile. And there would be a next time, now that she was in Philadelphia and could find a doctor to help her. There simply had to be.

  "Are you all packed?" Josh asked from the open doorway. "We're pulling into the station."

  Felicity lifted her gaze to his, taking in the lines of strain around his mouth and eyes, lines that had not been there before the death of their child. "Yes, I'm packed," she said, forcing a smile.

  He returned that smile, but his gray eyes remained grave. The closer they had gotten to Philadelphia, the more solemn he had become. She knew he was worried that this meeting with her grandfather might prove a disappointment after all her expectations. As if he could somehow protect her from such a possibility, he had grown even more solicitous of late. She longed to reassure him that, whatever happened, she was strong enough to endure it.

  Impulsively, she closed the small space that separated them and slipped her arms around his waist. She could have wept at the desperate way his arms enfolded her, as if he wished to shield her from some evil.

  They held each other for a long moment, and then she drew back so she could look up at him. "This is going to be the best thing that ever happened to us, Mr. Logan," she promised fiercely.

  Josh looked down into Felicity's lovely face, inhaled the subtle fragrance of her hair, and slowly released her from his embrace, struggling to maintain his tenuous self-control. Ever since he had seen her this morning, dressed in her wedding dress for this first meeting with her grandfather, he had been fighting the almost overwhelming urge to once again taste the sweetness of her mouth, to know all the delights of her beautiful body. To once again claim Felicity for his own.

  It was only the dress, he told himself, and the memories it conjured for him of their wedding night. She was only wearing this particular dress because it was the prettiest one she owned, and she wanted to look her best for this all-important meeting. Why then could he not shake the feeling that she was symbolically giving herself to her grandfather the same way she had given herself to Josh in marriage?

  "Are you folks about ready? We're almost there," Asa Gordon's voice inquired from the hallway.

  As if caught doing something immoral, Josh stepped guiltily away from her, out into the hall of the railroad car.

  "Oh, excuse me," Asa said, pausing in mid-stride when he saw that he had interrupted. He was carrying his own carpetbag, retrieved from his seat in the forward part of the train, where his sleeping berth had been.

  "Yes, we're ready," Josh said flatly, ignoring Asa's apology. "I'll get Felicity's bags."

  "There's no hurry," Asa assured him, puzzled by his friend's grim expression. "Let's go back to the parlor and watch the approach to the city."

  Wordlessly, they did so. Felicity was the only one truly interested in seeing the countryside gradually give way to metropolis. In the course of her journey, she had viewed this process many times, but never had it seemed so important. This was Philadelphia, her destination, her mother's home. And she was going to see her grandfather.

  At last the train snaked into the cavernous station.

  "Will someone be meeting us?" Felicity asked anxiously, scanning the crowd waiting for the train to unload.

  "Probably not," Asa said. "I'll tell you what. I'll go find us a cab to take us to your grandfather's house. It isn't far from the station. Meanwhile, you two just wait here and relax until the crowd has thinned out some."

  Waiting
and relaxing hardly suited Felicity's mood, which was growing more restless by the moment, but she agreed anyway. When the train ground to a stop, Asa left the car and disappeared into the crowd. Felicity watched through the window, examining every face of every person she could see. She knew she was being foolish, that her grandfather was too ill to have come to the station to meet her, but still she looked.

  Uneasy over her eager anticipation, Josh rose, too. "I'll go get our luggage," he said.

  "Simon and William will take care of it," Felicity protested, not wanting him to leave her at this exciting moment.

  "I'll make sure they get it all, then," Josh insisted tensely. Before she could protest again, he had left the room.

  Sighing with disappointment that Joshua could not share her joy, Felicity once again looked out the window. But that was far too tame a pastime for her present state of mind. Her restlessness demanded action, so without even taking time to consider, she opened the door to the car and stepped out onto the small rear platform.

  The noise seemed to envelop her. The hissing of steam, the chugging of engines, the clanging of bells, the cacophony of hundreds of voices raised in greeting combined into a roar that seemed to fill the huge dome of the station. In fascination, she watched a score of dramas being carried out as eager friends and relatives met and mingled and made their way out of the crowd.

  Richard Winthrop elbowed his way impatiently through the mass of humanity gathered beside the train. Yes, there it was, the Maxwell railroad car. He could just barely make out the gold crest on the side. With irritation, he struggled past a group of shabbily dressed people babbling in some foreign language and at last broke free of the mob.

  He could see the car clearly now, and what he saw standing on the rear platform made his breath catch in his throat. Could it be? Could that be his cousin Felicity? He slowed his rapid pace so he would have a few extra seconds to study her before she saw him.

  The dress, he quickly judged, was unfortunate, and the hat. was a disaster, but the girl herself was magnificent. Her hair gleamed like spun gold and her complexion was the proverbial peaches and cream. Her face was exquisite, revealing the aristocratic Maxwell bone structure, and her trim little figure was every man's dream. With the proper clothes, in the proper setting… An idea that he had been toying with for the past few days suddenly took on a life of its own. He would marry her!

  It was so simple, he wondered that he had never thought of it before. Henry Maxwell had only three heirs. If two of them were married to each other, and one of those two was his beloved granddaughter and the other, his trusted nephew whom he had been training in his business, well then, of course he would leave the bulk of his fortune to them.

  Straightening his coat, Richard approached the platform where she stood. He smiled his most charming smile. "Felicity?"

  Felicity glanced down, a little startled to hear her name from a complete stranger. "Yes?" she said uncertainly. The man was smiling at her, and he had such a beautiful smile she could not seem to take her eyes from it. He was, in fact, a beautiful man, impeccably groomed and clothed in such perfect elegance that he stood out from the station crowd as almost an oddity. Although he was shorter than average and small-boned, he carried himself with a grace and poise that stopped just short of being feminine.

  "I'm Richard Winthrop," he said. When his name drew no response from her, he added, "I'm your cousin. Your grandfather sent me to meet you."

  "My cousin!" she exclaimed in glad surprise, not quite able to believe that such an exquisite creature could be her blood relative. "I… oh… how do you do? I'm so happy to meet you!" she stammered, awkwardly gathering her skirts so she could negotiate the narrow wrought-iron steps down to where he stood. Like a true gentleman, he rushed to assist her, taking her arm in the gentlest of grips.

  "My cousin!" she repeated happily, frantically searching her memory for what Mr. Gordon had told her about her family and trying to place Richard Winthrop in that group. "Are you my Aunt Isabel's son?"

  "No," he said. The warmth in his brown eyes could have melted candle wax. "Your aunt is a maiden lady. My mother was your grandfather's youngest sister, younger by almost a generation, which explains the proximity of our ages."

  Felicity wasn't sure just what "proximity" was, but she knew a gentleman like Richard Winthrop would never insult her. "That means that my grandfather is your…?"

  "Uncle," he supplied cheerfully.

  Felicity studied the perfection of his carefully combed and oiled black hair, wondering idly how much time it took him to perfect such an intricate style. "And that makes us… what? First cousins? Second cousins?"

  Richard admired the endearing way her lovely brow wrinkled in concentration. "First cousins, once removed," he explained softly, taking one of her delicate hands in his. First cousins really shouldn't marry, but anything could be gotten around if one was determined enough. Surrendering to an impulse, he moved closer to her and whispered, "Kissing cousins…"

  "Felicity!"

  Josh's voice startled them apart, and for an instant Felicity wondered if Richard really had been about to kiss her or if she had only imagined it. Not that she would have minded. He was her cousin, after all. Surely such things were perfectly proper between close relations. "Mr. Logan, come and meet my cousin!" she called, eager for her husband to see her delightful new relative.

  Josh bounded down the steps of the rear platform of the car and strode up to them, his expression tautly angry. He had seen the way this dude had been leering at Felicity, and he was far from pleased.

  "Mr. Logan, this is my cousin, my first cousin, once removed," Felicity clarified with a smile, "Richard Winthrop. Richard, this is my husband, Joshua Logan."

  Richard Winthrop stared at the silver-haired giant in horror. "Husband? Gordon didn't say anything about a husband!"

  "I didn't?" Asa Gordon inquired innocently from over Richard's left shoulder.

  "No, you didn't!" Richard affirmed furiously, whirling on him.

  Asa shook his head with apparent regret. "I'm awful sorry about that. I must be getting forgetful in my old age," he said apologetically, leaving Richard no option but to fume in silence.

  And fume he did. All his golden plans for this golden girl evaporated in the heat of his anger. She was married! And to a man old enough to be her father! A man she called "Mr. Logan," for God's sake. Richard turned back to face his nemesis, struggling to regain his composure. "Well, uh, you'll… you'll have to excuse me. I mean, this is a shock… I mean, a surprise. I… I'm pleased to meet you, Logan," he said, offering his hand and managing a strained smile.

  Logan's hand swallowed his with humiliating thoroughness in a grip that made him wince. Richard glared up at the taller man, noting his sun-browned face and the coarse texture of his palm. Nothing more than a common laborer,

  Richard judged, although he could see now that Logan wasn't as old as he had originally suspected.

  Logan studied Richard Winthrop, noting the prissy clothes and the sissy mannerisms. The man's face was snow-white and his hand was as soft as a baby's. Winthrop had never done an honest day's work in his life. "Pleased to meet you, too," Josh lied grimly, releasing Winthrop's hand at last.

  Felicity watched the exchange helplessly, knowing she should do something to ease the obvious strain, but having no idea how to go about it since she had no idea what had caused it. She had expected Joshua to be cautiously reserved with her relatives, at least until he got to know them, but she had never expected such open animosity. Nor had she expected it to be returned in kind, she realized, glancing at Richard's taut features. "Did you find us a cab, Mr. Gordon?" she asked, hoping to break the tension.

  "Yes, I did, but you may not need one now," Asa replied with a grin. He was hugely enjoying the spectacle of Richard Winthrop nonplussed. Asa had purposely not revealed Felicity's marriage, hoping that would give her one secret advantage over whatever plots and plans her grandfather might have in mind for her. Witnessing
Richard's reaction to the news was simply an added bonus Asa had not counted on.

  "That's right," Richard confirmed testily. "I've brought Uncle Henry's personal carriage. Simon and William will carry your luggage out. Can we drop you someplace, Gordon?" he asked condescendingly.

  "No, thank you," Asa said, his smile wavering just a bit when he realized that he no longer had even a room in Philadelphia to call his own. Oddly enough, he had forgotten until this moment that he had left the city a year ago intending never to return. Texas was to have been his new home. Now, of course, there was only one place in Texas where he wanted to be, but he had ruined any chance he might have had of ever settling there. "I have to stop by my office and make a full report, and I'm afraid it's in the opposite direction. So I guess this is goodby, folks," he added, turning to Josh and Felicity.

  "Oh, not goodby," Felicity protested, taking his hand. "You'll come and visit us while we're here, won't you?"

  "Well, uh," Asa hesitated, glancing at Winthrop. Disapproval practically shone from his handsome face. "I'll certainly try," Asa promised, knowing how socially unacceptable such a thing would be to Winthrop, but also unwilling to hurt Felicity's feelings.

  "Please do, and you know you're always welcome to visit us in Texas anytime," she added warmly. "Thank you for everything, Mr. Gordon." She squeezed his hand before releasing it.

  Asa experienced an odd choking sensation in the instant before he turned from her to Josh. She was such a sweet girl. What a pity to turn her over to a shark like Winthrop. And Maxwell. "Josh, I've enjoyed our poker games," he said with false heartiness to cover his own regrets over leaving these two people of whom he had grown very fond.

  Felicity listened with only half an ear as Josh reiterated her invitation to visit them and said his goodbyes to Asa Gordon. She was too busy trying to make sense of Richard's obvious disapproval both of Asa Gordon and of her husband. Why should he be so distressed to discover she was married? And why hadn't Mr. Gordon mentioned the fact to her family? She had the very uneasy feeling that she was being used as some sort of pawn in a game she did not understand.