Felicity noticed that the other men had already gobbled up half their meals, and Mr. Logan wasted no time in digging into his own.
Felicity watched in surprise for a moment and then said, "Excuse me."
Every movement abruptly ceased and all eyes turned, once again, expectantly to her.
She stammered, "Is… isn't anyone going to ask the blessing?"
Stunned silence greeted her question.
Josh didn't know whether to be annoyed or amused. He tried to recall the last time a meal at the Rocking L had been prayed over, and could not. When it became increasingly apparent that no one was going to be able to eat until today's meal had been, however, Josh shrugged resignedly. "Maybe you'd like to do it, Felicity," he suggested.
She really preferred not to, of course, but obviously no one else was about to volunteer. Primly, she folded her hands, closed her eyes, and bowed her head. "Thank you, Lord, for the bounty of this table. Bless the food to the nourishment of our bodies and bless the hands that prepared it. Amen," she said, reciting words that were as natural and familiar to her as breathing.
When she lifted her head, she was startled to note that she was the only one who had bowed for the prayer. Everyone else was simply staring at her, waiting. Honestly, didn't they have anything better to do than stare at her? "Amen," she repeated loudly, and reached for her fork.
"Smells like Cookie made something worth praying over tonight," someone remarked as the men resumed their eating.
"Yeah, and I'll bet Miss Felicity had something to do with it, too," Grady commented, giving her a sly smile.
Felicity looked up, surprised that they had guessed her secret so quickly, but then Cody said, "Cookie never bakes fancy stuff when it's just us. Maybe we ought to think about keeping Miss Felicity around permanent."
Felicity gave him a small smile to acknowledge his compliment. She did not notice Mr. Logan's second frown of disapproval.
Since custom prohibited conversation during meals, no one spoke again until everyone had finished eating. Then they waited expectantly as Cookie carried out the pies.
"Come and get 'em," he called.
The men made a dash for the sideboard, where Cookie had set the pies. Felicity couldn't help but smile to notice that every man claimed an entire pie for himself. Some of them simply dug in with a fork, while others took the time to slice theirs and pick up each individual piece to devour it.
"You outdid yourself this time, Cookie," Grady declared when he had disposed of his first piece. The others readily concurred.
The cook grunted sourly. "I never had nothing to do with them pies. Miss Felicity made them."
A moment of silence greeted this announcement, and then the room exploded with compliments and reaffirmations that they were all very glad indeed that Miss Felicity had come to visit.
Shyly, she lifted her gaze to where Mr. Logan sat, but when her eyes met his, her heart sank down to her shoes. He wasn't pleased. He wasn't pleased at all.
As Josh listened to the men raving over Felicity, his expression grew grimmer and grimmer. Even the pie-which was, he admitted grudgingly, the best he'd ever had-began to taste like sawdust as he watched them mooning over her. As delicious as the pie was, he knew she'd be a much sweeter morsel, and he guessed the rest of them knew it, too. At least none of them would pass up an opportunity to find out.
After what seemed like hours, the men finally finished off every last crumb of the pies. Ordinarily, at this point they would have adjourned to the front porch for a smoke, but today no one was about to move from the room as long as Miss Felicity was in it. Felicity picked at her pie, trying not to feel unnerved at the attention she was getting. After a few moments of hemming and hawing, Cody Wells, who had managed to claim the seat to her immediate right, thought of something to say to break the silence.
"Your wagon… it said you're a photographer," he ventured.
Felicity looked up. "Yes… that is, my father was," she admitted reluctantly, not wanting to pursue the subject of her late father.
As if sensing her wishes, he skirted that topic. "Do you know how to make pictures, too?" he asked hopefully.
Josh almost snorted at the idea of such a thing. "Don't be ridic-"
"Yes, I do," Felicity replied simultaneously, silencing Josh.
"I've always wanted to get my picture made," Cody reflected to no one in particular, and several of the other men chimed in with "Me, too."
Felicity glanced around the table. The men were perfectly sincere and pathetically eager in their enthusiasm. The tiny seed of an idea that she had been nursing began to sprout. Here was a perfect way to earn some money with which to repay Mr. Logan. He obviously didn't like the idea of her in his kitchen. "I'd be happy to make your pictures," Felicity said, eliciting whoops of pleasure from the men.
Felicity once again lifted her eyes to meet Mr. Logan's across the table. Her breath caught at the intensity of that silver gaze. Unable to quite read his expression, she knew a shivering unease at the thought that he might not approve this plan either. "That is, if Mr. Logan says it's all right," she amended.
"Don't be pestering her, boys. She's had a hard time of it, and she needs some rest," he said, effectively dousing everyone's enthusiasm.
"They aren't pestering me!" Felicity objected, but the sight of Mr. Logan's frown silenced her further protests. She swallowed the irritation that was rapidly building into anger over his interference in her idea and forced a placating smile to her lips. "I really don't mind. It's the least I can do after all you've done for me. This is such a fine-looking ranch, you really ought to have some photographs of it to have for your grandchildren to see," she said, repeating something her father had often said to convince reluctant customers. Of course, she didn't know if Mr. Logan even had any grandchildren or whether he ever hoped to have any, but it was an argument she knew to be effective. Mr. Logan didn't look all that convinced, though.
He wasn't, but mention of his future grandchildren struck a responsive chord. "Well, if you want to…" he said, a little reluctantly.
"Oh, I do," she assured him.
"How about tomorrow," someone suggested eagerly.
"No, I gotta wash my good shirt…" someone else objected.
"Wait a minute!" Josh silenced them. "You men have work to do tomorrow, and besides, Miss Felicity is still recovering. I think Saturday would be soon enough."
Felicity, who wasn't sure exactly what day it was today, asked, "How soon is that?"
"Day after tomorrow," Cody Wells told her, and from his expression she knew he was far from pleased about it.
Understanding his disappointment, she comforted him. "I have to check my chemicals anyway. I may need to get some fresh supplies before I can do the pictures. And we'll need to move my wagon to the ranch," she added, suddenly remembering that important detail.
"We'll fetch it tomorrow," Cody offered with puppylike eagerness. "The ground should be plenty dry by then."
Again Josh dampened everyone's enthusiasm by asking, "How much do you charge for making someone's picture?"
"Fifty cents a picture," she said, a little chagrined at having to discuss her fees so publicly. Naturally, she would never accept money from Mr. Logan.
From their murmurs, the men thought her price more than fair. For a few minutes the men discussed possible poses and the clothes they would wear, until Josh blandly suggested that the meal was over and Cookie might be wanting to clean up. Reluctantly, the men began to rise and carry their dirty dishes to the wreck pan by the kitchen door and make their way out of the room.
As he passed by where Felicity still sat, Cody Wells leaned over with a happy smile and said, "I'm real glad you'll be staying at least until Saturday, and not just for the pictures, either."
At any other time, Felicity would have blushed at such a flirtatious remark, but this time she hardly registered Cody's implied meaning. His words about her staying at least until Saturday had lodged in her mind, stirring up all
sorts of unpleasant images.
Very soon she would have to decide where she would go when she left the Rocking L Ranch. For so long she had had just one goal, to get to civilization, to where other people were who could help her. Now that she was here, she suddenly realized that her problems were just beginning. Where was she going to go now? Not even one possibility came to mind, and Felicity found the blankness of that future horrifying.
She barely even noticed when some of the other men made parting remarks along the same lines as Cody's, and she only nodded absently in response.
"Felicity?"
Felicity looked up to where Mr. Logan still sat at the head of the table. The rest of the men had gone, and the two of them were now alone in the room. She waited expectantly.
Josh fought the urge to wince at the vulnerability reflected in those enormous blue eyes. He was a fool to keep her here. If he had a lick of sense, he'd be trying to think of someplace besides Blanche's to take her instead of planning activities for her here. "Felicity, we need to talk," Josh said, rising from his chair.
Felicity waited, watching as he moved toward her. He was so tall, so forbidding, and she felt her heart racing in her chest. What was he going to talk to her about? Nothing good, she knew, not from the way he had been glaring at her all during the meal.
She tried to meet his gaze as he lowered himself into the chair that Cody had earlier vacated. His grim expression did little to reassure her.
"Have you thought about where you're going to go and what you're going to do now?" Josh asked after a few seconds of silence.
Felicity shook her head.
"Well," he continued, with forced heartiness, "you must have some family, some relatives someplace. We could contact them and-"
"I don't have any family," she said.
"But you must," Josh insisted. "An aunt or uncle? Cousins?"
Felicity shook her head again. "No one. My mother died about ten years ago. If she or Papa had any relatives, I don't know about them, and now that Papa is…" Her voice quivered and she paused a moment. "Now there's no one," she concluded simply.
Josh stared at her. This was going to be even harder than he thought. "Ah, well then," he said, searching around for another solution, and then one occurred to him. "You could take photographs! You could open up a shop in town," he continued, visualizing the storefront operation in San Antonio where he had had his own photograph made. "There must be lots of folks around here who'd like to have a picture of themselves…"
But Felicity was shaking her head again. "That wouldn't work, Mr. Logan," she explained. "A photographer needs a steady stream of new customers, and there just aren't enough people around here for that. Once everyone got their pictures made, my business would dry up. That's why Papa and I had to travel so much."
Josh frowned. "But shops like that do exist. I've seen them."
"Only in big cities," Felicity said apologetically.
Josh brightened momentarily, but then he tried to picture a young orphaned girl setting herself up in business in a large city. Such a thing was unthinkable, just as unthinkable as her continuing to travel alone in that wagon. "There must be something you can do," he muttered, as much to himself as to her.
"About the only things I can do are cook and keep house," she said. "And I can probably take care of children, although I've never been around them much," she mused, wondering what her chances might be of getting a teaching job. But she quickly dismissed that idea. She had only a few years of formal schooling, and although her father had tutored her well, she doubted anyone would take her word for how much she knew.
Josh considered her meager qualifications. Cooking, cleaning house, taking care of children. She wasn't suited to being anything except… Josh's body stiffened. She was giving him her qualifications for being a wife!
Josh had heard enough eager mamas and avid matchmakers expound the charms of every eligible girl within a hundred miles of here to recognize a sales pitch when he heard one. She wanted to be someone's wife, and whose wife could she plan on being? The answer was obvious, he realized, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. That explained the pies. He knew the old saw about the way to a man's heart being through his stomach. But, he admitted, studying Felicity's guileless blue eyes, the girl didn't look cunning enough to have thought of it herself, not already.
That left only one possibility. Could Candace have put the idea into her head? How many times had Candace hinted that it was time and past time for Josh to think about getting married and settling down? As if he weren't already perfectly settled. And marriage was for fools, as Candace well knew.
The girl looked up at him with those cornflower eyes, the picture of innocence, and Josh began to doubt again. No, she wasn't hinting, not yet at any rate. Even Candace had not had enough time to set such a plan in motion. And what if she had? Josh wondered, surprising even himself. Would that be such a bad thing? The girl was pretty and sweet-tempered, and she could bake a mean apple pie. But Josh still hadn't decided whether he wanted to get married or not. He stood abruptly. "You can't stay here," he announced.
Felicity stared at him in surprise. "I know that," she said. How well she knew it, too. She should not even be here now.
"There's a widow lives on the next ranch," he began reasonably. "She's gone now, to Dallas, but as soon as she gets back…" His voice trailed off as he experienced a strange reluctance to complete the sentence.
Nodding her understanding, Felicity rose, too. "Meanwhile, I'll try to make myself useful around here," she promised in an attempt to mollify him.
Unfortunately, her offer had the opposite effect. "No," he said a little too sharply. "I mean, no, you don't have to do anything. Just consider yourself a guest."
"But I-"
"How did you like those pies, Mr. Josh?" Candace inquired slyly from the kitchen doorway.
Josh and Felicity glanced up at her in surprise, and she studied their faces carefully. Having taken her meal in the kitchen, she had heard everything, including the private conversation between Josh and Felicity. That was why she had chosen this particular moment to interrupt. Josh was already running, and no one had even started chasing him yet. The man was certainly suspicious. She would have to be very careful.
"The pies were delicious," Josh admitted grudgingly, imagining the gleam of satisfaction that would be in Candace's eye.
"Maybe we'll plan a treat for breakfast, too," Candace remarked with apparent casualness. "Do you know how to make Bear Sign, miss?"
Felicity's forehead wrinkled a moment until she remembered that Bear Sign was the cowboy's slang for doughnuts. "Oh yes, I know a special recipe…"
Josh swore silently. Of course she did. "Well, if you ladies will excuse me," he said, the sarcasm thick in his voice.
"Why, certainly…" Felicity began, but stopped when she realized she was speaking to his back.
"Don't pay him no nevermind," Candace advised, moving over to place a comforting arm around the girl's slender shoulders. "We haven't had a lady around here in so long that he's forgotten how to act. He liked the pie. I could tell. Apple pie is his favorite in all the world," confided the woman who had taken him from his mother's body. "And he's got a lot on his mind just now, what with the spring roundup starting. There's this Mexican bandito name of Ortega who shows up about this time every year, too, to bedevil us. Mr. Josh just can't help being grouchy."
Felicity gave Candace a grateful smile. The woman seemed determined that Felicity not grow discouraged. If only Candace could provide her with some answers about what her future held.
As they left the room, Candace hummed softly as she envisioned exactly what that future was going to be.
Asa Gordon read the telegram again and muttered a very satisfying curse before crumpling it and tossing it into the wastebasket. He leaned backward in his desk chair and closed his eyes wearily, but the words of the message still teased against his eyelids. "Found Storm." "Lost them." Someone was going to be very angry about
this piece of information. Someone had already spent several years and several thousands of dollars on the search, and now to come so close without making contact.
Gordon's chair squeaked as he swiveled to view the framed picture that hung behind his desk. The large, staring eye. The Eye That Never Sleeps. He himself had lost more than a little sleep over this particular case, and now he would lose even more. But he would not give up. His client would continue to pay, he knew, and Asa Gordon had never yet failed to satisfy a customer. Even if he had to travel all the way from Philadelphia to Texas himself, he would find Felicity Storm.
Chapter Three
Crullers, Josh thought sourly as he strolled aimlessly around the ranch yard. Of all the crazy things. She'd made a bushel basket full of them, and before dawn, too. He'd never seen the men so excited about anything as they had been that morning at breakfast when Cookie had displayed the delicately twisted and fried strips of dough that melted in a man's mouth.
Josh took one last drag on his cigarette before throwing it down and grinding it out with the heel of his boot. He had hoped that his customary evening walk would clear away the disturbing images of his men gazing raptly at the lovely Miss Felicity, both at breakfast this morning and again at supper, when she had treated them to a batch of Spotted Pup. The dish of rice and raisins sweetened with brown sugar had turned the already-smitten ranch hands into sniveling idiots. Josh was beginning to think he was the only sane man left on the place. Even Grady had gone all goggle-eyed.
Not that Josh could blame them, of course. The girl seemed to get prettier every time he saw her. Her eyes no longer held that startled, wary look that made him think she was ready to bolt at the slightest provocation, either. In fact, she appeared to be almost at ease eating with the men now, as if she somehow belonged there at the ranch. Josh had to admit he was rapidly getting used to seeing her golden loveliness every time he glanced down the long table.
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