Texas Blonde

by Victoria Thompson

  The love she had been so certain of, the love that had sustained her, Joshua's love, had died. She no longer saw even a spark of it when he looked at her, his gray eyes dark and shadowed. And when he told her his plans, she was certain she had lost him.

  "Felicity," he said to her a few days later, "I think you should go back to Philadelphia."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Felicity stared at Joshua in horror, unable to believe what he had just said to her. It was late evening, and they were sitting in the parlor, waiting for the air to cool enough for them to go to bed. But despite the heat, Joshua was pacing the room restlessly, pausing only to make his shocking suggestion that she return to Philadelphia.

  "Why?" she asked, certain she did not want to hear the answer. She knew that the last place the Joshua she thought she knew would send her was Philadelphia. Unfortunately, she was very much afraid that she did not know this Joshua at all.

  Josh paused again, forcing himself to look at the hurt expression on her lovely face. "I've been thinking about this a lot," he said, grossly understating the fact. In truth, he had thought of little else since she had finally admitted her condition to him and shamed him into admitting to himself that he was responsible for it. "You should have a doctor this time." Unable to stand the pain in her eyes a moment longer, he turned away.

  Felicity winced at the way he turned away, as if he could not stand the sight of her. And that was probably true, if he still believed those awful things about her and Richard. She tried not to think of that, though, and concentrated on what Joshua had said. He was right. She would need a doctor this time. "There are doctors in San Antonio," she pointed out, trying to keep her voice steady. "I could go there, or even to Dallas."

  Josh had already thought of that, of course. "I know, but remember what Asa said about the doctors in Philadelphia. They're the best in the world." He stood with his back to her, gazing into the empty hearth, his hands jammed into his pockets. The idea of sending her back to Philadelphia now, when things were so shaky between them, was tearing him apart. That old shark Maxwell was bound to sense her feelings and play on them. She was already somewhat of a celebrity in that town. As soon as the baby was born, Maxwell would set her up in a studio and make her the toast of Philadelphia. If she was still alive…

  Josh shook off the horror of that thought and forced his attention back to the present. "I'm sure your grandfather would be glad for you to come back and stay as long as you like," he continued, masking his true feelings on the matter.

  Felicity only half heard him as she tried to weigh his words for hidden meaning. The doctors in Philadelphia were the best in the world, but was that his real reason for sending her there? Or did he still doubt that the baby was his?

  "Joshua," she began, unable to keep her voice from wavering slightly. "You believe me about the baby, don't you?"

  "Of course!" he said, whirling to face her. Her question seared his soul, reminding him of the pain his insane accusations had caused her. "I told you I was sorry. Can't we forget I ever said that?" he asked, running a hand impatiently through his silver hair.

  "Y… yes," she said reluctantly, effectively silenced. She knew he was still not certain, but his insistence that he believed her made it impossible for her to defend herself. How could she argue with someone who claimed to agree with her?

  But there was still some hope. He had not mentioned his own part in this plan. "Are you going to come with me?" she asked, clinging to this final straw.

  Josh studied her face a moment, trying to read her thoughts. She must hate him for what he had said to her. How could he blame her when he hated himself? Would she want his company during the months until the baby came? He at least owed her the choice. "If you… that's a long time for me to be away from the ranch, but… if you want me to come, I will," he offered stiffly, realizing suddenly how easy it would be for him to leave the land he loved so much to be with the woman he loved even more.

  Felicity blinked against the sting of tears as she considered his perfunctory offer. Her worst fears were true. He did not want to go with her. He really was sending her away. But she would not cry in front of him. He had falsely accused her of adultery, had tried to deny his own child, and now he was sending her away, but she would die before she would let him see how he had hurt her. She still had some pride left. All this time she had loved him with mindless devotion. She had even humbled herself by returning to him without being summoned. What a fool she had been! But no longer.

  She lifted her chin, proudly covering her humiliation. "That won't be necessary. As you say, that's a long time for you to be away from the ranch. You can… you can come later," she proposed, a small lie to protect herself from having to hear him admit he was not ever going to come.

  Josh nodded, stung by her rejection but knowing he could expect nothing else. "When do you think the baby will arrive?" he asked, his voice husky from the emotions churning within him.

  "Around Christmas," she said. Calculating the date was relatively simple since she knew the exact day she had conceived.

  Christmas. It seemed awfully far away from this sweltering August night, Josh thought. "I'll be there long before Christmas," he promised, but she would not meet his eye.

  "How soon do you want me to leave?" she asked, deciding not to comment on his lie.

  Josh frowned at her choice of words. He did not want her to leave at all, but he had no other alternative. "I don't know. I guess you shouldn't wait much longer. It'll be dangerous to travel if you're too far along."

  "I'd like to wait until the weather breaks. A few more weeks, at least," Felicity said, trying to be practical although her heart was breaking even as she made her plans.

  "Fine," Josh agreed, thankful that he would have her for even this small amount of time. "That will give you time to contact your grandfather. I think you should ask him to send his car for you again, so you can travel in comfort."

  "Yes," Felicity said, no longer caring. She had to get away from him while she could still maintain her composure. She rose. "I'm tired. I think I'll go to bed now."

  Josh watched her move toward the bedroom door and disappear behind it. He wanted to follow, wanted to take her in his arms and tell her how sorry he was, but he did not. She wouldn't want his comfort. Remembering only too well how she had reacted the last time he had tried to make her understand, he went instead to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a shot of whiskey.

  Almost a month later, Josh rode wearily home to his ranch. Several days earlier he had put Felicity on a train to Philadelphia, Just as he had predicted, Henry Maxwell was thrilled at the prospect of having her come for a visit, although Josh strongly suspected she had neglected to tell him the real reason she was coming. Maxwell would know the moment he set eyes on her, however, Josh thought grimly. And so would Winthrop. They would both know that she carried Josh's child.

  Josh consoled himself with the knowledge that in spite of the way he had hurt her, she was still his wife, and their child forever bound them together. That child would bring them back together, too. If it was born alive, Josh periodically reminded himself. And if Felicity survived. Like one probing a sore tooth, he tortured himself with such reminders as punishment for what he had done to the woman he loved.

  But he also remembered her last kiss, the desperate way she had clung to him at the station, and the tears that had sparkled in her eyes when she asked one last time, "You'll be there before the baby is born, won't you?"

  And he had promised yet again that nothing could keep him away. Oddly, he had gotten the impression that she did not quite believe him. So engrossed was he with this puzzle that at first he didn't notice the commotion in the ranch yard.

  "Boss! Thank God you're home!" Grady called, catching sight of him.

  What appeared to be all of Josh's men were milling about in the yard, saddling horses and loading gear onto pack animals. Josh spurred his horse, racing the final distance to the ranch.

  "What
's going on?" Josh demanded, reining up in the midst of the men.

  "It's Ortega," Grady explained. "He's back. He and some men came to the ranch this afternoon and… and they got Candace."

  "What do you mean, they 'got' Candace?" Josh asked in alarm, swiftly dismounting.

  "They took her, kidnapped her. They left a note, but it's kind of hard to read. Something about five thousand, but we can't tell if he wants dollars or pesos. Part of it's in Spanish, and the English isn't very good."

  "Where is it?" Josh asked, fighting the terror that gripped his heart. A hundred visions of Candace, the woman who had been more than a mother to him, flashed through his mind. What would Ortega do with her?

  "In the house," Grady replied, leading the way. "Cookie and Candace were the only ones here when they came. Cookie got beat up pretty bad, but I think he'll be all right. They ransacked the house," he warned as Josh entered to see the mess. "We figured they were looking for money or something."

  "Thank God Felicity wasn't here," Josh murmured, wondering how he could have stood the double horror. If they had taken her, too…

  He glanced over the note. "Looks like Ortega's gotten mighty greedy," Josh remarked when he had managed to decipher most of it.

  "You're not going to pay him, are you?" Grady demanded.

  "No, I'm going to hang him," Josh replied with cold fury, crumpling the note. "Can Cookie talk? I want to ask him some questions."

  Unfortunately, Cookie did not have much to add to the meager information in the note except to be able to point out in which direction the bandits had made their escape. Since the tracks clearly showed in the dusty ground, such information was worthless. The only thing left to do was to follow them and hope the tracks remained as easy to read.

  Josh asked Grady to scare him up something to eat and have a fresh horse saddled for him while he changed his clothes. He was still chewing his hasty meal as he made his way down the front steps to join the rest of the men.

  "Look, Mr. Logan," Cody said as soon as Josh appeared. The boy pointed off toward the north, where Josh saw a lone man carrying a saddle and approaching the ranch on foot. The sight of a man on foot in this country was alarming, signifying as it did that some trouble had befallen him. The sight of this man was doubly so.

  "It's that Jeremiah fellow," Grady said in outrage. He reached for the rifle hanging from his saddle, but Josh stopped him.

  "No shooting," he ordered, swinging up into his own saddle and spurring his horse toward where Jeremiah Logan labored toward them.

  Seeing Josh approaching, Jeremiah wearily dropped the saddle and waited, his hands hanging limply by his sides. Josh could easily see that his half-brother had been walking for quite a distance, but before Josh could greet him, Jeremiah said, "I'm too late, aren't I? Ortega's already been here."

  Josh nodded grimly. "This afternoon."

  Jeremiah swore viciously. "He got her, I guess."

  Josh nodded again. "We were just going after them."

  "I don't suppose you'd like some help?" Jeremiah asked.

  "Sure," Josh replied, realizing that Jeremiah had more right on this mission than even he himself did. Josh kicked free of his left stirrup. "Climb up. Leave the saddle here. I'll send someone back for it."

  When Jeremiah was seated on the horse behind him, Josh turned his mount and headed back for the ranch.

  "The tracks are pretty clear. We shouldn't have too much trouble following," Josh remarked.

  "You won't need to track them," Jeremiah replied. "I know where they went."

  Josh glanced over his shoulder in surprise.

  "I stayed with Ortega after the fire," Jeremiah explained. "I wanted to be sure he'd given up, but as soon as we got away, he started talking about coming back. When he told me he was going to take your wife-"

  "My wife!" Josh echoed, suddenly realizing what he had overlooked before. Why would Ortega have kidnapped a Negro servant? His intention had been to take Mrs. Joshua Logan. What perfect revenge that would have been. Josh shuddered in horror at what might have happened if the bandit had come a scant week earlier. But then a new horror struck him: Ortega would have had a reason to keep Felicity alive. He had no such reason where Candace was concerned. "My wife wasn't here," he told Jeremiah. "I just got back from putting her on a train to Philadelphia. Ortega kidnapped your mother."

  Jeremiah swore again. "My God, he'll kill her if he finds out who she is! I stayed with him, trying to talk him out of this plan. When I couldn't, I left and headed here to warn you, but my horse went lame. Ortega didn't know where I was going, but he wasn't too happy that I left him."

  Sensing the new urgency, Josh spurred his horse once more, taking them quickly back to the yard. The other men were waiting, wary and alert, guns at the ready, to greet the newcomer. "Gentlemen, I believe you all remember Jeremiah Logan," Josh said, ignoring their murmurs of surprise at the name. "He's going with us to get his mother back."

  "His mother?" the men echoed incredulously, but Josh ignored that, too.

  "Cody, go fetch Jeremiah's saddle and cut him out the best horse you can find."

  The moon was high, illuminating the dark prairie in a kind of ghostly brilliance, when Jeremiah called a halt to the search. "The camp is up in there," he said, pointing to a huge outcropping of rocks several miles distant, the result of some prehistoric cataclysm.

  "He's lying, boss," Grady insisted. "There's no way to get up in there."

  Josh examined the possibilities skeptically and came to the same conclusion.

  "There's a path up the other side," Jeremiah explained, undaunted. "I found it by accident when I was scouting this area for hiding places. It's steep and dangerous, but it's there. And so is Ortega. See the smoke?"

  After a few minutes of careful scrutiny, the other men could distinguish a faint wisp of smoke threading up into the darkened sky.

  Sensing that they now believed him, Jeremiah turned to Josh. "They'll have guards posted. We should wait here until the moon goes down. When it's dark enough, we'll move in close. Your men can watch the trail to make sure none of them get away. I figure one man has a chance of making it up to the top. I'll see if I can't talk Ortega into surrendering."

  But Josh was shaking his head. "If one man can make it up, two men can. I'm going with you."

  Jeremiah made an impatient sound. "She's my mother."

  "She was a mother to me, too. You don't think I'll wait down here while you get all the glory, do you?" Josh demanded.

  "Damn it, I'm not after glory," Jeremiah insisted, but he stopped when he saw Josh's understanding smile.

  "She'll be mighty pleased when she hears what you've done," Josh said.

  Jeremiah muttered something Josh didn't catch, and then he said, "I reckon I owe her that much… We better rest the horses," he added, dismounting.

  The others followed suit, removing their saddles, too. Josh noticed that Jeremiah paused before pulling off his own saddle, as if gathering the strength to do so. Then he remembered how Jeremiah had approached the ranch.

  "How long were you walking?" he asked, stepping over to take the saddle from Jeremiah's unresisting grasp.

  "Two days," Jeremiah said wearily.

  Two days, carrying a fifty-pound saddle. Josh shook his head. "You must be beat. Why don't you catch a nap while we're waiting? I'll call you when it gets good and dark," Josh offered.

  Jeremiah glanced warily at the other men, as if he did not quite trust them.

  "Don't worry," Josh assured him. "They won't bother you." For a moment Josh thought that Jeremiah might not quite trust him either, but then the black man dragged his saddle away from the horses and stretched his long body out on the ground, using the saddle as a pillow. Josh noticed the careful way he worked the stiffness from his ruined right arm.

  "Does that arm give you much trouble?" Josh asked in genuine concern as he hunkered down beside him.

  Jeremiah's wariness instantly returned. "Not since I learned to shoot with my left
hand," he replied, eyeing Josh cautiously.

  "Damn, I wish we'd had a doctor to set it," Josh muttered. "I hated like hell to mess with it myself. I probably crippled you because I didn't know what I was doing."

  Jeremiah did not reply for a long moment during which he studied Josh's face as if measuring his sincerity. "I went to a doctor down in Mexico. He said he couldn't of done any better himself," Jeremiah admitted, no trace of bitterness in his voice. "He said I was lucky to have any use of it at all."

  Josh showed his amazement. "I thought you blamed me."

  "I wanted to," Jeremiah said simply.

  Josh nodded his understanding. He gave his half-brother a friendly pat on the shoulder. "You'd better get some sleep. We've got a long night ahead."

  "Josh?" Jeremiah said, stopping Josh before he could move away. "There's something you should know about this kidnapping. Ortega wanted your wife; I told you that. But he didn't just want the ransom. He wanted revenge, too, and the men he hired… He was going to turn her over to them to… to use…"

  Josh shuddered as the horror of it washed over him in sickening waves. Felicity… He saw her beautiful face for just a moment and thanked God once again that she was safe. But then he remembered another who was in danger. "Candace?" he asked.

  "I don't know what they'll do to her," Jeremiah said, the tightness of his voice revealing his own horror. "I doubt that they'll find an old black woman as appealing as a young white one, but who knows about men like that? And they may have killed her already…"

  "We'll get her back," Josh promised, praying that he was right.

  Much later, Josh crouched in the shadows at the edge of Ortega's camp, his pistol cocked and ready, aimed at Ortega's heart. Two guards lay dead at the top of the trail, and no one within the circle of the firelight even suspected that their hideout had been invaded.