Texas Blonde Read online

  Texas Blonde

  Victoria Thompson

  DESPERATE FOR A HUSBAND

  When dashing Josh Logan rescued her from death by exposure, petite Felicity Morrow realized she'd never survive the rugged frontier life without a man at her side. And when she gazed at the Texas rancher's lean hard frame and strong rippling muscles, the determined beauty decided he was the one for her. To reach her goal, feisty Felicity pretended to be meek and mild; the only kind of gal Josh proclaimed he'd wed. But after she'd won his hand, the blue-eyed temptress swore she'd quit playing his game and still win his heart.

  WILD FOR A WOMAN

  After a long day in the saddle, the last thing hot-blooded Josh Logan wanted was a clinging wife. All he needed was a hot bath, a warm meal, and a loving little lady who knew her place. Then golden-haired Felicity came into his life and the virile cowboy knew he'd have to marry her if he wanted to taste her pouting lips and stroke her satiny skin. The reward of her charms was reason enough to give her his name but the proud male vowed he'd never give up his independence not even for his sultry, sensuous Texas Blonde.

  Victoria Thompson

  Texas Blonde

  With thanks to my mother-in-law,

  Jeane Thompson,

  one of the world's great storytellers, for all her ideas,

  and,

  To Nira, Phyllis, and Susan for their wonderful feedback.

  Chapter One

  "Are you sure it was a real girl, Cody? It's been a while since you've seen one, and you might've got it wrong," one of the cowboys said with a snicker.

  "Did you see her out on the range or did she come to the line shack?"

  "Do you see her in the daytime or just at night?"

  "Is she pretty?"

  "Hell, if I'd knowed you'd get a girl, I'd of volunteered to ride the line, too!"

  Up on the ranch house porch, Josh Logan paused in the process of rolling himself a cigarette, distracted by the commotion down in the yard. His men had preceded him out of the house after the noon meal, and he could see them all clustered around someone. Someone who looked a lot like Cody Wells.

  Josh frowned. Cody was one of the cowboys assigned to ride the line during the long winter months and protect the far reaches of the ranch. His being here at the house meant something was wrong, and that could only mean Ortega.

  Josh felt a surge of excitement at the thought of once again encountering his old enemy. The bandit must have come north early this year to be causing trouble already. Josh hurried down the stairs toward the group of men, but as he got closer and heard the things the men were saying to Cody, his enthusiasm quickly changed to perplexity.

  "What's going on here?" Josh demanded, all thoughts of his nemesis Ortega wiped completely from his mind. As he worked his way through the crowd to where Cody stood, the other men stepped back to allow him room. He was the boss, and that was one reason they did so, but they probably would have anyway. Something about Josh Logan gave him an air of authority that other people just naturally respected. He wasn't especially tall, not more than an inch or so taller than any of the other men, so it had to have been his manner that commanded attention. Or perhaps it was the way he looked, the calm steadfastness of his gray eyes or the venerable mane of silver hair. Like all the men in his family, Josh had begun to grow gray at the age of eighteen. Now, ten years later, his hair was completely white, lending him an air of dignity far exceeding what he had earned by living twenty-eight years. "What's all this about a girl?"

  Cody looked up at him with relief,, happy to be rescued from the taunting. "I found a girl out on the range, Mr. Logan, about five miles east of the line shack. She's all alone with her wagon. She said her pa was out hunting, but I didn't see no sign of him, so I think she was lying about that, and I tried to get her to come back to the ranch with me, but she wouldn't do it, and-"

  "Hold up there, son," another voice admonished. Cody turned impatiently to Bill Grady, Mr. Logan's foreman, who was chuckling good-naturedly. "Are you sure you really saw a girl? Maybe you just wanted to. You've been out on the line a long time, you know," he allowed, referring to the custom of having men posted at various outlying cabins during the winter months. Their job in this era of open range was to ride the boundaries of the ranch on a daily basis and drive back any cattle they found drifting onto a neighbor's property. The men would be stationed out there months at a time, alone, and Cody would not have been the first to start imagining outlandish things.

  Cody scowled, first at Mr. Grady and then at Mr. Logan and the ring of grinning faces that surrounded him. "She was real, all right. I talked to her," he said defiantly. Seeing only skepticism, he appealed to Mr. Logan again. "We can't just leave her out there. Something might happen to her. We've got to do something."

  The rancher studied the boy's flushed face. Josh knew he might be wasting his time, but he'd never seen Cody so upset before. What would it hurt to check out his story? "All right, Cody. I'll go and see your girl. I haven't seen one in a long time," he added with a grin, drawing an understanding laugh from the rest of the men. "You go and grab a bite to eat first. Grady and I will wait for you, and then you can take us out."

  Bill Grady rolled his eyes in silent protest at accompanying Josh on this wild-goose chase and scrunched his homely, sun-browned face into a disapproving frown. Josh ignored him.

  "I ain't hungry, Mr. Logan," Cody insisted. "We can go right away."

  Josh shook his head at Cody's impatience. "Go eat. She'll wait for you," he promised.

  Defeated, Cody stamped into the ranch house to bolt down his dinner.

  "Josh, that's a two-hour ride," Grady began in disapproval.

  "I was going to ride out that way anyhow in the next day or so," Josh explained. "And besides, what if there really is a girl?"

  Felicity squinted anxiously into the distance for the tenth time in as many minutes. Still no sign of that cowboy and his friend, she noted with relief. But her relief was short-lived. A hasty glance at the position of the sun informed her that several hours had passed since he had ridden away, promising to return with his boss, Mr. Logan. They would surely be here any time now, and what would she do then?

  Frantically, she hurried over to where her father's rifle was propped against the wagon. Picking up the weapon carefully, she tested its weight. If only she knew whether it was loaded or not. If only Papa hadn't insisted that ladies did not need to know anything about guns. And if only Papa hadn't died and left her all alone…

  No! She would not think about that. Felicity lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders and gingerly set the rifle back down again. There was no use wishing for things that could not be. And there was no use in working herself up for a case of the vapors either.

  "'Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day…" she quoted doggedly. Quoting Scripture always used to calm her down. Until recently, that is. Since her father's death several weeks ago, she had quoted it almost constantly, but she was still afraid. Mortally afraid. And so lonely that sometimes she thought she might even die herself.

  For just a moment this morning, she had been thrilled to see the cowboy riding toward her camp. He was the first person she had seen in such a very long time, and his presence proved that she must be getting close to civilization after all of her wanderings.

  He had been nice, too, concerned about her being alone out in the middle of nowhere. She had known better than to confess to being alone, of course, but her lies about her father being out hunting hadn't fooled him.

  "Look, miss," he had said, "it isn't safe for you to be out here all by yourself. The Rocking L Ranch is just over there a ways. Why don't you let me take you there? Mr. Logan-he's the boss-he'll see that you get to
town or wherever you want to go."

  Felicity had been tempted, very tempted. The chance to see other people, the chance to get to a town, was compelling, but she knew better than to go off with a stranger, especially a man. Her father had warned her about men. Even the ones who acted nice were only after one thing. She could not trust this boy, no matter how young and harmless-looking he was. "I'm not going anywhere with you. Now you go on and git. I've got a gun in the wagon and I know how to use it," she had lied.

  He had argued with her, reminding her of the wolves and the other wild creatures that posed a threat to her safety-a threat of which she was only too aware already-but he had not been able to convince her. At last he had ridden away, promising to return with his Mr. Logan.

  Felicity slumped down into the sagging canvas chair, the only furnishing in the camp, and closed her eyes against the fatigue of too many sleepless nights. Mr. Logan. The name had haunted her since the first time the boy had spoken it. What would she do when this Mr. Logan came? And what if Mr. Logan was the one? What if he was the man who had been chasing them? How would she get away and…

  Felicity shook herself, forcing her weary eyes open. She must be going crazy to be thinking such thoughts! No one was chasing them. Her father had told her that over and over again. She had only imagined they were fleeing from some invisible danger. He had explained that they had to keep moving to get work, so they could never stay in one place very long. And if sometimes they left a town very suddenly, without even finishing all their business, it was only because her father hated towns and sometimes he just had to get away onto the open prairie.

  Felicity supposed that losing her father had spooked her, making her imagination run wild. Without his constant reassurance, she had been almost overwhelmed by the sensation of being followed. She had kept moving restlessly, hoping to escape whoever or whatever was behind her almost as much as she hoped to find a destination.

  No, she told herself, this Mr. Logan could not be the man who was following her, because there was nobody following her. And she was a grown woman, eighteen years old, no longer a little girl to be frightened by shadows. She did not fear Mr. Logan for that reason. Mr. Logan presented an entirely new and different threat, a threat with which she must deal right now, she suddenly realized. Three riders had just appeared on the horizon. Felicity raced for the rifle.

  The three men reined in their horses at the top of the rise overlooking the small camp. "I'll be damned," Grady grunted. "I told you," Cody declared. "A photographer," Josh muttered. "A what?" Cody was unfamiliar with the word. Josh pointed at the gaily painted wagon. "It's a traveling photographer, a fellow who goes from town to town and takes pictures of people."

  "Oh, like that picture of you back at the house," Cody remembered.

  Josh nodded, recalling how he had once, on a trip to the "big city," succumbed to the temptation to have his portrait made.

  The three men studied the scene below in silence. They could clearly see the girl who was watching them right back. She was standing and she was holding a rifle. They saw no one else.

  "Where's her horses?" Grady asked after a few moments. "When I was here before, I just figured they was picketed off somewheres, but they ain't, are they?" Cody asked.

  Suddenly they all understood the reason the girl was here, still here. She had lost her horses somehow.

  "Let's go on down," Josh suggested, "but take it nice and easy. She's got a gun and we don't want to spook her."

  Felicity took a deep breath in a futile attempt to still the clamoring of her heart. Now there were three of them, and if one man was dangerous, then three were… well, three times as dangerous. Felicity still had no idea if the rifle was even loaded, but she raised it in what she hoped was a threatening gesture. She only prayed she would be able to hold it up. The thing was monstrously heavy and her arms were already starting to tremble.

  "Stay right there," she called in a quivery voice when they were within easy speaking distance.

  The man in the middle stopped the others with a lift of his hand. She knew instinctively that this was Mr. Logan, the man the cowboy had called "the boss." She recognized the cowboy who had been here before, of course, and she mentally dismissed the third man. Although he also had an air of authority about him, she could tell by the way his lanky body draped over the horse that he was not too worried about the present situation. He was merely here to follow orders. Mr. Logan was the man in charge.

  Felicity brought her attention back to the man in the middle, the one she knew was Mr. Logan. He had a handsome face, square-jawed and strong-looking, with a straight nose and a well-formed mouth that was set now in a grim line. His eyes were narrowed down, crinkling the corners into a web of laugh lines under heavy, masculine brows. He was studying her, and she forced herself to meet his gaze, in spite of the fact that her whole body seemed to be quaking in terror.

  "Afternoon, miss," he said, tipping his hat and revealing a shock of silver hair that glistened in the noonday sun.

  Felicity blinked at the sight of that white hair. He was older, older than she had first thought. Perhaps he was also kind. Kind and old, a mature man in whom she could place her trust. Oh, please, God, she prayed silently.

  "I'm Josh Logan," he was saying. "Did you know that you're camped on my property?"

  Something in his voice when he said "my property" sent a shiver of unease over Felicity. "Oh, no, I didn't… I mean…" Felicity stammered, suddenly realizing that he might very well have her arrested for trespassing. "I didn't know where I was. I got lost," she explained lamely. The rifle was so heavy. She shifted it slightly.

  Josh watched the girl. She was scared out of her wits, shaking so bad, he wondered that she had not dropped the rifle. She was a pretty little thing, with a head full of golden hair and eyes as blue as cornflowers. And so young. He judged her to be about fourteen or fifteen, as slender as a reed, with only the tiny teacup breasts barely visible beneath her ragged dress to hint at her burgeoning womanhood. How on earth had she gotten out here all alone in this wagon? In an attempt to put her at ease, he forced himself to smile reassuringly.

  Felicity watched, mesmerized, as the smile lit up his face. She barely noticed when he swung a leg over the saddle and slid down from the horse.

  "Don't be afraid," he said, speaking softly so as not to frighten her further. "We're here to help you. If you'll just tell me where your horses are, we'll hitch them up for you so you can be on your way."

  He really was a nice man. She could tell now that he was closer. His eyes were kind. She lowered the rifle a bit.

  "My horses are lost," she told him.

  "Lost?" he repeated. The smile disappeared and Felicity knew a small regret.

  "They bolted the other night during the thunderstorm," she confided, shuddering involuntarily at the memory of that fearsome storm.

  "That was night before last," she heard one of the other men remark, but she did not bother to look to see which one. She could not seem to take her eyes from Mr. Logan's face. He was very close now. He smiled again.

  "Where's the rest of your family, honey?" he asked. His voice was soothing, like a warm hand on her heart, but when she thought of the answer to his question, tears sprang to her eyes.

  No, she would not think of that, she told herself. Mr.

  Logan would help her. Desperately she tried to focus on his face, but something was wrong, horribly wrong. Her heart felt funny, as if it were pounding against her ribs, and she was shaking all over. There were spots, too, black spots everywhere. The rifle slipped from her hands but she could not stop it. "Help me," she cried, or thought she did, before everything went black.

  Josh rushed forward, catching her just as she fell. "Damn," he swore under his breath as he scooped the frail body into his arms. The other two men were at his side in an instant.

  "What happened?" Grady asked anxiously.

  "She fainted; what did it look like?" Josh replied sarcastically, casting about for some
place to lay her down. Finding no place suitable, he seated himself on the rickety canvas chair and draped her across his lap, taking the gamble that the chair would hold them both. He looked down into the lovely little face that had gone chalk-white and tried desperately to remember what you were supposed to do when a woman fainted. He had never encountered such a situation before.

  After a moment of silence, Grady ventured to suggest, "When a woman faints, you're supposed to loosen her stays."

  "She's not wearing any," Josh informed his friend. He had already thought of that, but the suppleness of the body he held had convinced him he would be wasting his time.

  "Rub her wrists, then," Grady suggested.

  Josh did so, marveling at the graceful, delicate bone structure of her hands. After a moment, she moaned softly. Josh glanced swiftly around the camp. "Cody, is there any coffee in that pot? Pour me out some if there is," he ordered, pointing toward where a battered, smoke-blackened pot sat near the campfire.

  In a minute Cody handed him a half-filled cup. "That ain't real coffee, boss," he cautioned.

  "What is it?" Josh demanded, sniffing the contents of the cup himself.

  "Mesquite beans," Cody replied, naming the wild fruit of the Mesquite plant which was often substituted for coffee when the real thing was unavailable.

  Josh grunted his disapproval and glanced around the camp again, searching for any signs that a meal had recently been prepared here. He saw none. If the girl was making coffee from Mesquite beans, she might also be low on food. If she had skipped a meal or two, that would explain why she had passed out. "See if you can find anything in the wagon and rustle up a meal. This poor kid looks like she hasn't eaten in a week."

  Cody disappeared into the back of the wagon, and Josh held the cup to the girl's lips. Instinctively, she drank a few sips and then turned her head away.

  "Miss? Wake up, honey, and tell me your name," Josh coaxed. Long, golden eyelashes fluttered up, revealing huge azure eyes that glittered suspiciously. "That's better," he said, rewarding her with a smile. "Now, tell me what your name is."