Texas Blonde Read online

  "Of course, if you want to ride with Cody…" Grady ventured, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

  Josh pretended not to hear. Swiftly, he moved to his own horse, which was standing with its head bowed against the storm. "Come on, boy, we've got a lot of riding left to do today." With practiced hands, he removed the slicker from his own saddle. "Here, put this on," he told the girl, hardly daring to look at her lest he be caught staring.

  Felicity tried to reach for the slicker, but her hands just did not want to cooperate. She was shaking again, just as she had shaken when she had been afraid of Mr. Logan. Except she was no longer afraid, or at least she didn't think she was. For some reason, she could not keep herself from watching the raging river that flowed below them, carrying with it the broken refuse of whatever got in its way. Branches and stones and drowned animals and even whole trees swept by. The rain beat down on her and the wind whipped around her, chilling her to the bone. She shivered uncontrollably, and her trembling hands dropped the slicker.

  Josh swore under his breath as he stooped to pick it up and hand it back to her. Only then did he notice the way her teeth were chattering beneath her bluish lips. Christ, why hadn't he realized it before? For a minute there, when she had helped haul his horse over the crest of the hill like some tiny Amazon and then maternally wiped the blood from Cody's face and forced him to lie flat so he would not faint, Josh had forgotten her true condition. During the emergency, she had responded on pure nerve, but half-starved and exhausted, she now had no reserves of strength left on which to call.

  He shook the grass from the slicker and slipped it quickly over her head, not bothering to put her arms into the sleeves, and buttoned it to her throat. Not that it would do much good since she was already soaked, he noted cynically. Without another word, he lifted her to the saddle and climbed up behind her, drawing her trembling body against his.

  She was shaking in earnest now, bone-rattling shudders that frightened him. He knew that people could die from a chill like this, even when the weather was fairly mild, and the oilcloth slicker would do little to hold in her body heat. Had she been a man, or even the child he had originally taken her for, he would not have hesitated over doing what must be done to save her life. As it was, he only hesitated a moment. Reaching around her, he unbuttoned the slicker and then lifted the thing over his own head, too, so that he joined her in its billowing folds. Turning her slight body until she rested across his lap as she had before, he settled her comfortably and then nudged the Appaloosa into motion.

  Felicity knew she should not be snuggled up to Mr. Logan so intimately, especially under the cover of the oilcloth. Even though he was an older man, propriety prohibited such things. Of course, survival dictated something else entirely, and drawn by his warmth, Felicity tightened her grip on him. Even in her distress, she noticed the hardness of his chest, the strength of the muscles under her hands, and his pleasant, masculine scent. Proper or not, she savored the security of his arms. After what seemed a long time, her shivering slowed and then, finally, ceased. Once again she fell into an exhausted sleep.

  From time to time, Josh looked down at his passenger. She was sound asleep, sleep she sorely needed, judging from the purple smudges beneath her eyes. She murmured something and shifted slightly, and he knew she must be dreaming. Telling himself that he was only trying to comfort her, he cradled her more closely, and tried not to notice how good her body felt pressed up against his.

  Josh drew a shaky breath and struggled to concentrate on something else. He'd been without a woman for too long, that's all it was, he decided. Why else would he be having such lustful thoughts over this poor, helpless creature? He hadn't had any trouble at all before the flood, when he'd thought she was a child. She was still the same person with the same body. He should be able to hold her just as dispassionately as before.

  But he couldn't, he admitted reluctantly. It had just been too long. He guessed he was a fool not to take what the buxom Mrs. Delano offered. Any other man in his position would have, and gladly, too. Of course, Josh knew that there was a price attached to Blanche Delano's favors, and that price included marriage. Josh Logan simply did not want to get married.

  Or at least he never had before. For some reason the idea suddenly did not seem quite so distasteful. He was, as he had admitted a little while ago, alone in the world, as alone as the girl he held in his arms. He recalled the protective, almost fatherly, feeling he had experienced earlier when he thought her a child. He had enjoyed that feeling and could not help wondering how it would be to hold his own child.

  Memories of him and his father enjoying moments of companionship teased at him. Along with them came the security of knowing his father had cared for him enough to preserve the land he loved, the land that was his heritage. But whose heritage was it now? If Josh had no children, what would become of this ranch when he was gone? The question disturbed him.

  Of course, to have children meant having a wife, something Josh had studiously avoided all his adult life. Maybe, just maybe, he had been wrong to do so. Maybe he should now consider marriage. He wasn't getting any younger. If he wanted to see his own son grown and settled, he would have to get started soon.

  Unfortunately, the only available woman around who didn't completely repulse him was Blanche Delano. A man could do worse-a whole lot worse-but Blanche Delano was simply not the woman he wanted. How odd, Josh thought. He knew exactly what he did not want but did not have a clue as to what he did want in a woman. He supposed he would have to give the matter some more serious consideration.

  Meanwhile, he thought, shifting the girl he held to a slightly less intimate position, he should make a trip to San Antone and ease himself at one of the bawdy houses there before he found himself tempted beyond endurance.

  The girl in his arms stirred again, shifting her small breasts against his chest, and Josh inhaled the fresh, clean scent of her rain-washed body. San Antonio suddenly seemed very far away.

  The trip that had taken two hours going out took almost three coming back, but at last the ranch buildings materialized out of the murky dimness that surrounded them. The full fury of the storm had blown itself out, and the rain had settled into a steady downpour. Grady and Cody were also sharing a slicker, but no one was more grateful to reach the ranch than Josh.

  "We're here," he said, shaking the girl a little to rouse her. He did not relinquish his hold on her as he threw one leg over the saddle to slide down to the ground.

  The movement jarred her awake. Momentarily disoriented, Felicity glanced around, getting a vague impression of ranch buildings and a large, substantial-looking house before her gaze came to rest on Mr. Logan's face. All her old fears came surging back. This man was taking her to his house. What would he do to her? Was he the one who had been following her? Her sleep-fogged brain stumbled over the questions, but before she could find any answers, Mr. Logan's shout startled her.

  "Candace! Come see what we've brought you!" he called loudly enough to be heard above the downpour.

  Candace. Of course. Felicity had forgotten that Mr. Logan's wife would take care of her. Her fears began to ebb again.

  "Land sakes! What have you got there?" a woman's voice demanded, and Felicity looked up at the strangest person she had ever beheld.

  Candace was glaring down at the three men mounting the porch steps. Glaring down came easily for her since she stood almost six feet tall. Her high-breasted body was slender and regal and her beautiful ebony face unlined, even though gray now threaded her glossy black curls. Clearly, her African forebearers had been a noble race, and her direct ancestors must surely have been chieftains. The queen of Ethiopia, Felicity thought wildly. "It's the girl I told you about," Cody was saying, his voice cracking with excitement. "Nobody believed me, but now they will," he added triumphantly.

  "What are you doing, bringing a girl here, Joshua Logan?" Candace asked angrily. "You should take her to Miz Delano. That's the proper place."

  "Blanche is i
n Dallas for at least another week," Josh explained testily, "and in case you hadn't noticed, it's raining." He really did not need a lesson in etiquette from his former mammy, especially when he was wet and cold and tired. He knew only too well that a Negro servant could not properly chaperone a white girl. Although no one who knew Candace would ever classify her as a servant, the fact remained that she fit no other description.

  Sensing his irritation, Candace softened immediately. "Well, if Miz Delano is out of town," she mumbled as Josh approached carrying the girl. "Let's see what you've got there." She pulled back the edge of the slicker to get a better look at Felicity.

  Felicity stared at the black woman in astonishment. She had met many Negroes in her life, but she had never heard one chastise a white person. The formidable Candace reached out a work-worn hand to brush the dripping hair back from Felicity's forehead and test for fever. Too proud to flinch, Felicity met her concerned gaze steadily.

  "Poor little thing, she's half-drowned!" Candace exclaimed. "Get her inside. We'll put her in the yellow room."

  Candace started issuing rapid-fire orders, and before Felicity could even think, the ranch cook had been commissioned to prepare her something to eat, and Grady and Cody were sent off to haul hot water for her bath.

  As Mr. Logan carried her into the house, Candace whipped the dripping slicker off over their heads and disposed of it. For one awful moment, Felicity almost cried out a protest, feeling suddenly exposed, but she managed to bite back her words just in time. She was being completely ridiculous. She was fully clothed beneath the covering of the slicker. How silly to have such an odd sensation.

  But once inside the shelter of the house, with the storm only a gentle patter against the tile roof and the thick adobe walls, she realized what had caused the uncomfortable sensation. Mr. Logan was still carrying her, still holding her tightly against his chest, and she still clung to him as if her life depended on it. Without the danger that made such behavior necessary, Felicity became acutely aware of how intimate, how unseemly, was her position. White hair or not, Mr. Logan was a man, and she was a woman. Felicity blushed hotly, especially when she realized that she had no desire to be put down.

  Mr. Logan carried her across the front room, an enormous place with beamed ceiling and a stone fireplace and comfortable leather-upholstered furnishings, and on through a door which opened into a smaller room. Felicity's eyes widened as she glanced around the prettiest bedroom she had ever seen. The whole place was done in yellow- yellow walls, a yellow rug, and a quilt pieced in shades of gold covering the bed. Yellow curtains hung at the window, hiding the drops that still beat mercilessly against the glass outside.

  "Put her in the rocker," Candace commanded, and Mr. Logan took Felicity to the corner where a small rocking chair sat. Very carefully, he leaned over and placed her on the chair. She hazarded one glance at his face as he straightened from the task, and for just a second she imagined that she saw her own regret at being separated from him reflected in his gray eyes.

  Robbed of the warmth of Mr. Logan's body, Felicity began to shiver again, but Candace immediately noted her discomfort and produced a woolen blanket to cover her. "As soon as the men have brought the water, we'll get you out of those wet things," Candace whispered, tucking the blanket around her.

  Felicity watched in amazement as the tall black woman managed to make up the large feather bed that dominated the room, build a fire in the small corner stove, and gather towels and other bathing paraphernalia in the time it took Grady and Cody to haul enough water to fill the hip bath Mr. Logan carried in.

  "You all should get a hot bath, too," Felicity ventured when they had finished their task and were standing around at a momentary loss. Only then did they seem to take notice of their own bedraggled condition.

  "Yeah, I reckon we should," Mr. Logan allowed with a self-mocking grin. "If Candace doesn't have anything else for us to do…" He gave the woman an ironic look of inquiry.

  "Scat, all of you, before this poor child catches pneumonia," she said, shooing them away with her apron.

  They were almost out the door before Josh thought to correct his previous omission. "Oh, by the way, Felicity, this is Candace," he said, sticking his head back in the door that Candace was trying to close behind him. "She's twice as mean as she looks, but don't let her bully you," he advised with a wink.

  Felicity smiled as the door slammed behind him. Candace whirled, catching the look of merriment on her small face. "What's so funny?" Candace asked indignantly.

  Knowing she was being forward, Felicity still could not stop her words. "I was just thinking, you really do look like the queen of Ethiopia."

  Candace's black eyes grew wide with surprise and then narrowed in speculation as she took inventory of the girl for the first time. She was a puny little thing, but she had good bone structure. With the proper hairstyle and clothes, she could be quite lovely. And she had a brain. Few people even knew that Candace was a biblical name. Not even those who were very familiar with the New Testament story of Phillip and the Ethiopian eunuch recalled that the eunuch was employed by a queen named Candace.

  "Well, now, let's get you into that bath," Candace decided after a long moment of speculation. She threw off the blanket covering Felicity and began to unfasten the buttons of her dress.

  "Oh, please, I can do that myself," Felicity protested, blushing scarlet at the knowledge that the woman intended to undress her.

  Candace raised her eyebrows. "Right now you need all the help you can get," she informed the girl. "Besides, I was helping ladies get undressed before you were even a gleam in your papa's eye. I'd think you'd want to get shed of that dress, anyways. It's nothing to brag about. I got dishrags in better shape than that." She watched with great interest as the girl's blue eyes kindled with wounded pride and her sweet little mouth thinned in an effort to hold back a sharp retort.

  Good. She was proud, and she had manners, too. She wouldn't even reprimand a colored woman. And she was pretty and knew the Scriptures. "Can you cook?" Candace inquired, gently pulling Felicity to her feet so she could slip the tattered dress down her body.

  "Cook?" Felicity echoed, completely puzzled. "Yes, I can cook," she replied faintly. The woman had removed her dress and was stripping the sodden undergarments from her, but Felicity was powerless to stop her. Before she even had time to feel humiliated at standing nude before a total stranger, Candace had her in the tub and was lathering her hair with soap that smelled like wildflowers. The warm water felt so wonderful against her shriveled flesh that Felicity surrendered to the comfort at last, giving herself up completely to Candace's ministrations.

  Candace kept up a steady stream of conversation while she worked. "Back in Georgia, at the Fair Oaks plantation, where I was born, Miss Sarah-that's Mr. Josh's grandmother-she always called all the slaves together of a Sunday evening for Scripture reading. My mama loved that story about Phillip and the eunuch best, and when I was born, she named me after the queen. Not many people know that." Candace waited, and the girl murmured some sort of agreement. "Miss Sarah, she was a beauty. Even Miss Amelia, that's Mr. Josh's mama-couldn't hold a candle to her."

  Even in her groggy state, Felicity had no trouble following the story. Candace went on to tell her how Mr. Logan's father had married Miss Amelia and_ brought her and Candace to his ranch. They had fought Indians in the early days, and Yankees and carpetbaggers later on. Things had finally started to settle down when old Mr. Logan had passed on. Felicity got the distinct impression that Candace had admired Mr. Logan's father a great deal, but she suddenly realized that Amelia Logan, Mr. Logan's mother, had not figured in the story Candace was telling at all.

  "Is Mrs. Logan dead, too?" she asked.

  Candace did not answer right away, causing Felicity to look up to see her face. She appeared to be considering. After a moment she said, "Well, now, it's been more'n twenty years. She might very well be, at that."

  Before Felicity had time to wonder at such
a peculiar remark, Candace was drawing her out of the bath. "Come on now, before that water gets cold. We don't want you catching another chill."

  "Really, I can dry myself," Felicity insisted, but the bath had steeped her muscles until what little strength she had was gone, and she could not even wrestle the towel away from Candace's capable hands.

  "What on earth happened to you, girl?" Candace asked, pausing in her task of drying Felicity's back. "Looks like somebody's been after you with a stick."

  Felicity closed her eyes, imagining the marks that Candace was seeing, marks that would be bruises by morning. "I… Mr. Logan's horse knocked me over and-"

  "Knocked you over!" Candace repeated indignantly.

  "It was an accident," Felicity quickly explained. "During the flood-"

  "The flood!" Candace wrapped the girl securely in several towels and set her back down in the rocking chair. "Now, what's this about a flood?"

  Felicity shivered slightly at the memory. "There was a flash flood. Mr. Logan got me to high ground, but the boy-"

  "Cody," Candace supplied.

  "Yes, Cody, his horse fell and broke its leg. Mr. Logan went after him, but the hill was wet and his horse was having a hard time…" She shivered again. "The other man grabbed the horse's bridle to pull it up, and I tried to help, too." She smiled sheepishly. "I guess I shouldn't have gotten in the way," Felicity admitted, unwittingly impressing Candace with her modesty.

  Candace made no comment but went over to the dresser to fetch a garment for the girl. Smart and pretty and proud and well-mannered and now brave, too. Why, the little thing had helped save Joshua's life, the man she loved as much as her own son. Candace was humming softly when she returned to help Felicity into the shirt.

  "This is a man's dress shirt," Felicity noticed, appalled that Candace would use such a fine garment as a nightdress.

  "Mr. Josh don't have much use for a dress shirt. You can see this one's hardly ever been worn. Besides, it's about the only thing I could find that might fit you," Candace explained, easily overcoming the girl's objections with her physical superiority. In another minute, she had her tucked up in the bed and had started brushing out her long blond locks.