"Oh, that's a good idea," Mrs. Hankins confirmed. "Of course, you know Mrs. Delano is still in Dallas, but we expect her back early next week. I reckon by then the poor little thing will be able to travel. What did you say her name was?"
Josh was spared from answering when another customer came in and distracted Mrs. Hankins. He turned to Mr. Hankins. "Here's a few things I need," he said, handing the storekeeper a list. "I'll be back in a few minutes. My wagon is out front." With that, Josh turned and left before Mrs. Hankins could make any further inquiries about his "little houseguest."
When Josh came back about fifteen minutes later, having made a quick tour of the main street of town, he met Mr. Hankins, who was carrying out the last of his supplies. "Thanks," Josh said. "Put it on my account."
"Josh, wait a minute. There's something I need to tell you," Hankins said, stopping Josh just as he was about to mount the wagon seat.
The urgent tone of the man's voice raised the hairs on Josh's neck. Turning warily, Josh braced himself for the first ugly gossip about him and Felicity.
"There was a man in the store yesterday asking about you," Hankins said, pulling a bandana out of his back pocket to wipe his forehead. "A colored man. He wanted to know where your ranch was and how to get out there."
Josh saw nothing ominous in such an event. "Was he looking for a job?" Josh asked.
Hankins's expression remained grim. "I don't think so. Remember I said he was a colored man? He was tall, real tall, even taller than you, and he… he asked about Candace."
"Candace?" Josh echoed, completely puzzled.
"Yes, he wanted to know if Candace still worked for you. He described her and everything. That's what made it stick in my mind, the way he described her as being so tall. It made me look at him close and, by God, if he didn't look like her, too."
Josh considered this. "How old a man was he?"
"I couldn't rightly say. With some folks, it's hard to tell. He had old eyes, if you know what I mean, and silver-gray hair, but he didn't seem all that old."
"He might be some kin to her," Josh said. Back in Virginia, Candace had been owned by the Logan family, who had presented her as a gift to Josh's mother when she married his father. Candace would have had lots of kinfolk back on the old Logan plantation. Since the war had destroyed the plantation, they were now all scattered. One of them must have found his way to Texas. "I reckon he'll show up out at our place soon," Josh said with a smile.
"No, you don't understand, Josh," Hankins said, gripping Josh's arm anxiously. "He wasn't asking nice. He was mean, clear to the bone. It was almost like…" He trailed off uncertainly.
"Like what?"
"Like he wanted to do Candace some harm." The storekeeper shrugged apologetically, realizing his statement was somewhat melodramatic but unwilling to amend it.
"Who would want to hurt Candace?" Josh asked, incredulous.
"I think this fellow might."
Josh could only stare at him. Josh had known Hankins for a long time and he was not easily spooked. "Have you seen this fellow around town today?"
Hankins shook his head. "I think he slept at the livery last night. Maybe you can pick up his trail there."
"Thanks," Josh said, turning toward the livery stable.
"Good luck," Hankins called after him.
Josh spent another hour in town, questioning first the livery stable attendant and then most of the other merchants, but the man had disappeared. Not even the bartender had seen him that day. Defeated, Josh returned to his wagon, having decided he should return to the ranch as soon as possible to tell Candace about the mysterious stranger. Perhaps she would know who he was.
Asa Gordon read over the note he had just written. He did not like the message it contained, but he would have to send it anyway. The news that Felicity Storm had disappeared- yet again-would please no one, least of all his client. Unfortunately, part of his job was filing reports, even when they were unsatifactory.
He folded this report carefully and stuffed it into an envelope.
"Alexander!" he called. A moment later a harried-looking young man came into Asa's office. "Would you see that this is delivered immediately?" he asked, scrawling a name and address on the envelope and then handing it to his secretary.
"Yes, sir," Alexander muttered, carrying the message out of the room.
When the door had closed behind the boy, Asa allowed himself a weary sigh. Papers. Messages. Reports. Meetings. Was that all he had left to look forward to? The thought depressed him.
He glanced out the window at the busy street below, but his mind was far away, in Texas with the elusive Miss Felicity Storm. For a few minutes he envied operative Smythe his opportunity to explore the wilds of Texas on this difficult quest.
Smythe was one of his best men. If Smythe couldn't find her, she simply wasn't there. Asa knew this. Still, he could not ignore his own pride, which reminded him he had once been one of the "best men," too. If he should go to Texas, if he should look for Storm and the girl…
Was there any reason why he shouldn't?
Chapter Four
When she had taken photographs of all the men, Felicity explained that they would have to stop the session for a few hours because the sun was too high. The shadows it cast would spoil the pictures.
Cookie managed to rustle up a cold meal, and soon the men drifted over to the house for dinner. Felicity could not help lingering alone in the yard for just a moment to stare longingly at the empty road one last time. She hated herself for missing him, for feeling hurt at the way he had snubbed her, but she couldn't seem to stop.
"How long do we have to wait?" Cody asked when at last she wandered into the dining room.
"A few hours," she replied, trying to match the other's enthusiasm. "When the sun starts slanting toward the west, it will be just right for photographing the house. I want to get some pictures of all of you in front of it."
This information excited the men all over again, and they began to discuss whether or not to change their clothes. Felicity listened to the conversation with only half an ear. She was straining to catch the sound of a wagon pulling up in the ranch yard.
On the drive out from town, Josh spent a good deal of time considering who this mysterious stranger might be. He figured that the man must be one of Candace's relatives, a brother or uncle if what Hankins had said about the resemblance was correct. What he could not credit, however, was Hankins's theory that the man meant Candace no good. After thinking it over, he realized that a black man, a former slave, traveling alone in Texas would have to be tough in order to survive. Hankins must have mistaken that toughness for evil, bestowing on the man a malevolence he did not possess.
This was the only explanation Josh could find since the very idea that a man would come halfway across the country for some sinister purpose against Candace was preposterous. He would still ask Candace about him, of course. The man might very well have arrived at the ranch already, making such an inquiry unnecessary, but if not, Candace would certainly want to know to expect him.
No longer feeling any urgency about his mission, Josh drove leisurely up to the ranch. He was a little surprised to find the yard deserted when he drove in, but he was pleased to note that the camera was still in position. He quickly surmised from the time that everyone had gone inside to eat. In an effort to distract his mind from thoughts of photographs-and photographers-he reminded himself that he had to see Candace.
Except that he could not find her. Having no other choice, he followed the sound of voices into the dining room.
"Hey, Mr. Logan! You're back!"
"Now Miss Felicity can make your picture!"