"Well now, that's quite a story," Blanche said when she was finished writing. "Joshua should find it quite interesting, but if he hollers at you for not sending a telegram, don't blame me," she warned with mock sternness as she prepared to leave Grady alone to his misery.
"I'm much obliged, Blanche," Grady said wearily. "None of the other men were brave enough to write to the boss."
Blanche nodded her understanding. Most of the cowboys were probably illiterate. The few who could read and write would not want to tax their feeble skills with such an important task. "Glad to be of help," Blanche replied. "You just let me know if you need anything else written… like your will or anything," she added wickedly.
Grady glared at her. His look warned that if he hadn't been injured, he would have made her pay for that remark.
Blanche smiled tauntingly, inwardly regretting that Bill Grady was such a short man. He was certainly a lot of fun, and he'd been a good friend through the years. If only he were a foot taller and about forty pounds heavier… if only he looked like Asa Gordon, she admitted silently, she'd be giving him more than a smile. But of course, he didn't look a bit like Asa Gordon, so she simply smiled. "I'll tell Candace to break out Joshua's whiskey for you. You look like you could use some."
Candace was waiting when Blanche came out of the bedroom, her dark face twisted into a worried frown. "What all did he tell you to write?" Candace asked apprehensively.
Blanche's smile quickly faded. Candace looked a little more upset than a broken arm or even an unsuccessful ambush would justify. Was there more to the story than Grady had told her? "Here, I'll read you the letter, and you can tell me if I left anything out," Blanche offered. When she had finished reading, she asked, "Does that cover everything?"
Candace turned away, twisting her hands in her apron. "There's more, Mrs. Delano. Something even Mr. Grady doesn't know."
The tiny hairs on the back of Blanche's neck prickled in warning. "What is it, Candace? I think Joshua should know everything."
Candace hesitated, chewing her lip anxiously for a moment before finally speaking. "You remember last year when Mr. Josh caught Ortega's bunch? There was a colored man with them…" She paused uncertainly.
"Your son?" Blanche asked, letting Candace know she did not have to beat around the bush.
"Yes, my… my son," Candace said the word reluctantly. "He came to see me a few days ago. He said he was going to pay Josh back for ruining his arm." Candace paused over a shuddering sigh. "Oh, Mrs. Delano, he said some terrible things about… about what he was going to do to Miss Felicity."
"Oh, dear Lord," Blanche murmured. "If anything happened to that girl, Josh would just go crazy."
"I know," Candace replied. "I reckon I would, too. This is all my fault. I asked Mr. Josh not to kill Jeremiah, and now…"
Blanche rushed to her as Candace's voice broke in a sob. "There, now, don't think that," Blanche soothed, putting a comforting arm around her. "It's not your fault. And you were right to ask Josh not to kill him. How could he live with that, killing his own flesh and blood? No matter what the man's done, they're still brothers."
Candace lifted startled eyes to Blanche. Few white people would acknowledge such a relationship. Fewer still would grant it any importance. "Thank you," Candace whispered.
But Blanche shrugged off her gratitude. "About those threats, do you think he really meant to hurt Felicity, or was he only trying to scare you?"
"I don't know," Candace admitted.
"Well, we can't take a chance. I'm going to add a postscript to this letter. Maybe it would be a good idea for Felicity to stay in Philadelphia for a while, visiting her relatives. That way we know she'll be safe."
Chapter Twelve
Josh spent the better part of that afternoon and evening stewing over Blanche's letter. Grateful for the fact that Felicity seemed to be avoiding him, he gave considerable thought to his various alternatives. None of them were very appealing, especially when weighed against what was happening back at the Rocking L.
Josh really wasn't very surprised that Ortega was back. What did surprise him was the vehemence of the attacks. Grady and the men had found over twenty head of cattle shot dead out on the range. Rustling was something Josh could understand-stealing valuable property for profit- but wholesale slaughter was incomprehensible.
And then there were the attacks on his men. At first the incidents had been little more than annoyances, small groups of cattle stampeded across roundup camps and supplies mysteriously missing from the chuck wagon. Then Grady's ambush had solidified suspicions into certainties. Combined with Jeremiah's warning to Candace that Ortega was out for revenge now, too, the evidence was overwhelming.
Josh knew he had to return to the ranch. The only decision he really had to make was what to do with Felicity. He had already determined that Philadelphia was a dangerous place for her, a place full of too many temptations that would lure her away from him. But Candace's warning had convinced him that, for the time being at any rate, Texas held an even greater danger for her.
He really had no choice. In spite of how much he hated the idea, in spite of how reluctant he was to give Winthrop and Maxwell full rein with Felicity, Josh would have to leave her here.
But how could he tell her without arousing her curiosity? After so adamantly insisting that she go home with him, he did not dare change his mind without a good reason. If she even suspected that Jeremiah had returned to terrorize Candace again and that the ranch and the men were in danger, Felicity would ignore any potential danger to herself and insist on returning to Texas. No, the instinct that had made him destroy Blanche's letter was the correct one. He would tell her nothing of what was happening at home. He would take a different approach.
That evening, as usual, Felicity went to her grandfather's room to say good night. When at last she came into her own room, Josh could tell instantly that her mood had not improved one bit. She was still very upset over his ultimatum, as he had expected she would be. He only hoped her anger would work in his favor.
"Did you tell your grandfather that we're leaving?" he asked in a carefully neutral voice.
Felicity hesitated, trying to get control of her temper and her tongue before responding so she would not complicate the issue. "No," she said, with equal care. "I was hoping I could talk some sense into you first."
She watched in surprise as his handsome face reflected a trace of relief. "You don't have to," he said. "I've changed my mind about your leaving."
"You've changed your mind?" she repeated incredulously. At his nod, she allowed the straining joy in her to break free. "Oh, Joshua!" she cried, rushing to him and enfolding him in a grateful embrace. "I'm so glad! I know this visit hasn't been much fun for you, but I'll make it up to you. From now on we'll do things you like and-"
"Whoa," he said, forcing what he hoped was a good-natured smile, although it felt somewhat strained. "I didn't say I was going to stay. I said you could. I still have to get back to the ranch, but there's no reason you can't stay as long as you want."
Felicity saw the strain in his smile, and she could feel the tension radiating through his body. Something was wrong. She let her arms drop to her sides and stepped away from him warily, studying his face to discover what he was thinking. "I don't want to stay here without you," she said, frowning. "I'll be so lonely…"
"Will you?" he asked, lifting his eyebrows skeptically. As long as Winthrop was around, he doubted Felicity would ever be lonely.