For one crazy moment he pictured a row of towheaded children seated along that table. He smiled wistfully.

"Evening, Mr. Josh," Candace called, coming across the ranch yard to where he had paused near the barn.

Josh quickly wiped the smile from his face and watched her progress through narrowed eyes. She looked as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. Josh knew that look. She was coming to plant a few ideas in his head, and Josh was willing to bet that those ideas concerned a certain Miss Felicity Storm. He waited patiently for the inevitable.

Candace slowed her pace a little, sensing his wariness. Her Joshua was not a stupid man. He already knew what she was up to. It was a little game they played. She would let him know, very subtly, what she wanted him to do, and then she would feign total ignorance when he questioned her about it. Of course, she would then feel obligated as his mammy to give him her considered opinion in the matter and trust that his natural good judgment would lead him to make the proper decision.

They had played this game for years. Had she been his real mother, she could have given him advice outright. Had she been merely his servant, she would not have dared to advise him. Since her true status lay somewhere in between these two clearly defined areas, she had devised this method of guiding him. She had never tried to guide him on such an important matter, however, and Candace knew a slight quiver of apprehension as she approached him.

"I was just wondering if there was anything special you'd like to wear for tomorrow so I can make sure it's ironed proper," she said with just the right degree of subservience. Josh would have liked to irritate her by pretending he'd forgotten the photography session scheduled for tomorrow, but since the other men had talked of little else all day- except maybe crullers-he could not. "Whatever's already clean will be fine," he said, knowing his lack of enthusiasm for the girl's project would satisfactorily annoy Candace.

If Candace was annoyed, she did not let it show. Instead, she sighed dramatically, "It's just a shame that a man like you doesn't have his own woman to do things for him," she remarked.

Josh fought the grin he felt tugging at his lips. Candace was never very subtle. "I've got you," he pointed out, willing to play his role to the hilt.

Candace sighed again, and Josh was hard-pressed once again not to smile at her melodramatics. "Yes, but I'm not getting any younger. Why, sometimes I'm so crippled up by the rheumatism that I can't hardly haul myself out of bed in the morning. I'm not getting any younger, and someday-"

"Candace," Josh interrupted, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, "there's nothing I need done for me that you can't do perfectly well."

Candace's dark eyes glittered wickedly and her wide mouth split into a triumphant smile. She sidled up closer to him, until she looked him directly in the eye, and said, "Oh, I think there's one or two things that a sweet young wife could do for you that your poor old mammy would never even dream of."

Before Josh could even register the shock of her words, she was gone in a swish of calico. He stared after her as his startled brain formed some very interesting images concerning the begetting of that row of towheaded youngsters. Only when the pretty blond woman in his fantasy announced that she didn't want any more children did Josh emerge from his fog. Shaking his head to dispel that ugly vision, he frowned as old memories came back to haunt him. No, he was being foolish to consider marriage. Women brought only trouble. He knew that too well. Turning on his heel, he continued on his tour of the ranch yard.

Ordinarily, Josh used this peaceful time after the evening meal to inspect the ranch buildings and make a mental note of anything that needed to be done the next day. Although he had never admitted it, even to himself, he also used this time to renew his bond with his land, to silently enjoy the buildings that were the physical proof of his union with this place.

But Candace had destroyed any possibility of contentment this evening. Restless, Josh stalked unseeing past the barn and the corrals, not allowing himself to think about what Candace had said. Instead he tried to think about Ortega, the Mexican bandit who came north each spring to rustle cattle from the Texas ranchers and drive them back across the border for sale in Cuba. Every year Josh chased him, and every year the sneaky snake managed to slither back to safety across the border with some of Josh's cattle. This year would be different, however, Josh vowed as he successfully distracted himself from thoughts of the girl. This year he would get Ortega once and for all.

But as Josh rounded the corner of the barn, he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the gaily painted wagon that the men had parked there. Her wagon. He found even the sight of it disturbing, and all thoughts of Ortega vanished from his mind. He was about to turn his back on it when he heard a thumping sound. Someone was inside.

Felicity took one last look around the place that had been her home for half her life. Everything was in readiness for tomorrow, and she had gathered all her belongings into a bundle to carry back to the house. She could leave now, but she paused one last moment, savoring the familiar sights and scents.

The interior of the wagon smelled strongly of the chemicals she and her father used for making photographs, the odor of which had long since permeated the wood of the wagon body. The wagon itself had served as an army ambulance during the war. Her father, who had worked as one of Matthew Brady's photographers to memorialize that war, had "requisitioned" it afterward, and put it to good use. Not only had it carried their equipment, but it provided a traveling darkroom for developing their pictures, as well as a place for them to sleep when the weather was bad.

This wagon had been home to her and her father, and bittersweet memories of those past. times washed over her. Shared laughter, and quiet times, and jostling each other in the dark as they prepared the photographic, plates. Long evenings beside a campfire, and an endless stream of strange towns and stranger people. Tears stung her eyes.

"What are you…" Josh began, and then the shadowy figure turned and he recognized her. "Oh, it's you," he said, nonplussed by the surge of pleasure the sight of her brought. The rays from the setting sun caught the gold in her hair. "Is anything wrong?" he asked gruffly.

"No," Felicity said, lifting a hand to her chest to cover the clamoring of her heart. He did look rather forbidding silhouetted in the open doorway like that with the sun making a red-gold nimbus around him. She forced a smile to her Ups. "I was just making sure everything was ready for tomorrow. And I gathered up the rest of my things to take back to the house," she added, picking up the bundle she had made.

Josh watched her move toward him, involuntarily noticing the slender curves of her body beneath the blue gingham dress and the way her eyes glittered like diamonds and the way the sunlight glowed in her hair. As if she also reflected the heat from the sun, Josh felt himself grow warmer as she approached the doorway, where he stood.

"Excuse me," she said softly. He stepped back out of her way, reaching up instinctively to help her down the step to the ground.

Felicity's heart seemed determined to beat its way out of her chest. She kept telling herself that she need not fear Mr. Logan, but the closer she got to him, the more strongly her body reacted to him, as if it were preparing her to run to safety. No wonder she almost gasped when his strong fingers gripped her elbow.

"Thank you," she murmured, stepping away from him. "I'd better get back to the house now."

"I'll walk with you," Josh offered, quite against his conscious will. He knew perfectly well that he should stay as far away from this girl as possible. Still, what could it hurt to spend a few extra minutes with her?