When she awakened alone in the big bed she usually shared with Joshua, she felt more bereft than she had ever felt when she had been totally alone on the prairie. Hugging his pillow to her for comfort, she prayed for his safety and waited for morning.

One day stretched into another to form the longest week of Felicity's life, and then Josh came home again. Saddle-sore and weary, he reported their failure. Ortega and Jeremiah and the others had escaped back across the border.

Asa Gordon walked slowly down the street toward the small house. He could see a woman hanging clothes in the side yard. The place was neat and tidy and the sheets spanking clean in the bright May sunlight. He paused at the edge of the yard, a respectful distance away. "Excuse me. Are you Mrs. Daniels?" he inquired.

The woman turned, her head cocked warily. After a second, she reached up and removed several clothespins from her mouth and smiled. "Yes, I am," she said, coming closer. "What can I do for you?"

Mrs. Daniels had the cheerful, contented look of a happily married woman. Asa knew from experience that such women did not take kindly to an easy, flirtatious manner, nor would she appreciate a personal remark. If she had been a widow or even if she had the pinched look of a woman starved for attention, he would have turned on the charm. Instead, he removed his hat and maintained his respectful pose. "My name is Asa Gordon, and your neighbor, Mrs. Samuels, said you might be able to help me," he began. Mrs. Samuels, poor woman, fell into the "pinched" category. Some outrageous flattery had garnered him Mrs. Daniels's address. "You see, I'm looking for my…" He let his voice trail off as something on her front porch caught his eye. "Good heavens, is that a geranium in that pot?" he asked in amazement.

Mrs. Daniels let her gaze follow his to her front porch. "Yes, it is. I brought it here all the way from Tennessee. I've been nursing it along for ten years now. It blooms every year," she told him proudly.

"That's quite an accomplishment," he said with a reminiscent smile. "It reminds me of my mother. She used to grow them back in Pennsylvania." That was a lie, of course. The only thing his mother had grown back in Pennsylvania had been him, and she'd done a poor job of it. Between her gin and her "gentleman callers," she had paid scant attention to her son. But Asa took no time to dwell on bitter memories. Instead he embellished the lie. "She had red ones and white ones and sometimes even pink ones." His gaze seemed focused on the distant past, but he was really studying Mrs. Daniels to gauge her reaction. He had won her confidence. A happy housewife might have been put off by a comment on her nonexistent beauty, but she was easily swayed by compliments on her flowers.

"Oh, but you're not here to talk about my flowers," she chided him playfully. "You said you were looking for something."

"Oh yes," he said sadly, as if reluctant to recall his true mission. "Not something, but someone. My brother…half-brother, really. His name is Caleb Storm. I understand he and his daughter were through here several months ago. He's a traveling photographer and-"

"Yes, I remember," Mrs. Daniels said. "We had our picture made, our whole family."

Asa nodded encouragingly. "That's what Mrs. Samuels told me. She said you'd spoken with the girl, my niece, at some length."

"Yes, I did," Mrs. Daniels said, but her helpful smile was fading into suspicion.

Asa gave her his sad grin again. "I know you're wondering why a man has to inquire strangers to find his own brother," he said, voicing the doubts he could easily read on her face. "The unfortunate truth is that my brother and I had a falling out several years ago. It was over a young lady, the young lady whom he eventually married, Felicity's mother," he explained, surprising even himself. Every time he told this story, he invented a new detail. This one was the best yet, giving the tale a poignancy that was bound to touch Mrs. Daniels's heart.

"A few months ago his father, my stepfather, passed away," Asa continued, acknowledging Mrs. Daniels's murmur of sympathy with a distressed glance. "He left my brother a legacy, and I'm anxious to see him claim it. Not for himself, of course, but for the girl. She's all that's left of poor Claire…" He let his voice trail off and reached up to rub his eyes, as if the memory of poor Claire were more than he could bear.

"Of course. I understand completely," Mrs. Daniels hastily assured him.

Asa cleared his throat and made a visible effort to get control of his emotions. "I've heard the girl looks just like her mother, the same blond hair and blue eyes…" he ventured, hoping to verify the description he had of Felicity Storm.

"Oh yes," Mrs. Daniels said enthusiastically. "She's a lovely little thing, or at least she would be if she had some decent clothes. The poor child was dressed in rags, if you'll pardon my saying so," she reported indignantly.

Looking pained, Asa said, "You see why I'm so anxious to find her. Did she say anything that might give me a clue as to where they were heading next?"

Mrs. Daniels thought this over. "I don't think so. In fact, I got the impression they would be staying around here for a while. I was mighty surprised when they just up and left. They shouldn't be too hard to find, though. Nobody would ever forget seeing that wagon."

Asa was hard-pressed not to groan at that ingenuous remark. The fact was that nobody had seen that wagon at all, not for at least five months. Instead he smiled gratefully. "Thank you for your help, Mrs. Daniels. Take good care of that geranium."

"I will. I'm only sorry I couldn't have told you something. Good luck!" she called after him.

Luck, Asa reflected bitterly, would not be nearly enough. If he was ever to find Felicity Storm and her father, he would need a damn miracle.

"Joshua, when are you going to start feeding this girl?" Blanche inquired cheerfully as she glided past him into his house. "You've had her here for three months now, and she's still nothing but skin and bones."

Josh frowned, noticing Felicity's drawn face over Blanche's shoulder as the two women embraced in greeting. Blanche was right. Although Felicity had gained a little weight in the months since their marriage, of late she had been alarmingly pale and sickly. "I try, but she doesn't eat much," Josh replied only half-jokingly as he pictured the way Felicity had been picking at her food the past few weeks.

Felicity almost groaned aloud at Joshua's remark. Lately it seemed as if everything she did displeased him-eating, not eating, sleeping, not sleeping. And now he had stirred Blanche's considerable interest in her unusual behavior. The older woman pulled back, carefully examining Felicity's face for signs of undernourishment, and Felicity wanted to groan again. "I've been off my feed a little, that's all," Felicity explained lightly. "Is that a new dress?" she asked to change the subject, stepping back to examine Blanche's outfit. Her guest was wearing a scarlet gown of lightweight lawn in deference to the warmer weather of early summer. Froths of white lace adorned her throat and wrists and trimmed the jaunty bustle of her skirt.

"Yes," Blanche replied, momentarily distracted. "It just arrived from my dressmaker. I'm not too sure about the color, though. Do you think it's bright enough?" she inquired with a twinkle.

"Well, you'll never be lost as long as you're wearing it," Felicity replied with mock innocence, making Blanche laugh uproariously. "Come and sit down. I'll have Candace make some tea."

Over the Sunday afternoon tea, Blanche supplied the Logans with the latest gossip from town and agreed that this had been the warmest spring she could remember and speculated on how hot the summer months would be. Unfortunately, Felicity noticed, no matter what the topic of conversation, Blanche's perceptive green eyes continued to study her suspiciously.