Asa reluctantly slapped the horses into a faster gait. Getting to the Logan ranch quickly was something he was loath to do. How had he ever let Blanche talk him into going over there this very night? Or let her convince him that she needed to accompany him? The last thing he wanted was to have Blanche present him as the girl's long-lost uncle and then have to contradict the story right in front of the girl and her husband. If Logan was any kind of man at all, he'd run Asa off with a shotgun, and who could blame him? Asa would be lucky if they even let him explain the truth.

Oh well, he thought philosophically, Richard Winthrop had not hired him to bring the girl back, only to find her. Asa had already accomplished that. If Winthrop wanted her so badly, he could come and get her himself. The prospect of Felicity's husband running Richard Winthrop off his property at gunpoint cheered Asa considerably as the Logan ranch buildings appeared in the distance.

"Who could he be?" Felicity wondered aloud as she and Candace peered out the front window at the man accompanying Blanche up the ranch house steps.

"Never saw him before," Candace said. "I'd of remembered a man like that. He looks like he'd be a handful, but then I reckon that's how she likes her men."

Felicity stifled a giggle at Candace's outrageous remark. "And what a strange time to come calling, right at suppertime," she mused. "Unless she has news that just won't wait. Oh, Candace, do you suppose…"

Candace sniffed dismissively. "If she had a man like that courting her, everybody in six counties would know about it by now. Course, judging from the way he took her arm to help her up the steps, I'd say something might be just starting up."

They had no further opportunity for speculation because their visitors had reached the door. Felicity ran to open it.

"Blanche! It's so nice to see you. You're just in time for supper, too," Felicity greeted her, trying not to stare too openly at the man as he stepped into the parlor and closed the door against the outside chill.

"You'll be glad to give me supper when you hear the news I've brought," Blanche said after giving Felicity a hug. "Where's Joshua?"

"He's getting cleaned up. I'll call him. Mr. Logan! We have company!" she called, a little self-conscious that Blanche would see him coming out of his old bedroom. Would her friend wonder at their sleeping arrangements?

But Blanche seemed too excited to notice. In fact, Felicity was afraid Blanche might just burst before she could tell her news. Luckily, Josh came right out at her call.

"You picked a mighty cold night to come all this way fora free meal," Josh teased as he came through the bedroom door, but at the sight of a strange man in his parlor, his smile faded to polite wariness.

"Joshua, Felicity, I'd like you to meet Asa Gordon," Blanche offered, barely suppressing her triumphant smile.

Josh stepped forward and shook hands with the stranger, and Felicity nodded and smiled, completely puzzled by Blanche's mysterious mood. Of course, simply knowing a man like Asa Gordon must be rather exciting, Felicity admitted. He was, as Candace had said, a real handful, big and tall, and he looked as if he'd probably walk right up and spit in the devil's eye, given the opportunity. His face was brown and weathered, but not as weathered as most men's his age. She had the feeling he had not lived an outdoor life. When she heard his accent, she realized she had judged correctly. He was an easterner.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Logan, ma'am," Asa said, nodding to both of them. He'd been right. Logan was definitely the shotgun type. He'd better watch his step. "You'll have to pardon us for dropping in right at mealtime like this-"

"It's all my fault," Blanche interrupted. "I couldn't wait another minute to tell you. Felicity, Mr. Gordon is… oh, you'll never guess! He's your uncle!"

"Uncle?!" Josh and Felicity repeated in unison, both equally astonished.

Asa could have groaned aloud. He'd wanted to tell them himself, carefully skirting any reference to his supposed relationship to the girl. He should have known Blanche would beat him to it.

"Yes," Blanche hurried on, heedless of Asa's dismay. "He lives in Philadelphia, and you have a grandfather, too. He almost died last year, and he decided he wanted to see you after all these years that your mother and father kept you from him, so he sent Asa to find you. He's been looking for you for almost a year, since right around the time you came here, I suppose, but he couldn't find you, of course, until today when he stopped by my house and…" Blanche paused for breath, throwing up her hands in surrender when she realized her explanation was making no sense. "Anyway, don't you see? Asa is your uncle and you have a grandfather and maybe even cousins and who knows what else. Felicity, you have a family!"

Even in her confusion, Felicity understood that much. This fascinating man was her uncle, her own flesh and blood. In an instant she took in his curly brown hair with its distinguished gray streaks at the temples, his perceptive chocolate-colored eyes with the squint lines at the corners, and his broad mouth that she knew smiled too seldom.

Her own mouth opened into a smile of delight. "Welcome to our home, Uncle Asa," she said, moving toward him. Impulsively, she reached out to him and, rising up on tiptoe, placed a small kiss on his whisker-roughened cheek.

Asa stared down at her in growing horror, watching the joy flicker in her lovely blue eyes. How had he gotten into this? he wondered frantically, feeling the heat rise in his neck. And when was the last time he had blushed? Long before Felicity Storm Logan was ever born, he was certain. He had to end this charade immediately.

"I'm not your uncle, Mrs. Logan," he said gruffly.

Felicity stepped back as if she'd been burned. "What?" she said, confused all over again.

"But Asa, you told me-" Blanche protested.

"I know what I told you, Blanche… Mrs. Delano," Asa corrected himself. She had given him permission to call her by her given name when she had thought him an honorable man. He could no longer claim that privilege. "It was a lie."

"A lie!" Blanche echoed incredulously. "You mean everything you told me-"

"Not everything," Asa informed her, grateful that for once he had told the real story. "I'm not her uncle. The rest is true."

"And what is the rest?" Josh Logan demanded with quiet menace, his gray eyes narrowed to deadly slits. Asa noted that he had stepped forward and placed his hands protectively on his wife's shoulders. Asa could still feel the girl's sweet kiss and could not bring himself to look at her face, to see the disappointment written there. He sighed wearily.

"The truth is this. Twenty years ago, when Claire Maxwell married Caleb Storm, her father disowned her. She and Storm ran away. Mrs. Storm kept in touch with her sister for a while, so your grandfather knew when you were born, Mrs. Logan, but then your mother stopped writing. For years, no one knew where you were. Your father wrote to tell your aunt when your mother died, and he mentioned that he was making a living as a photographer. More years passed, and then your grandfather had a mild heart attack. He started thinking about putting his life in order and decided he wanted to see his one and only grandchild before he died. That was a little over a year ago. He hired me to track you down."

"Hired you?" Josh repeated scornfully.

"Yes," Asa admitted, uncowed. "I'm a Pinkerton detective."

"A Pinkerton!" Blanche cried in outrage. "Oh, Josh, I'm so sorry! If I'd known-"

"It's not your fault, Blanche," Josh said quietly. "He lied to you."

Felicity listened to all this like one in a trance. Too much information had entered her brain at one time for her to take it all in. This man was her uncle, except he wasn't really, but he had come to take her to her grandfather whom she hadn't known existed.