Josh started, having forgotten the butler's presence. "I'm afraid so, Bellwood," he said purposefully walking over to the grate and tossing the crumpled paper and the envelope into the flames. "Please don't mention anything about this letter to Mrs. Logan, will you?"

"Oh no, sir," Bellwood promised.

Blanche hurried up the steps, heedless of her long skirt. Candace waited at the door of the ranch house for her. "I came as soon as I could," Blanche said as she crossed the porch. "How bad is he?"

"Just some bumps and bruises, but his arm's broke for sure," Candace replied, stepping back to allow Blanche to enter the house. "I put him in Mr. Josh's room."

But Blanche needed no directions. She could hear her old friend Bill Grady swearing the moment she got through the front door. "That language could singe the hair off a cat, Billy-boy," Blanche protested cheerfully as she entered the bedroom. "It might offend a lady, too," she added with a wink.

Grady grunted. "If there was any around," he replied sourly.

Blanche shot him an offended look. "There's no call to be mean just because you're feeling poorly," she admonished him. "One more remark like that and I might just accidentally poke you in the arm."

Blanche laughed when she saw the comic way he cringed from such a suggestion. "Beg your pardon, ma'am," he muttered with mock humility, making her laugh again.

"Now that we've improved your manners, what's all this I hear about you falling off your horse?" Blanche inquired.

"Hellfire!" Grady howled. "Is that what Cody told you?"

"No," Blanche said innocently. "He had some fairy tale about how you were ambushed," she teased, but her grin faded when she saw Grady's bleak expression. "You mean you really were ambushed?"

Grady nodded solemnly. "Shot my horse right out from under me. I busted my arm when I fell. Lucky thing some of the boys were nearby. They heard the shots and came on the run, but whoever was doing the shooting got away."

"God Almighty," Blanche breathed. "Have you sent word to Josh yet?"

Grady squirmed uncomfortably. "Not yet," he admitted reluctantly. "See, that's why I asked you to come over. I need someone to write a letter for me." He made a gesture toward his splinted right arm.

"Letter! Why don't you just send a telegram!" Blanche exclaimed.

Grady gave her an exasperated look. "Because he'd think somebody died, that's why," the foreman explained. "Besides, you can't explain much in ten words. He needs to know everything that happened. He may not even want to come home just for this. Mrs. Logan's relatives are pretty important people, and he might think visiting them is more important than this."

Blanche considered that highly unlikely, but she had to agree that Josh needed to know all the details. "All right," she said, and then called, "Candace, can you scare me up some paper and a pen?" Candace did so, and when Blanche was comfortably seated by the bed, Grady began to tell her exactly what had been happening around the ranch the past few days, strange events that had culminated in Grady's ambush.

"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."