As if on cue, the other men scrambled into motion and back over to their places at the table, where they began to eat with enthusiasm.
Felicity wasn't quite sure what she should do next, so she did nothing.
Josh, satisfied that the men had been taken care of, turned back to Felicity. He looked her up and down, noticing things about the simple gingham dress he had never suspected. "I see it fits," he said with elaborate nonchalance.
Self-conscious once again, Felicity glanced down at the dress she wore and nervously smoothed the skirt with one hand. "It fits perfectly. Everything does," she added, making a vague reference to the myriad undergarments she wore. To her horror, she could feel the color rising in her cheeks again. Resolutely, she pulled herself up to her full five feet nothing and met his gaze, flinching only slightly at the directness of those silver eyes.
The dress did fit perfectly, he acknowledged silently. In fact, it fit a little too perfectly. Seeing the way the light cotton fabric hugged her small, round breasts and that slender waist, he realized that no man in his right mind would ever mistake her for a child now. His cowboys had judged her age correctly, if the way they'd been sniffing around her was any indication. Maybe he'd made a terrible mistake in burning that old baggy dress of hers.
Josh cleared his throat. "Are you joining us for supper?" he asked, half hoping that she would say no. Perversely, he wanted to send her back to the bedroom and lock her in, out of sight of the other men.
Felicity frowned, understanding only too clearly that he didn't want her to eat with the men and wondering if there was some reason why she shouldn't. "Yes," she said, hastily adding, "if it's all right."
"Let's eat, then," he suggested with resignation. Then, from some distant part of his memory, an image stirred of a time when life at the Rocking L had included a lady. Vaguely, he recalled his father escorting his mother into the dining room, and for once the memory brought no pain. Without bothering to question the impulse, Josh offered his guest his arm, as he had seen his father do for his mother countless times.
Felicity stared at it for a moment. Shyly, she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and allowed him to lead her the rest of the way into the dining room.
Hardly daring to let herself touch him, she rested her hand as lightly on his arm as she could and kept her eyes lowered until he had seated her in the nearest empty chair. Good heavens! Her face felt like it was on fire, and so did the rest of her. She knew it was just embarrassment at making such a spectacle of herself. It had to be.
Josh looked down at the top of her golden head as he pushed her chair in. She was such a little, innocent thing. A girl like this had no place among the rough men who populated the Rocking L, and if she stayed here, she certainly wouldn't be innocent for very long. No, Josh knew he had made a mistake, and he would rectify it as soon as he could. In a few days, whenever Blanche returned from her trip, he'd have to take her over there.
Felicity barely had time to recover her composure when one of the men set a plate of food in front of her. Glancing up, she saw Mr. Logan helping himself from serving bowls placed on the sideboard. She already knew that the usual method of service on a ranch was every man for himself.
She turned back to her benefactor. "Oh, thank you, but you don't need to wait on me!" she assured him.
The man, who she vaguely recalled was named Gus, grinned and told her it was his pleasure, drawing a series of moaning taunts from the other men for his trouble. Felicity looked down the long table where Mr. Logan was just taking his seat. He gave Gus a disapproving look but said nothing.
Felicity noticed that the other men had already gobbled up half their meals, and Mr. Logan wasted no time in digging into his own.
Felicity watched in surprise for a moment and then said, "Excuse me."
Every movement abruptly ceased and all eyes turned, once again, expectantly to her.
She stammered, "Is… isn't anyone going to ask the blessing?"
Stunned silence greeted her question.
Josh didn't know whether to be annoyed or amused. He tried to recall the last time a meal at the Rocking L had been prayed over, and could not. When it became increasingly apparent that no one was going to be able to eat until today's meal had been, however, Josh shrugged resignedly. "Maybe you'd like to do it, Felicity," he suggested.
She really preferred not to, of course, but obviously no one else was about to volunteer. Primly, she folded her hands, closed her eyes, and bowed her head. "Thank you, Lord, for the bounty of this table. Bless the food to the nourishment of our bodies and bless the hands that prepared it. Amen," she said, reciting words that were as natural and familiar to her as breathing.
When she lifted her head, she was startled to note that she was the only one who had bowed for the prayer. Everyone else was simply staring at her, waiting. Honestly, didn't they have anything better to do than stare at her? "Amen," she repeated loudly, and reached for her fork.
"Smells like Cookie made something worth praying over tonight," someone remarked as the men resumed their eating.
"Yeah, and I'll bet Miss Felicity had something to do with it, too," Grady commented, giving her a sly smile.
Felicity looked up, surprised that they had guessed her secret so quickly, but then Cody said, "Cookie never bakes fancy stuff when it's just us. Maybe we ought to think about keeping Miss Felicity around permanent."
Felicity gave him a small smile to acknowledge his compliment. She did not notice Mr. Logan's second frown of disapproval.
Since custom prohibited conversation during meals, no one spoke again until everyone had finished eating. Then they waited expectantly as Cookie carried out the pies.
"Come and get 'em," he called.
The men made a dash for the sideboard, where Cookie had set the pies. Felicity couldn't help but smile to notice that every man claimed an entire pie for himself. Some of them simply dug in with a fork, while others took the time to slice theirs and pick up each individual piece to devour it.
"You outdid yourself this time, Cookie," Grady declared when he had disposed of his first piece. The others readily concurred.
The cook grunted sourly. "I never had nothing to do with them pies. Miss Felicity made them."
A moment of silence greeted this announcement, and then the room exploded with compliments and reaffirmations that they were all very glad indeed that Miss Felicity had come to visit.
Shyly, she lifted her gaze to where Mr. Logan sat, but when her eyes met his, her heart sank down to her shoes. He wasn't pleased. He wasn't pleased at all.
As Josh listened to the men raving over Felicity, his expression grew grimmer and grimmer. Even the pie-which was, he admitted grudgingly, the best he'd ever had-began to taste like sawdust as he watched them mooning over her. As delicious as the pie was, he knew she'd be a much sweeter morsel, and he guessed the rest of them knew it, too. At least none of them would pass up an opportunity to find out.
After what seemed like hours, the men finally finished off every last crumb of the pies. Ordinarily, at this point they would have adjourned to the front porch for a smoke, but today no one was about to move from the room as long as Miss Felicity was in it. Felicity picked at her pie, trying not to feel unnerved at the attention she was getting. After a few moments of hemming and hawing, Cody Wells, who had managed to claim the seat to her immediate right, thought of something to say to break the silence.
"Your wagon… it said you're a photographer," he ventured.
Felicity looked up. "Yes… that is, my father was," she admitted reluctantly, not wanting to pursue the subject of her late father.
As if sensing her wishes, he skirted that topic. "Do you know how to make pictures, too?" he asked hopefully.