Give Me Tonight

"Not that it matters much to you, but I'd pla

"I'm sorry," she whispered, dry-mouthed.

"I figure looking for you for two hours entitles me to know what the hell you were doing."

"I… I don't know."

"You don't know," he repeated, his temper exploding. "Of course you don't know. God knows what possessed me to think you did."

"Ben, she's not feeling good,” Cade protested, keeping Addie's hand securely in his. Although he was just a boy, she felt a surprising amount of comfort in his presence.

"It's all right," she said to Cade, keeping her voice steady with an effort. "I don't care what he says."

"Typical," Ben snapped, turning his attention back to the dirt road in front of them. "You don't care about what anyone says. In fact, I can list on one hand the things you do care about. Dances. Dresses. Men. That's fine, since in the whole scheme of things it doesn't matter what you choose to do with your time. But I draw the tine at the point when you start to interfere with the ru

"Ben," Cade said, "you know nobody can understand you when you get started with all those fancy words-"

"I understood everything he said," Addie interrupted, her terror lessening. Whether this was a dream or not, Ben Hunter was only a man. A dirty, cowardly man who had brutally killed her great-grandfather. She stared at him with loathing in her eyes. "I also understand that he has no right to give me a lecture about anything, not after what he's done."

"What are you talking about?" Ben's sharp glance silenced her immediately. Her spurt of bravery dried up, and she was speechless for several minutes, cowed into silence.

As they came to the edge of Warner land, a line rider rode up to greet them, and Ben exchanged a curt nod with him. Despite his mustache, the rider appeared to be only a few years older than Cade, and utterly bored with his duty of chasing down strays and keeping neighbors' animals off Warner property. Sooner or later every cowboy had to take his turn at line riding.

"How's everything?" Ben asked, tilting his hat back on his head and regarding the boy quizzically.

"Pretty good. Branded a calf today, one somebody missed durin' roundup."

"One of ours?"

The boy shrugged. "Most likely it strayed from the Double Bar. But they took one of ours last fall." Respectfully he touched the brim of his hat as he looked at Addie. "Miss Adeline."

As the cowboy rode off, Addie stared at Cade with wide eyes. "But putting the Sunrise brand on someone else's calf is stealing."

"Aw, Addie, you know an unbranded calf is fair game. Besides, you heard him. They took one of ours last fall. Now everything's fair."

"It isn't right-" she persisted, and Ben cut her off tersely.

"At the very least, it'll teach the Double Bar to keep their strays off our home grass."

"I'd expect those kinds of standards from you," she replied stiffly. "But to teach a boy Cade's age that stealing is right… it's criminal."

Suddenly Ben smiled. There was a malicious glint in his eyes as he glanced at her over his shoulder. "Just how do you think your father got his start in the ranching business, Miss Adeline?"

"My father?" she repeated, and flushed with confusion.

But I don't have a father.

"Yes, your father. He started out by working for another rancher and collecting his own little herd of rustled strays. Ask him sometime. He'll admit it without a second thought. "

Cade seemed unruffled by the information. Apparently he had heard it before. What kind of men were these? What kind of morality was this? Addie averted her eyes from both of them, wondering at the easy way in which Ben had cut her down. Apparently he had known her long enough to have developed a distinct dislike for her, enough to feel comfortable in mocking her. In his eyes there was no respect for her, nothing but coldness.

The buggy traveled parallel to a gentle stream, and it was miles before any buildings were in sight. The main house was a three-story structure that dominated the center of the Sunrise Ranch, an elegant building with fluttering white lace curtains and a wide porch. To the right there were a corral and a large bunkhouse, to the- left a considerable number of buildings and sheds. It looked like a small town in itself. The scene was liberally dotted with hired hands, horses, and a frisky dog. The sounds of woodchopping and tuneless singing mingled with the shouts and noises that accompanied the busting of a pony in the corral.

The buggy stopped in front of the main house, and Addie was motionless, paralyzed with bewilderment. What now? What was expected of her? Cade hopped out and stood by the side of the vehicle to help her down.

"Come on and get out," he said, gri

"Stay with me," she said quickly, clinging to his arm after she had descended from the buggy. His was the only friendly face she saw, and she would rather have him near her than be alone.

Cade pulled his arm away from her, however, and started off toward the corral. "Let Ben take you in," he said over his shoulder. "I think that's what he plans to do anyway."

"Damn right it is," came Ben's hard voice behind her, and before Addie could flinch away, her upper arm was compressed in a steely grip. "Let's go have a talk with Daddy, Miss Adeline."

She shuddered at his touch, finding it repulsive, but he propelled her up the steps and across the porch with an easy twist of his hand. Addie could sense his considerable strength as he ignored her attempt to resist him. He opened the front door without knocking, and she caught a glimpse of walnut paneling and rich velvet pile carpets before she was pulled to a room that appeared to be the library. There was a combination of masculine scents in the room, saddle oil and cigar smoke, leather and wood.

"Russ? Ben said, releasing Addie's arm as the man in the library turned to face them. "I thought you'd be here."

"You're back late," Russell Warner replied. He looked like an older version of Cade, though his honeybrown hair was frosted with silver and he had a thick, close-trimmed mustache. He was a robust man with healthy coloring and a well-groomed appearance. Some men wore their authority naturally, as if its weight made no impression on their shoulders. Russell was of that class. He was a man who had been born to lead others. As he looked at Addie fondly, his eyes twinkled. "Looks like my baby's led someone on a wild-goose chase again." There was a painful thumping in Addie's chest as she stared at him.

This is my great-grandfather. And he thinks I'm his daughter. They all think I'm Adeline Warner.

She heard nothing of the conversation between the two men, just stood there quietly, exhausted from emotional strain, sick of the nightmare, and wanting nothing more than for it to be over. Then she was aware that Russell was speaking to her.

"Adeline," he said gravely, "this time you went too far. This is serious, honey, and it's time to do some explain in '. Cade and Ben thought somethin' happened to you. What were you doing in town that made you so late?"

She stared at him dumbly, shaking her head. Should she make up something? Play along with this?

A new voice entered the conversation, a feminine voice. "What's going on, Russ?"

Addie spun around to see a woman in the doorway, a slender woman in her late forties. From having seen old pictures of her before, Addie knew that it was May Warner, Russell's wife. She had cornflower-blue eyes and an oval-shaped face that wore a tender expression. Her smooth blond hair was braided in an intricate knot at the nape of her neck, and covered with an indoor cap of lace fastened with a coquettish spray of flowers at the side.