Give Me Tonight

1

THE DREAM NEVER CHANGED, ONLY BECAME MORE vivid each time it happened. She could recall every detail even in her waking moments. The strangeness of the images never failed to alarm her. It wasn't like Addie to think of such things… no, she was practical and sensible, never given to the kinds of reckless adventures her friends tried to involve her in. What would they think if they knew about the dream that returned to plague her so many nights? She would never tell a soul about it. It was a moment of madness, too personal to confide in anyone.

Her body was relaxed in slumber. Gradually she seemed to awaken, realizing that someone else was in the room, circling the bed with quiet steps. She kept her eyes closed, but her heart started to beat fast and strong. Then there was no movement in the silence, and she held her breath as she waited for a touch, a sound, a whisper. Gently the mattress depressed with the heavy weight of a man's body-a phantom lover, faceless and nameless, bent on possessing her as no one ever had. She tried to roll away from him, but he stopped her, pressing her back into the pillows. A heady masculine scent filled her nostrils, and she was gathered in hard-muscled arms, pinned underneath him, filled with his warmth.

His hands swept over her skin, circling her breasts, slipping between her thighs, and as he touched her she writhed, burning with pleasure. She begged him to stop, but he laughed softly and kept tormenting her. His mouth was hot on her neck, her breasts, her stomach. Then blinding desire coursed through her, and she wrapped her arms around him, drawing him closer, wanting him desperately. No words were exchanged between them as he made love to her, his body surging over hers like a slow, pounding surf.

Then the dream changed. Suddenly she found herself on the front porch, and the sky was heavy with the ripe darkness of midnight, and someone was standing in the street, staring at her. It was an old man, his face concealed by the shadows. She didn't know who he was or what he wanted, but he knew her. He even knew her name.

"Adeline. Adeline, where have you been?"

She was frozen with fear. She wanted him to leave, but her throat was locked and she couldn't speak. It was then that Addie always woke up, perspiring and breathless. It was so vivid… it had seemed real. It always did. She didn't have the nightmare too often, but sometimes the dread of it was enough to make her afraid to sleep.

Sitting up slowly, Addie wiped her forehead with the corner of the sheet and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her head was spinning. Although she was quiet, she must have awakened Leah, who was a light sleeper.

"Addie?" came a voice from the next room. "I need my medicine."

"Be right there." She stood up and took a deep breath, feeling as if she'd run a long distance. After she administered the medicine and Leah's pain began to fade, Addie sat down on the bed and looked at her aunt with a disturbed expression. "Leah, have you ever dreamed about people you've never met, things you've never done, but somehow it all seems familiar?"

"I can't say I have. I only dream about things I know." Leah yawned widely. "But I don't have your imagination, Addie."

"But when it seems like it's really happening-"

"Let's talk about it in the morning. I'm tired, honey."

Reluctantly Addie nodded, giving her a brief smile before going back to her own room, knowing they wouldn't talk about it tomorrow.

Addie walked into the bedroom and set down her purse, humming along with the radio as it played "I'd Be Lost Without You." Her arrival was a welcome relief to Leah, who was permanently confined to the bed, an invalid for the past five years. Aside from the radio in the comer and the woman they had hired to stay with her occasionally, Addie was her only connection to the world outside.

They made an odd pair, a maiden aunt and her twenty-year-old niece. There were few similarities between them. Leah was from a time when women had been fussed over, protected and sheltered, kept in ignorance about matters pertaining to the intimate relationship of a husband and wife. Addie was a modem young woman who could drive an automobile and bring home a paycheck. Unlike the Gibson girls of Leah's generation, she hadn't been sheltered from hardship or knowledge. Addie knew what it was like to work. And she knew, as her friends did, not to trust in the future. They had all been taught that only here and now mattered.

To wait, save, and hope for better things was naive. To believe in nothing was the only way to be safe from disillusionment. They overdosed on sex and sophistication, until the novelty of their outrageous behavior wore off and it was commonplace. Women smoked as much as they pleased in public, and passed around flasks of strong drink under the table. They kicked their legs high as they danced the Charleston, and used rough language that once would have caused any man to blush. It was fun to be young and frivolous, fun to go to movies, listen to jazz, park in their shiny black Fords and flirt and tease their boyfriends long past midnight.

They were a hard-bitten lot, but Leah took comfort in the fact that her niece was less brittle than the rest of her friends. Addie had an understanding of responsibility, and innate compassion for others. She hadn't always been that way. As a child Addie had been willful, intractably selfish, disrespectful of Leah's authority. But a hard life had taught Addie bitter lessons that had softened her pride and gentled her spirit, turning her willfulness into an inner core of steel. Now many others drew constantly from Addie's strength: the patients she nursed at the hospital, the friends who called for her help when they needed her, and most of all Leah herself. Leah needed her more than anyone else.

The tune on the radio changed to "Blue Skies," and Addie sang along with the chorus.

"You're off-key," Leah observed, sitting up in bed, and Addie bent over to place a smacking kiss on her forehead.

"I'm always off-key."

"How is everything in town?"

"The same," Addie said matter-of-factly, shrugging. "No work. People standing on street corners with nothing to do except chin-wag. This afternoon the line at the unemployment relief station is all the way down to the barbershop."

Leah clicked her tongue. "Goodness gracious."

"Nothing interesting to tell you today. No new gossip, nothing going on. Except there's the strangest old man wandering around town." Addie walked over to the nightstand and picked up a spoon, flipping the bowl of it against her palm as she spoke. "I saw him outside the apothecary shop after I picked up your medicine. He looks like one of those old drovers-heavy beard, long hair, and kind of a weather-beaten face."

A tired smile crossed Leah's face. She was paler than usual and strangely listless. During the past few months her perfectly white hair had lost its brilliance, her dark-eyed liveliness had all but vanished, leaving behind a mixture of resignation and peace.

"Lots of old cowboys wandering around nowadays. Nothing strange about that."

"Yes, but he was standing outside the shop as if he was waiting for me to come out. He looked at me so hard, just staring and staring, and he didn't stop until I reached the end of the street. It gave me the strangest feeling, all creepy inside. And he must have been around seventy or eighty years old!"

Leah chuckled. "Older men always like to look at a pretty girl, honey. You know that."

"The way he looked at me made my skin crawl." Addie grimaced and reached for a green glass bottle. It was one of a large assortment of medicines on the nightstand, medicines that could not cure the relentless spreading of cancer through Leah's body but eased the pain of it. Dr. Haskin had said it was all right for her to take a dose whenever necessary. Now every hour of her day was punctuated with a spoonful of opiated syrup. Carefully Addie held a spoon up to Leah's lips and used a handkerchief to dab at a stray drop which had fallen on her chin.

"There. You'll feel better in just a minute."

"I already feel better." Leah reached for her hand. "You should be visiting with your friends instead of fussing over me all the time."

"I like your company more." Addie smiled, her dark brown eyes gleaming impishly. For all its charm, her face was not spectacular. Her cheekbones were blunt and her jawline too pronounced. However, she gave the impression of striking beauty. She had an allure no one could precisely describe, a luminous warmth that shone through her skin, a ripe intensity in the color of her eyes and honey-brown hair. Jealous women could point out the flaws in her looks, but most men considered her to be nothing less than perfect.

Addie set the spoon down on the bedside table and eyed the high stack of sensational novels filled with stories of helpless maidens, daring deeds, and villains foiled by conquering heroes. "Reading these again?" she asked, and clicked her tongue at Leah. "Are you ever going to behave?"

The gentle teasing pleased Leah, who had always prided herself on having plenty of spunk. Until the cancer had struck she had been the most active and independent woman in Sunrise. The idea of marriage, or any other claim on her freedom, had never tempted her. But she admitted it had been a blessing in disguise when Addie had come to live with her.

The child and a nominal inheritance had been left to her at the unexpected death of her sister and brother-in-law. Raising a three-year-old girl had been a responsibility that changed Leah's life, making it richer than she had ever thought possible. Now at the age of sixty, Leah seemed happy as a spinster. Addie was the only family she needed.

Although Addie had been born to Sarah and Jason Peck and brought up in North Carolina for the first three years of her life, she couldn't remember any other parent but Leah, any other home but this little town in central Texas. She was a Texan down to the marrow of her bones, had inherited the Texans' lazy way of speaking and flat, stretched-out accent, their need for open sky, their hot temperament and deep-rotted sense of honor. She had inherited the strength and backbone of the Warner family, which had risen to greatness and fallen into decay long before Addie was born.

The Warners had founded the town of Sunrise near an overland trail that was eventually replaced by miles of railroad track. Texas cattle had stamped out that trail, tough, hardy longhorns with square faces and eyes that glittered with the fire and meanness of the Mexican fighting bulls they had descended from. Twice a year the longhorns were driven up north on long trail drives to Kansas, Missouri, and Montana.

It had taken tough men to run those cattle drives, men who couldn't afford to have families, men who were willing to live in the saddle for weeks on end, breathing thick dust and eating food that had been cooked over a fire made with dried buffalo dung or cattle chips. But in spite of the hardships, there was freedom in the life they had chosen, and an irresistible challenge in taming the longhorns and the land they rode. Leah often entertained Addie with endless stories about Russell Warner, her great-grandfather, who had owned one of the largest spreads in Texas.

Now the time of cattle barons and their huge cattle outfits was over. The range was no longer free and open, it was fenced into barbed-wire pens. Everyone had a little piece of Texas. The cowboys, the life and spirit of the old system, had drifted west, or turned into homesteaders, or even turned to rustling. The clumsily sprawling acres that had once been the Sunrise Ranch were now covered with oil workers, metal fences, and oil rigs. Addie felt sorry for the old cowboys that ocasionally wandered through town, so taciturn and resigned to the fact that the only kind of life they could· ever belong to had been taken away from them. Old men with no place to rest.

"See this?" Addie held up the green glass bottle and turned it in the sunlight. "The man I was telling you about-his eyes were exactly this color. Real green, not just muddy hazel. I've never seen anything like it. "

Leah shifted against her pillow, looking at her with sudden interest. "Who is he? Did anyone mention his name?"

"Well, yes. Everyone was whispering about him. I think someone said his name was Hunter."

"Hunter." Leah put her hands up to her cheeks.

"Ben Hunter?"

"That sounds about right."

Leah seemed aghast. "Ben Hunter. After all this time. After fifty years. I wonder why he'd come back. I wonder what for."

"He used to live here? Did you know him?"

"No wonder he was staring at you. No wonder. You're the spitting image of my Aunt Adeline. He must have thought she'd come back from the grave." Pale and upset, Leah reached out to the nightstand for a headache powder, and Addie rushed to the water pitcher to get her something to wash it down with. "Ben Hunter, an old man," Leah muttered. "An old man. And the Warner family all split up and moved away. Who would have dreamed it back then?"

"Here, drink this." Addie pressed the cool glass into one of Leah's hands and sat down next to her, patting the other hand with unconscious vigor. Leah downed the powder and a few sips of water, then clasped the glass with trembling hands. "My goodness, why are you so upset?" Addie chided quietly, hardly knowing what to say. "What did this Ben Hunter ever do to you? How did you know him?"

"There are so many memories. Lord have mercy, I'd never have guessed he'd live this long. He's the one, Addie. The one who killed your great-grandfather Russell. "

Addie's mouth dropped open. "The one who-"

"The man who ruined the family and the Sunrise Ranch, and killed Grampa Warner."

"He's a murderer, and he's just walking around free as a bird? Why isn't he locked up somewhere? Why didn't they hang him for killing Russell?"

"He was too slick. He hightailed it out of town as soon as people began to realize he was the one who'd done it. And if that old man you saw today really was Ben Hunter, then it seems he was never caught."

"I'll bet it was him. He looks like the kind of man who's capable of murder."

"Is he still handsome?"

"Well… I guess… for an old man. Maybe some old woman would want him. Why? Was he handsome when he was younger?"

"The best-looking man in Texas. That's not a yarn, either. He was something else. And everyone liked him, even though there were rumors he'd been a mavericker and even a rustler. Charming when he wanted to be, smart as a whip. Why, he could read and write so well that some said he'd graduated from some fancy eastern college."

"And he was just a ranch hand?"

"Well, a little more than that. Russell made him foreman just a week or two after he came here. But after he arrived, things went sour."

"What kinds of things? Problems with the cattle?"

"Much worse than that. The first spring after Ben first appeared on the doorstep, my Aunt Adeline-the one you were named after-disappeared. She was only twenty years old. Ben took her and her brother Cade to town one day, and when it came time to leave, they couldn't find her. It was like she'd vanished into thin air. The whole county looked for day and night for weeks, but they never found a trace of her. At the time no one blamed Ben, but later on people began to suspect he'd had something to do with her disappearance. There was never any love lost between the two of them. "

"That hardly proves he did anything to make her disappear."

"Yes, but he was the most likely suspect. And then just after fall roundup Grampa Warner was found dead in his bed, strangled."

Though she'd heard that part of the story before, Addie's face wrinkled with disgust. "How awful. But how did you know for certain Ben Hunter did it?"

"The cord that was used to strangle Russell was a string from Ben's guitar. He was the only one on the ranch who played the guitar. Oh, he could make the most beautiful sounds with it. Music would just float out over the house at night." Leah shuddered delicately. "I was just a little girl then. I would lie in bed and listen to that music, thinking it was just like angels' songs. And there was something else they found… oh, yes, a button off Ben's shirt, right there by the body."

"Sounds to me like he was guilty."

"Everyone thought so. And he had no alibi. So he sneaked out of town in a hurry and he's never been seen or heard from since. If he'd come back before now, he'd have been dry-gulched in a minute. But now I guess he figures he's too old for anyone to want to hang him."

"I don't know about that. People around here have long memories. I think he's bought himself a whole lot of trouble by coming back. I wonder if it really is Ben Hunter. Do you think he's sorry about killing Russell?"

"I don't know." Leah shook her head doubtfully. "I wonder why he did it."

"He's the only one who really knows. Most people think he was paid to do it. Grampa Warner had a lot of enemies. Or maybe it was… something about a will… I never understood." Leah sank back into the pillow, suddenly exhausted. Addie gripped her slender hand tightly as she felt it go limp. "Don't you ever go near him," Leah said breathlessly. "Don't ever. Promise me."

"I promise I won't."

"Oh, Addie, you look so much like her. I'm afraid of what might happen if he gets near you again."

"Nothing would happen," Addie said, unable to understand why Leah's eyes were so feverishly bright. "What could he do? He's the one who should be afraid, not us. I hope someone tells the police about him. No matter how old he is, justice is justice, and he should pay for what he did."

"Just stay away from him, please."

"Shhh. I won't go near him. Don't fret." Addie waited until Leah fell into a troubled sleep. Then she stood up and walked over to the window staring outside. She remembered a leathery face the color of tobacco, and startling emerald eyes. Had that old man stared at her like that because she resembled Adeline Warner? She wondered how close the likeness might be. Never having seen any pictures of her, Addie had only Leah's assurances that she looked like Adeline. There were no photographs, no keepsakes, nothing to prove that Adeline Warner had ever existed, save a carefully inscribed name in the family Bible.

Disappeared. How could someone disappear without a trace? Every time she'd heard mention of the missing Adeline, the mystery of it had fascinated her. Today was the first time she'd ever heard about Ben Hunter having something to do with it. Unable to contain her curiosity, she pressed Leah about it when she brought in her dinner tray that night.

"Just how much am I like Adeline?"

"I've always said you're the living image of her."

"No, I don't mean looks. I mean the way she was. Do I ever act like she did, or talk the way she did? Do I like some of the same things?"

"What strange questions to be asking, Addie. What does it matter how much like her you are?"

Addie stretched out at the foot of the bed, smiling lazily. "I don't really know. Just curious."

"I guess I can tell you a few things. You're very different from Adeline Warner, honey. There was something a little wild about her, something exciting, and it didn't sit well on a girl her age. She was spoiled by everybody. " Leah paused and her eyes became soft and distant. "Adeline was sweet as sugar when she got her own way, and that was pretty often. But there were things about her that made me uneasy. I was fascinated by Aunt Adeline, thought she was the most beautiful woman alive, even more beautiful than my mother. But she was a schemer. And people never seemed to mean as much to her as money."

"Did people like her?"

"Goodness, yes. All the Warners doted on her. Her father was just wild about her. She was Grampa Warner's favorite child, even though Cade was his only son. And every man in the county fell in love with her sooner or later. The men went crazy for her. And 0l' Man Johnson-when he was young, he lost his head over her, never did recover from her disappearing like that. She had him in her spell, just like she had everyone else."

"Definitely not like me," Addie said ruefully, and chuckled. "Now, if only I looked like Mary Pickford, no man around here would stand a chance."

"You don't give yourself the chance, honey. The only men you see are the ones in the hospital. Veterans of the war. Crippled and tired men-it's not good that you spend all your spare time nursing and taking care of them. You should be visiting with young men your own age. Going to dances and parties instead of hiding here with me."

"Hiding?" Addie repeated the word indignantly. "I am not hiding from anything. I like to spend my time with you."

"But there are times when you could call one of the neighbors to come and stay with me a few hours. You don't have to be here all the time."

"You're talking like it's a terrible chore to be here with you. But you're the only family I have. I owe you everything. "

"I wish you wouldn't say that." Leah turned her attention to the dinner tray and salted everything on the plate with a heavy hand. "I wish I could know I've done right by you. I don't want you to wind up an old maid, Addie. You should be married and have children."

"If the Lord intends that, he'll send the right man along-"

"Yes, but you'll be so busy taking care of me, someone else'll get him."

Addie laughed. "One thing's for sure. If I do end up married, it won't be to anyone I've met so far. There's no one in Sunrise I'd have as a husband. And the only new man in town is Ben Hunter."

"Don't tease about him. He worries me. Even if you hadn't told me he was here, I'd still know something was wrong. It's like a shadow's fallen over the town."

"Isn't that strange? I feel like something's different in the air too. Like something's waiting to happen. Now that Ben Hunter's returned, wouldn't it be funny if the old Adeline suddenly appeared after fifty years of being missing?"

"She'll never come back," Leah said with utter certainty.

"Why not? Do you think he killed her?"

Leah was quiet for a long time, her gaze becoming distant. "I've thought about it for years. I think her disappearing like that bothered me more than anyone except her daddy. I never stopped wondering what happened on that day she vanished. It's haunted me all my life. I think something strange happened to her, something different from being killed or kidnapped, or running away, like most folks said. People just don't disappear like that, not without some clue about what became of them."

"So you don't think Ben Hunter killed her?"

"I don't think he knew anything about what happened to her."

Addie felt a little chill chase down her spine. "It's like a ghost story."

"There's someone I always wanted to talk to about it-one of the old cowpunchers at the Sunrise Ranch, a man by the name of Diaz. A superstitious old Mexican who had his own ideas about such things. Everyone used to love to hear his stories. He'd talk for hours about stars, magic spells, and ghosts, just about anything you could think of. Sometimes he could predict the future, and more often than not it'd come true. "

Addie grinned. "How? Did he look into a crystal ball or something?" -

"I don't know how. Diaz was just odd. He could make the craziest things seem natural, and since he believed in them, he could almost make you believe too. But he left the ranch for good before I could work up enough nerve to ask him what he thought about Aunt Adeline disappearing. "

"That's too bad," Addie said pensively. "It would be interesting to know what he would have said."

"It sure would."

Addie went out on Friday with Bernie Coleman to see the new all-talking feature at the movie house. Mr. Turner, the theater owner, had just installed sound equipment last year, and the whole town of Sunrise went enthusiastically to see the latest pictures. Coquette was Mary Pickford's first talkie, and Addie had been enchanted not only by the fine acting but also by Mary's new bobbed hairstyle.

"I think I'll get my hair cut short and curly," she mused as Bernie walked her home, and he laughed, leaning close and pretending to examine her straight honey-brown hair.

"You with her curls? That's the limit."

Addie smiled at him, wrinkling her nose. "I could get a permanent wave."

"Baby, compared to you, Mary Pickford's not so hot."

"You're sweet," she said, and laughed as she slipped her hand into his. On the outside, Bernie was slick and sophisticated. He tried to seem bored by everything, tried to view the world through jaded eyes, but Addie had long ago discovered the streak of kindness in him. No matter how well he hid it from others, Addie had seen on occasion that Bernie was tenderhearted, the kind of man that couldn't stand to see a hurt animal or an unhappy child. Because of his family's money and his blond good looks, he was considered to be a handsome catch, but Addie had no designs on him. That was, perhaps, why he was so interested in her. Men always seemed to want what they couldn't have.

Bernie's hand tightened around hers as they neared her house at the end of the street. Instead of leading her to the front doorstep, he took her into the shadows beyond the glow of the porch light. "Bernie, what are you doing?" Addie questioned, giggling. "This grass is wet, and my shoes-"

"Sign off for a minute, baby." He held a finger to her lips. "I want a few seconds alone with you."

Addie bit his finger playfully. "We could go in the house. Leah's upstairs, probably asleep."

"You're not the same in the house. You change into another girl as soon as you walk through the door." "I do?" She stared at him quizzically, more than a little surprised.

"Yes, you do. You get all dull and serious. I like you when you're dizzy and fun. You should be like this all the time."

"I can't be dizzy and fun all the time," Addie said with an impish smile. "I've got to work sometimes. I've got to worry sometimes. It's part of being an adult. "

"You're the only girl I know who talks like that." She stepped closer and put her arms around his neck, brushing her lips against his smooth cheek. "That's why you like me, slicker. I'm a novelty for you. "

"This is why I like you," he said, bending his head and kissing her. The feel of his mouth on hers was pleasant. To her, their kisses were friendly gestures, casual signs of affection. To Bernie, they were promises of better things to come.

Long ago Bernie had become aware that Addie didn't intend to let him go any further than this. But that didn't stop him from trying. In his mind there were two kinds of women, the ones he respected and the ones he didn't. In a way, he rather liked Addie the way she was. But if she ever did let him go as far as he wanted with her, it would be his dream-come-true to make her into the kind of woman he didn't respect.

"Addie," he said roughly, holding her tighter, "When are you going to say yes to me? When are you going to start living? Why don't you and I-"

"Because," she said, sighing ruefully. "Just because. Maybe I'm being a silly romantic, but I just think we should feel more for each other than this, if we were going to be closer."

"Things could be so good between us. I wouldn't ever hurt you." His voice dropped to a whisper as he pressed soft kisses on her lips. "I want to be the one to make you a woman. I know you haven't ever trusted anyone enough. But it'll be right for you and me, so damn natural and good. Addie… "

She twisted out of his arms with a choked laugh.

"Bernie, stop. I'm not ready for that, not with anyone. I… " She looked around and chuckled nervously, lowering her voice. "I can't believe we're having this conversation on the front lawn. I'll bet all the neighbors are listening. “

But he didn't share her amusement. He stared at her solemnly. "All I know is that something's wrong with a girl who locks herself away from life the way you do."

The accusation hurt. "I don't," she protested, more bewildered than angry. "Bernie, what's wrong? Just a minute ago, we were laughing-"

"Are you holding out for marriage?" he asked bluntly. "Is that why you won't make love with me?"

'I don't want to marry anyone. And I don't want to be anyone's… you know. I don't feel that way with you. I like you, Bernie, but there has to be more. That doesn't mean I'm locking myself away from life."

"It does." His faced reflected his frustration. "The only people you care about in the world are your aunt and yourself, and the rest of us can go to hell."

"That's not true!"

"You don't connect with people," Bernie continued relentlessly. "You're in your own private world, and the only one you let in is Leah. But when she's gone, there won't be anyone for you. You've cut us all out. You won't give and you won't take."

"Stop it!" Suddenly the things he said were unbearable. She hated him for telling her, even if he was right. "I don't want to hear any more. And I don't want to see you again. "

"If this is all I'll ever get from you, the feeling is mutual, baby."

Addie backed away from him and fled up the steps, her eyes watering. In the morning, all she said to Leah about the date was that she and Bernie were finished. Leah was sensitive enough to keep from asking questions, seeming to understand what had happened without being told.

Over the next few days Addie didn't have time to think about Bernie. She was too busy taking care of Leah. There was no way to deny that time was catching up to Leah very quickly. It would not be held off much longer, not by medicine or prayers, not even by Leah's will to live. Daily the older woman 'was growing weaker and less interested in what was going on around her. Although this end was what Doc Haskin had led her to expect, Addie was moved by fear and helpless frustration to send for him.

The elderly doctor did nothing but sit by Leah's bed and talk to her quietly, his presence temporarily banishing her confusion and dullness of spirit. The sight of her aunt's feeble smile sent Addie's spirits soaring, which made it that much more difficult to bear what Doc Haskin said to her after he had left Leah's room.

"Not much more time, Addie."

"But… she's going to hold on a little longer. She's already looking better-"

"She's accepted what's going to happen," he said in his kindly way, his face as brown and wrinkled as a nutshell, creased with sympathy. A shock of silver hair fell over his brow as he looked down at her. "You'd better try to do the same. Help her go easy. Don't fight it. "

"Don't fight it? Don't… God in heaven, what are you saying? Don't you have anything that can help her? Some stronger medicine or-"

"I won't give you a lecture, my girl. I can't tell you anything about her you don't already know. All I can say is, it's going to be soon, and you should get ready for it."

Stricken, she turned away from him and tried to stifle the choking feeling that had risen in her throat. It was panic she was holding back, a primitive panic that would not be eased with any words of kindness. She felt Doc's frail hand on her shoulder, and heard his words as if he were standing far away from her.

"We've each got our time to live out on this earth, child. Some have more than others, but we all know when it's over. Leah's led the best life she could, and the Lord knows that. There's nothing for her to be afraid of, and nothing for you to do but follow her example. You've got the rest of your time to get through. "

Addie struggled to explain the terrible suspicion lurking in her heart. "Not without her. I'm afraid… "

"Afraid of her dying?"

"Y-yes. Oh, not about what'll happen to her… I know she's going to a better place, where there'll be no pain or… but without her, there's no reason for me to be here."

"Nonsense. Absolute nonsense. You're an important part of Sunrise. You belong here just as much as everyone else does."

"Yes," she whispered, biting back the burning words: I don't feel that way. I don't belong. She couldn't say it out loud. Ducking her head, she let herself cry, and Doc Haskin left her with a brief pat on the shoulder.

Addie could not fall asleep that night. Perhaps it was the pattering rain and claps of thunder, perhaps the gnawing worries about Leah, but she could barely keep her eyes closed. She jumped up and went to the next room to check on Leah every few minutes. There was an almost imperceptible shifting of her body, a restless twitching of her hands. Addie stared down at the white fingers plucking at the bedspread, and she put her hand over Leah's, hoping to calm it. So cold. Her skin feels cold.

Mechanically she straightened the covers and tucked them more tightly around Leah's shoulders. As she walked back to her room, Addie shivered. She felt strange tonight, light-headed, her heart beating rapidly, her very soul trembling with an unfamiliar emotion. She prayed feverishly, with words childlike in their simplicity. Please bless Leah. Please take her pain away. Help me to be brave. Help me to know what to do.

After minutes of kneeling by the bed with her hands clasped, Addie discovered the right side of her face was flattened against the mattress. She had nearly fallen asleep. One more check on Leah and she'd be able to nod off. Groggily she staggered up and went into the next room once more, standing by the bed. Leah was utterly still. The twitching had stopped.

"Leah? Are you all right?"

She touched Leah's hand. Waxen, still. Addie had seen that look before in the hospital. Her mind knew what it meant, but her heart denied it desperately. She needed Leah. Leah was her family, her responsibility, her comforter. With dreadful reluctance Addie circled her fingers around the boneless wrist, searching for a pulse. There was no throbbing there, nothing. She was dead.

"Oh, no. Oh, no." Slowly she backed away from the bed, unable to believe Leah was finally gone. The blow of it was worse than she had feared. Greater than the pain was the emptiness of knowing she would never talk to Leah again or be able to run to her for comfort.

The walls around her seemed to turn into the sides of a tomb. Panicking, Addie fled down the stairs and to the front door, fumbling with the knob and gulping back her sobs as it refused to turn. She tightened her grip on it and tried again, and then the door was opening and she was outside.

Holding on to one of the front porch columns, she was drenched by sheets of cold rain. Her nightgown was heavy as it clung to her body. Since the house sat just on the edge of Sunrise, Addie could see the town stretched out before her, the outlines of buildings and automobiles, the shine of wet pavement and the tiny distant figures of couples crossing the street. She leaned against the scratchy wooden post, feeling the coldness of the rain on her face. "Leah," she said, and her eyes brimmed with salty tears. "Oh, Leah."

Then slowly Addie became aware that someone was near, watching her. She had felt that gaze on her before, she recognized the chilling touch of it. She opened her eyes to look at him. Old Ben Hunter. He was standing in the street about ten feet away, his iron gray hair plastered to his head and dripping with water. In her shock, she didn't question how he had come to be there.

"Adeline. Adeline, where have you been?"

Addie shuddered. The dream, she thought. Standing with her arms wrapped around a post for support, she stared at the old man while the wind whipped against her face. The taste of grief was bitter in her mouth, the salt of tears fresh on her lips.

"There's no reason to come back." Her voice shook violently. "No Warners are left. What do you want?"

He seemed confused by her anger.

"Murderer," she whispered. "I hope you suffered for what you did to the Warners. I would've made you pay back then, if I'd been around fifty years ago."

It seemed that he tried to speak, but no words would escape. Suddenly Addie knew what he wanted to say, she could see the thought in his mind as if it were her thought too, and her face whitened with fear.

But you were around, Adeline. You were there. Paralyzed, she gripped the post and tried to say a prayer. Far down the street she could see people rushing through the storm from one building to another, dark shadow figures that became so blurred she couldn't tell how many there were. Addie was disoriented. The ground tilted and came up to meet her, and she could hear her own cry as she fell. The sound echoed through the darkness, a gentle darkness that swept over her in an inexorable tide. There was no fear or pain, only confusion. She could feel the world slipping away from her, leaving her in a dark void. Thoughts she didn't understand raced through her mind, thoughts that were not her own.

What have I left behind?

I didn't die… Leah…

Adeline, where have you been?

"Adeline, where have you been?" A boy's voice pierced through the darkness, waking her none too gently. "We've been looking for you everywhere. This really gets me! You were supposed to meet us two hours ago in front of the general store, and instead you decide to disappear. You're lucky I found you before Ben did! He's hit the roof about this, no kidding."

Addie raised a limp hand to her brow and opened her eyes. There appeared to be a small crowd of people standing over her. Bright sunlight seemed to bore right through her skull. Her temples were pounding with the worst headache she'd ever had, and the boy's impatient monologue wasn't helping. She wished someone would hush him up.

"What happened?" she mumbled.

"You fainted right outside the tobacco store," the boy said with disgust.

"I… I'm dizzy. I'm hot-"

"Don't use the sun as an excuse. If that isn't just like a girl. Faintin' all over the place whenever they're in trouble, and then everyone has to feel sorry for 'em. No use pretendin' with me. I know a real faint when I see one, and this didn't come up to scratch."

Addie opened her eyes wider and glared at him wearily. "You are the worst-mannered boy I've ever met. Your parents should be talked to about this. Where is your mother?"

"She's your mother too, and she's at home, blockhead." The boy, who could not have been over thirteen or fourteen, took hold of her arm with a surprisingly strong grasp and tried to haul her to her feet.

"Just who do you think you are? " Addie demanded, resisting his efforts to pull her up and wondering why the gawking people around them did nothing to interfere with the boy's assault on her.

"Your brother, Cade. Remember?" he inquired in tones saturated with sarcasm, and tugged her arm until she struggled to her feet and looked at him with astonishment. What an insane thing to say. Was this a joke? Or was he crazy? He was a stranger. But the sight of him was curiously familiar. With a sense of amazement, Addie realized she had seen him somewhere before. He was taller than she was, sturdy-limbed, glowing with the pent-up energy of an adolescent boy. Cade, if that was his name, was a handsome youth with shiny gold-brown hair and rich brown eyes. The shape of his face, the curve of his mouth, the tilt of his head… she knew it all.

"Y-you look like me," she stammered, and he grunted.

"Yeah. My bad luck. Now, come on. We gotta leave. "

"But Leah… " Addie started, and despite her bewilderment, she felt her eyes sting with remembered grief. "Leah-"

"What are you talking about? Leah's at home. What are you cryin' for?" Immediately the boy's voice softened. "Adeline, don't start leakin' all over the place. I'll handle Ben, if that's what you're worried about. He's got every right to be mad, but I won't let him yell atcha. "

Only half-hearing his words, Addie turned to look at the end of the street, wondering how she had gotten from her front porch to the middle of town. And then her heart stopped, and her grief over Leah's death was swamped by a wave of shock. The house was gone. The house Leah had brought her up in had disappeared. There was only empty space where it had once been.

"What's happened?" She put her hands over her chest to slow down the violent thunder of her heart. Nightmare, She was still in a nightmare. Her eyes wandered swiftly over the scene, searching for familiar things, finding only a trace here and there of the Sunrise she had known. Even the air smelled different. The paved street was a dirt road now, gouged with deep holes and thousands of hoofprints. The shiny Ford automobiles had disappeared, and there were only horses and wagons lined up in front of the woodenplank sidewalk.

The sedate little stores were gone, and… why, the whole street was practically nothing but saloons. Saloons! What about Prohibition? Had they just decided to ignore the law? No electric signs, no movie palace, no bakery, no strings of telephone wires along the street. Sunrise was nothing but gaudy painted signs and rickety storefronts… and the people… Good Lord, the people! It looked like they were all at a costume party.

The few women she could see had piled their hair on their head in heavy masses, and they wore long, cumbersome dresses with high necks and tight collars. There were cowboys everywhere, wearing sugar-loaf sombreros or low-crowned plainsman hats, soiled bandannas, heavy batwing chaps, spurs with filed-down rowels, boots with arches and pointed toes. Heavily bearded and mustached cowboys, weighted down with firearms and pouches of ammunition.

A half-circle of them stood right around Cade and Addie, hats held respectfully in their hands, staring at Addie with fascination, respect, and something approaching awe. The strangeness of the scene frightened her. She had lost her mind, or they were all playing a trick on her.

Let me wake up soon, oh, please let me wake up. I'll face anything rather than this. Just let me wake up so I know I'm not crazy.

Why are you lookin' around like that?" Cade demanded, taking her elbow and pulling her off the plank sidewalk into the street. He had to shoulder through the group of cowboys, who muttered expressions of concern until he said impatiently, " 'S all right. She didn't really faint. She's just fine."

Numbly Addie allowed him to lead her down the street. "We gotta find Ben," Cade said, sighing heavily. "He's been lookin' for you at this end of town. God Almighty, he must be hoppin' mad by now."

"Cade… " There was only one Cade she had ever heard of, and that was Leah's uncle. But Leah's uncle was an elderly gentleman who lived in the Northeast, a respected lawyer. Surely he had no connection with this impudent boy. She spike the name that was on the tip of her tongue, deciding at this point that there was nothing to lose. "Cade Warner?"

"Yes, Adeline Warner?"

No. No! I'm Addie Peck. Adeline Warner was my great-aunt-she disappeared fifty years ago. Oh, yes, I'm dreaming. But was Ben Hunter a dream too? Was Leah's death a dream?

"Where are we going?" she managed to ask, stifling a distraught laugh as she realized that she, too, was dressed in the confining clothes she had seen on the other women. She was swathed in a pink dress that pinched tightly at the waist. It was hard to walk in such heavy skirts.

"We're going home as soon as we can find Ben. Why were you two hours late? Flirting again? I don't mind you kickin' up your heels, but don't do it on my time again. I had stuff to do today!"

"I wasn't flirting."

"Then what were you doing?"

"I don't know. I don't know what's going on." Her voice cracked. Cade looked at her sharply, seeming to notice for the first time how pale she was.

"You feelin' all right, Adeline?" But she had no time to reply, because they came to a halt in front of a cast-iron-and-wood buggy with wicker seats, fancier than the other vehicles on the street, and Cade was helping her into it. "Just sit here while I go look for him," he directed. The wicker seat creaked as she settled into it, and she gripped the side of the buggy, hanging her head and breathing deeply. "I'll be back in a minute," Cade said.

As he left, she concentrated on fighting the nausea that was building inside of her. There was a distinct possibility she was going to lose the battle. Nightmare or not, I'm about to be sick. She looked around, and it seemed that everyone was staring at her. No, I can't. I can't let myself give in to it. By sheer force of will, Addie managed to conquer the waves that had started to rise from her stomach.

"Here she is." She heard Cade's purposely cheerful voice and lifted her head to look at him. Her heart stopped beating as she saw a dark figure swing into the buggy seat and take the reins in one hand. She couldn't move, she was frozen right in her place as the man turned back to pin her with cold green eyes.

Oh, God, it's him, she thought, terrified. But it can't be. He's supposed to be an old man.

"Have a nice time?" he asked softly, not seeming to expect an answer.

Her throat clenched with fear. He continued to give her that hard stare while the low brim of his hat shadowed part of his face, and she went cold all over as she realized that this was Ben Hunter. Ben Hunter, decades ago. She had seen those same green eyes in the face of an old man with long gray hair and a stringy frame. But this man had short-cropped black hair and eyebrows as dark as coal, and broad shoulders that strained the seams of his cotton shirt. He was cleanshaven, young, hard-faced.

Murderer.

"I think she feels kinda sick," Cade volunteered, hopping into the back beside Addie.

"Good."

Ben turned around and flicked the reins, and the buggy started forward with a jerk. Addie clung to her seat, her eyes dilated as she stared at him, just barely noticing they were heading out of town. Several minutes of strained silence followed, while Addie's shock increased with each rotation of the buggy wheels.

Questions flew through her mind too quickly to be cataloged. She watched the countryside roll by, land that was raw and fresh, unrefined. All the houses that should have been there were gone. Sunrise was a little outcrop in the middle of endless miles of land, prairie land that spread wide and unbroken toward the west, whispering quietly beneath the sound of the horse's hooves and the buggy wheels.

Where were the buildings, the roads, the automobiles, the people? She clasped her shaking hands together, wondering what was happening to her, and suddenly Cade took one of her hands. Startled, she let her fingers remain motionless in his, and she felt the warm clasp tighten.

Looking up quickly, she met his lively brown eyes, the same color as her own. There was casual affection in his expression, as if she truly were his sister. How could he look at her that way? He didn't even know her.

"Blockhead," Cade whispered, and smiled before giving her a poke in the ribs. She didn't even flinch, but continued to stare at him. Ben must have heard the whisper, for he turned around and looked at Addie in a way that sent a chill down her back.

"Not that it matters much to you, but I'd planned on being back at the ranch by now." Ben's voice was taut with exasperation.

"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 running of the ranch, infringing on my time and causing delays for everyone else. Did it ever occur to you that your closets full of clothes and your other extravagances are related to the amount of work that gets done on the ranch?"

"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, grinning at her encouragingly. "You know Daddy won't be mad for long. Not at you. Hurry up, I've got things to do."

"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.

As the woman slipped an arm around her shoulders, Addie could detect the sweet fragrance of vanilla that clung to her, as well as the fresh starch in her linen morning-collar. The fanlike sweep of her skirts brushed against Addie's as she squeezed her shoulders affectionately.

"Why is everyone bein' so dreadfully serious?"

May asked, and her laughing gaze seemed to soften Russell's countenance. Ben's expression didn't change.

"We're waiting for Adeline to explain why she was two hours late in town," Russell said, much more casual than before. "She cost us a lot of time and worry, May, and she's got to learn there's a time for games and a time for gettin' work done. But right now I want to know what she was doin' while Ben and Cade couldn't find her. "

Three pairs of eyes rested on Addie's face. She could hear a nearby clock ticking in the silence. She felt like a cornered animal. "I don't know," she said, her voice wavering. "I can't tell you because I don't know. The last thing I remember is being with Leah." Her voice broke as she tried to continue. It was all too much. She was too tired to face this any longer. "Leah…' The tension inside her snapped and she jerked her hand up over her eyes and she burst into tears.

She was vaguely aware of Ben leaving the room in disgust, and Russell's anxious promises of pocket money and bonbons to keep her from crying, and above all, May's soothing.

"I'm sorry," Addie choked, wiping her wet nose against the lacy frill of her sleeve, taking a handkerchief as it was thrust into her hand. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's happened. What have I done? Do you understand any of it?"

"She's overwrought. She just needs to rest," Addie heard May say, and she seized gratefully on the idea.

"Yes. I need to be alone. I can't think-"

"Everything's fine, sugar. Mama's here. Come upstairs with me."

Submitting to the gentle coaxing, Addie started to follow her out of the room, her head downbent. She saw a calendar on the small desk by the door.

"Wait," she said, breathing in shallow gasps as she saw the black numbers printed on the ivory paper. "Wait, She was afraid to look. But she had to. Even if it was a dream, she had to find out. The year. What was the year?

May paused in the doorway, while Russell stood behind her, both of them plainly confused by her behavior. Addie moved closer to the desk and ripped the top sheet off the calendar, holding it with hands that trembled so badly she could hardly read.

I880

The room reeled around her for one dizzying moment. "Is this right?" she asked hoarsely, extending it to May, who took it and read the date in an interested manner that was clearly intended to humor her. Addie waited with tightly clasped hands.

"No, it isn't right, sugar," May finally said. "This was two days ago." She walked over to the calendar and ripped off another sheet, crumpling it neatly and dropping it into the basket next to the desk. "There," she said with satisfaction. "Now we're right back on schedule. "

"Eighteen-eighty," Addie breathed. Fifty years ago. That’s impossible. I can't have gone back fifty years.

"Last time I checked, it was," May said cheerfully. "Now, come on upstairs, Adeline. You have no idea how tired you look. I've never seen you like this."

I880. Oh, yes, this was a dream. It could be nothing else. Numbly Addie followed her to a bedroom with fringe-trimmed curtains and elaborate flowered wallpaper. A brass bed with embroidered sheets and downy pillows was positioned between two windows. On the nightstand was a small crystal vase filled with wildflowers.

"Take a little nap, sugar," May said, pushing her gently toward the bed. "You're just tired, that's all. You can have a nice rest for a couple of hours. I'll have Leah wake you up."

Addie's pulse quickened. Leah was here? That couldn't be true. "I'd like to see her now."

"Rest first."

In the face of May's gentle insistence there was nothing Addie could do but take off her shoes and lie down on the bed. Her head sank into the softness of a pillow, and she turned her face into it with a grateful sigh, closing her burning eyes.

"Thank you," she mumbled. "Thank you so much."

"Feel better now?"

"Yes. Yes, I feel better. I just want to fall asleep. And never wake up. "

"I'll go downstairs and have a talk with your daddy. We won't talk about this afternoon anymore, not if it makes you upset. You know he'd never do anything to make you cry. Why, he'd get you the sun and moon if you wanted them. "

"I don't want the sun and moon." Addie whispered, barely aware of the light hand that smoothed her hair repeatedly. "I want to be back where I belong."

"You are where you belong, sugar. You are."

"Adeline? Aunt Adeline, it's time to wake up." A loud whisper broke into her slumber.

Addie awakened with a start, sitting up and squinting through the room. The walls were tinged a peach color as the setting sun cast its light through the windows. "Who is it?" she asked thickly, pushing her disheveled hair away from her face.

There was the sound of a little girl's giggle. "It's me. Grandma told me to wake you. "

Addie blinked to clear her vision. A child approached the bed, a skinny girl with gray eyes and long black braids.

"Leah," she said hoarsely. "Is that you?"

Another shy giggle. " 'Course it is."

"Come here. Come closer." The child hopped onto the bed beside her, and Addie touched one of her braids with a trembling hand. Her heart ached and her lips pulled at the comers with an unsteady smile. Good Lord, it is her. Leah! She had never been so stunned in her life. The woman who had raised her, disciplined her, fed and clothed her, given her pocket money, was standing right in front of her. But she was a little girl. She could see Leah in this child's face, could hear Leah in her voice. "Yes, it is you. I can see it. Tell me how old you are."

"I'm ten. My birthday was last month. Don't you remember?'

"No. I don't remember," Addie said huskily. "Why are you crying, Aunt Adeline?"

For you. For me. Because you're here and still lost to me. "Because I love you s-so much." Giving in to a powerful urge, she put her arms around the little girl and held her tightly. It didn't make her feel any better. Uncomfortable and bashful, Leah tolerated the embrace for only a few seconds before making a move to pull away. Immediately Addie let go and wiped her eyes.

"We're having fried chicken for dinner," Leah said.

"Your dress is all dirty. Are you gonna change?"

Addie shook her head slowly, wondering when all of this would end.

"Aren't you even gonna fix your hair?"

"M-maybe I should." Sitting on the edge of the bed, Addie jerked on her shoes. There was an ivorybacked brush on the painted dresser, and she pulled it through her hair after plucking the pins from the tangled mass. Same face, she noted as she looked in the mirror. Same eyes, same hair. "Leah," she said desperately, turning to face the little girl, "do I look the same to you as I always have? Is there anything different about me? Anything at all?"

Leah seemed puzzled by the question. "No. Nothin' is different. Do you want something to be?"

"I'm not sure." Addie faced the mirror again and brushed until her hair was smooth. She couldn't manage any styles as elaborate as those she had seen that day. Using a few hairpins, she pulled the front locks away from her face and let the rest fall down her back. After smoothing her bangs, she set the brush down and squared her shoulders. "I'm ready to go down now."

"Like that?"

"Yes. Is there anything wrong?"

"I guess not."

As they went downstairs, Addie noticed how beautiful the house was. The furniture was polished and elegant, draped with lace table covers and embroidered tidies for all the chairs and sofas. The curtains were made of expensive coarse linen in shades of chocolate brown and Thrkish red, while the carpets were boot-heel deep. The appetizing smells of food and coffee wafted through the air, awakening Addie's appetite and reminding her she hadn't eaten in a long time.

"There aren't going to be any leftovers when I get through with dinner," she said, aware that her stomach was beginning to growl insistently.

Leah wrinkled her forehead. "There aren't gonna be what?"

"Leftovers," Addie said, and as the girl continued to look confused, she realized the word wasn't familiar. "Extra food."

"Oh." Leah's brow cleared. They neared the dining room and the sound of easy conversation and clinking dishes. As they came to the doorway, all sound vanished. Everyone was staring at her. Even Cade had paused in mid-bite. The room was filled with people, most of whom seemed to be family members.

Addie's attention was drawn to a pair of icy green eyes, and she saw that Ben Hunter was seated at Russell's right hand. Ben was looking at her with subtly veiled contempt. His glance encompassed every detail of her appearance, the loose hair and flushed face, the warm and tumbled picture she presented, and a cynical smile touched his mouth. What was wrong? Why was everyone looking at her like that?

The silence deepened, and she stumbled forward to sit at the first empty chair she saw. "Don't you want to sit at your usual place, sugar?" came May's quiet voice. Addie stopped and went to the other side of the table, sinking gratefully into the chair beside May. Her appetite had vanished completely.

"Caroline, fix a plate for your sister, please," May directed, handing Addie's empty plate to a pretty blond woman across the table. Caroline… that was the name of Leah's mother. Does that mean she's my sister? Since she'd been cast in the part of Adeline Warner, it probably did. You'll know you're really insane when all of this starts making sense to you Addie.

"Heard you had quite a day today," Caroline said, giving Addie a teasing smile. "I also heard you're not tellin' a thing about it. Since when have you started to keep secrets from us? If it weren't for talkin' about your latest exploits, dinnertime conversations around here would be as dull as a Sunday stroll."

"It was quite a day," Addie said cautiously, her eyes darting to Ben Hunter's face. His mouth twisted sardonically before he picked up a roll and broke it apart.

She was relieved as everyone began eating again, and her tension faded a little. Her appetite came back with a vengeance as she received a plate heaped with fried chicken breasts, steaming potatoes, and string beans glistening with butter. It was difficult to eat slowly when she was this hungry, but Addie didn't want to attract any more attention to herself. As the conversation around the table resumed, May leaned over and whispered in her ear.

"You're too old to be wearin' your hair down, Adeline. It's too late to change it now, but tomorrow night I want it pinned up like always."

Addie looked at her with round eyes. Was that why everyone had acted as if she had walked in the room with her dress unbuttoned? Just because her hair was hanging down? "Was that why everyone was looking at me like that?" she whispered back, and May gave her a wry, reproving glance.

"You know the answer to that."

So that was why Ben had looked at her so contemptuously. He thought she was trying to attract attention to herself. A knot of embarrassment and resentment tightened in her chest. Addie kept her eyes on her plate for most of the meal, only looking up to risk short glances at the people around her. The heavyset man with the gentle face who was sitting next to Caroline had to be her husband. He was completely unassuming, the least dynamic of all the men. Cade was quieter around the family than he'd been with Addie. Russell liked to control the conversation, and the only one he would tolerate interruptions from was Ben. What kind of position had Adeline Warner taken in all of this? Silently Addie watched, listened, and wondered.

Since Ben Hunter was indifferent to her glances, she had the freedom of studying him unnoticed. He was not handsome in the way Leah had led her to imagine. "Handsome" was Douglas Fairbanks or John Gilbert, with their well-polished faces and aristocratic elegance, men who looked like the prince in a fairy tale. Ben was rougher-cut than that, too swarthy to be a fairy-tale hero. The lower half of his face was shadowed with dark stubble. He needed a good shave, and it would help his looks if he weren't tanned so dark. But she had to admit he was attractive in a distinctive way. Of course there were those green eyes. And the force of his personality was powerful. He had a talent for wry understatement, and a gift for cutting honesty, as well as an immeasurably high opinion of himself.

He had the muscular build of a man accustomed to long days in the saddle, exposed to physical danger and backbreaking work. But why, when it was obvious he was educated, was he working as a ranch foreman? She knew enough about cowboys to be aware that most of them were unqualified to do anything else. Where had he come from, and why had he decided to settle here? He was hiding from someone or something. She would have bet a fortune on it.

As Russell Warner spoke at length about the ranch, all heads were turned in his direction, but Addie stared at Ben's profile instead. For the first time she began to understand the situation she was in, and she felt all the blood drain out of her face. Russell was still alive. Ben Hunter hadn't killed him yet. And she was the only one who knew what was going to happen.