Give Me Tonight

3

ADDIE WAS UP AT DAWN WITH THE OTHERS, UNABLE to stay in bed while the smell of breakfast crept stealthily through the air and the sound of quiet morning conversation floated up to her from the dining room. She washed and dressed quickly, feeling strangely at peace in spite of a long and restless night.

Was there any way to get back to the Sunrise she belonged in? She didn't know how to go back-she didn't know how she'd gotten here in the first place. What if she was stuck here forever? Addie shivered at the thought and pushed it aside. There was no use worrying about that. It didn't seem as if she could do anything about it. If it was all a dream, it would end sometime. And if she was crazy, it was better to pretend to herself and everyone else that she wasn't.

But there was something practical for her to think about. Russell Warner was still alive, and she might be the only one who could keep him that way. To the rest of the family and everyone in Sunrise, she would be Adeline. She would figure out how to be who they thought she was. From now on, no one would notice anything peculiar about her. And while he was fooling them all, she would find some way to expose Ben for what he was and stop him from killing Russell. As things stood now, Russell would be murdered just after fall roundup. She had until then to change everything.

Addie went downstairs with a light step. As she walked into the dining room, she painted on a bright smile. "Good morning," she said airily, seating herself by May.

"What in tarnation's got you so happy?" Russell demanded. His eyes twinkling.

"Nothing." She leaned to the side as the maid reached over to pour her coffee.

"I think it may have something to do with Jeff," May said, pleased by the thought. "Isn't that right, Adeline?"

"It might be," Addie conceded, stirring sugar into her coffee. "I have to admit, Jeff is super."

A blank silence greeted her statement.

"Super?"

Addie realized her mistake and covered it hastily. "New expression." You'll hear it about fifty years from now. "It means nice… wonderful."

Russell chuckled. "Don't know why young people have to go makin' up new words. We got all we need."

"Because young people always think they're feelin' things no one has ever felt before," Caroline said reasonably. "Thinkin' up new words only makes sense to 'em."

"Adeline, are you going to see Jeff again today?" May's face was warm with motherly interest.

"Well, we'd talked about it."

"I want Adeline to be out with me today," Russell interrupted brusquely.

There was a short silence around the table. Then May spoke with a frown etched on the comers of her mouth, displeasure knitting her brow. "Later you can take Cade-"

"Cade will be in school all day," Russell countered, his jaw set obstinately. "And Adeline and me haven't been ridin' in a long time. She wants to go. Don't you, punkin?"

Addie nodded eagerly. "Yes. It sounds like a fine idea. "

"We'll look over the ranch, see things are bein' done right, won't we, honey?"

She grinned at him. "We sure will."

"Wait." Ben's eyes darkened with annoyance. "The men don't need to have her looking over their shoulders and putting in her two cents about what they're doing."

Addie sat up straighter in her chair, looking directly at him. "I won't say a thing to anyone."

"You don't have to," he replied curtly. "Just looking at you is going to distract them." He turned to Russell, his voice becoming softer, more persuasive. "We've got a lot of things to do today, and no time to put up with her antics. Most of them get to see a woman seldom enough, Russ, and they can't help staring. But to have one right there while they're trying to work, and one that looks like Adeline-it's asking a little much, isn't it?"

Addie frowned, wondering if there had been a compliment hidden in there. It was hard to tell. "I'm glad you've got a foreman smart enough to tell us what to do, Daddy," she said, her eyes round. If she'd had Mary Pickford curls, she would have twirled one around her finger.

Russ harrumphed irritably. "No one tells me what to do with my daughter, Ben. She's lookin' over the ranch with me today. "

"By all means." Ben's face was smooth, wiped clean of all emotion.

By the time Addie and Russell arrived at the barn, Ben had already left to organize the ranch hands as they began the projects that would keep them busy all summer. The horses were saddled and ready to go. Russell exchanged a few words with one of the cowboys who had been assigned to do some of the necessary farmwork near the ranch. Someone had to take care of the chickens and gather eggs, harvest alfalfa hay and stack it.

Making hay was a difficult job. It took experience to know when the hay was well-cured, when the color was right, how long it should lie in the swath after being mowed, and when it was dry enough to be stacked. It was drying out in the fields right now, changing color under the bright, hot Texas sun. There was nothing like the sweet smell of well-cured hay. It had a perfume that seemed to saturate the air for miles around.

But the cowboys took little pleasure in such work.

They felt it was beneath their dignity to perform such tasks-why, that was a job for sodbusters, not cowboys! And since they were merciless in their teasing of each other, the hands who had to do sodbuster work were artfully ridiculed by the other cowpunchers.

While Russell was talking with the ranch hand, Addie approached Jessie from the side. " 'Morning, Jessie. I see you're not wearing that nasty old sidesaddle today. What a pretty horse you are. Yes, you are." Jessie's head turned in her direction, ears twitching expectantly. "We're not going to have any problems like we did yesterday," Addie continued, reaching a hand in her pocket and pulling out a lump of sugar. "We're making a deal, Jessie-you know what it is-and this is evidence of my good faith. And believe me, if you live up to your end of the bargain, there's more where this came from."

Jessie bent her head and took the sugar delicately between her lips, looking at her with wary brown eyes. Suddenly she gobbled it and pushed her nose strongly against Addie's midriff, nudging her for more. "I can tell we're going to be good friends," Addie said conversationally, pulling out another lump and extending it to the horse. Jessie's nose was as soft as velvet as it brushed her palm in search of the sugar. She stroked the side of the mare's neck and showed her the spurless boots she wore. "See, Jessie? Slick-heeled, just for you."

Jessie offered not one twitch of protest as Addie slipped the tip of her boot into the stirrup and hoisted herself up into the saddle. After swinging a leg over the saddle, she arranged her divided skirt and looked at Russell expectantly. He had just finished his conversation.

"I'm ready."

"Looks like y'are." Russell mounted his horse, a large white gelding named General Cotton, and they rode away from the house, out into the range. "I guess you know your mama wasn't too happy 'bout this," he said, looking like a boy who had just gotten away with a prank..

"I don't understand why," she replied, sincerely puzzled. "What could be wrong with me looking over the ranch with you?"

"She's always had plans for you, Adeline. Plans about making you into somethin' you aren't meant to be. Sending you to that school in Virginia to learn about fancy manners and poetry books, hoping you'd' find some eastern lawyer or businessman to hitch up with-well, I knew it wouldn't work. I knew you'd want to come back where you belong. Cade and Caroline favor your mama. She wasn't born to ranching. She's settled into this life pretty well, but in her heart she'll never stop hankerin' for her people in the East. But I think you favor me, Adeline. And you and I were born to this." He waved his hand at the land in front of them. "Look around you. Would you trade all this to live in a hotel or a town house with the kind of goody-goody May wants for you? You don't want a man decked out in city clothes, someone with soft hands and white skin, afraid of dirt and animals, and everything that's nat'ral. They city whips the manliness out of 'em. Our boys out here are rough-cut, Adeline, but they're men, and they got respect for a woman. Too much respect to let 'er wear the pants in the family and do their work. A man out here knows how to take care of a woman."

Addie listened to him with growing alarm. She didn't want to wear the pants in the family or to bully any man. If or when her thoughts ever turned to marriage, she would need the kind of husband who would let her be his partner, his lover and friend. Was it useless to hope that someday she would find someone who would let her be his equal?

"Let's talk about something else," she said, her forehead creasing, and obligingly Russ started lecturing heron the running of the ranch. The horses' hooves splashed through a shallow stream, then thudded along the edge of an alfalfa field. A line of trees bordered the other side, having been planted there to act as a windbreak. On the other side of the field, the lush green of the land turned to the dry brown-green of true rangeland. Addie noticed that all the trees they passed by had clipped edge on the bottoms, like skirts that had been hemmed too short.

"Why have the lowest leaves of all the trees been clipped like that?"

Russell seemed pleased by her interest. "That's the browse line, honey. That's about as high as the livestock can reach when they browse over the land and chomp on the trees. When you see that, you know the land is being overgrazed. That's why Ben moved the herd further out to richer land. If he didn't, the grass would be so thin the cows'd have to eat on a dead run to get enough. "

"But how long can you keep moving the herd around before you run out of good land?"

"Run outta land?" Russell laughed uproariously.

"We got half a million acres. We're not gonna run out anytime soon. And if we did, there'll always be more land in Texas."

"I don't know if Texas is as big as you think. Sooner or later the land-"

"Texas not big? It covers practically the whole country, 'cept for the little bit we let the other states divide amongst themselves. "

They rode over miles of arid rangeland, past herds of longhorns whose heads were dipped low as they grazed lethargically. Russell's face was alight with an emotion beyond pride as he regarded the animals with their swishing tails and lethal horns. "Beautiful, ain't they?"

"There certainly are a lot of them."

"Not bad for a man who started out with nothin' but two dollars in cash and an empty belly. Feels good to a man, Adeline, to look over what he owns and know he's built somethin' that'll last forever. To know he'll go on forever. This'll never be anything but Warner land, and I was the one who took it for his own."

Addie stared at him and felt a rush of pity. But when you were killed it all fell to pieces. There was no one to take over, no one to hold it together. The herds were rustled or sold off, the ranch was ruined. Cade was too young to take over. And I guess Caroline's husband was too weak, not the kind of man that others would follow. It didn't last forever.

"This is all mine," Russell said, relishing the thought. His voice lowered a few notches. "And someday it'll be yours."

"Mine?" she repeated, startled.

"Now, honey, don't tell me you weren't listen in ' when I explained it to you the other day. "

Addie had no idea what he was talking about. Maybe he'd explained something to Adeline Warner. But not to Addie Peck.

"I didn't really understand," she said carefully. Russell sighed. "Aw, doesn't really matter. Wills are men's business anyway. You don't have to understand anything, honey. Just-"

"Explain it again," Addie interrupted gently, watching him like a hawk. "Please. I'll try very hard this time. What is this about a will?"

Russell seemed to puff up with self-importance.

"No one around here has the kind of fancy will I'm gettin' drawed up. I had to send for a Philadelphia lawyer to come here and do it right. He'll get here in about a month."

"There aren't lawyers here who could draw up a good will for you?"

"Not like the young hustlers back east. When it comes to the law, they know every trick there is. And I don't want any chance of a mistake bein' made with this will."

"What's so special about it?"

"Well, I've been thinkin' a lot about what'Il happen when I pass on. I don't aim to for a while, mind you. But I got to thinkin'-who's gonna carry on after me? Who's gonna look after Sunrise? Caro and Pete don't care nothin' about ranching. They're talking about movin' east after the baby's born."

"To North Carolina?" Addie guessed. It was where her mother, Sarah, had grown up, married, and eventually died.

"That's right. Guess you've heard 'em mention it."

He snorted. "East. Pete would feel at home there, sure enough. He's not a cowman. I'd hoped we'd make something of him when he an' Caro came to live at Sunrise. But he couldn't rope a calf if it stood still for him."

"What about leaving the ranch to Cade?"

"Cade can do whatever he set his mind to, but his heart's not here. He already wants a taste of city life, and when he gets it, he won't want to leave it. Too much like your mama. And May will see to it that her son gets a college education and winds up in a fancy office with glasses settin' on his nose and a pile of books on his desk. I hate to say it, but Texas just ain't in him. So that leaves you. But you can't inherit Sunrise, honey. No matter how smart y'are, you're just a woman."

"And that's nothing I can change," she said wryly. "So I was plannin' to do like everyone else around here, have the ranch sold off when I go, and divide the money between the ones I leave behind. You'd be a rich woman if I did that. You'd have enough money to do whatever you wanted for the rest of your life. I had it all settled in my own mind. But then Ben came along. "

Addie looked at him sharply. "What does Ben have to do with it?"

Russell smiled. "He runs the ranch as good as me. No dust settlin' on that one. When he says he'll do something, it gets done, one way or another. I like that. Man you can depend on. So I figured I'd make him trustee. That just means I'll leave Sunrise to you in trust, and he'll manage everything."

"You can't be serious!" Addie exclaimed, bug-eyed.

She was as outraged as if she were Russell's real daughter. "You're putting him in charge of your ranch, your money, and your family? He can do whatever he wants with us? Everything we have will be at his disposal? My Lord, he isn't even related to us!"

"I'm puttin' a few clauses in this will," Russell said, as if that was supposed to soothe her. "For one thing, Sunrise can't be sold off without the family's approval."

"What if Ben turns out to be a bad trustee? Can we fire him?"

"No, that's one thing y' can't change. He's trustee till he's dead and buried. But don't fret-he'll be damn good at it. I'll rest easy, knowin' I left things in his hands.

The very same hands that are going to strangle you! Addie's mind raced. Ben had the perfect motive to kill Russell. After the will was signed, he would be in control of the entire ranch and a large fortune, just as soon as Russell Warner was dead.

"Daddy, I know you trust him," she said, her voice wavering. "I know you depend on him and care for him. But it would be a mistake to put him in that position after you've gone."

"Aw, honey," Russell said soothingly, "I know you're prob'ly a mite disappointed at gettin' Sunrise in trust instead of all that money. But this is the only way the ranch won't go to pieces. Ben's my only insurance against it. I don't want my ranch to die just 'cause I have to. It's as simple as that."

"Have you told Ben yet?"

"Not yet. "

"It might be good to wait awhile," Addie murmured, and as she heard no reply from Russell, she fell silent. She tried to concentrate on the scene around them rather than go into a helpless tirade. That wouldn't do her cause any good. Later, she promised herself. There would be a chance to reason with Russell later, when she could pull some good arguments together.

The land was swarming with men and cattle, and the air was thick with dust and the smell of animals and sweat. Thousands of cattle were being treated for blowflies and screwworms, insects which settled in open wounds and fed on oozing flesh. The suffering longhorns were daubed with a mixture of grease and carbolic acid, which killed off the large maggots and relieved the animals' excruciating pain.

But the longhorns didn't know that the men were trying to help, and they reacted violently. Vicious curses sailed up the sky as the men danced out of the way of animals that had turned on them. There were clouds of dust curling, rising and settling around the moving figures, powdering the men's clothes, and sticking to their skin. All around them the cattle churned like a river of red-brown water.

Russell and Addie stopped to watch, keeping well out of the way.

"Hard work," Addie said, almost to herself. "Baking in the sun. Getting hurt so easily. No machines to help, no time to rest. Makes no sense for anyone to want to do this kind, of work. "

"Wait till the worst-tempered animals have to be dehorned," Russell said, and grinned.

"Why do they do this? What makes a man choose to be a cowboy?"

"Don't know that a man ever asks himself that. He either does or he doesn't, that's all."

"There's no glamour in it. It's nothing at all like the novels and magazines describe it. And they certainly don't get a lot of money for what they do-"

"The hell they don't! I pay my boys forty dollars a month. That's nearly ten more than they could get anywhere else in the country for the same job. "

"I just don't understand what the attraction is for them."

Russell was not listening. "C'mon, honey. Ben's over there pullin' out a steer from a boghole."

She followed him reluctantly, riding further down the pasture to the site where two longhorns were stuck fast in a boghole, having tried to evade swarms of flies by wallowing in deep mud. One of the steers was making plaintive noises, while the other was silent and exhausted, making no protest as it was pulled out with ropes tied to the cowboys' saddle horns.

Addie's lips tightened with disdain as she looked at Ben, who had tied the ropes around the longhorn. His Levi's were black with mud all the way up to his knees and beyond. It looked like he'd been doing some wallowing right alongside the cattle. Sweat made streaks through the dirt on his face and the sides of his neck, and caused the ends of his black hair to curl damply against the back of his neck. That was where he belonged, in the dirt.

"Ben seems to have gotten the worst of it today," she commented with a trace of satisfaction.

"He's not afraid of work." Russell regarded his foreman fondly. "The men respect him for it. And they know he won't ask them to do somethin' he wouldn't do himself. Hardest thing in the world, Adeline, is to work for a man you know is lazier than you are, just like it's easy to work hard for someone you respect. "

It didn't fit conveniently into her picture of Ben Hunter. After all, he would murder Russell for his own personal gain. Money the easy way. That kind of man didn't take to hard work… wasn't that true? She wasn't pleased by the discovery that Ben might have a few good qualities to complicate her vision of him as an unscrupulous criminal. She wanted it all to be cutand-dried.

If only there were someone she could talk to about him, someone to help relieve her burden of silence! Everyone was so maddeningly pleased with Ben. They admired and respected him, not knowing what kind of man he really was.

As if he could feel her stare, Ben turned his head to look at her. She was amazed by the intense color of his eyes, emerald fringed with thick black lashes, set deeply in his dark face. For a second she couldn't move, trapped by his intent gaze. Despite the distance between them, it seemed as if he could read her mind, and she felt heat rising in her cheeks. She was relieved when he finally returned his attention to the steer struggling out of the boghole.

The animal stumbled forward on unsteady legs and collapsed at the edge, having lost the will to do anything but lie there and die. Swearing, the men went to the quivering longhorn and strained to lift it to its feet. After a long struggle the men succeeded in their task, and the longhorn staggered away to find a place to graze. Leaving the others to pull the second steer out, Ben walked over to Russell and Addie, wiping his hands on the back of his pants. Addie noticed the way his smile turned cool when he looked at her, and something inside her shifted uneasily.

"Miss Adeline. Hope you aren't offended by the cussing. " He tilted his head back and squinted up at her. As he had intended, the remark served to remind her that she was out of her depth in this, a scene that belonged so utterly to the men. The language, the work, the clothes-every detail was a complete contrast to the feminine surroundings women were usually relegated to. According to the dictates of this world, she was supposed to be in the kitchen or bending over needlework, not riding around the range with her father.

"I've heard language worse than this," she said.

"It's nothing less than what I'd expected."

Ben kept his thoughts well-hidden as he looked at her. He couldn't explain to himself why his feelings for her had started to change. They had disliked each other from the first moment they met, and with each of her visits home during vacations, their mutual intolerance had increased.

It had been a long-dreaded day when she'd returned from the girls' academy for good. He couldn't stand the games she liked to play, her capricious moods, her ability to shake everyone up and wrap anyone she wanted around her finger. She had always been haughty to him, until she became intrigued with his lack of interest in her, and that had resulted in the scene in the bam when she'd tried to seduce him. After he turned her down coldly, she decided to treat him with simple loathing, which had suited him just fine.

And then… it seemed incredible, but she had changed in the twinkling of an eye. There was no way of knowing whether it was permanent or temporary, but this new Adeline had a different effect on him than the old one. Ben had never noticed how beautiful she was, how vulnerable and disarming she could be. He almost wished he'd taken her up on her offer in the bam. At least that way he wouldn't be wondering now what it would be like to feel her body underneath his. Now he would never know, and although that was just as well, he was still unwillingly fascinated by her.

Addie looked around the pasture at the dirty, unshaven men, their clothes dark with perspiration, their faces adorned with unkempt mustaches or overlong sideburns. They kept on looking at her covertly. Without Russell nearby, she wouldn't have felt safe.

Ben noticed her uncertain expression and grinned.

"Diamonds in the rough, every one of us. You'll never come across a group of gentlemen with higher regard for a lady. Some of them have ridden hundreds of miles just to catch a glimpse of a woman of good character. "

"Including you, Mr. Hunter?" she asked, her voice soft and lethal.

"I've never been particularly interested in women of good character, Miss Adeline."

Addie fumed inwardly. Oh, how he loved to give just the right amount of disrespectful emphasis to her name! How could Russell just sit there without realizing Ben was subtly insulting her?

"It's a relief to know decent women are safe from your attentions, Mr. Hunter."

He grinned lazily, looking her up and down. "I should warn you, I make an exception every now and then."

Russell chuckled richly. "The key to my Adeline's heart is to give her compliments, Ben, lots of 'em. They do a lot to sweeten her disposition. "

"Only if they're sincere," Addie corrected. She glanced meaningfully at Ben. "And I see through most people who are wearing false fronts."

"I never knew you put much store by sincerity, Miss Adeline. "

"Then you don't know as much about me as you suppose, Mr. Hunter."

"Enough to have formed an accurate opinion."

"That's just fine. Form all the opinions about me you want, as long as I don't have to hear them. Your opinions bore me."

Ben's eyes narrowed.

Russell laughed in the silence that followed. "Don't you two ever quit?"

"I've got to get back to work," Ben said, looking at Addie and touching the brim of his hat in a gesture that contained only a modicum of politeness.

"He's het up, all right," Russell said with enjoyment, as Addie watched the foreman stride back to the boghole. "

"Why do you seem so pleased about it?" she asked, tight-lipped. "And why do you let him say such things to your daughter?"

"For one thing, when it comes to Ben Hunter, you take up for yourself better than I could. For another, you'd turn on me like a tornado if I broke in. You like to trade words with him. Hell, I like to trade words with him too. Difference is, you can get him mad and I can't. I like to see him mad every once in a while. Good for a man to have a flare-up every now and again. Not easy to get a rise outta him. Fact is, you're the only one who can do it right. He's as short as a pie crust around you."

"I don't do it on purpose," she muttered. God knew there was no reason for her to provoke Ben. It didn't help her cause any. If only she could swallow the sharp words that came to the tip of her tongue when Ben spoke to her. How much of an advantage she would have if she could stay cool and calm while he was angry! But she couldn't keep silent or cool, not when his mere presence filled her with such tension. She couldn't control her feelings when Ben was near. She found herself saying things she couldn't hold in. He brought out the worst in her, and it seemed she brought out the worst in him.

Her thoughts were interrupted by an urgent shout from Russell, who had leaned forward in his saddle "Hey! That steer's turned on em-someone dump him!"

Addie's eyes widened with alarm as she saw what had happened. As soon as the steer had struggled out of the boghole, it angrily turned its horns against its rescuers, enraged and ready to do battle. The huge horns shook threateningly at the man closest by. Quickly the steer lunged, powerful muscles bunching under the mud-encrusted hide, and all Addie could see was a flurry of motion. There was a short scream from the cowboy as he was wounded. Ropes were swung to catch the steer and hold him fast, but in the dust and frenzy the lassos missed their mark. Addie cried out as she saw the red gleam of blood and the rag-doll limpness of the boy as he fell.

Maddened by the snap of whirling ropes, the steer twisted sideways. Ben dived at the crumpled figure on the ground, catching at the leg of his chaps and pulling him away from the animal. The steer followed the movement quickly, his head bent to plunge forward in pursuit of the body sliding through the dust.

"Dump him!" Ben shouted hoarsely, but another rope failed to catch one of the longhorn's legs. His voice pierced the air. "Oh, shit. " Someone threw Ben a rifle, which smacked heavily in to his palms. Holding it by the barrel, he raised it in the air. Addie's heart stopped as she understood what he intended.

"Daddy," she whispered, wondering why no one was going to shoot the steer. She heard no sound from Russell.

Ben's body arched as he raised the makeshift club higher, and with a sharp, vicious movement he brought it down on the longhorn's forehead. The animal dropped without a sound, crashing to the ground, momentum causing it to slide forward until Ben was forced to scuttle backward. The point of a horn came to rest near his booted foot. Then Ben was motionless, staring at the twitching longhorn. There was silence in the pasture. "Couldn't anyone around here manage a head catch?" Ben finally asked of no one in particular, sighing as he went to the boy on the ground.

"Did you kill him?" Russ asked, dismounting from General Cotton.

"No. Just stunned him a little. He won't be giving anyone trouble for a while."

"How's the boy?"

Addie was having trouble calming Jessie's attack of nerves. As soon as the horse's skittishness was under control, she dismounted and left the reins hanging.

"Not good," Ben said grimly. "A couple of punctures in his side, and a head wound that's going to need some stitches. Watts, get me a needle and thread. The rest of you get back to work. There's a considerable number of animals out there needing to be doctored. "

"Daddy," Addie asked Russell quietly, "do you have any liquor on you?"

"Always." He pulled a monogrammed silver flask out of one of his many vest pockets and handed it to her with a grin. "Whiskey okay?"

"Perfect."

She shook the flask, trying to judge by the slosh how much liquor there was inside, and headed toward the men on the ground. Ben pressed a wad of cloth to the unconscious boy's side and scowled as he saw Addie walking toward him. "For God's sake, get back to your horse," he snapped. "And try not to faint."

"Fainting is the last thing I have in mind," she said shortly, coming over to the boy and kneeling beside him. For once she knew exactly how to handle the situation. Oh, how she longed to cut Ben down with the news that she had worked as a nurse for the past three years! "You didn't ask for an antiseptic. Whiskey'll do fine."

He took the flask from her with one hand while clamping a folded handkerchief on the wound with the other. "Good. Your help is appreciated. Now get out of the way."

Addie had to hold her ground. She remained where she was, suddenly desperate to help. Somehow, on the vast land encompassed by the borders of the Sunrise Ranch, in the midst of strangers and their confusing rituals, among the short-tempered men and the sea of animals, she had found something she knew how to do. She knew how to tend to a wound, she had been one of the best nurses in the hospital when it came to an emergency. No one could find fault with her bandaging and stitching. But Ben didn't know that, and he intended to stand in her way. Addie had to prove to someone, to herself, that she was useful. She could belong. She had to be given the chance to show it.

"I can help," she said. "I'm going to stay."

Ben dropped the flask and caught her wrist in a crushing grip. "I'll say this only once," he said through gritted teeth. "This isn't the time for you to play ministering angel. He doesn't need his hand held. He doesn't need you to coo over him and flutter your eyelashes. So move your sweet ass over there and stay out of the way, or I'll drag you away by the hair. And I don't care if Daddy sees or not."

"Take your hand off me," Addie hissed, her eyes gleaming with fury. "Are you planning to stitch up his wound with those dirty paws? I know more about this than you'll ever hope to know. Do you think I'd offer to do it if I didn't? Let go! And if you want to be of any help, open that flask and give me that bandanna around your neck. "

His eyes were hard and searching as they met hers.

She saw the flash of anger, and then the beginnings of curiosity. Slowly his hand uncurled from her wrist.

"Every stitch better be perfect," he said, his voice menacing in its quietness. "And if you aren't able to back up your words, you'll answer to me. Understand?"

She nodded shortly while a wash of relief loosened the tightness in her chest. "What kind of thread is Watts bringing?" She dampened the bandanna with whiskey and blotted the wound. "Cheap cotton, I'll bet."

"We can't all afford silk." Ben sneered.

"I can. Do you have a knife?"

"For what?"

"Do you have a knife?" she repeated impatiently.

He reached down to his belt and unsheathed a gleaming bowie, giving it to her handle-first. She burrowed under the hem of her riding skirt, extended a leg, and cut one of the pink ribbons threaded through the lace border of her pantaloons. At the glimpse of the shapely calf that rose from the edge of her boot, several of the men who had lingered several yards away to watch began to mutter and exclaim among themselves.

"Jesus. That little display will be talked about in the bunkhouse for years to come," Ben muttered, sounding peculiarly strained.

"What do you mean?" she asked, flipping her hem back down and turning her attention to the ribbon. Expertly she stripped a thread from it. "Oh, you mean showing my leg." Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Heavens, I didn't remember my modesty is much more important than helping a wounded man. Such unladylike behavior-but surely I haven't shocked you, Mr. Hunter." Her mocking smile faded as she saw the expression on his face. Why, he looked as if she had just done something dreadfully indecent, something that had shocked him.

Surely a quick glimpse of her leg couldn't have that effect on a man. She and her friends had walked down the streets of Sunrise wearing skirts that ended at the knees, and sometimes never received a second glance from the men who passed by them.

As she handed the knife back to him, his fingers curved slightly around the handle, and she felt a small shock at the sight of them. He had strong hands that showed signs of hard work. But how strangely sensitive they were. The hands of a murderer. Flushing, she tore her eyes away and turned her attention to the thread, grateful when Watts arrived with a paper of needles and a pair of scissors. She threaded the silk through the cleanest needle and soaked everything with whiskey. Carefully she pierced the first edge of ragged flesh with the needle, then the second, drawing them together with a neat ligature knot.

"Can't you do it a little faster?" Ben asked.

Calmly she took the second stitch. "I can do it so the scar will be practically invisible. See how it will fade into the frown line-"

"Yeah… real nice. But we don't have any need for a good-looking corpse. So hurry."

"There's no need to be so dramatic. He's not going to die, and you know it." Addie resisted the urge to say anything else. This was no time for an argument, no matter how tempting the prospect. As she was tying off the last knot, Ben wiped the last of the blood off the boy's forehead. "Kitchen surgery," Addie said, surveying her work with pride. "But he couldn't get better from a doctor."

"It'll do," Ben replied evenly.

She looked down at the cowboy's face then, pushing back a tendril of matted hair that had fallen on the temple. "Curly red hair. I'll bet he gets teased a lot for that."

Ben seemed to relax, his tension easing. "Who could resist?"

"And freckles too." Deep copper freckles that stood out in spite of the darkly tanned skin. The unconscious face was still round with the plumpness of youth. He didn't yet have the lean face of an adult. He looked so vulnerable and alone that her heart ached with compassion.

"Pink silk thread," Ben remarked, and Addie frowned a little.

"I hope it won't embarrass him."

"No, ma'am. He'll never want those stitches out. I guarantee he'll brag for days about where that pink silk came from." His mouth curled sardonically. "The envy of the bunkhouse."

"He's not much older than Cade," she said softly. "Poor boy." She felt sorry for someone so young having to live such a hard life. But it was a better life than many others would have. At least this boy would have the chance to keep his innocence. And these wounds would heal. She had tended veterans in the hospital who had once had young faces and innocent hearts. They had come back from the war crippled, blind, bitter. She had shared some of their bitterness, out of empathy, out of the emptiness of her own life. But that was in the future, she reminded herself. None of it had happened yet. Those veterans hadn't even been born yet. The war hadn't taken place.

As she looked down at the boy, she didn't know her eyes were dark with loneliness, her expression compassionate. Ben went still with surprise, his breath catching in his throat. Adeline Warner had always been a pretty girl, with too much spirit and not enough heart. Sassy, selfish, sharp-tongued-a girl like that was someone to avoid. But just now her face was soft and heart-stirring in a way it had never been before. What had happened to give her this new air of vulnerability? What magic had brought such mystifying sweetness to her face? Had it been there all the time? Was he just beginning to notice something everyone else had long been aware of?

Russell walked up behind Addie, looking over her handiwork. He seemed to be puzzled by what she had done. "Where did you learn to close up a wound like that?" he barked.

Ben watched as the question caused Addie's cheeks to color.

"It's not much different from regular needlework," she said with a half-smile. "Just messier. What about his side? Is it still bleeding?"

"Not much. The temporary dressing will do until we can get him back to the bunkhouse. "

"Good." Addie glanced down at herself and saw the blood on both her sleeves, causing the material to cling stickily to her arms. The sweet, warm smell of it drifted to her nostrils, combining with the heat of the sun to overcome her with a wave of nausea. As she looked away, she caught sight of the steer and couldn't help remembering the thudding crack of the rifle against its skull. Afraid she might throw up, Addie grimaced shakily and struggled to her feet without asking for help. "Excuse me," she whispered, and walked away, breathing deeply and clenching her fists. She stopped when she reached Jessie, leaning against the horse's side and resting her forehead against the saddle. Concentrating on the musky scent of leather, she stayed very still. After a minute had passed, the contents of her stomach began to settle down.

She heard Ben's quiet voice behind her. "Here." He had gotten a clean handkerchief and a canteen of water from somewhere. She turned her face to watch him blankly as he dampened the cloth. She even suffered his touch without protest as he reached out to wipe her face, her eyes closing as she felt the cool cloth slide over her cheeks and eyebrows.

"Why are you doing that? Is there something on my face? What is it?"

"Just dust. Hold out your hands."

She stared down at the brownish bloodstains in the crevices between her fingers. “Oh, I-"

"Spread your fingers." The corner of the handkerchief erased every last spot on her hands. Why was he being so considerate?

"Thank you."

He offered the canteen to her. "Water?"

Gratefully she nodded, taking it in both hands and tilting her head back as the liquid slid down her throat. After handing it back, she looked at him uncertainly. "Thank you," she repeated, a question in her eyes.

He smiled at her, causing her heart to miss a beat. "You smell like a dance-hall hostess."

She chuckled a little breathlessly. "I spilled as much of that whiskey on you as I did on me."

"I'll give you your due. Your work was good. Although I'd have bet two bits beforehand that you wouldn't have been able to do it. I'm beginning to wonder how many more surprises I should expect from you, Adeline."

"Addie." The correction came out before she could stop herself.

"Addie," he repeated huskily. "That what you were called in school?"

"Kind of."

"You okay now?"

"Yes."

"You should go back to the house. It's too hot out here for you. "

She didn't know what to do when he was being nice to her. "I guess I will."

His eyes moved over her face. He seemed to be on the verge of asking her a question, but something impelled him to keep silent, and he left her.

Addie dipped her bare toes in the stream, relishing the coolness of the rushing water. The hem of her skirt was getting damp, but prudently she tried to keep as much of her legs covered as possible. "Shame on you," she said, casting a wicked glance at Jeff. "I'd swear I just caught you looking at my ankles. "

"You have beautiful ankles. The most beautiful I've ever seen." He slid his arm around her shoulders and turned her to face him. A hot kiss was pressed into the hollow of her throat, causing her to squirm in protest. "And the most beautiful toes, and heels-"

"Oh, stop it." Addie giggled and twisted away from him. "And don't hold me so tight. It's too hot."

Jeff loosened his arms, scowling in a way that made her want to laugh. She was fond of him, but at times he tried her patience sorely.

Addie had learned to treat Jeff with the same kind of affectionate mockery she used for Cade. She'd hoped to cool Jeff down, guessing that his feeling for her was not the love of a mature man for a woman but a boy's perverse love for something he knew was beyond his reach. Unfortunately her efforts to put distance between them were only making him want her more.

There were moments when she was charmed by him, moments when he was boyish and sweet, and almost embarrassed by his own gentleness with her. It was then that she was happiest in his company. She needed a friend, and he was the closest thing to a confidant she had.

As to the physical side of their relationship, it wasn't difficult to handle him. She had no desire to make love with him, and when he" tried to coerce her into it, she set him back with a coolness that infuriated him. It wasn't that Jeff didn't attract her. But Addie didn't want real intimacy with him. Something warned her that it would be a terrible mistake, and an instinct that strong must be obeyed.

There was an arrogant side of Jeff that bothered Addie. He liked to boast about his family's money and his father's influence, and she believed a man should stand on his own two feet, not ride on someone else's coattails. And Jeff seemed so ridiculously young when he swaggered. Like a child, he was demanding and relentless about what he wanted, and he sulked if he didn't get his way.

It was amazing, the difference between Jeff and Ben Hunter. They were complete opposites. Jeff was boyish, outspoken, easy to understand. Ben was a man no woman could ever hope to understand, more complex than any man she'd ever met. In a subtle way he seemed removed from everyone, even while he was arguing with Russell, charming May and Caro, or exchanging tall tales with the ranch hands. He seemed to be fond of Russell, but it was clear Ben didn't need anyone. What had happened to make him so independent? Was there anyone he really cared about?

What a mystery he was, attractive and repellent, charming and cold, gentle and harsh. In her heart of hearts she was afraid of him, not merely because of what he would do to Russell, but for an even deeper reason. He made her aware of herself as a woman in a way no one had before. He could do it with a look, a gesture… he cast some kind of spell over her merely by being in the same room. And the strangest thing was, she knew he didn't do it consciously. There was some kind of invisible current between them, and she didn't know how to explain it. How could you fight something you didn't understand?

"Adeline…" Jeff's wheedling voice broke into her thoughts. "Why are you so far away? Did I do somethin' to get your dander up?"

"Of course you didn't." She looked at him and smiled. "I'd tell you if you did something to make me mad."

"No, you wouldn't. Women don't tell stuff like that.

They like to turn all cold and quiet and make you guess what you did to get 'em mad."

"Most men have the most interesting theories about women. Women are helpless, women don't have much sense, women are neither honest nor straightforward, and really don't know their own minds anyway… honestly, I think one of you men should write a book. "

"Why would anyone want to write a book about that?"

Addie grinned. "For future generations. So some girl can read it someday and understand how much better off she is than poor old Grandma at her age. "

"No man'll ever understand women enough to write a book about ' em. "

"You know, women have their own theories about men."

"Like… men are stronger, smarter, and make more sense-"

"No, those are men's theories about themselves. Erroneous, for the most part."

"Erro…?"

"Wrong. Men don't know the first thing about themselves. They always manage to hide the things that are the most attractive about themselves, by thinking they have to act like Don Juan or Valentino."

"Like Valen…?"

"But a woman doesn't want a man who's as slick as that. And she doesn't want someone who's going to treat her like she's a steer to be rounded up and roped and busted."

Jeff grinned at that. "How else you gonna treat a woman when she gets ornery?"

"With understanding," Addie said, and settled down on the ground, leaning on one elbow. "With tenderness. But most men aren't strong enough to be gentle. And they're not strong enough to love someone without breaking her spirit. A man likes to make his woman into a reflection of himself. Impossible here to find a man who would let his woman be a separate person as well as his wife."

"What's gotten into you?" Jeff looked at her with a puzzled frown. "You never used to make things so complicated before. Did you learn it at that school in Virginia? All this stuff about reflections and separate people. That has nothin' to do with a man and a woman. Man has a wife. She shares his bed, takes care of his house, has his children. That's all there is to think about."

"And what about a man's obligations to his wife?"

"Puts food on the table and a roof over her head. Protects his family, honors his promises."

Addie sighed, raising her eyes to his. "I wish things were that simple. I wish I didn't have to think about so many other things. It would be so much easier if I didn't. "

"Adeline, half the time I don't know what the hell you're talkin' about."

"I know you don't," she said wistfully. "I'm sorry."

She thought about that conversation when she went to bed that night, wide-awake and vaguely anxious until she heard the sweet sound of guitar strings. Ben, and that strange, yearning song he played so often. It was her favorite now, and she knew nothing of the words or the name. Who is he serenading with that music? she wondered, staring through the darkness. Ben's serenade… played for no one? For all of them? For a woman he had once longed for, someone he had wanted desperately?

What would it be like to be wanted by him? She pictured herself and Jeff as they had relaxed today at the edge of their clearing by the stream leaning against each other and sharing long, slow kisses. What would it have been like with Ben instead of Jeff? Instead of auburn locks, her fingers would have sifted through coal-black hair. Uncomfortably Addie rolled over onto her stomach, trying to shake the thoughts. She was appalled by the direction her wonderings had taken. But perhaps it was normal, even natural, to be curious about Ben.

Pulling her into his lap…

Addie squeezed her eyes tightly.

His warm breath on the inside rim of her ear as he whispered…

She let out a short, embarrassed groan and buried her face in the pillow. How could she let herself imagine such things? Go to sleep, she ordered herself, trying to block out the soft guitar music and head-spinning thoughts. Gradually she relaxed, her body going limp as she escaped into sleep. But Ben Hunter was in her dreams as well, more vivid than any dream figure had a right to be.

She was in a bedroom, draped across the mattress, naked underneath a cool sheet. Her eyes were fixed on the doorway, where a shadow shifted and moved into the room. It was the dark figure of a man. As he walked to the side of the bed, the muscled slope of his bare chest and shoulders gleamed in the moonlight. Sitting up with a start, she clutched the sheet to her breasts. He looked at her as if she belonged to him, his eyes tender and mocking, and she was frozen in place as she stared back at him. No, Ben, she wanted to whisper, but her lips wouldn't form the denial.

Something inside her body began to clamor, a hunger too sharp to bear. Wanting to flee, she made a move to the side, and Ben caught her wrists in his hands. He bent his head to kiss her, his mouth scalding and sweet. His hands stripped away the sheet, drifted over her naked body, wandered from her breasts to her stomach. The moonlight seemed to dim, leaving them in darkness, and his kisses left hot imprints on her skin, his hard flesh fitted to hers, his bare back flexed under her hands. She arched up to him, wanting him, aching, moaning his name-

Addie woke up with a gasp, her hair falling in a tangled swath across her face. Her heart was beating wildly. Her skin was feverishly hot. What was the matter with her? It was the dream she had experienced so many times before. But this time Ben, not a stranger, had been making love to her.

She jumped out of bed and went to the window, clutching the sill and breathing deeply of the night air. There was nothing but silence outside. Nothing stirred in the darkness.

What is happening to me? she asked herself, tears of bewilderment coming to her eyes. She was in Adeline Warner's bedroom, wearing Adeline's night-gown. I've taken her family, the man who loves her. I ride her horse, sit at her place at the table, use her hairbrush. But she wasn't Adeline Warner, she was Addie Peck, and she wanted to go home. She wanted to be in a place where everything was familiar. She didn't want to bear the strain of worrying about Russell's murder. She didn't want to ruin Ben Hunter. She wanted no part of it anymore. No escape. The thought would drive her mad.

Although Addie could find humor in the differences between the life she had once led and the one she was leading now, some things were hard to bear. She had never once wished she were a man, or envied a man's freedom, until now. Trying hard to copy May and Caroline's example, she struggled to curb her natural impulses. Since she'd been brought up in a household without men, she'd come to take the freedom of speaking her mind and making decisions for granted. As head of the tiny household, she had earned a living and paid the bills. But here there were so many things she couldn't do and say, so much she was prevented or forbidden from doing.

Women had to be unassuming. Women had to be quiet. Addie had to be careful to take up no more than a small percentage of mealtime conversations. The men didn't like a woman's interruption into their business discussions, even if she had something important to say.

Men could be outspoken about what they wanted. Women had to maneuver skillfully and indirectly. Whispered conversations, closing the doors discreetly, correcting or reproving with affection in her voice that was a woman's way. She could be straightforward when speaking to a child, servant, or another woman, but never with a man. With a man you had to hem and haw and simper. Addie found that even Russell was more approachable when she was coy and sweet to him, and he would send her away with a threat to lock her in her room if she didn't "stop actin' like she was wearin' breeches."

One thing she'd never expected was her own increasing hunger for male companionship. This world was sexually segregated, a fact which everyone-men and women alike-took for granted. But she had grown up in a different time, when men and women interacted constantly, as friends and partners, and sometimes as professional associates.

Not here. Not now. She was relegated to an existence inhabited mostly by women who filled their days with caring for their children, exchanging feminine secrets, and forming close female friendships. She was quickly tired of talks about childbirth, courting, children, and marriage. Men played minor roles here. They came in for dinner, patted the children, and answered the wives' questions in monosyllables.

When a neighbor's or a cousin's husband traveled, she would come to stay at the ranch for a week or even several weeks, to compare letters and gossip, do needlework and talk about her family. A woman had no status in the real world except as someone's wife. It was only in the company of other women that she became a person with authority and privilege. Daughters imitated their mothers and older sisters until they were able to reproduce the same manners, the same habits, the same kind of friendships.

Sometimes Addie sought out Ben just for the sheer pleasure of being able to argue and let out her frustration, and he always obliged her. He would debate anything with her, holding nothing back and talking to her without the polite condescension other men used when speaking to a woman. It was a relief to be treated like a human being, even if Ben was sarcastic and insulting. Their arguments had become private conspiracies, conducted behind the others' backs. Her battles with him would have been stopped, one way or another, had anyone else been aware of them, and Addie didn't want that. In a way, Ben had become her safety valve.

She still knew little about him, despite the amount of time they spent near each other. Ben escorted Addie and Caroline to town, found a few minutes to spend with Russell and Addie as they watched the busting of a horse, and brought the young cowboy with the pink silk stitches in his forehead up to the house in order to thank Addie personally for what she had done. Ben also escorted Addie to the Double Bar on the mornings that she went to meet with Jeff. Occasionally she was prompted by a sixth sense to tum around, and she would find Ben standing close by, watching her like a cat after a mouse, looking for God knew what.

Addie stood in the parlor, pushing aside the lace curtains just an inch and looking out at the steps of the veranda. Night had almost fallen. From the next room came the clatter of plates being cleared from the table and the murmur of voices. A bulky figure sat on one of the steps outside, his back to her, his hands busy with the task of rolling a cigarette with tobacco and a com husk. The Mexican named Diaz. She wanted badly to go out and talk to him, but she had no idea of what she would say, what she would ask. Why was he just sitting there? It looked as if he were waiting for something.

As she stood there, he turned his head slowly and looked at her through the window, his wrinkled brown face illuminated by the last rays of sunset. Their eyes met, and Addie held her breath. She saw something in his eyes, an awareness that made her almost lightheaded. He knew her. He looked at her as if he knew her, and about the fact that she wasn't Adeline Warner. She was almost certain he did. Agitation hummed through her veins.

"What are you looking at?"

She whirled around at the sound of Ben's voice. He was leaning against the doorframe, his long legs crossed.

"Nothing," she said sharply, dropping the window curtain. Ben smiled lazily and walked over to the window, glancing outside. Diaz was facing outward again, silhouetted against the darkening sky.

"Diaz-interesting old character," Ben mused.

"Can't work worth a damn, but his stories are so good we had to hire him on. He's worth his weight in gold on a trail drive."

"I didn't ask for your opinion." Suddenly Addie made up her mind and walked out of the room, brushing past Ben on her way to the front door. He tucked his hands in his pockets and followed her.

When she walked across the veranda, Diaz turned his head and smiled slightly, nodding his head at her.

"Mr. Diaz," she said nervously, clasping her hands and wringing them together. His eyes were so bleak she could see her reflection in them. "Mind if I sit with you for a minute?"

"Of course. Please." As he gestured for her to do as she wished, she saw that his face was kind. He was a grizzled old cowboy, his skin darkened by years of working in the sun, his gray hair flattened from having worn a hat all day. His body was squat and solid, slightly paunched, but undeniably hardy. Hands that were rough and strong from hard work rested on his knee as he sat with his feet propped on the steps.

Silently she sat down beside him, locking her arms around her knees, heedless of the damage the rough steps might be doing to the fabric of her dress. Ben went to lounge near the bottom of the stairs, pretending not to notice Addie's obvious desire for him to leave.

"There's something I'd like to discuss with you," she said to Diaz, and stopped in confusion. She didn't know how to continue. What exactly did she hope to learn from him? What was it that Leah had said about him? He had his own ideas about such things. Everyone used to love to hear his stories. He could predict the future … he could make the craziest things seem natural. …

Diaz smiled as if he could read her thoughts, picking up a short hemp rope near his feet and coiling it carefully. "Look at that sky," he said, gesturing with the tail of the rope. "So clear you can see every star. Nights like this get me to thin kin '. Folks looked at those same stars a hundred years ago, prob'ly thought the same things 'bout 'em as we do. And a hundred years from now, they'll still be lookin' at 'em. The stars never change."

"You sound kind of superstitious," Addie said hesitantly.

"Superstitious? Yes, ma'am. I've seen and heard of things that'd make any man in his right mind superstitious. "His voice was heavily flavored with a Texas drawl.

As she looked at him, there was an awakening of hope inside her heart that wouldn't be quelled. The understanding she sensed in him was not the result of wishful thinking. If there was such a thing as intuition, then hers was prompting her to ask some questions. He had some answers. She would stake her life on it.

"So you believe that things can happen that don't make any sense? Things that sound like they belong in a storybook?"

"Of course. I've seen a lotta miracles in my lifetime. Trouble is, most people don't see 'em for what they are." Noticing the cynical twist of Ben's mouth, the older man smiled. "That one, there," he said, pointing to Ben, "he's one of those. He'll try to explain away miracles if he can't figger 'em out."

"But that doesn't mean miracles don't happen," Addie said, and Diaz smiled at her.

"Well, y'see-"

He was interrupted by Ben's jeering laugh. "Whatever it means, I know one thing. It doesn't do anyone any good to believe in hocus-pocus like miracles and little elves-"

"We're not talking about elves," Addie said, irritated by his interruption. "And if you want to talk about them with Mr. Diaz, come back later, but for now I'm having a private conversation with him, and if you're not going to leave, you can at least keep quiet."

Ben grinned, standing up and dusting off the seat of his Levi's. Clearly he thought she was indulging in a flight of fancy, and he was far from interested in hearing about it. "All right. I'll leave you two to discuss your hocus-pocus. I've got a guitar to restring."

Addie watched him stride away, her gaze troubled, and then she sighed. "I have a question. It sounds too silly to talk about with him listening. It's a question about time. "

"Time? That's somethin' I don't pretend to know much about, Miss Adeline." He smiled. "'Cept it goes too fast, an' I sure do like to waste it."

"I've been thinking about things that happen to people in the past and whether or not it would be possible to… well, to go back and change things."

"That'd be a miracle, all right. A big one."

"Do you think time could work that way?" She flushed as she realized how silly she must sound.

Diaz did not seem to be surprised by the question. "Do you think it works that way, Miss Adeline?"

"I'm not sure. Time is just hours and minutes. That's how I've always thought of it. Now is now, and yesterday was yesterday, and there's no going back. That's how everyone thinks of it."

"Not everyone."

"But I'm beginning to think of it in a different way, as if it's a distance that could be traveled. As if there could be a road between now and yesterday. What do you think?"

His black eyes gleamed. "Let me see if we can make sense outta this. We're all movin' forward through time right now. But if you c'n go forward, don't you think you c'n go backward too?"

"Yes. Yes, I do. Then you think someone could go back in time? You really think it could happen?"

"Yes, ma'am. That it could ain't a question t' me but then, I like to believe in such things."

"So do I," she said softly.

"Don't bet it happens a lot, though. Couldn't be many who deserve a second chance. "

"What do you mean, a second chance?"

"Well, that's all goin' back in time is, ain't it? A second chance. Why would someone get to go back for any other reason?"

"To change things other people did."

Diaz shrugged. "Maybe. But I think we each gotta worry 'bout our own business." He paused and looked at her shiftily. "Now, let's say someone could go back in time. Someone like you, maybe. Why would you be there to change anything, cept if it was to change somethin' y' once did?"

"But what if! went back to a time before I was ever born?"

Diaz tilted his head thoughtfully. "Don't know if that could happen."

"You don't think I could go back earlier than the time I was born? Then you're saying a person could only move around in her own lifetime?"

He smiled and shrugged. "This is all gettin' too tangled up fer me."

"Me too," Addie said with a defeated sigh. Tiredly she stood up. "But thank you. You've given me something to think about. Oh, and… please don't tell anyone what we were talking about. Especially not Ben."

"No, Miss Adeline," he said with a grave smile. Troubled, she turned and walked toward the corral. I don't believe anything he said was right. I know I don't belong in this time. I was born in I9I0. Adeline Warner was born first,' not me. Unless. .. unless I really am Adeline Warner.

Impossible. She shrank from the idea. It was crazy. But everything that had happened to her was crazy. Suddenly her heart was pounding roughly, pounding so hard her chest hurt.

She couldn't be Adeline Warner. What about Addie Peck? What about her life with Leah and the years she'd spent living in the house on the edge of Sunrise? Shivering, she thought about the two hours during the afternoon when Adeline Warner had disappeared.

"What happened that afternoon?" she whispered. "What happened to her? Where did she go?"

Frightening thoughts flew through her mind. Maybe she went to the future. Maybe she lived twenty years in the space of that two hours and then came back here. Maybe Addie Peck had just been a misplaced Adeline Warner.

"No," she gasped, and leaned against the gatepost of the corral, her head spinning. "I don't have Adeline's memories. I have my own. I'm not her. I don't want to be her. Oh, God, why am I in her place?"

Addie wanted to cry, but no tears came to her eyes. She was dry and numb. She remembered the peaceful, orderly life she had led with Leah as her companion. It had been difficult and lonely, but she'd always been secure in the knowledge that each new day would be the same as the one before. Why had that been taken away from her? Why was she here in the place of a girl who'd been wild and temperamental, selfish and spoiled? That's not me, she thought desperately. I'm not Adeline.

A cold feeling swept over her, and she swayed against the wooden post. A picture emerged behind her eyes. It was an image of Sunrise, the sides of the unpaved main street lined with wagons and oldfashioned contraptions pulled by tough-bodied horses. Everything was slightly askew, like in a dream, but the details were startlingly clear. She could feel the wooden boards of the sidewalk under her feet, smell the dust stirred up by wagon wheels.

As she walked down the street, it seemed as if a stranger had taken over her body and was walking in her shoes. The town drunk, Charlie Kendricks, careened against the side of a storefront and paused to watch her pass by. She saw her hands flick her skirts to the side in a contemptuous gesture, as if she would be soiled by walking near him.

A breeze blew a trendril of hair across her face, and she stopped to pin it back, looking at her reflection in a small store window. Then the image of her face disappeared, although she could still see the street and buildings beyond. Startled, she raised her hand to the pane of glass, but it wasn't reflected back at her. Suddenly the brightness of the sun struck off the window, blinding her. Covering her eyes, she gave a cry of pain, but she couldn't hear her own voice. Heat surrounded her, burning with the intensity of a thousand suns, and she felt her body shriveling, dissolving, hurtling down into an endless well of time and space. She heard the sigh of an old woman's last breath… and a baby's cry.

Addie opened her eyes, and the vision disappeared. Breath-ing through flared nostrils, she tried to gather her wits, and clung to the gatepost for support. That was what had happened to Adeline Warner the day she disappeared.

"That was what happened to me," she whispered. "It was me."

Adeline Warner and Addie Peck were one and the same. One woman, two different lifetimes. She'd been born twice, once in I860 and once in I9I0… both lives were combined in her, and she remembered parts of each.

Terrified, Addie pushed herself away from the corral and began to run. It didn't matter that there was nowhere to run to. She had to find a place to hide, long enough to be away from everyone and think. She couldn't go back into the house. She couldn't face anyone.

"Addie?"

The soft inquiry stopped her in her tracks. She looked at the bunkhouse steps where Ben sat with a guitar resting across his knees, slender steel strings trailing from the neck of it. He set the guitar to the side and stood up, his eyes narrowed. "Addie, what's wrong?" She couldn't move, just stared mutely as he walked over to her. "What happened?"

"N-nothing-"

"Did Diaz say something to upset you?"

"No. Please don't touch me. Don't." She quivered as his hands closed over her arms, his thumbs fitting in the hollows of her inner elbows. The touch of his hands was warm. He peered into her pale face and slid his arm around her shoulders, urging her toward the house.

"Come with me. I'll take you back."

"No," Addie said, trying to pull away from him.

"Okay… okay. Don't get all worked up. Come here." He pulled her to one of the sheds next to the corral, hidden from view, and turned her to face him. The outline of his shoulders was crisp against the night sky. He was strong enough to do anything he wished, strong enough to kill. But his hands were gentle as they clasped her arms. She knew he could feel her trembling. "We're going to talk, Addie."

"I… I can't."

"What did Diaz say to you? Just tell me. I'll take care of it. "

"No, don't talk to him," she managed to say. "Don't."

"I will if you don't tell me what's wrong."

She shook her head helplessly. "Everything's wrong, especially me. Everything's wrong." Unconsciously she gripped his forearms, her face tinted white in the early-evening light. "Ben, I'm different than before, aren't I? Don't you see a difference? You said I'd changed since that afternoon. You said it yourself."

A frown inserted itself between his slanting brows. "You mean the afternoon when Cade and I couldn't find you in town?"

"Yes. I've been different since then. Like another woman."

"Not that different."

"Yes, I am," she insisted, her nails digging into his forearms. Ben didn't seem to notice the pain of it as he stared down at her. "You said even my face was different.”

"So I did," he said lightly. "Yes, I've noticed a few changes in you." A teasing note entered his voice. "Welcome ones."

"I know things I didn't know before. And I can't ride as well as I used to. I'm not that Adeline Warner anymore."

"Why is it so important to be different from the way you were before? I wouldn't disclaim everything about the old Adeline if I were you." His cool, sensible manner made her feel a little better. She envied his control, his lack of fear. How wonderful it would be to look at the world as he did and believe that everything was rational and in perfect order. "There were a few things about you I'd come to admire."

"How am I different?"

"There are thing about you I didn't notice before, I guess." Ben paused and let go of her arms, bracing them on the wall behind her, forming a circle that enclosed her securely. "You're softer, somehow. You have more compassion. And you have the sweetest smile I've… " Their eyes met in the darkness, and Addie felt every bone in her body dissolve. Weakly she leaned back against the wall, her breath shortening. "You've always seemed pretty callous for a woman," Ben continued. "On the outside as innocent as a baby, on the inside as hard-hearted and cash minded as any painted cat in Abilene-"

"What's a painted cat?" she whispered, and he laughed quietly.

"Ever hear of a bawdy house, honey?" The word "honey" was a casual endearment that everyone used. But when Ben said it, it was an audible caress.

"Oh," she said, her face coloring. "How can you be so rude when-"

"We seem to have a problem understanding each other, Adeline. How did you manage to learn so many new words and forget so many old ones?"

"I… I don't know."

"The way you look right now is different from before. As if you need someone to take care of you. You've leaned on Russ in the past, haven't you? He's solved your problems, shouldered your burdens. But for some reason, you haven't been leaning on him lately. Why not? Have you two had a falling-out? Is that the problem?"

"No. Don't ask questions, I'm tired of questions, and I don't need someone to take care of me-"

"Yes, you do. There's been a hungry look in your eyes for days. A look of needing a man. Isn't Jeff fulfilling his role as your nearly-betrothed?"

Flinching, she turned away and tried to leave, but he wouldn't let her. His hands rested on her shoulders, and the hint of strength in his grip promised to increase if she didn't hold still. The protective walls around her heart seemed to crumble. The more she tried to steel herself against him, the more helpless she was. There was a dreamlike stillness between them, as each tried to see into the mystery of the other.

"No, he isn't," Ben said huskily, breaking the silence. "And you're looking for something better. So you're beginning to see him for what he is, hmmn?"

"No, I'm not! I mean, yes, I know what he is, and I like him just fine!"

"You like him for his looks and his money, and of course, his amiable personality. And at the same time you despise him for being a weak fool. No woman can stand a man who'll let her control him."

She glared at him, the line of her jaw showing through the delicate roundness of her cheek as she clenched her teeth. "You're making me sound awful. I'm not like that. "

"I've had you figured from the first moment we met. Oh, there've been some revisions along the way, but I've still got you down right."

"You couldn't begin to understand me," she said, her voice locked high in her throat.

“You know what a mavericker is, Addie?"

“A cattle thief."

"An entrepreneur. He doesn't let anyone stand between him and what he wants. I'm that way by nature, Addie, and so are you. And neither of us has respect for any folk who'll let us take advantage of them. I have a feeling it won't be long before Jeff's charms are going to pall, and you'll start looking for someone who won't let you manipulate him. Don't look so offended. You know it's the truth. "

"It is not," she said swiftly. "You don't know the first thing about me, or about what's between me and Jeff."

His smile was taunting. "Don't I?"

"No," she said coolly. "Jeff is more than man enough to take care of me. And I don't manipulate him!"

Ben grinned, noting that her paleness had been replaced by a healthy flush of indignation. "Be honest. You lead him around by the nose. "

"I don't!"

He smiled mockingly. "Such impressive loyalty to a man who doesn't know the first thing about you. I'd bet my last cent your conversations with him aren't worth a good cuss. But maybe it isn't his mind you're interested in. Possibly he provides a good roll in the grass. Admittedly his looks are passable, and then there's that mighty attractive ranch his father owns-"

"My relationship with Jeff is none of your beeswax!"

"None of my what?"

"You know what I mean!"

His eyes twinkled, and she realized he was laughing at her. "Yes, I know what you mean."

She was struck by the thought that he was Russell's mortal enemy. She desperately wanted it not to be true. "Ben… you would never hurt my father, would you?"

"Hurt Russ?" He looked startled. "God Almighty, no. Of course not. What gave you that idea?"

"He trusts you more than he trusts anyone else. You're closer to him than anyone. You're in a good position to hurt him. "

Ben's face went blank, as if a mask had slipped into place. All his warmth fled in an instant. "I owe him my loyalty. He gave me a new start when I needed one, a chance to work hard and get paid well for it. And honor aside, I have practical reasons to justify his trust in me. Why should I bite the hand that feeds me? I'd be crazy to hurt him." He straightened away from her and tilted his head toward the house. "Come on. I'll walk you back." His lips curved in a humorless smile. "Did anyone ever tell you that you have a talent for spoiling a mood, Addie?"

"What kind of mood?"

Ben laughed, shaking his head, and he took her arm. "Sometimes-not often-Jeff Johnson has my sympathy. Come on."