Give Me Tonight(105)

"Is she going to—"

"She's going to be just fine," Addie said swiftly, giving her a push in the direction of her room. "Now, go, and don't get out of bed again."

11

THEY GAVE CAROLINE ENOUGH LAUDANUM TO TAKE the edge off the pain, but she still knew what was hap­pening. The past months of discomfort, joy, and an­ticipation were coming to an abrupt end. Addie knew Caro's physical pain hardly compared to the emotional anguish of knowing she was losing the baby. It took Peter almost four hours to find Dr. Haskin, who was on another call, and bring him to the ranch. Addie suffered every minute of that time, silently cursing the doctor for not being there.

May sat by the bedside, calm but a little blank, slow to answer questions or to say anything at all. Instinc­tively Caroline turned to Addie for help, clutching her hand when in pain, asking her to talk when she needed distraction. Addie worked ceaselessly to keep her as comfortable as possible, bathing the sweat off her face, rearranging the mountain of pillows when Caroline's back hurt, changing the towels they had placed under­neath her hips.

Addie was only dimly conscious of what was going on outside the small room. She was aware that long ago the sheriff had arrived and Ben had taken him up to Russell's room, that there were strangers' feet walk­ing up and down the stairs, and men's voices outside as the ranch was awakened by the news of Russell Warner's murder.

Finally Cade knocked on the door to signal that the doctor had arrived. Wearily Addie went downstairs to meet him, heedless of the blood on her dress or her straggling, hastily tied-back hair. She started in aston­ishment at the sight of Doc Haskin. She'd been ex­pecting an old man with a shock of silver hair, crinkly eyes, and a weather-lined face. Slim shoulders, slightly 'stooped. A man who shuffled slightly when he walked. That was the Doc Haskin she had known all her life.

The man in front of her was young, well-built, and dark-haired, probably only a year or two older than Caroline. His face was strong, his gaze clear and di­rect. but he had the same shaggy eyebrows as the old Dr. Haskin she'd known, and the same comforting smile. She half-expected him to ask after Aunt Leah's health, before she remembered Leah wasn't her aunt anymore.

"D-Doc Haskin," she stammered, and he smiled briefly at her as they started up the stairs.

"It's been a long time since I've seen you, Miss Adeline. A year or two, at least. "

Try fifty, she wanted to say, but held her tongue. "Pete couldn't tell me much about your sister," he continued, and he was so blessedly calm she wanted to weep in relief at having someone there who knew what to do. "Has she gone into labor?"

"She's had the baby," Addie blurted out. "Still­born. But no afterbirth."

"Has she retained all of it or just part?"

"I think all of it," she said, grasping the stair rail­ing as she felt herself sway. Doc Haskin's steadying hand was on her shoulder.

"Why don't you go somewhere and rest?" he sug­gested gently. "I'll take care of her now."

Would it be deserting Caroline, not to go back to that room? Addie hesitated, her forehead creased with misery. She couldn't go back and face May's blank eyes any longer, or Caroline's suffering. She had to be somewhere quiet for a few minutes or go insane.

"Maybe I will rest a little while," she whispered. "Please see to Mama too. I'm worried about her."

"I will. And Miss Adeline . . . I'm sorry about your father."

Slowly Addie went down the steps, keeping hold of the railing. The sense of being small and ineffectual came over her, and she was too tired to fight it. A thirst welled up from inside, a desperate need to see Ben. He would hold her in his arms and let her lean on him as long as she needed. Only he could assure her that the world hadn't gone mad.

There was a murmur of voices from Russell's office.

Silently Addie drew closer to the half-closed door, her ears pricking at the mention of Russell's name. The voices belonged to Ben and Sam Dary, the sheriff, and one or two others she couldn't identify.

" . . . I agree," Ben was saying, his voice weary.

"No horse was used. Whoever did it was on foot, and possibly still is—"

"We have a coupla men out lookin'.  He couldna gotten far. If he ain't in the bunkhouse. Most likely we're lookin' for one of your own, Ben."

"The boys swear they didn't notice anyone coming or going out all night. And we've got a lot of light sleepers in there."

"Robbie Keir swears he didn't see who hit him. You got any idea?"

"No. I was hit from behind as I went in the house."

"That is a puzzle," Dary murmured. "Someone who knew his way around the ranch, even the main house."

"It's possible it was someone who-—

"Ben," Dary interrupted, and this time his voice was quieter, "it's time to git down to business. M' boys found some evidence in your cabin and in Mr. War­ner's room. It's all pointin' in one direction."

"And what direction is that?" Ben asked softly. "Seems t' me you're hidin' somethin', Ben."

"The hell I am. I've given you the go-ahead to search the whole goddamn ranch, including the bunk­house and my cabin. You're welcome to make use of anything you find."