Give Me Tonight(107)

There wasn't reason for the sheriff and his men to stay after that. Ben saw them to the door and went back into the office, where Addie had found a bottle of whiskey and a glass.

"Don't stop pouring," Ben said, and she smiled wanly.

"There's only one glass." She took a swallow and handed the glass to Ben with a gasp as the whiskey seared the inside of her throat. He lifted it to his lips and followed suit. After a moment he sighed, closing his eyes.

"I could've used this a few hours ago."

"Is it going to help?" she asked dully, and took back the glass before he could answer.

"How's Caroline?"

She took a deeper swallow of the liquor this time.

"I'm not sure."

"The baby?"

"Dead." Addie stared into the whiskey, her finger­tips whitening. "The baby wasn't supposed to die," she said, more to herself than him. "She was sup­posed to live, and grow up to have a daughter of her own someday—"

"Addie, what are you talking about?"

"I should have saved him," she continued, the glass trembling in her hand. "That's why I came back. That's why I'm here. But what could I do to stop it? I tried to warn him. I tried to change things, and it all happened anyway, just like before—"

"Addie," Ben interrupted softly, taking the drink away and setting it down on the desk. He pulled her body against his warm, hard chest, her chatter muffled by his cotton shirt. "Shhh. You're not making sense."

She slumped against him in exhaustion. "I'm so tired." Tears of grief rolled down her cheeks. "I'm so tired, Ben . . ."

"I know you are," he murmured, smoothing down the wild locks of her hair; caressing her aching shoul­ders and back. "I know what you've been through to­night. You need to sleep."

"And your h-head . . . there's no bandage or—"

"I'm just fine," he reassured her swiftly. "I didn't need one."

"It can't have happened again," she choked, clutching at his shirt. "I should've stopped it—"

"Again? What are you talking about?" Ben asked, perplexed. "Russ?"

"The Johnsons were behind it. You know that." His face changed, and he looked cold and thin ­lipped—whether from anger or pain, she couldn't tell. "There's no proof yet. But I'll find it."

"They wanted you both gone, you and Daddy. But I saved you this time. They didn't count on that—"

"What do you mean, 'this time'?"

She ignored his question, her eyes fixed blankly on the window. "They'll still be after you. Jeff hates you, and Big George wants the ranch as well as the water rights. You're the only thing standing in the way."

Ben's gaze was sharp. "What did Jeff say to you in town that day? You've been suspecting something like this would happen. How did you know what had hap­pened tonight before anyone else did?"

Her lashes lowered as she sought to conceal her sud­den leaping guilt "I didn't know for certain. I've been worried about Daddy for so long, and I . . . just felt like something was wrong when we were in the cabin. I can't explain why. But it doesn't matter . . . I was too late." She didn't move a muscle as she leaned against him, some part of her mind waiting to feel him go tense with suspicion, waiting for him to hold him­self away from her the smallest fraction of an inch. But he didn't move or betray his thoughts in any way. His fingers drifted through her hair, lightly stroking her scalp. She was lulled by the soothing touch. Her eyelids drooped heavily, eyelashes almost brushing her cheeks.

Feeling Addie's body begin to slacken, Ben sighed and brushed a tear off her cheek with his knuckle. "I'll walk you upstairs. You need to rest."

"I can't sleep—"

"Doc Haskin can give you a sedative. You're enti­tled to it."

"I don't want to go upstairs," she said, her voice cracking. "I don't want to go near that room where . . . Don't try to make me."

"I won't, I won't" he murmured, hunting for a handkerchief as she began to cry again. He located a crumpled wad of cotton in the back pocket of his jeans.

"I'll sleep on the parlor sofa with the light on—"

"Whatever you want, darlin'."

"I'm sorry." She gulped, taking the handkerchief and wiping her nose. "I'll be strong tomorrow. I'll help you. Oh, God, there's so much to do."

"We'll get through it."

Her mind was jumping from one thought to another in a random pattern. "Ben, it was one of our own men who—"

"Yes. Most likely. But if I ever hear you say it again, I'll skin you alive. Rumors and accusations are going to fly fast enough as it is. We'll know more tomorrow, after the boys have been questioned. "

"By the sheriff?"

"And me."

"What about the will?" she whispered. "Daddy never drew up the new one. That lawyer from the East didn't arrive in time. What's going to happen to the ranch and the family?"

"Russ did write a new one as soon as the fence­ cutting trouble started, just in case something hap­pened before the lawyer got here. He didn't want anyone to know. Pete and I were witnesses. "