Give Me Tonight(33)

"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.