Give Me Tonight(9)

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.