Give Me Tonight

by Lisa Kleypas

"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. "

  "He left… everything… in your hands?" Ben nodded silently, his eyes locking with hers. "Will it hold up?" she asked.

  "It's not sewn up as neatly as the lawyer would have done it… but yes, I think it'll hold up."

  A terrible sense of irony struck her. Then the old Adeline would never have won. The money would never have been hers anyway. It would still have been put in trust. And the Johnsons wouldn't win either, because Addie would stand fast by the alibi she'd provided for Ben. True, there were suspicions about Ben in the sheriff's mind, but suspicions wouldn't prove he had killed Russell. The only evidence that existed was circumstantial. The question was, would the Johnsons go to extra lengths to get Ben out of the way now?

  "I'm afraid for you," she said in a low voice, and Ben gave her a humorless smile.

  "Don't be. There's no need." But his confidence frightened her, as if he were thumbing his nose at the designs of fate.

  Russell's funeral was short and efficient, the way he would have wanted it. He was buried on Warner land, in the family plot. The simple white marker would be replaced later by an elaborately carved marble one. Although only family members and ranch hands were allowed at the graveside service there was an endless river of callers for days afterward, people pouring in from distant counties to pay their respects. Everyone had a story to tell about some favor Russell had done for him. It seemed he was owned thousands of favors.

  Since Caro was bedridden and May grief-stricken, Addie was the only family member able to take visitors out to the grave site. Back and forth she trudged with the callers, wishing she could tell them how much easier everything would be for her if they'd just stayed at home and sent letters of condolence. It was a surprise when Ruthie and Harlan Johnson showed up as representatives of the Johnson clan, their faces strained with anxiety as Addie opened the door to let them in. They half-expected to be turned away. Big George or Jeff wouldn't have been let on the ranch at all.

  Addie received the couple with as much graciousness as she could muster. Only one tense moment occurred, when Ben, who'd been informed of the callers, strode into the house, his manner deceptively relaxed. Harlan had asked diffidently about trying again to negotiate an agreement about the water rights, causing Ben's eyes to turn cold. "You tell Big George," he said softly, "that Russell's death won't make any difference in the way this ranch is run."

  Finally the number of visitors slowed to a trickle, and Addie had more time to take care of the housework. May spent most of her time sleeping in her room or taking care of Caroline, leaving the running of the house to Addie, who had never suspected how difficult it was to oversee the cleaning and cooking, the washing and ironing, the hundreds of details that had to be taken care of. She also found time to help Ben with the overload of business correspondence. She wanted to know as much as possible about their circumstances now. Ben had been appointed executor of the will and would manage all the financial concerns of the Warners and the Sunrise Cattle Company. Upon his marriage to Addie, he would jointly own Sunrise with the rest of Russell's children.

  It was the opinion of everyone in the country that the marriage couldn't take place quickly enough. Addie was annoyed by the prudish streak in the townspeople, who had such earthy ways it was difficult to believe her affair with Ben was causing such a commotion. "You'd think we were the first couple ever to sleep together before their wedding night," she had complained to Ben, adding that their engagement should have been enough to satisfy others' sense of propriety. "For heaven's sake, after all Mama's been through, people won't let her alone for asking about when we're going to get married, and whether or not she thinks we sneak off when no one's looking."

  Ben was amused by Addie's self-righteous airs. Nevertheless, he too insisted on having the wedding a short time from now, in two weeks. That was nothing even close to a decent interval of mourning for Russell, but Addie would be branded a scarlet woman if they waited longer. As things were now, most people preferred to think of her as an innocent girl who'd been taken advantage of, which suited Ben just fine. He'd rather be regarded as a debaucher of virtue by all of Texas than have a single thing said against Addie. As for sneaking off together, there was no question of that. They each wrestled with private demons. Making love was a pleasure neither of them felt entitled to, and even if they'd had the inclination, there were eyes upon the two of them at all times.

  The routines around the ranch were the same as they'd always been. Work on the fence continued, including repairs made to the new places that had been cut. Cade and Leah went to school every day. Addie found some comfort in the amount of work she had to do. She liked the feeling of being useful and needed, and was glad that May seemed to have little interest in assuming her old responsibilities. To the rest of the family, life seemed curiously similar to what it had been before, and though they felt Russell's absence keenly, their world had not fallen apart with his death. Ben had taken the reins in hand, managing the ranch with apparent ease. His authority was well-established, and the support of the ranch hands was unfaltering, as it always was in times of trouble.

  The family turned to Ben in the same ways they had turned to Russell, whether it concerned money, family, or personal matters. Although he'd refused to take Russell's place at the table, they all recognized him as the head of the family now. May mentioned to Ben that she wanted Russell's bed taken out of the house, and the next day it was gone, hacked to pieces and burned by the superstitious cowhands. Addie gave Ben lists of supplies needed for the kitchen, and a boy was dispatched immediately to the General Store. The porcelain face of Leah's doll cracked when she dropped it, and Ben gave her a dollar to buy a new one. They all relied on him without a second thought, casually adding their problems to the burdens he already carried. It seldom crossed anyone's mind that he might be mourning for Russell in his own way.

  Only Addie understood the extent of Ben's grief and sense of loss. She'd been copying a letter in Russell's office the afternoon Ben had walked in with an absentminded look on his face. Suddenly he froze as he met her eyes, looking startled to see her there. He was the first to speak.

  "I wasn't thinking," he said slowly. "I just walked into the house with a question for Russ. I forgot he wasn't here." And he stood looking at her silently, amazed at himself.

  "I forget sometimes too," she said.

  Ben swallowed hard, nodding briefly. Addie recognized his expression. It was the same one she’d worn as she'd looked into the mirror for the first time after waking up in another world, when she'd realized part of her life was gone forever. That's one thing I'll never have to be afraid of again, she thought grimly. I know what it's like to lose everything, and I know that somehow I got through it. That must mean I'll get through all of this too. Wordlessly she stood up and held out her arms to Ben, wanting to help ease his pain. He was not the kind to ask for comfort, but she would always offer, even if he decided to tum away from her.

  Ben's face was strained. His mind was clouded with confusion. Long ago he had sworn never to rely on a woman he loved, never in this way. Enjoy her, pleasure her, take what she was willing to give, but never give her this power over him. And yet, hadn't he already taken that extra step, that one step too many? Addie's eyes were filled with knowledge of him, the secrets he had told her, the understanding he'd allowed her to have of him as a man. All of it he had given to her as if it had been her right. Now he was independent no longer. There were moments such as this when he realized the hold she had on him, and for a split second he wanted to break away from her.

  "I know you're hurting," she said gently. "So am I. Don't turn away, Ben."
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br />   Before he could stop himself, he'd gone to her. He buried his face in her hair, his hands flexing convulsively in the loose material of her dress sleeves. The blessed, aching relief of it made his eyes and nose sting. His voice was hoarse as he sought to unburden his heart.

  "I didn't know him for long. But he was more of a father to me than…' The rest of the sentence was choked off.

  Addie stroked his dark head tenderly. "He loved you. He thought of you as a son."

  "If only I'd known what was happening, I could have saved him. I should have-"

  "All of us feel that way. His family was only a few doors away. Don't you think Cade blames himself for not having heard something? And me… oh, you can't imagine the things I wish I'd done." Addie felt much more responsible for Russell's death than Ben ever could. She'd known about it beforehand but still couldn't stop it. And that was a secret she would have to bear alone for the rest of her life.

  Ben gave a shuddering sigh and squared his jaw, dragging a sleeve across his wet eyes.

  "Don't blame yourself," Addie said, laying her cheek against his fast-beating heart, her arms wrapped around his waist. "He'd be mad if he knew you did."

  And Ben allowed himself to hold her a few minutes more. In the back of his mind he knew he should have been overcome with shame, having given in to unmanly tears in front of a woman. But Addie was different from all others. There were no conditions to her love. He could trust her with his private thoughts, his deepest feelings. Finally he understood the real reason for wanting her as his wife. Not for the sake of propriety or passion, not for children, for the ranch, or even fora place to belong.

  As a boy he had idealized love; as a man he had searched for it. And now that he'd found it, it was different from what he'd expected, more demanding, more vital, constantly changing. The bonds that tied him to her were stronger than steel chains, but within them there was perfect freedom. It was that way for both of them.

  Caroline and Peter planned to leave with Leah after the wedding, as soon as Caroline was well enough to travel. May had decided to go with them to North Carolina, since most of her family and old friends were there. She'd made no mention of whether or not she intended to come back to Texas someday, but Addie suspected she would never return. Cade had opted to stay at the ranch for a while, until he was more certain of what he wanted.

  The sheriff and his deputies finished questioning the ranch hands about what they might have seen or heard the night of Russell's murder, and they came up with no new information, no answers that threw any light on what had happened. Ben allowed his frustration to surface after they'd left, pacing around the ranch office and smoking cigarettes, crushing them out after only a few puffs. Addie's first inclination when she went in to talk to him was to sprawl comfortably in a chair, but the bothersome arrangement of skirts, small bustle, and petticoats forced her to sit upright in a stiffbacked, ladylike manner.

  The air was stale with smoke. Leaning over, she struggled to open a window without getting up. Ben cursed under his breath and did it for her, and she made a face as she waved ineffectually at the air.

  "Are you going to make a habit of this?" she asked.

  "I liked the smell of Daddy's cigars much better."

  Ben stubbed out a cigarette and raked a hand through his dark hair. "I might not have enough time to develop a habit," he said curtly.

  "Meaning?”

  "Meaning that if I'm not dry-gulched by some well meaning vigilante committee soon, I'll probably be taken out and hanged by the sheriff and a posse, nice and legal. I'm the most likely suspect. Everyone knows it. "

  "But I've provided your alibi. I said you were with me that night. "

  He shook his head, scowling morosely. "They think you're lying to protect me."

  Addie sighed and pressed her palms to her temples, desperate to remember the name she’d given to Jeff. Inside her mind somewhere was the truth. She closed her eyes and pressed harder, wishing she could squeeze out the memory. But her returning memories were infrequent and almost always incomplete.

  "It's one of our own men," she said, curling her fingers into her hair as if she would tug it out, disheveling the perfectly coiffed braids. "Surely one of them knows something, or suspects something. Why isn't anyone saying anything? They wouldn't really protect one of their own even if he was a murderer, would they?"

  "I don't know," Ben muttered, beginning to pace again. "I wouldn't have thought so."

  Later that evening, as the family sat down to dinner in the main house, Ben strode in with a distracted expression. They all glanced up at him as he looked at Addie and spoke quietly.

  "I've got some business to take care of. I might be gone until morning."

  Addie's skin prickled with awareness. Something had happened. "Anything serious?" she asked with forced calm, and he shrugged.

  "I won't know until later."

  Slowly Addie took the napkin from her lap and put it on the table. "I'll walk you to the door," she said, darting a cautious glance at May, who offered no objection. As soon as they left the room, Addie clung to his arm. His muscles were taut. "What is it?" she whispered anxiously.

  "One of the boys admitted to having seen one of the beds in the bunkhouse empty during the night of the murder."

  "Whose?"

  "Watts's."

  "But… but he's taken me and Caro to town lots of times, and you had him watch over the house so many nights while we were all asleep-"

  "I can't prove he's the one. It's only a suspicion." Addie took a deep breath and held on to his arm more tightly. "Where are you going now?" she whispered.

  "To visit his sister."

  "But… she's a prostitute."

  "Hell, Addie, I'm not going to bed her. I'm just going to ask her some questions."

  "She's not going to tell you anything to implicate her own brother, even if she knows something. Oh, Ben, I don't like this at all-"

  "She's just a girl. A girl who likes money." He frowned as he looked down at her, prying his arm loose from her grasp. "And I don't have much to lose by visiting with her. In the meantime, don't worry about Watts. He's staying far away from the house in a line shack tonight, guarding the edge of the property. "

  "Ben," Addie said, her forehead furrowed, "she might try to get you to sleep with her. I know you and I haven't been together lately, but-"

  "Oh, good Lord." Ben laughed suddenly. "If you think there's a danger of the two of us…" He continued to laugh, shaking his head as he went out the door. "For your sake, I'll do my best to control myself." She scowled as she watched him go, wondering what he thought was so funny.

  In the cowboy's lingo, an especially dirty saloon or dance hall was called a dive. The place where Jennie Watts worked, the Do-Drop-In, deserved a new word all its own. It was filthy and noisy, the floors sticky, the customers raucous, the music boisterous. Ben ambled in and ordered a drink, discovering shortly thereafter that the cheap whiskey deserved its nickname of "rotgut." Ben drank sparingly, eyeing the fleshy girls and their skimpy clothes until he saw a bosomy dark-haired girl whose face reminded him of Watts. Lightly he caught her arm, and she automatically raised a hand to swing at him until she saw his face. Then she put the upraised hand to her hair, smoothing the stray wisps back as she smiled at him.

  "Hey, han 'some. "

  "Are you Jennie Watts?" It was unorthodox to ask someone's name. Part of the unwritten code was to wait until a stranger decided to identify himself-or herself. But this was a whore, and she couldn't afford to be offended too easily.

  "Jennie's busy. But I'm not."

  "Where is she?"

  The girl frowned a little. "Upstairs. Don't know when she'll come down, neither."

  He gave her a cajoling smile and slipped a few dollars into her hand. "Will this help you remember to tell me when she does?"

  She smiled saucily, her palm closing around the money. "Maybe." She wiggled her backside enticingly as she walked off, causing Ben to submerge a grin in hi
s drink. It was only a few minutes later that she returned to nudge him with her elbow while carrying a tray of empty glasses. He looked at the narrow stairs leading to the upstairs rooms and saw a girl just reaching the bottom step. She was young, thin and hard-faced, with exotic blue eyes set against strikingly pale skin. In a few strides he was at her side.

  "Pardon me… Jennie Watts?"

  She glanced up at him through adult eyes in a child's face, and the combination made him vaguely uneasy. "Why do you want to know?" she asked, surprisingly deep-voiced.

  "If you are, I'd like a few minutes of your time. "

  "You want to dance first?"

  "No, I-"

  "Then come on." She turned and went upstairs, leaving him to follow. They went into a small, sparsely furnished room where the air reeked of sex and liquor. Ben glanced at the unmade bed and stained sheets, his eyes expressionless. The girl sat on the comer of the bed and began to unbutton the front of her dress.

  "Wait," Ben said, and she paused, her eyes cold as they rested on him.

  "You want it with my dress on?"

  "I just want to talk."

  Jennie swore under her breath and stood up, pointing to the door. "Get out."

  He pulled out a few bills, holding them between his first two fingers. "I intend to pay for your time."

  Leisurely she walked over to the small table by the bed and lit a cigarette, regarding him through a haze of smoke. She didn't ask who he was. It didn't matter as long as his money was green.

  "What do you want to talk about?" she asked.

  "Your brother."

  She hesitated, then gave a short nod. "Yeah?"

  "You seen him lately? Talked to him?"

  "Maybe."

  "Has he come into any money lately? Maybe even asked you to keep it for him?"

  She looked at him silently, lifting the cigarette to her lips and taking a long drag. She had something worthwhile to tell.

  "I have great respect for family loyalty," Ben continued, looking at her intently. "But it has been known to come with a price tag." He made a move to reach for his wallet again, then paused, waiting for her answer.