It was incredible to look in Russell's face and realize she resembled him. Perhaps it was mere coincidence, or her imagination, but it seemed to her that they even shared some of the same mannerisms. He treated her with a disconcerting mixture of directness and indulgence, one minute talking to her as frankly as if she were a man, the next spoiling her without limit.
"Lately I haven't talked to you much, Adeline."
"No, sir."
"You spent some time today with Jeff."
"Yes, we-"
"What goes on between you two durin' these visits? "
"I… He… Nothing much."
"He acts like a gentleman around you?"
"Yes. Absolutely."
He nodded, blowing out a ring of smoke. "That's good. Jeff is a good boy, for a Johnson. Soft, maybe, but he'd never dare treat you wrong. He say anything 'bout when he's plannin' to ask me for permission to marry you?"
"No."
"Then he ain't caught yet."
"No, sir."
"Well, he will be soon. But to catch him you got to hold him at the right distance. Understand?"
"I think so."
"Not too close, not too far. Hold him tight, but don't choke him. That's the way your mama caught me." Russell noticed Addie's sudden smile, and he chuckled, beaming with pride. "If you want him, we'll get him for you, honey. Just look at you. I got me the prettiest girl in Texas."
"And… I've got the most distinctive father."
"Distinctive?" Russell appeared to be pleased. "Distinctive. Five-dollar word. So you learned somethin' at that school 'sides watercolorin' and manners. Your mother might have been right about sendin' you there. But don't tell her I said so."
As he looked at her, his pride deepened until his chest was filled with it. Besides the Sunrise Ranch, he considered Adeline to be his greatest accomplishment. Any achievement of hers was a credit to him, while her faults… well, he preferred to ignore those, except to chastise her occasionally, just for show. Cade and Caroline were good children, but they were too much like their mother. Adeline understood things that most women, in his opinion, weren't capable of understanding. She thought with good, hard common sense, more like a man than a woman. And she belonged to Texas as he did. She had his nerve, she was cut from his mold.
Other men had well-behaved daughters, unassuming creatures who knew their places, women who would someday be obedient and pliable to the will of their husbands. But his daughter was wild, untamed, and beautiful. His disapproval of her independence warred with his pride in it. She thought for herself, she made decisions by herself, and there was almost no freedom he wouldn't get her.
"Let's go in to dinner," Russell said, holding out the crook of his arm, and Addie took it with a smile.
As soon as dinner was served and the edges were taken off everyone's appetite, the conversation began. Russell proved within five minutes that he was in fine fettle. "Well, Ben… I want to hear what that son-of-a-bitch fence cutter George Johnson had to say when you told him I want my fence back up!"
Caroline and her husband, Peter, winced at his loud voice and strong language, glancing at their ten-yearold daughter. Leah was staring raptly at her grandfather.
"Daddy," Caroline protested mildly, "the child-"
"Take the child up to bed," came the answering roar. "I want to hear what my son-of-a-bitch neighbor had t' say. He is what he is, and I won't call him anything else. Start talkin', Ben."
Addie glanced at Ben, whose face was perfectly inscrutable. There was, however, a betraying twinkle in his eye as he regarded Russell. You didn't have to know Russell long to understand that he thoroughly enjoyed working himself up into hearty bursts of temper. Leah was hurried upstairs by Caroline.
"We seem to have a few philosophical differences with Big George." Ben studied his table knife and turned it idly as he spoke. "Plainly speaking, he doesn't like your fence. He doesn't have one, and he doesn't see why you need one."
"I had that fence put up to protect my land," Russell said, his face reddening. "To protect Warner property from rustlers. And neighbors."
"Big George seems to think the range is open and belongs to everyone."
"He's got the wrong damned idea. What's inside my fence belongs to nobody but me!"
Ben looked at him and said nothing, a smile playing on his lips. Addie nearly caught her breath at the sight of him, with the soft evening light shining on his black hair and bronzed face. It was difficult not to stare like a foolish schoolgirl. And it was indeed foolish to be taken in by his looks. It didn't matter what a man was on the outside when he was capable of such betrayal, cruelty, and cunning. But he seemed so affectionate toward Russell. Could it be that even now he was looking at Russell with the idea of killing him uppermost in his mind? She turned her eyes away from him and forced her attention back on the conversation.
"… George said we'd built the fence too far into his property," Ben was saying.
"Hogwash!" Russell exploded.
"Oh, I don't know, Russ. You've always been one for cutting your slice of the pie a shade bigger than the others."
There was dead silence around the table as Russell stared at him bug-eyed. Ben met his gaze without flinching, that same smile still lingering on his lips. Addie was amazed at his daring. Suddenly Russell laughed deeply, and relieved chuckles erupted from the rest of the group. "Don't know why some say you're dishonest," Russell remarked, still chortling. "You're so honest it offends me. All right. What does that son-of-a-bitch George want in the way of… of… "
"Remuneration?”
"If that means slickin' his ruffled feathers down, yes."
"He wants half of that watering hole on the border of the property. And he wants to be paid for that maverick calf we… adopted."
"Adopted," Addie repeated, unable to resist breaking in. "First we stole it, now we adopted it. It sounds better every time I hear it told. You sound positively paternal, Ben, talking about that poor little lonesome critter who needed to be taken in."
He grinned at her. "I have a soft spot in my heart for neglected animals."
Their eyes met in challenge. "How altruistic."
"No, just enterprising."
May decided to interrupt their exchange. "I wish the two of you would quit tradin' words no one else understands." The statement was heartily seconded by the rest of the gathering, and Addie laughed as she stood up from the table.
"I'll leave while you discuss the details, then. I'm going to take a short walk outside, now that the air is cool. "
"Don't go too far," May cautioned.
"I won't, Mama." It startled Addie, to hear that word come so easily to her own lips, and her smile faded as she left the room.
The night air was cool and fresh. She inhaled the scent of it and knew there was something missing. There was a difference between this Sunrise and the one she had left. Here there was no seasoned, mellow fragrances of corn growing and fruit ripening. The farmers would not plow this ground and coax their harvest from it for another twenty or thirty years.
Sunrise was still the ranchers' domain. They liked the land raw and uncultivated, they liked the town frayed and comfortable, worn down and full of saloons. This was more of a man's world than the Sunrise she had come from. Moodily she kicked at a dry clod of earth and went to lean against the wooden fence by the house. There were lights on at the bunkhouse, and the muted sound of cowboys' laughter. Scattered across the ground were flashes of light. Fireflies winking at each other.