Wildest Dreams

chapter 13

Lettie realized that somehow she had to get to the other side of the pathway and down the embankment. Luke was down there somewhere—maybe dead. She would be a target for whoever had shot at them, but she had no choice. She took a deep breath, telling herself she must stay calm for Luke's sake. She charged across the pathway then, clambering over the edge of the bank down which Luke had fallen. More shots rang out, but quickly she was out of sight as she slid and tumbled down the rocky ledge, thorny, dry plants tearing at her buckskin riding pants and her cotton blouse, cutting into her hands as she tried to grab something, anything, to slow her fall. Finally she landed on firm ground, breathless, filthy, and bleeding. She took a moment to get her bearings, looked up, and saw no one. Desperately she looked for Luke, jumped when a small rock spit past her to her left. She looked in the direction from which it must have been thrown and saw Luke, sitting behind a large boulder. He waved her over but did not call out to her.

Lettie looked up again, still saw no one. She ran to Luke's side then, felt sick at the sight of his leg, the pants and his thigh ripped open, blood everywhere. His eyes showed the incredible pain he was suffering, and he already looked pale. "Tie it off." He groaned. "Hurry! And don't talk." He dropped his voice to a near whisper. "I want them to think I'm dead. Stay behind the boulder so they can't see us."

Lettie struggled against a need to scream. Luke grimaced as he helped her get his shirt off to use as a tourniquet to slow the bleeding. "You hurt?" he asked.

"No," she whispered. "They killed my horse."

Luke closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, she saw the Luke she did not know. Now he was like Tex, like the outlaws who had first attacked the ranch. "Two of my best goddamn horses!" he seethed through clenched teeth. "I wonder if Ben is dead."

"We never heard a gunshot."

He put his fingers to her lips and drew her closer. "They could have done it some other way," he whispered. "Right now they're after you, and if my guess is right, they won't kill you right away."

Lettie cringed against him, her rape becoming vivid again in her mind. "What will we do?" she whispered. "Who is it, Luke?"

He looked down at his leg. "From the size of this wound... I'd say it was done by a buffalo gun. They shoot long distances and make big holes." He trembled, clenched his teeth, his whole body already covered with sweat. "My guess is it's those buffalo hunters... we ran into on the way back from the cattle drive... out for revenge." He swallowed against an urge to vomit from the pain. "I can't go charging up after them, Lettie. My leg's broken. Our only chance is to get them close enough for me to shoot. That means you're going to have to be very brave —step out and let them see you—start crying. Tell them I'm dead. Beg them not to kill you, too."

"Luke, if I lure them down here, they'll kill you for sure!"

"Not if I can surprise them. There's no other way, Let-tie." He closed his eyes and took a deep, shivering breath. "We've got to do something quick, before I pass out." He grasped her arm. "If I think I can't take them, I'll shoot you instead."

Her eyes widened in surprise.

"There's no other way, Lettie. I know what they'll do to you if they catch you... and they'd kill you afterward anyway. I'll... never let that happen to you again." He took his six-gun from its holster on his hip and put it in her hand. "Hide the gun behind you until they get close. However they come in, take the one to your farthest right," he whispered. "That way I'll know which ones to aim for myself. If they're... close enough... you should be able to hit one of them."

Lettie nodded, not sure she could do any of the things he asked. Knowing what they probably had in mind for her brought on black memories she thought she had buried. And Luke! Was he dying? Why hadn't she agreed just to go to Billings for their little trip together as Luke had suggested? And where was poor Ben?

"Hey, down there! Your stupid old partner up the road is dead, your horses are dead, and you ain't got no way out!" someone called then from above. "Might as well come on out of there."

"Hey, little lady, we done killed your main cock," came another voice. "Come on out and we'll show you what it's like to be with real men!"

There came the sound of laughter, and Lettie carefully peeked around the boulder and looked up to see three men making their way down the embankment. The biggest one smiled, and even from this distance she could see his front teeth were missing.

"That your husband we shot, lady?" the third man asked. He was a big, burly, bearded man who looked filthy. All three men held back when they saw Lettie look around from behind the rock. "Sorry, lady, but I told Luke Fontaine that I'd have his ass one of these days," the biggest one told her. "He killed my brother a couple of weeks back, and I've been waitin' for this chance ever since."

Luke seethed at the voice. Cully! The man had threatened revenge, and now he was getting it!

"We been watchin' you for quite a while, waitin' for your husband to get himself in a situation where he wasn't surrounded by his little army of men," Cully was telling Lettie. Luke could hear that the man was getting closer. "He ain't so big and important without his pack of wolves along, is he?"

"How many are there?" Luke whispered gruffly.

Lettie reached out her hand behind the rock where the men couldn't see and held up three fingers. "Please don't kill me," she called out, breaking into tears. It was an easy thing to do, for she was afraid her husband was dying. "Please! You've gotten your revenge. My husband is dead. Please let me go home to my children."

She moved away from the rock, trembling with fear, praying she could get them close enough not to miss with her own gun. The condition Luke was in, he'd be lucky to shoot even one or two of them, let alone all three. If she missed, the third man might put another one of those huge buffalo slugs into her husband, this time in his chest. What a cruel, ugly weapon the guns were. They looked huge and menacing in the hands of the buffalo hunters, in spite of the size of the men themselves.

"You want to go home, do you?" the toothless man spoke up. He stood to the right of the other two men. My left, Lettie thought. That one was for Luke. The one to her right was tall and skinny, his face bearded and his clothes stained from sweat and buffalo blood.

"We'll see you get there, little lady, after we're through with you," the skinny one spoke up.

"Please don't hurt me," she begged, tears streaming down her face. "You've already killed my husband."

The one in the middle chewed on a weed. "And the old man who was supposed to be lookin' out for your fancy little ass," he spoke up. "Ain't it amazin' how quiet a knife can be?" He rubbed at himself, and Lettie remembered all the horror of her rape. "We ain't gonna hurt you, lady," he added. "We're just gonna make you feel real good. Then we'll take you home... or maybe not. Maybe we'll just keep you with us for a while and slit your tits off later. Jugs like yours make good tobaccy pouches."

The others laughed, and Lettie stepped farther away from the rock. "Why are you doing this?" She wept, shivering, all the while watching them step a little closer. "I've never done anything to you!"

The toothless one stepped even closer. "Let's just say it's part of your husband's payment for takin' my brother from me and knockin' out my teeth."

Lettie backed away even more, gripping the six-gun behind her. She moved to her right, closer to the tall, skinny one, who had moved around in that direction. She waited, not daring to glance at Luke for fear the men would realize he was alive. She could only pray he had not already passed out. All three men came even closer, and she quickly whipped out the gun, aiming and firing at the skinny one to her right. His body jerked backward. He stared at her in surprise before collapsing with a bloody wound in his gut. Lettie did not even have a chance to look toward Luke before she heard the two shots that thundered from his own repeater, catching both the other men. The toothless one had run for cover, but screamed out, falling to his knees when Luke's bullet slammed into his back. He crouched there a moment before sprawling onto his face.

Lettie stared dumbfounded. The man she had shot was writhing on the ground, his knees drawn up, horrible gurgling sounds coming from his throat. Before she even realized Luke had crawled near her, he was grasping her hand. She sucked in her breath in surprise and fear until realizing it was Luke.

"Give me the gun!" he demanded.

"Luke! You shouldn't be—"

"Give me the goddamn gun!"

He was horribly pale. She knew his pain must be excruciating. She handed him the gun, and he dragged himself over to the one man who was still alive. "Turn around!" he growled at her.

Lettie blinked, then realized what he was going to do. She turned away. In the next second she heard the gunshot.

The skinny man no longer moved or made any sound when she looked back. Luke was laid flat out beside him, and she ran to him, forcing herself to ignore the hole in the skinny man's head when she went to her knees beside her husband. "Luke!"

"You've got... to get help." He said. "I can't last much longer."

Lettie looked around, realized she was a good four or five miles from the homestead, with no one to help her. She was not even sure how to get back. Luke grasped her hand.

"Follow the path... the way we came... maybe find Ben's horse. Horses... have a nose for finding home. The horse... can take you." He squeezed her arm. "Take... my rifle... the six-gun."

"No! Not both! You'll need something," she answered. "Keep the rifle." She unbuckled his gun belt. "I'll take this with me. I'll get your ammunition pouch off your horse and bring it to you. You might need the rifle to keep wolves away tonight; and I'll bring you water and some blankets."

She hurried off before he could answer, her mind reeling with the horror of what life would be like without Luke. She had no idea if she could find Ben's horse or find her way back. The longer Luke lay out here with no help, the worse it would be for him. She scrambled and crawled up the embankment, got the ammunition pouch, a canteen of water, and a blanket from Luke's horse. She unstrapped his saddlebags, which contained some food, and threw them over her shoulder. The black gelding whinnied and groaned as she started to rise, and she realized the poor animal was still alive. She knew what Luke would do in such a situation. She cocked the six-gun and held it close to the top of the animal's head, then pulled the trigger. There was no time to weep over what she'd had to do, or over the loss of such a beautiful animal.

She grasped the supplies then and slid back down the embankment on her rump. She laid the supplies next to Luke. "I'll get my own canteen and a blanket when I go back up," she told him, not even sure he was comprehending what she was saying. She covered him with two blankets. "Luke?"

His only reply was to moan, and his eyes drifted shut.

"Luke, don't you die on me! Don't you leave me alone with five babies and no father!" She leaned down and kissed his cheek. "I love you, Luke," she said gently near his ear. "Hang on for me. Please don't die, Luke."

She wiped at her tears, and breathed deeply to stay in control. This was no time to fall to pieces. Somehow she had to find her way back to the house and get help, and if she couldn't find Ben's horse, she'd have to walk the whole way. That part wasn't so bad, if only she was certain just which way to go... and if only there was more daylight left. With the night would come more difficulty finding her way, and it would be harder to see rocks and holes in her way. Worse than that, with the night came the wolves. Would the men return to find Luke torn apart by them? Maybe she would die the same way and they'd both be found with buzzards floating above them, picking over what the wolves left for them.



Lettie crouched under a huge pine, taking a moment to get her breath and her bearings. She vowed to herself that if she and Luke lived through this, she was going to learn more about this vast piece of land her husband owned, become more familiar with its boundaries and landmarks, ride out with Luke at least twice a year when he checked the line shacks, so that she would never get lost like this again on her own land. She struggled not to think about poor Luke lying out there somewhere in terrible pain, maybe dead.

Every bone and muscle in her body ached from walking, climbing, running, falling. Her clothes were ripped and her hands and arms covered with cuts and scratches. The darkness had distorted things and confused her as to which way to go, and the constant howling of wolves made her feel crazy. She thought after all these years she had grown used to the sound, but to be out here in the darkness alone, vulnerable to the animals, made their howling seem more threatening again.

Wolves were not her only concern. Why was it that most wild animals did their prowling at night? She reminded herself of what Luke had told her many times, that most wild animals were much more afraid of humans than the other way around. Right now she wasn't so sure. It made little difference. She had no choice but to keep going, or Luke was going to die. No one would be looking for them. The men would think they were at the line shack by now, and that Ben was keeping guard.

Poor Ben! She had found him on the return pathway, stabbed to death. His horse was nowhere in sight. Apparently it had been run off by the buffalo hunters, and probably all the gunfire had spooked the buffalo hunters' horses. Maybe they had just tied them farther away so they could sneak up on Luke and her on foot. Whatever the answer, she had found no horses. She had walked for what seemed miles, unsure which way to go once the pathway along the ridge had ended. She followed what she thought were their own tracks, but by dusk nothing looked the same, and now in the darkness it was impossible to see any tracks at all.

She uncorked her canteen and took a swallow of water, then got to her feet, which were badly blistered. She slung the canteen around her neck, wishing it and Luke's gunbelt were not so heavy around her shoulders, but both were necessary to her survival. She rubbed at her neck and shoulders for a moment, then started out again, forcing herself to ignore her own pain, reminding herself that she had five children waiting for their mother to come back to them. She wrapped the blanket she had brought with her around her shoulders, worrying that Luke might not be warm enough lying on the cold ground. She prayed he was alert enough to keep the blankets she had left him pulled up around himself.

She shivered at the thought of him lying out there alone and hurt. He was depending on her to get help, and she didn't even know where she was. She realized she had come up against some kind of steep bank. When she looked away from it, she saw nothing but total darkness. The moon was just a sliver tonight. She couldn't even see the shadows of any mountains in the distance, nothing to give her some idea where she was. She started up the bank then, feeling her way, not sure how steep it was. She thought that if she could just get to the top, maybe she would see something on the other side.

She grasped rocks, tree trunks, anything she could find to help her climb, as the bank grew so steep that her feet kept slipping on pine needles and grass. Her hands were so sore she wanted to cry, and she chastised herself for leaving a perfectly good pair of leather gloves behind. How could she have been so foolish? How could she have lived out here this long and still be so inept? It infuriated her to realize how she had neglected to familiarize herself with the Double L and with survival in this kind of situation.

"Never again," she muttered, teeth gritted. "This will never happen—" Before she could finish, her hand slipped on a moss-covered rock, and she went sliding and crashing back down the embankment, screaming all the way. She landed hard against the trunk of a pine tree, felt its sap sticking to her shirt as she pulled away from it. She cried out with the pain of what she was sure must be a cracked rib, maybe several cracked ribs, and she realized that on the way down she had lost her blanket. She felt for her gun and canteen, thanking God they were still draped around her shoulders.

She sat there a moment to get her breath, and she could not help breaking into tears, which only angered her more. She took several deep breaths and wiped at her tears with hands sticky with dirt and sap. She looked up into darkness. Somehow she had to get up that ridge. She started up again, thought she heard something growl not far away. Everything turned cold inside, and her heart pounded wildly. She took the six-gun from its holster. She waited a moment, listening to the snarling and barking somewhere below. In a moment of terror she fired the weapon three times, the shots roaring in her ears, the gun kicking in her hand. She heard a yelp, heard what sounded like animals running, then nothing. She hoped the noise had frightened away whatever was there, probably wolves.

"Dear God, help me," she muttered. She wasn't sure she could even reload the gun in the dark, and she shoved it back into its holster, reminding herself there were only three bullets left. After that she would have to try to reload it. "There's another thing you should have learned, Lettie Fontaine," she scolded herself. If she lived through this, she was going to get back to practicing with a rifle and learn how to load and shoot a six-gun. Ever since Luke had hired more help, she had never bothered to practice with her rifle again, and she had never shot a six-gun until tonight.

She stopped climbing for a moment, realizing she had shot the gun, earlier today! She'd shot that tall, skinny buffalo hunter, but she hadn't killed him. Luke had taken the gun and shot him dead. Later she had used the gun to shoot Luke's horse. That made three more shots! She pulled the six-gun from its holster, realizing that it must be empty now after all. She held it in the air and pulled the trigger, and it only clicked. "Damn," she muttered. Why hadn't she loaded in the other three bullets before she left Luke? She felt along the gun belt and pulled out more bullets one by one, shoving them into the gun's chambers by feeling for the holes. She prayed she was loading the weapon correctly as she locked the cartridge chamber and put it back into the holster. She started climbing again, whimpering with the pain in her ribs. Her hands were so cut and sore that they were almost numb, and she suspected her feet were bleeding inside her leather boots.

She fought and struggled and crawled and grunted her way close to the top of the ridge, then heard something that was music to her ears.

"Hello out there!" someone called.

She clambered to the top. Far off in the distance she saw a dim light. The house! It must be the house! The children! Home! "Help!" she screamed. "Help me!" She drew the six-gun and fired it twice more, realizing the shots she had fired at the wolves must have drawn someone's attention. "It's Lettie! Luke's hurt. Somebody! I'm up here!" She fired again.

"Stay there!" someone yelled. It sounded like Tex. She waited, breaking into tears and thanking God she had made it this far. She couldn't tell what was happening, couldn't even hear a horse at first. Finally she saw a small light. Someone was lighting a match. "Can you see me? Tell me which way to go," came the shouted voice again.

"Here! To your left," she yelled back. "I'm at the top of the ridge, a couple of hundred yards up."

"Stay put and keep talking," the voice answered. "It's me, Tex!"

Lettie kept yelling, explaining what had happened with the buffalo hunters, that Ben was dead, the horses killed, and Luke was badly hurt somewhere along the road to the northern line shack. Finally, when Tex lit yet another match, she realized he was only about fifty feet away. These men knew the land almost as well as Luke, could find their way in the dark. Oh, how she hated this helpless feeling. She was not going to let this happen again. "Up here," she shouted. "Watch for the flash from my gun." She fired the six-gun into the air again, and moments later Tex was there. "Mrs. Fontaine! Are you hurt?"

"Mostly bruises and cuts." She grimaced with pain. "I think I might have cracked a rib. I fell down the other side of the ridge."

Tex helped her up. "My horse is a few feet below. Be careful. This last stretch is pretty steep." He helped her down to his horse, and she gasped with the pain in her ribs when he lifted her up and put her in the saddle. He climbed up behind her. "I was out riding guard when I heard three gunshots, kind of muffled," he explained.

"I thought I heard wolves. I fired into the darkness to scare them away," she told him.

"Well, it's a good thing, or I never would have known anybody was out there. Hang on. I'll get you to the house and gather some men to go find Luke."

Lettie grasped at her middle as the man rode at a gentle gallop toward the house. As they got closer, she realized more men had come alert at the sound of all the gunfire in the distance. Already, Fontaine men had formed a small posse ready to head out.

"Tex! What's happened?" Billy asked.

"Those goddamn buffalo hunters came back. Killed Ben and shot down Luke and Mrs. Fontaine's horses. Luke's wounded bad. Mrs. Fontaine had to leave him along the trail to the north line shack. Somebody's going to have to ride into Billings and get the doc for Luke."

"I'll go!" Sven Hansen volunteered. He turned and rode off into the night, and Anne Sacks came running out of Lettie's house, awakened by all the shouting outside.

"Lettie! What happened!"

"Try not to wake the children," Lettie answered as Tex helped her down from his horse. He climbed on again and rode out with the others, all of them determined to find Luke as soon as possible, in spite of the danger of darkness. "Please don't let Luke die," Lettie whispered in prayer.

Anne, herself with child, helped Lettie into the house, leading her to the bedroom. She left to heat some water, and Lettie removed the canteen and gun belt from around her shoulders and sat down wearily on the bed. She looked down at her hands, so bloody and scratched she hardly recognized them as her own. Pain jabbed at her ribs, and she closed her eyes for a moment, then turned to look at the bed she had shared with Luke Fontaine for so many years now. They had talked about making love tonight, just the two of them alone at the line shack. Their little trip to be alone had turned to disaster, and again the land and the lawless had risen up like beasts to try to devour them. She had survived many things, but she was not so sure she could survive anything happening to Luke. If he died, she would finally have to give up. The land would win after all.



Luke felt the ground vibrate. Horses were coming. He could not move to see who it was. Hard as he tried, he could not even raise his head. Had help come? Would they find him down here? He was well off the pathway. Maybe Lettie had not given a good enough description of where to find him. Maybe she had never even reached help and was dead herself. What he heard could be nothing more than a herd of buffalo somewhere.

Then again, maybe he had died already. He was in so much pain he felt as though he were in a trance. When he opened his eyes, he saw everything as though looking through a haze. He realized it was light, and he could hear a bird singing somewhere nearby. Dawn. He had lain here all night. How much longer could he hold on to the bit of life left in him? How much longer could he bear this sickening pain? He couldn't even move his arm to drink something from the canteen he remembered Lettie saying she'd left for him, yet he was so thirsty he felt as if he might choke.

He moved his head just slightly to see the body of the man he'd shot in the head still lying close by. The other two bodies couldn't be far away. He looked past the foot of the closest one and saw them coming, horses, painted horses. They came closer, and he blinked to see better. The sun was behind them, making it difficult to see their faces, but it was obvious the riders he'd heard coming were painted warriors, not the help he had expected. They slowed their ponies, stared at him a moment. Then a couple of them dismounted, and from what he could tell, they were young—a group of fresh young warriors out hunting, probably, out to prove their worth to the elders. Would they try to take his scalp as a trophy? He wouldn't be able to do a damn thing to stop them.

The two who had dismounted stooped down and leaned closer. Luke blinked, trying to focus. He was sure one of them had light hair and blue eyes. Damn the sun, and damn his pain! It was so hard to see. They said something in the Sioux tongue, looked him over. The one with the light hair pointed to the other dead bodies. Luke licked his lips, trying to speak.

"Nathan," he whispered, but the one with the light hair either did not hear him or simply did not respond to the name. He tried to speak it again, but the word stuck in his throat because of his miserably dry mouth. He started to cough, and the light-haired one knelt near him again. Luke wasn't sure what he was doing until he saw the canteen. The young man poured some water over his face and into his mouth, then corked the canteen and left it.

Luke blinked more, struggling to see better, to talk.

From what he could determine, the warriors were wary of what they had found, probably didn't want to get mixed up in what was apparently white man's business. Another came riding in, shouting something at the others, and quickly they all remounted and rode off at a gallop. Minutes later Luke heard more horses.

"There he is!" someone shouted. He recognized Runner's voice.

"Jesus, I hope he's still alive."

That one was Tex.

Someone knelt over him, another Indian. This time it was Runner. "He's still alive."

"Mrs. Fontaine will be glad to hear that," Tex said.

So, Lettie was all right, thank God. Everything became a blur then. He wanted to ask them about the Indians. Hadn't they seen them riding away? Had it all been a dream or some kind of hallucination after all? No one said anything about them. Someone picked him up to place him on a makeshift travois, and it was then the pain hit him full force. Who was that screaming? It sounded like someone far away.

"Watch his leg," Tex was saying. "Jesus, I never saw something that looked that bad. We'd better wrap it some more. I can't believe he's still alive."

Billy Sacks spoke up. "Takes a lot to kill somebody like Luke. What about these other bodies, Tex?"

"You and Runner go back and bury Ben first, and get the gear off the dead horses and bury them, too. Leave the goddamn buffalo hunters for last, if the buzzards pick at them, so be it. I'll start back with Luke and send you some help in burying them soon as I get back."

Luke felt someone wrapping his leg, then felt himself being tied to something. Someone else put a blanket over him. He wanted to thank them, and he wanted to ask them about the Indians. Surely if one of them had light hair, the men would notice. He tried to ask, but every time he opened his mouth, he could do nothing but groan. He felt the travois begin to move then, and he cried out with pain at every jolt and bounce. The way home was going to be a miserable trip, but there was no other way to get him there.

Thank God Lettie was okay. He'd be home soon. He could hang on now, for Lettie and the kids. His leg would mend in no time, and everything would be back to normal, except that every time he closed his eyes he remembered being carried another time, on a stretcher, to a medical tent. He remembered the smell of blood, the blood on the doctor's apron. He remembered the ugly saw and how it felt when he realized the doctor was thinking about cutting off his leg. He thought about the Indians, and suddenly the vision of them was blurred by another vision, soldiers bending over him, blue uniforms, the hideous saw.

"Don't let them... take off my leg," he finally managed to mutter, but no one heard.

In the distance, from a thick clump of trees where they hid, the band of young Indian boys watched the white men pick up the wounded one. The one called White Bear had considered taking the wounded one's scalp, but something had stopped him. When the man had looked at him, his eyes were the bluest he had ever seen, blue like his own. That fascinated him, and there was something familiar about the man, but he wasn't quite sure what it was that stirred this wonder in his soul. He would tell his father, Half Nose, about what had happened today, about finding the white man badly wounded, other dead white men around him. The dead ones were the evil buffalo hunters they had seen other times. It was good that they were dead. But something told him that the wounded one was different. He was not evil like the buffalo hunters, and the way the man had looked at him... it gave him a strange feeling.



For ten days Lettie suffered the worst nightmare she had known since settling in Montana, worse even than when she nursed Luke after the bear attack. Then, infection had certainly been dangerous, but it had not run deep into Luke's body the way this one had; and there had not been the awful pain of a badly broken thigh bone, an operation to try to mend it, the threat that he might never regain full use of his right leg... if he lived at all.

In spite of her own cuts and bruises and what the doctor believed were two bruised ribs, Lettie refused to take to a bed herself. Never would she forget the sight of Luke's leg once she and Dr. Manning had cut away his denim pants and his long johns. Lettie thought she had seen the worst, but she had nearly passed out. By now she had grown accustomed to looking at the terrible wound, for every day, several times a day, she had to clean and rewrap it. Every day she watched her husband lie semiconscious, racked with pain, hovering on the brink of death from infection. Never would she forget how he looked when the men first brought him back, and at first she had thought he was already dead. Tex had complained about having to send men to "bury the sons of bitches" who had hurt Luke and had killed two of the Double L's best horses. "I broke that beautiful black myself," he lamented. "If it wasn't for their dead bodies attracting wolves that might later go after the cattle, I'd have left them there for buzzard feed."

In this case, Lettie had to agree. They had shot Luke down in cold blood, no warning, as though he were a coyote. She knew what they would have done to her if Luke had not used his last bit of strength and willpower to shoot those who came after her.

The last two days had been better for Luke. The infection finally seemed to be abating. She tied off a clean bandage, then noticed he was watching her quietly, his blue eyes sunken in a thinner face. She gave him a smile and moved around to the other side of the bed to sit down on the edge of it. She took his hand. "Is the pain any better today?"

"A little." Such a weak voice for such a big man. "I'm sorry, Lettie."

"For what?"

He closed his eyes. "I don't know. Everything you've had to go through since we moved here, I guess. That night... when you walked off to get help... I thought maybe I'd never see you again. Either I'd die... or you would.

Now here I am laid up for what the doc says could be months, and there's this big ranch to run—"

"You have plenty of men who know how to run it and who care about you enough to do it right. You can help me learn how to do the paperwork. I intend to take a bigger part in running the Double L, Luke. I think it's important. If anything ever did happen to you, I don't intend to be left helpless and in the dark. I realized that when I was trying to find my way home that night. I want to ride out once in a while with the men, get more familiar with the landmarks and just how big this place is. I want to get involved in the book work. That's something I can always help with, even after you're well. You're too busy to have to spend hours with a ledger. I want to learn more about horses and cattle, the different kinds, the diseases they can get, the proper feed. I want to see all the grazing land, which fields you reserve for hard times, which ones have the best water. I want to learn all of it, Luke."

"A woman belongs at home with her children."

"I'll find a way to do both. Once you're well, I will be home with them. All I'll have to worry about is the book work." She raised her chin. "Besides, you don't think I'd let the Double L go to waste just because you're sick, or died, do you?"

He squeezed her hand. "If I die, you should go to Denver.

She leaned over and stroked his thick, dark hair away from his forehead. "Never. This place was your dream in the beginning, Luke; but after all I've been through to stay here, it's my dream now, too. And because I love you so much, I would never let go of what you've built here. I don't want you to worry about any of it. I just want you to get well."

He moved his hand to rub it over her lap. God, how he hated being laid up like this. Who was going to take care of things? His biggest fear was that the Double L would go to hell while he was incapacitated. He had worked so hard to get this far. Wouldn't his father just love it if he failed now, after coming this far? "Lettie, there's so much to do to get ready for winter. And there's that Cattlemen's Association meeting in Billings in just a couple more days—"

"The Double L will be represented, by me. I'm going to the meeting. I'll take the children and let them stay at Henny's. It will be an adventure for them. While I'm in town, I intend to see about getting more books for teaching the children to read, and I'll look into the price of feed for you, so we can determine how much it will cost to stock up in case of an extra hard winter. You just make a list for me— all the things you want me to bring up at the meeting, as well as a list of supplies you want me to bring back from Billings."

Luke grinned sadly. "You'll miss your sewing club meeting."

"That will have to wait. The other wives will understand."

Luke studied her lovingly. "They won't like having a woman at the cattlemen's meeting."

She straightened and sniffed. "That's just too bad. There are two L's in the Double L. One of them stands for Lettie Fontaine, which gives me every right to be there."

Luke squeezed her thigh. "You sure you're well enough yourself to go?"

"My ribs were just bruised, not broken. I'm not in much pain anymore. I'll be well enough to go." She leaned down to kiss the back of his hand. "There's no reason why I can't stand in for you, make some of the decisions, do the book work, all of that. I promise I would keep the Double L alive if something ever did happen to you." Tears formed in her eyes. "But nothing in this life would ever be the same without you. I just thank God you lived and the fever finally broke." She took a deep breath. "Dr. Manning will be out tomorrow to put a splint and permanent wrapping on your leg. He had to wait until the swelling went down and the infection was gone. He said in another week or so you'll have to start flexing it, using it little by little, or the muscles will draw up and begin to die. For a while there, he thought you might lose your leg altogether."

Luke pulled his hand away. "I'd rather be dead. I went through that threat in the war. Don't you ever let him take my leg off, Lettie, you hear? If you love me, you won't let him do that."

She leaned over him, bending down to kiss his cheek. "I won't let him."

Luke closed his eyes, sighing deeply. "I feel like a failure."

"Don't be ridiculous. The Double L is the biggest ranch around here, and doing well. Besides that, you've fathered five beautiful children. You're a successful rancher, a good father, and a good husband, Luke Fontaine. Don't ever call yourself a failure."

He studied her, so pretty today, her hair pulled into a pile of twists and curls, her green eyes as fetching as ever. She could have died so easily that day, been raped, shot down. "I should have known they were there. If I had been more alert, Ben wouldn't be dead, and I wouldn't be lying in this bed, my two best horses killed, my wife going through a night of hell and then having to tend to me this way."

"Luke, no one could have known those men were there. For heaven's sake, look at the things you've been through and survived—those outlaws, Indian attack, bear attack, all the hell you've been through on the cattle drives, the terrible winters you've suffered having to work out-of-doors. As badly hurt as you were, you managed to shoot down those buffalo hunters. You're a brave, skilled man. I don't want you to worry now about being in this bed. You stay here for as long as it takes for your leg to heal right. Better to be laid up a little longer than to be a cripple. You have to be able to walk and to get back up on a horse under your own power if you're going to get back to running the Double L. In the meantime, I'll do it. A wife isn't just for giving a man babies and cooking his meals, at least not this wife."

He grinned, wanting her; but it would be a long time before he could be a husband to her again in every way. He was proud of how well she had taken all of this, of the way she had managed to find help that night, her bravery and determination. He wondered if he should tell her about what he had seen while lying out there waiting for help.

No. Why give her false hope after all these years? He had been in such terrible agony that morning, lying there close to death, that what he saw could very well have been some kind of dream due to his pain and loss of blood. Maybe it was just something his mind had conjured up, wishful thinking that had taken the form of realistic visions. Even if he had seen Nathan, the boy was a wild thing now and could probably never be found if a person tried; nor would he want to live like a white man now. What he had seen was an Indian, in spite of the light hair and blue eyes, as wild and untamed as the worst of the Sioux renegades. Why should he reawaken all that old pain for Lettie, make her suffer the thought of her son growing up among the Sioux, never seeing his mother again?

As long as he had been so lost in pain and not even fully conscious, how could he claim he had truly seen the boy? Hadn't he heard that even the one called Crazy Horse had light-colored hair? Maybe that was who he had seen, except this one seemed much younger than Crazy Horse would be. Even if it was Nathan, the young man he had seen was a far cry from the innocent little four-year-old who had been stolen away seven years ago.

"Get some paper and a pen," he told her aloud. "You might as well start writing down the things I want discussed at that meeting." He grinned. "Those men are going to get the starch... jerked out of their shirts when they see you walk in. I have a feeling you'll be able to stand right up to the best of them." He took her hand again. "Come to think of it, they'll be so struck by how pretty you are... they'll probably just sit there with their mouths open and let you talk all you want."

Lettie stood up and straightened his blankets. "They'll listen to me and respect me because I am Luke Fontaine's wife. You don't think any of them would dare insult you by ignoring your wife or by trying to say she can't attend that meeting, do you? I don't think you realize your own importance, Luke." She looked down at him, her hands on her hips. "I promise to do a good job of representing the Double L."

She walked out of the room to get the paper, and Luke watched her, still smiling. "I'll just bet you will, Mrs. Fontaine," he said softly.