Wildest Dreams

chapter 33

Luke grasped his future son-in-law's hand, afraid to squeeze too hard for fear he'd break it. It was soft and slender, not rough and strong like the ranchers and workers to whom he was accustomed. The young man was handsome, but, Luke thought, too clean and perfect. He wore round spectacles, and every hair was in place. This was not the kind of man he would have expected any of his daughters to marry, after being raised on a ranch; but then Pearl had never been ordinary. She beamed with joy. This Lawrence Bansen apparently made her very happy.

Pearl literally screamed with delight at seeing them again after two years apart. There came a flurry of hugs and kisses between themselves, Robbie, and Pearl, their voices echoing in the high entrance hall of the ornate Bansen mansion. The house, if it could be called that, was a castlelike structure north of Chicago. The top of the entrance hall was capped with a dome of stained glass, and from it were spread wings on either side, each wing two stories high.

Robbie acted like a typical boy awed by something spectacular, staring, carrying on about what a place it was. He babbled to his sister about being on his way to the University of Michigan, for which Lawrence praised him highly, telling him what a noble profession he had chosen. Conversation turned to Chicago itself, and Robbie raved about all the tall buildings, all the people, the bricked streets, and the streetcars. He had never imagined it would be as big and exciting as it was, and he had never seen anything like Lake Michigan. "Boy, Pa, I'll bet you'd like a lake that big out in Montana!" he exclaimed. "You'd never have to worry about enough water!"

"If we had a lake that big in Montana, it would take up half the state and there wouldn't be enough land left for the cattle," Luke replied.

After the laughter had died down, Pearl immediately took them on a quick tour. One wing of the house was bedrooms and apartments for students. The other wing was living quarters for the Bansens, two kitchens, an immense dining hall, library, smoking room, parlor, and family bedrooms. The table at the dining hall was so long that Luke joked he could not see the other end of it, and priceless paintings hung on the walls on either side. Elegant silver candelabras were strategically placed on the table, fine china sitting ready at each chair as though always prepared for a grand banquet.

At the far end of the living quarters was a two-story-high ballroom, with an entrance from the outside that invited guests could use without having to go through the main house. Pearl carried on about how the Bansens entertained important dignitaries in the great dining hall and the ballroom nearly every weekend. Even President Pierce had visited once when he was in Chicago.

Luke watched Lettie, thinking how well she fit here in spite of years of living on a Montana ranch. She had brought her best dresses, as well as two new dresses Gino Galardo had made just for the concert and for the wedding. Never in his wildest dreams, when he and Lettie first settled in that crude cabin in Montana, would he have imagined one of his daughters marrying into this kind of money, playing piano with an orchestra. Life's ironies continued to amaze him.

"Please, do come into the parlor and have something to drink," Lawrence told them. The young man was as nervous as a bobcat, hardly able to take his eyes off Luke. "My, you're everything I pictured," he told him.

Luke towered over him, thinking how easy it would be to pick him up and throw him several feet. He grinned, deciding he might as well get used to this man Pearl loved. He had no choice. "And what did you picture?" he asked, following Pearl and Lettie into the parlor, while Robbie continued to explore the house.

"Oh, a big and powerful man, since Pearl told me you were certainly that. I have often imagined how exciting it must be to live in a place like Montana. I have never even learned to ride a horse."

Lettie cast Luke a quick, warning look, knowing there were any number of remarks he could make in reply, well aware what he must think of the man Pearl wanted to marry. So far, neither Katie nor Pearl had married the kind of man Luke had hoped, but he had grown to like Brad very much. Maybe he could learn to like Lawrence, too. At least they wouldn't have to be around them as much, since Pearl and Lawrence would stay here in Chicago. She smiled at the scowl on Luke's face.

"I never knew a man who didn't know how to ride a horse," he answered. "But then I've never played a piano or conducted an orchestra," he added with a grin.

Lawrence laughed as he tugged a bellpull to signal the servants in the kitchen. "I'll have Oscar bring us some drinks," he said.

"Oscar is one of the butlers," Pearl explained. "Have you ever seen such a house, Father?"

Luke looked at Lettie again. She knew he hated this place. If he had a million dollars he could never live like this. "No, I sure haven't," he answered, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Lawrence's parents are gone right now," Pearl explained. "We had no idea just exactly when you would arrive. You must both be so tired after several days on a train."

"We rented a private car," Luke told her. "We were pretty comfortable."

"It seemed so strange to come back East," Lettie put in.

"After twenty-two years, here we are, both not so far from where we started out. Whoever would have thought back then that we could come back by train in just a few days, after that trip to Montana by wagon?"

"Oh, we want to hear the whole story!" Lawrence told them. "But wait until my parents arrive. We have never talked to true pioneers, people who went west on a wagon train! We want to hear it all, Mr. Fontaine, what happened in the beginning and all. Pearl tells me you have scars from a grizzly bear attack!"

Luke felt embarrassed, as though he were a side show. "I didn't do anything more than any of the other early settlers—nothing so special."

"Oh, Father, you're being modest!" Pearl walked over to Lawrence and took his arm. "Father fought a grizzly, fought Indians, outlaws, rustlers. He even rode once with vigilantes. Now he's on the territorial legislature." She smiled at Luke. "You can't imagine what a thrill I got reading about it in the Chicago papers!" she added. "My own father, way out in Montana, making the Chicago papers!"

Luke studied her lovingly. At eighteen, she was a most beautiful creature, looking like a woman now. Where had the years gone?

He watched Lettie, knew by the looks she gave him that she was thinking the same thing. They never could have predicted such events when they first left her parents in Nebraska to go off on their own. The things they had been through made him love her all the more, and he was glad to be able to bring her here. Pearl chattered about a couple of plays she wanted to take them to, as well as a fancy restaurant downtown, and, of course, the concert. They were being married in the biggest Lutheran church in Chicago, she explained. "Everybody who is anybody will be there, and they are all anxious to meet you and Father. They are so impressed with him being one of the biggest landowners in Montana, and a politician now on top of it." She looked at Luke. "I hope you don't get tired of all the questions, Father, because I know you'll be inundated with them." She turned back to Lettie. "Wait until Lawrence's parents and their friends meet you, Mother! You're just as lovely and elegant as any of them. And I can't wait until you come to the theater and hear the symphony. It will be so thrilling for you and Father!"

Luke only wanted to get the hell out, back to the quiet peace of the Double L, back into his denim pants and soft shirts. He hated wearing a suit every day, and the uncomfortable shoes Lettie had insisted he wear. His old leather boots would do just fine. He couldn't hear the rest of Lettie's and Pearl's conversation, as Lawrence was back to asking him questions while the butler brought in a tray that held several long-stemmed glasses and a bottle of wine. Robbie followed, joining them in the parlor.

"Have you actually killed men?" Lawrence asked.

"Sure he has!" Robbie answered before Luke could. "He shot seven men once who tried to take his land away when he first settled in Montana. They're still buried on our property! And when he was a vigilante, he hanged two men!"

Luke cast him a frown. "That's not exactly the way to tell it, Robbie. It's not as though I enjoyed it." He looked at Lawrence. "A man never enjoys killing another man. Robbie hasn't explained the details."

The butler handed out a glass of red wine, and Luke took it, thanking the man.

"Oh, you don't have to thank Oscar. It's his job," Lawrence explained.

Luke sipped a little of the wine, holding his temper. "Where I come from, you thank people for things, even the people who work for you," he answered, obvious irritation in his voice.

Lawrence seemed to wither a little. "Oh! I'm sorry. I guess it's just the difference in our customs."

"I guess," Luke said, his blue eyes drilling into the young man. "We have another custom out West. Anybody who abuses a man's daughter answers to her father. And any man who wants to marry a man's daughter, asks the father's permission first."

Lawrence reddened deeply, and the butler stood aside, silently amused. He liked this big man from Montana.

Lettie and Pearl stopped talking, having heard the remark. Pearl rose, walking over beside Lawrence. "Father, I... I never thought you would disapprove! Lawrence and I are so happy, and we have so much in common—"

"I didn't say I disapproved, Pearl. I just think asking the father is the right thing to do. If Lawrence were the king of England, I would still expect him to ask for your hand."

Lawrence swallowed, straightening his shoulders. In all his travels and of all the important people he had met, he had never been more awed than he was by Luke Fontaine, nor more afraid of someone; but Pearl had warned him to be forthright and bold in front of the man. She had told him about Luke's reaction to her sister Katie wanting to marry a sheep man. If not for Brad Tillis's straightforwardness, Luke might have kicked him out of the house.

He moved an arm around Pearl. "All right, Mr. Fontaine. I think Pearl is the most beautiful woman God ever created, and her talent is astounding. We share a love of music and feel we would be very happy together. I love her beyond measure, and it would be impossible for me to harm a hair on her head. I can give her a life of wealth and luxury, but more than that, I can give her love, forever. My parents also love her. We are not stiff, unfeeling people who think we are better than others, if that is what you think. We simply love music, and music is what has brought my father this far. This is a happy household, albeit quite ostentatious, but happy, nonetheless. My own parents were married in Germany thirty years ago, and they were both poor in their beginnings. They have worked hard to get where they are. I love your daughter, Mr. Fontaine, and I respectfully ask your permission to marry her."

Luke set his wineglass on a small table beside the leather chair in which he sat. He rose, dwarfing Lawrence. Robbie watched wide-eyed, and Lettie waited nervously, hoping Luke wouldn't say something to spoil this happy moment for Pearl. Luke put out his hand, and Lawrence took it, wincing a little at the firm grip. "All right," Luke told him. "You can marry her, but you take damn good care of her, and not just in material things. There is a sweetness and goodness to my daughter that I never want to see destroyed."

"Why would I destroy the very things that I love about her?" Lawrence answered.

Luke finally grinned. "My only other requirement is that you come and visit the Double L once in a while so Pearl can see her sister and her brothers and nieces and nephews."

Lawrence grinned with relief, but sweat beaded his brow. "Yes, sir. I truly look forward to it. Perhaps you or one of your sons can teach me to ride."

"We might be able to find a gentle old nag for you," Luke joked.

They all laughed then, and Lawrence asked Pearl to play something for them to show her parents how she had progressed over the last two years. Lettie walked over to squeeze Luke's hand. "Thank you, Luke. I wasn't sure what you were going to say."

He studied Lawrence a moment. He had walked to the grand piano with Pearl and was looking at some sheet music with her. "It takes all kinds, I guess. If he makes Pearl happy, then so be it." He picked up his wineglass and moved to a love seat with her so they could sit together while Pearl played. Almost from the first moment her fingers touched the keys, they were both astounded. Lettie felt a chill move up her spine at the magnificent playing, and she knew that sending Pearl there had been the right thing to do. She entertained them for nearly an hour until Lawrence's parents arrived. Professor Bansen was a big, heavy-set, bearded man with a deep voice, his wife tiny and gray haired. She was elegantly dressed, surprisingly natural and friendly for her apparently high station in society. She and Lettie liked each other right away, but both Luke and Lettie had to concentrate to understand everything the Bansens said because of their strong German accents.

Both the Bansens announced they were holding a grand feast that night for many of their neighbors and friends in the music business. Luke knew it was going to be a difficult evening filled with questions from people who didn't understand one thing about life on a Montana ranch, and he would be glad when everything was over and they could head home.

The Bansens finally left the room for a moment to check with the servants about the evening's banquet, what was to be served, where everyone would sit. Pearl began playing again, and Robbie wandered off to walk through the immense house again and study the paintings and statues and stained-glass windows. Luke drank another glass of wine, and Lettie sat down beside him.

"I just thought of something, Luke," she said, looking a little nervous. "When I mentioned earlier about how we had come all the way back here close to where we started out." She saw the pain in his blue eyes, knew he had thought of it himself.

"No," he said. "I won't go and try to find my father. If he hasn't contacted me in all these years, why should I?"

She put a hand on his arm. "Because it would be for you, not for him. We're only a day from St. Louis by train, and we could take the Union Pacific from there to Colorado and then come back by rail into Montana from the south."

He looked away from her. "No," he repeated. "As far as I'm concerned, my father died twenty-two years ago when I left St. Louis. There's no going back, Lettie. After the wedding we'll send Robbie off to Michigan and we'll go home the way we came. Don't even mention going to St. Louis."

The butler brought another tray of filled wineglasses, and Luke took yet another glass and drank it down. Lettie said nothing more; she had at least planted the idea. She prayed Luke would change his mind, for the sake of his own inner peace. Besides, she dearly wanted to meet Jacques Fontaine herself, and tell him exactly what she thought of him.



Alice dried another dish and set it in the cupboard. She thought how she would enjoy a kitchen like this someday. Her father was not as rich as the Fontaines, but he did own the local bank and the Billings Inn. Their home was at the east end of town, and it was a simple Victorian home, neatly painted white, the elaborate spindlework around the porch gables painted a soft blue. She referred to it as the town's gingerbread house. It was a happy home, except that lately her mother had been sick a lot, so she had been helping more than usual with the housework.

Betty Richards let go of a dish and put a hand to her stomach, obviously in pain. She quickly wiped her hands on her apron and left the kitchen sink to sit down at the table for a moment. "You'll have to finish washing them, Alice. I'm sorry."

Alice frowned with worry. She could not imagine being without her mother. She had no brothers and sisters, and lately, with hardly seeing Ty anymore, she had felt more lonely than ever. Now she had learned her mother was dying, although the woman did not know she had been to the doctor to ask about her condition. A grave look had come over Dr. Banning's face at her question. "I won't lie to you, Alice," he had told her. "It doesn't look good. Your mother has a tumor in her side. I can feel it, but it's in a spot where it would be very hard to operate; and often in these situations, when we operate, the patient just seems to die more quickly. Your mother has chosen against the operation, so she can be with her family longer."

The news had been devastating. She needed Ty's friendship more than ever now, but she had lost it. Only yesterday one of her best friends had told her the rumor she had heard from her father, a horse doctor who had recently visited the Double L. Men there were joking about how they suspected Ty Fontaine was sneaking around with the Indian girl, Ramona, secretly meeting her for more than just talking. Hot jealousy and hurt filled her to an almost painful degree at the news, but what could she do about it? Her mother needed her, and even if she didn't, she was not going to go out to the Double L and embarrass and shame herself by throwing herself at Ty. He apparently did not want her that way. He had made his decision.

"Mama, you'd better go and lie down. I can finish everything."

The woman nodded, rising. She gave Alice a hug. "You're a good girl, Alice."

Alice turned away, taking her mother's place at the sink and watching some birds flitting about outside the window. A good girl. Maybe she had been too good. Maybe being good had cost her the only man she would ever love with this much yearning and passion. She closed her eyes against the tears, vowing that if she ever had the chance to please Ty Fontaine the way Ramona must be doing, she would forget her morals and be a woman for him.

A tear dripped into the dishwater. It was probably too late for such decisions. She had lost Ty, and she would lose her mother. She broke into tears, grabbing a dish towel to cover her face and smother her sobs so that her mother would not hear.



Luke was astounded at how St. Louis had grown and changed. None of the streets looked the same, and it was harder to find his old home than he had thought it would be. He had driven the rented carriage past the courthouse, had taken Lettie inside the building that was now famous as the gathering place of so many who had gone west in covered wagons from the 1840s through the 1860s, before the railroad became the main mode of transportation. There in that beautiful building with its richly painted dome was where he had himself gone to learn about how to join a wagon train west. There was where he had broken away from the pain of his youth and set out to make his fortune without the help of a father who all but hated him. And there was where he had started out on a journey that had led him to Eletta MacBride.

"I guess I have more to thank my father for than I realize," he told Lettie aloud.

"What is that?"

He glanced at her. "If I hadn't left St. Louis, I wouldn't have met you."

She smiled, touching his knee. "Luke, you're doing the right thing."

He breathed deeply. "I'm not sure you know how this feels. You're the only reason I'm here, you know. I'm doing this only because you'll harp at me about it forever if I don't."

"You're doing it for yourself, and you know it." Lettie hoped this would all turn out well for him. She was as afraid for him as she knew he was afraid inside. Pearl's wedding had been nothing short of a splendid affair; and listening to Lawrence and her in concert the night before had not only been a thrill and an experience in pride, but it had also shown them more clearly that Pearl and Lawrence certainly did belong together. Pearl was radiantly happy when they left. She just hoped the quick trip to St. Louis would not spoil the wonderful experience the trip had been otherwise.

The Bansens had given them a grand tour of Chicago, and she would long remember the wonders and sights of the city. She knew Luke had enjoyed it also, but not with the same enthusiasm. He always felt out of place when he wasn't on the ranch, and he was anxious to go home. They had bidden a tearful good-bye to Pearl, another at the train station when they sent Robbie on east... another child gone from their lives. At least Robbie would one day come back to Billings. Thank God they still had Katie and Tyler and the grandchildren.

Lettie had reminded Luke again the night before they left that while they were this far east, this might be his last chance to see his father and brother once more, that too much had been left unsettled over these last twenty-two years. Luke had again argued against the idea, but Lettie realized she had apparently given him plenty of food for thought. At the last minute he had changed their tickets at the train station, buying fares to St. Louis instead. He wired home that they would arrive about a week later than first planned and would be taking a different route home.

"You're going to feel so much more at peace, Luke," Lettie said aloud. "I am sure of it. I wouldn't have urged you to do this otherwise."

Luke said nothing, not so sure she was right. He had driven her along the riverfront, where huge warehouses had the name Fontaine Warehousing and Shipping painted on the front of them. Luke had been unable to find the supply store. A hotel sat on the location. He did, however, remember how to reach his father's house, if it was still there. It had been a fine home, but an unhappy one for him. All the houses along this street were elegant, with immaculate lawns and gardens. Huge shade trees shrouded the sun and made the street seem private, cut down the noise of the city that lay not so far away. Luke vaguely remembered those trees, but they had not been so big then.

"There it is," he said, pulling the horse that drew the carriage to a stop. "He must still live here. None of my letters ever came back."

Lettie sensed his agony. She gazed at a lovely brick two-story house, with a white-pillared porch. It was six o'clock in the evening, and Luke guessed that his father would be home about now. He had considered trying to find him at the warehouses, or perhaps ask if Jacques Fontaine had a downtown office; but he had decided that seeing the man again for the first time should be a private matter. He was not so sure what would be said, what his father's reaction might be.

"Maybe we should leave now and just leave things the way they are, Lettie. If the man wanted to see me—"

"No. We've come this far. We're going inside."

Luke breathed deeply, thinking how ridiculous it was that he should feel so apprehensive and almost afraid to see his own father. He slapped the reins and headed the horse and carriage up the long brick drive to a hitching post in front of the house, then got out to tie the horse. Lettie climbed down, praying inwardly she had not done the wrong thing by insisting that he do this. She did not want to see him hurt all over again, but then the damage had already been done when Luke was fourteen years old. For another fourteen years he had lived with the agony, having to face his father nearly every day with the full knowledge that the man had emotionally disowned him. It was only his own pride that had kept Jacques Fontaine from telling others the truth of his beliefs, for he would not want the public to know his wife had cheated on him, if, indeed, that was even true. It was enough that Luke knew, enough that Luke suffered inwardly, to the point that he had gone off to a war and nearly gotten himself killed, then had left St. Louis altogether and had fled to a faraway land to try to forget the hurt. But just as she had had to accept Nathan, had learned to love him and to accept the awful thing that had happened to her, so did Luke have to face the truth and the hurt. No one can run from his or her past, she believed, and being the proud man that he was, Luke deserved some answers. She slipped a hand into his, and they walked together to the front door.

Luke lifted the knocker, hesitated a moment, then banged it four times. A moment later a uniformed maid opened the door. "May I help you?"

"I'm not sure. I'm looking for John Fontaine," Luke told her. "I'm Luke Fontaine, John's brother."

The woman's eyes widened, and a smile of delight lit up her face. "Oh, my! The big rancher from Montana!"

Luke frowned. "You mean, my father has talked about me?"

"Oh, dear! Didn't your brother write you? Your father... oh, my. Do come in, Mr. Fontaine. I just can't believe you've finally come home, after all these years!" She stepped aside and ushered them into a wide, cool entrance hall. Let-tie tried to imagine how it felt to Luke to enter his old home after all these years. She knew what a strange, difficult moment this must be for him.

Luke removed his hat. "What did you start to tell me about my father, ma'am?" he asked the maid.

She wrung her hands nervously. "I had better get your brother. You can talk to him. He's the one who has often talked about you to his friends and such. Please, make yourselves comfortable in the parlor here." She led them into an elegant room full of flowers and fine furnishings. Rich paintings were hung strategically for the best light, and one in particular struck Lettie's heart. It was a painting of a beautiful young woman, with dark hair and deep blue eyes —Luke's eyes. She realized Luke was staring at the picture himself. "Is this your wife, Mr. Fontaine?" the maid was asking him about Lettie.

Lettie touched his arm. "Luke?"

He was so lost in the picture that her touch startled him. "What?" He glanced at the maid. "Oh! Yes. I'm sorry. This is my wife Lettie."

"Mrs. Fontaine, it's wonderful to meet you. You can't imagine the things we picture about women who dare to go to places like Montana and live on a ranch! But you're nothing like what we imagined." The older woman put a hand to her mouth then, blushing lightly. "My goodness, it isn't my place to be carrying on like this. Please sit down. I will go and get Mr. Fontaine and then bring you something to drink. Coffee? Tea? A little whiskey for you, Mr. Fontaine?"

Luke breathed deeply in nervous anticipation. "Yes, I could use a stiff drink at the moment. My wife likes tea."

"Do you have iced tea?" Lettie asked. "It's so warm today."

"Oh, certainly! Just make yourselves comfortable. Mr. Fontaine is in his study. I'll send him right in!"

The woman quickly left. Luke's attention returned to the picture. "My God," he muttered. "It has to be my mother. My father would never let me see a picture of her. I wonder why he chose to put this up finally." He blinked back tears and shook his head. "She was so beautiful. I don't believe she was the kind of woman he made her out to be, Lettie. I've never believed it. If she did have an affaire, it was because she was terribly unhappy. My father could be a very cold man at times."

Lettie put a hand to his back. "You look just like her, Luke. Look at her eyes."

He nodded. "I'd give anything to take that painting home with me."

"And you deserve to have it, Luke."

The voice sounded almost like Luke's. They both turned to see a man who was not quite as tall as Luke. He resembled him a little in the face, but his hair was a sandy color, with much more gray in it than Luke's, and his eyes were brown. He walked closer and put out his hand. "Hello, Luke."

Luke stared at the man a moment, ravaged by a torrent of emotions. Here was the brother he had not seen in twenty-four years. When he left St. Louis, John was still off fighting somewhere in the war. He hadn't seen him since they both left for that war in '61. Before that, in spite of their father's announcement that he thought Luke to be a bastard, they had remained close until going off to war and never seeing each other again. Why hadn't John written him in all these years?

"I know what you're thinking," the man spoke up. "We have a lot to talk about, Luke. I'll open by saying I have always considered you my brother in every way. Whether or not we had the same father didn't matter."

At first Luke could not find his voice. He grasped John's hand and shook it vigorously. "Hello, John," he finally managed to say.

They both grinned, and in the next moment they were embracing. Lettie glanced at the painting of their mother, thinking how happy the woman would be to see this reunion. She could almost feel Beverly Fontaine's presence in the room.