Wildest Dreams

chapter 8

Lettie breathed deeply, trying to relax before another labor pain bore down to grip at her insides. She fought against memories of Nathan's birth. She'd been so afraid, so ignorant of conception and birth, let alone the horror of how he had come to be. She reminded herself that this was Luke's baby, conceived out of love. She wished her mother could be here, but there was only Henny, who had never even had a child of her own, and an old Crow Indian woman Henny had brought with her when Will brought them both out three days ago to stay till the baby came.

Henny had assured her that the Crow woman had overseen many births in her years on earth, had borne six children of her own. Her name was Willow, and her son and grandson were scouts for the army. They lived with a tribe of peaceful Crow Indians just south of the little settlement of Billings, one of the few groups of Indians who seldom caused trouble for the whites.

"Where is Luke? I want Luke," Lettie groaned, as the old Indian woman massaged her temples and softly chanted something in the Crow tongue.

"This is not the place for a man," Henny assured her.

"Luke is right outside the house with Nathan, waiting to see his new son or daughter."

"A son. It has to be a son. He'll need sons," Lettie answered, feeling another pain coming, hoping that talk would help ease it. Why couldn't Luke be here? What was so wrong about allowing the husband to be with his wife at a time like this? Following instructions from Willow, she breathed in quick gasps as another pain tore at her belly. She didn't want to scream, but it was impossible not to. She remembered the terror of thinking the first time this happened to her that she was going to die for being "bad," but her mother and a minister had helped her understand that nothing that had happened was her fault. The pain was just a sacrifice for the beautiful gift she had received from God, and now she would soon receive that gift again. She could bear the pain because this was all for Luke, to begin the family he so sorely needed and wanted, and to give little Nathan a brother or sister. The baby would help all of them get through the next long winter.

How she missed her mother and father, sister and brother. At least she knew they were all right. The last time she and Luke were in town before getting snowed in for the winter, she had sent a letter to Denver, telling them to write to her in care of Will Doolan in Billings, Montana. This last time Will and Henny came out to help them, Will had brought a reply from her family. To her great relief, they were all fine and doing well in Denver. They had even been spared in a terrible fire that had burned down most of the town the very same summer they settled there in '63; and they had come through a killer flood that had washed away most of the city just this past spring. God had been with them.

Now here it was August of '64. A whole year had passed since she parted from her family. As soon as she felt better she would write and tell them of her new home, her experiences over the winter, how big Nathan was getting... and she would be able to tell them they had another grandchild.

She relaxed again in a reprieve from pain. She looked around the spacious bedroom that was now hers and Luke's.

The new cabin was barely finished enough to move into, but she wanted to have her baby here, not in the old shack up the hill. She had not even had a chance to put up curtains yet. Henny had promised to shop for material for her and help her make the curtains after the baby was born.

"You're all... so good to us," she told Henny.

Henny smiled. "Well, out here folks learn they've got to help each other. You never know when you'll need help in return. Besides, folks in town are always happy to help new people settle here."

Lettie managed a brief smile of her own. "The cabin is beautiful." She looked out her bedroom window at green grass and trees, wildflowers growing on the distant hill. Surely this baby would be born healthy. Their lives were getting better all the time. Will and Jim had brought in more men from town who had helped Luke finish the house. It was a sturdy log structure with three bedrooms. It even had a separate little room for washing that also contained a chamber pot so that she and the children could stay inside on the most bitterly cold days instead of having to visit the new privy behind the house. She had wood floors, fresh, varnished wood instead of the old, dried-up, cracked floors in the shanty. Luke had built plenty of shelves into all three walls of the kitchen end of the main room, and she had a real cookstove, a cast-iron contraption that had taken an extra-heavy wagon and a whole team of mules to haul out to the ranch from Billings's one-and-only supply store, where it had finally arrived in answer to a months-old order. It had then taken six men to get the stove into the house. It could be heated with either wood or coal, and for now it would have to be wood. There was no coal available in Billings, but Syd Martin, the owner of the store, had promised he would see about ordering some.

The part of the house she prized most was her stone fireplace, right in the center of the long back wall of the main room. The entire main living area was cozy yet roomy, with plenty of room for children to play when they were cooped up inside in winter, even room to hang clothes on one end without everyone having to duck under and around them to walk through the room. Besides Luke's and her bedroom, there were two more for the children. Luke wanted plenty of those, but at the moment she wasn't so sure she could keep going through this. She remembered her mother once saying some babies would come easy, others not so easy. Nathan had taken ten hours to be born. She had already been in labor for twelve hours with this one.

Another pain began to build, and she sat up straighter, Henny grasping her left hand, old Willow grasping her right. Again she breathed in deep gasps, but again, nothing she did helped much. Another scream filled the whole house and wandered across the foothills behind it.



Luke lit yet another thin cigar, wondering if he would run out of the smokes completely before his son or daughter was born. He kept an eye on Nathan, who was running around chasing a butterfly. "If I hear one more scream I'm going to lose my mind," he said to Will Doolan. "Maybe we shouldn't have any more after this one."

Will smiled grimly. "How do you propose to stop it? You gonna keep your hands off your beautiful young wife the rest of your life?"

Luke felt sick inside at the sound of Lettie's screams. "Maybe." He walked a few feet away, then turned and caught Will's skeptical expression. He broke into a grin. "I said maybe." He took off his hat and hung it over a fence post. "Too bad there isn't some really good way of preventing these things without having to give up the one greatest pleasure a man has in life."

"Thought you wanted a big family."

"Not at this expense."

"It's what you have to go through, Luke. You and Lettie should both be glad as hell you're able to go through it. Henny would give anything to be sufferin' that kind of pain herself right now."

Luke's smile faded. "I'm sorry, Will. I sound pretty selfish, don't I?"

Will shrugged. "You're worried. It's natural." The man turned to study the nearly completed barn he and others from town were helping build. It, too, was made of logs, a big structure designed to hold a lot of animals. Luke had built several corrals to keep the horses in at night, but right now the animals grazed in the lush, green valley below.

"You were right, Luke. You've got yourself a gold mine here. That herd those outlaws so graciously gave you is a damn good start on horseflesh that will bring you some good money next summer. We'll take some down to Sheridan and you'll make your first big sale, I guarantee."

Luke looked around at the house, the barn, and corrals, another shed he'd built near the house for storing wood to keep it dry, a stone smokehouse nearby for curing meat. Now he was working on a small bunkhouse for Jim, something that could house at least four or five men, once he could afford to hire them. "I don't know what I would have done without all of you," he told Will. "I have a hell of a start, but there are still some hard years ahead, I can see that. I just wish the Indian problem would get settled. I lie awake half the night worrying about my horses getting stolen, or about something happening to Lettie and Nathan."

Will sighed in a kind of grunt. "That damn Red Cloud is really stirring up the Sioux. Ol' Half Nose is another troublemaker. They're all in a dither about so many whites going through their land in order to get to the gold fields up by Last Chance Gulch. If it makes you feel any better, I've heard the army is gonna send out more troops. Soon as the damn War between the States is over, we'll get even more help out here. The war surely can't last much longer."

Luke thought about the horrors of that war, the pain he still suffered at times from his own war wound. It had been roughly eighteen months since he was mustered out, and the realization that all that hell was still going on made him shiver. His own brother was still fighting somewhere. God only knew how many men had lost their lives or suffered horrible wounds by now. "Well, I'll be one happy man when they get more soldiers out here. They can build a fort right on my own land if they want to."

Will chuckled. "And how much land is that now, Luke?"

Luke glanced at the house when he heard another scream, this one more of a shuddering groan. He ran a hand through his hair nervously, called to Nathan not to go too far, looked out at the herd of horses grazing below, horses that now bore the Double L brand. "Right now about six hundred acres," he answered, "some under my name, some under yours, Jim's, even some under Lettie's maiden name. That's just a start. I'll own thousands of acres before I'm through."

Secretly he wondered if his father would be impressed. He had written the man a letter, telling him about his first year in Montana, his new wife, how beautiful and educated she was; his experience with the outlaws, how much land he already owned. He was not sure himself why he had bothered writing the man he hated so much. He supposed it was because deep inside he still loved him and would always think of him as his father... more than that, he hoped his absence had by some miracle made his father miss him, that his accomplishments here in Montana would impress the man and make him regret sending him away.

He scowled at his own thoughts. He had already proven his worth to Jacques Fontaine back in St. Louis, but that had not been enough. It was foolish to think the man would ever have an ounce of feelings for him, but he would continue sending the letters, just to show him he could make it on his own. Jacques wanted him to fail. That would never happen, and he would damn well make sure the man knew it!

"Ol' David Taylor likes to look good back in Washington," Will was saying. "Doesn't mind a few extra bucks either. You'll get your land, all you want, with no argument from him."

Luke shook off thoughts of his father. "I'd better sell some of those horses by next summer, or I won't have any money left to bribe Taylor with." He stuck the cigar in his mouth and talked with it resting between his teeth. "Anything he can't deed to me, I intend to take anyway. By next summer I'm going to start putting up a log fence, Will, however many miles long it will have to be to let outlaws, Indians, and other settlers know what belongs to Luke Fontaine. Anybody that wants to argue about it can answer to me."

Will faced him. "Like the outlaws buried out there by the old shack?"

Luke took the cigar from his mouth. "Maybe."

Will saw the pain in his eyes. "I know that took you some time to get over. Maybe you're not over it yet. But it was a necessary thing, Luke. Just make sure that if it happens again, it's always a necessary thing. You go ahead and claim what you want, because by God you deserve to. What the hell? Anybody that comes up here and puts up with the hardships and dangers has a right to call whatever part of this land he wants his own. Just be fair in your judgments, Luke." He walked a little closer. "And don't let the thing you told me about you and your pa turn you into somethin' you're not. I know how important it is for you to succeed here. Just don't lose sight of what's really important in life." It was then they heard the cry of a baby. Will grinned. "Like that new little life in there." He winked and grasped Luke's hand. "Congratulations, Papa."

Luke threw down his cigar and just stared at the house for a minute. Then he hurried up onto the wide front porch he'd added onto the house. He'd built it picturing Lettie sitting and rocking her baby with a view of the valley below.

Henny met him at the door, smiling. "You have a daughter, Luke."

"How's Lettie?"

"She's fine. You can go inside. Willow is bathing the baby. You can only stay a minute. We've got to work on getting the afterbirth."

Luke saw the tears in the woman's eyes, realized how hard this must be on her. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Thanks, Henny."

In the bedroom Lettie lay looking pale, her hair damp against the pillow. She managed a smile.

"It's a little girl, Luke. I hope you're not disappointed."

God, how he loved her. "I'm just glad you're all right."

Willow held up the newborn baby, letting the blanket in which she had wrapped the baby fall away. The infant's tiny hands were curled into angry fists, and she was giving out a healthy wail. "I guess there's nothing wrong with her lungs," Luke said. He leaned down and kissed Lettie lightly. "I'm sorry about the pain."

She took his hand. "When I had Nathan, my mother told me it's the one kind of pain that is almost instantly forgotten, and she was right." She squeezed his hand. "There will be more, Luke. And there will be sons."

He thought about his decision that maybe they shouldn't have any more, and he already knew that was impossible. Of course there would be more. After all, he wanted sons; and besides, how was he going to stay out of this beautiful woman's bed? "I hate this part of it, Lettie. And I hate waiting outside while you're in so much pain in here. The next time I want to be here with you."

Lettie saw the fear in his eyes. "I wanted you here. Henny said it wasn't proper, but I don't care. The next time I do want you with me."

"Thank you, Lettie, for our little girl." He gave her a wink then. "I guess instead of me getting a helping hand, you got yourself one."

She managed a light laugh. "Oh, yes, I planned it that way." Her eyes teared then at the sudden thought of how she used to help her own mother with cooking and housework. "I want to name her after my mother, Luke. Katheryn Lynn. Katie. Is that all right?"

"Of course it's all right." He closed his eyes and squeezed her hand. "Thank God, you're fine and the baby is healthy."

Outside, Will soothed a weeping Henny, neither of them aware they were being watched from a vantage point high in the foothills.



"You see, Red Hawk?" A fierce-looking Sioux warrior with a scarred nose turned to his fourteen-year-old son. "I told you these whites were here to stay, not just tend horses for the summer."

"It is just as you said, Father," Red Hawk answered. "He has collected many horses, built himself sturdy lodges."

Half Nose grinned. "Not sturdy enough, if we decide we do not want them here."

"Will we burn them down? Steal the horses?"

"Not yet. After another winter there will be even more horses. We will wait until we truly need them to keep fighting those who walk the road through our land to get the yellow metal. These here, they are not after the metal. It is the bluecoats, and the many men who come to dig the metal from the sacred Mother Earth, whom we will kill first. This man here, he will simply supply fresh horses for us... when the time is right."

"I will do it, Father. I will steal the horses from in front of his very face. The white settlers are cowards. They will shiver and hide in their log tepee when they see us."

Half Nose studied the several graves below, remembered that many bad white men often came to this place with many horses. He had stolen some of those horses from them a few times, but it had not been easy. Had they returned again this spring? Had the white man below fought with them and won? He was surely quite a warrior if he had.

"Do not be so sure this white man will run from you, like the other settlers, Red Hawk." He watched the little boy with white hair running about in the distance, and a soft wind carried the sound of the new baby's crying. "This one is here to stay. It will not be easy convincing him he does not belong here."



The winter of '64 to '65 proved just as bitterly cold, burying the Fontaine family just as deeply as the previous winter, but this time Lettie did not suffer quite the awful loneliness as the year before. She was growing accustomed to her new life, the ache to see her parents and siblings not quite so painful now. She had Nathan, who would be four the coming May, and who loved to help her with housework and with the new baby; and she had little Katie, who kept her busy with feedings and scrubbing diapers.

It was obvious Katie was going to be a pretty thing, her hair dark like Luke's, her eyes a hazel color. She was a happy baby, plump and healthy and already crawling on fat knees. Lettie was wondering how she was going to keep up with Nathan and her after yet a third child was born. Being alone so much and having the privacy of a bedroom had led to another pregnancy. The baby was due in June, only two months away. Maybe this one would be another son.

She picked up a straw basket full of wet clothes to carry it outside. This year it had not warmed so quickly, and there was still snow on the ground; but today was the prettiest day they had had in months. She was sick of hanging clothes inside the house. She left Katie sleeping in a small pine bed Luke had built for her and carried the clothes basket outside, setting it under the clothesline Luke had strung between two cross posts buried solidly into the ground. She smelled deeply of the sweet spring air, left the basket a moment to walk farther away and watch Luke ride amid the herd of horses below to single out the pregnant mares. He intended to corral them separately so he could keep an eye on their progress.

She smiled, thinking how Luke bragged about the fact that out of his herd of thirty-eight horses, twelve were pregnant. "Those outlaws picked a couple of good stud horses," he had told her the night before at supper. "At least they knew what they were doing, picked good stock. I can thank them for that much." She knew the killings still ate at him a little, and he'd seemed harder in some ways since then; but she understood the necessity of the act. Sometimes she sensed he'd like to talk about it, but he had not brought it up again after burying the men.

Nathan ran past her then, grabbing the tail of a puppy Will had given him. "Bear's son," Will had told the boy. "Got it from a litter birthed by a big ol' collie that belongs to a neighbor of mine." Nathan simply called the dog Pup, and although it was obvious the animal was going to be as big or bigger than Bear, Lettie had a feeling the unlikely name would stick.

"Be careful you don't hurt Pup," she warned Nathan.

Nathan petted the dog then, rubbing its soft fur. "My puppy," he said with a delighted grin.

Lettie watched the boy and dog, wanting to remember the sweet scene, but her attention was interrupted when she saw riders approaching from the other side of the valley. Even from this distance she could see that their horses as well as their half-naked bodies were painted, and that they wore feathers in their hair. Indians!



Luke culled another pregnant mare from the herd, riding a sturdy gelded gray-and-white spotted Appaloosa he had favored since claiming the horses the outlaws had left behind. He called the horse Paint, because its gray coat was splattered and spotted with white, as though someone had spilled paint on it. He figured that whoever had originally owned the animal must surely have been bitterly angry over the loss when it was stolen, just as angry as he would be now if someone in turn tried to steal Paint or any other horses from him. He had grown as attached to the Appaloosa as he had been to Red, and he still mourned Red's loss to the thieving Indian who had stolen him.

He gave out a whistle and waved his hat, chasing the mare into the corral with eight others. He thought what a bountiful spring this was going to be, twelve foals, and another child of his own on the way. Life was good. He patted his own horse's neck and closed the gate to the corral.

It was then he heard the singing arrow. It whirred past him near his head and landed with a thud in the trunk of a nearby pine tree. He whirled Paint around to see eight or ten Indian warriors riding into the valley, shouting and whooping their war cries, out to claim some free horseflesh for themselves, at his expense. More arrows narrowly missed him as he pulled his rifle from its boot and rode Paint hard up a small hill to a shed he had built to store feed. Quickly he dismounted and tied Paint, then took a position behind a few bales of hay. The Indians were still coming, and an arrow landed in one of the hay bales right in front of him. He glanced up the hill at the house to see Lettie pick up Nathan and go running inside. He turned back and took aim then, realizing he had something much more precious than his horses to protect. Will had warned him that if Indians came to steal a few horses, he should let them have them rather than try to fight them, but he had two children and a pregnant wife to think about. He couldn't just sit here and let the oncoming savages get by him and possibly steal off with Lettie and the children. He leveled his rifle and took aim, waiting for them to get close enough that he was sure he could not miss.

All but one of them stopped then near the edge of the herd of horses. The one who kept coming looked as though he was built a little smaller than the others, maybe someone quite a bit younger. So be it. If he was old enough to steal horses, he was old enough to take the risks involved. If he let them get away with this the first time, they would keep coming back until he had nothing left. For all he knew this single warrior was some kind of decoy. They seemed to be playing a game, as though to tempt him, dare him. The lone warrior halted, daringly raised a bow, as though asking Luke to try to shoot him. He drew back the bow and let an arrow fly. It whirred through the air and stuck in the shed behind which Luke stood. The young man then maneuvered roughly ten of Luke's finest horses from the herd, laughing and whooping the whole time.

Luke kept his rifle level. He was one against many. Jim had gone into Billings to see about hiring more help. Had these Indians been watching him all along? Did they know he was here alone? Maybe they thought that because of that, he would behave like a coward. Maybe they thought he had run to the shed just to hide while they had their pick of his finest animals. He dared not allow any of them to get too confident or get too close. He kept the show-off warrior in his sight, then squeezed the trigger. The warrior jerked his pony to a stop, sat stiffly a moment, then crumpled and slid off his horse.

Luke felt his heart pounding as the rest of the warriors grew very silent.

"Luke!" Lettie screamed from the house.

"Stay inside!" he yelled back, keeping his eyes on the Indians. They seemed to be discussing something, and finally one of the biggest among them raised a lance with a white cloth tied to it, then rode toward the Indian man Luke had shot. He straddled a horse that looked familiar. "Red!" Luke muttered then. Was it the notorious Half Nose who rode his own stolen horse? He was too far away to get a good look at him. The man wore only a loincloth and a bone breastplate. He kept holding the lance in the air as though to signify he meant no harm, that Luke should not shoot.

Luke waited breathlessly. The warrior reached the fallen body, dismounted, and bent over it. After a moment he leaned back and let out a cry so heartwrenching that even Luke was touched. "Jesus," he whispered. Who the hell had he shot? Will had told him the one called Half Nose had a teenage son. The man picked up the body and laid it over the spotted pony that had carried it into the valley, then mounted Red. He picked up the pony's leather reins and sat staring up the hill at where Luke remained crouched behind the hay. He yelled something in the Sioux tongue, but Luke did not understand, except that the anguish in the man's voice told him he had killed someone very special. The man turned and rode off then with the other warriors.

Luke slowly rose, watching after them, glad Jim was due back tomorrow with extra men. They just might be needed in more ways than one. If the warrior who had just paid him a visit was the one called Half Nose, he would surely be back. "Damn," he muttered. His gut reaction had been to protect Lettie and the children, but now he worried he had just made things worse for all of them.