"I'm gettin' the hell out of here!" another yelled. The one behind the rock held up his hands and slowly rose. It was the one with the wounded shoulder. "I'm leavin', mister. Let me go! I won't bring you no harm. Just let me go."
"Cleve, you goddamn coward!" one of those behind the wagon shouted. A shot rang out, and the one called Cleve stiffened, a bloody hole in the side of his head. He fell forward over the rock, then rolled off of it. The man who had shot him turned and fired several shots through the cabin window then, shattering the glass and spraying bullets everywhere. Lettie screamed, and Luke dove into her, pushing her against the wall away from the window and then to the floor, lying on top of her.
"Stay down," he said quietly. He crawled away from her, and Lettie could see blood on the back of his shirt.
"Luke!"
"I'm all right. It's just cuts from the glass. Crawl over to Nathan and keep him down."
"What are you going to do?"
"Just keep your rifle with you and stay low. If anybody comes through that door without me hollering out that it's me, you shoot first and ask questions later." He gripped his rifle and fired several shots through the window, then ducked away when the volley was answered with another spray of bullets that pinged around the cabin and put holes in the walls. Quickly Luke ran to a back corner of the cabin, setting his rifle aside and grasping at a loose board. "I just wanted them to know we're still alive and shooting in here so they stay behind that wagon for a few more minutes."
"What are you doing?" Lettie asked, holding a quietly crying Nathan in one arm while she gripped her rifle in the other.
"This damn board used to get me mad, but now I'm glad for it. From their position, they can't see me crawl out the side of the cabin."
"Luke, you can't go out there!" Lettie protested, keeping her voice to a near whisper.
"I've got no choice. I'll never get the last two, the position they're in now, and I'm not going to sit in here all day and worry about what they'll do once it's dark." He ripped the board completely away, then looked over at her. "Go fire a few more rounds through the window, but keep your head down. All they need is to hear the gunshots."
Lettie ordered Nathan to stay put and crawled back over to the window. She laid the rifle barrel on the sill, then ducked down and squeezed her eyes shut, firing the rifle aimlessly to draw the men's attention while Luke tore away some of the tar paper he'd nailed to the side of the cabin, then pushed at a bale of hay, knocking it away and crawling through the opening, taking his rifle with him.
"Daddy." Nathan started to follow his father through the opening, and Lettie put down her rifle and ran to grab him. "No, Nathan! You can't go with Daddy." She sat down against a wall with the boy, rubbing at her stomach and praying she would hang on to the baby through all this horror. "Luke," she whispered.
Outside Luke ducked behind the bale of hay, then cautiously raised his head to spot the wagon in front of the house. Neither man noticed him as he crept along the side of the house then. He could see them moving behind the wagon, one of them cursing about the wound in his leg.
"I can't hold out much longer, Cy," he grumbled. "I think the bullet went clean through, but my knee is killin' me."
"We've got them now," the other man answered. "And there's a woman in there. Hell, if we can clean that bastard out of there, we've got the woman to ourselves and the profit from all them horses only has to be split between you and me. I was sick of Cade always callin' the shots anyway.
That stupid sodbuster in there just conveniently got rid of him for us."
Luke figured his only chance was the element of surprise. He took a deep breath and ran, charging around the end of the wagon and firing point-blank before the startled outlaws had a chance to realize he had got out of the cabin.
Both men went down, but the one with the injured knee raised his six-gun to shoot. Luke quickly fired the rifle again, and the man fell dead.
"Luke! Luke, are you all right!" Lettie screamed from the house.
Luke stared at the dead bodies, startled at how easily he had killed them out of necessity. He knelt down and checked for pulses, felt none. He walked around the wagon to check the other bodies. None were alive. "I'm okay," he called out. "Keep Nathan inside until I can get these bodies out of his sight." He felt a cold sweat begin to envelop him then, as the reality of the fact that he had killed seven men began to sink in. He turned around and vomited on the spot, then wiped at his sweaty forehead with the sleeve of his shirt.
Lettie came running out to him then, ordering Nathan to stay inside. "Luke! Are you sure you're all right? You're not wounded?"
He shook his head, turning away from her. "Just the cut on my back."
Lettie could see that he was shaking. She touched his arm. "Luke, you did what you had to do."
He nodded. "I know, but I... I didn't think I'd kill every one of them. I thought a few would still be alive," he said quietly. He took a deep breath, turning to her with tear-filled eyes. "I killed men in the war, but they were distant, faceless. It was war." He looked around at the bodies again. "I've never killed point-blank like this." He forced a nervous smile, and Lettie knew he was trying to keep from outright crying. "It's a hell of a feeling. Maybe a man gets used to it. Maybe out here he has to get used to it." He sniffed and took another deep breath. "I guess I'd better get them buried. I'll go into town soon and ask what I should do about the horses they had with them."
Lettie gazed at the bloody bodies strewn about, feeling sick herself, but her own nausea came from the realization of how easily Luke could have been taken from her today, and in spite of the fact that he'd had to kill men, she felt safer in his bravery and skill. Yes, Luke Fontaine was made of the right stuff for this country. "They left you no choice, Luke. You heard the things they said. They would have killed you in the blink of an eye if you hadn't got them first, and you know what would have happened to me. It's all right."
He handed her his rifle. "Yeah. The only trouble is, I have a feeling this is just the beginning. These aren't the last men I'll have to kill defending this land and my family. Until there's some kind of law out here, this is the way it will have to be." He looked down at her. "Are you really all right?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry you had to do any shooting at all." He gave her a sad smile. "You did all right."
She burst into tears then. "So did you," she whimpered.
Luke drew her into his arms, and they held each other, the air silent now, no wind, no more gunfire.
Lettie stood holding Nathan while Luke removed his hat and bowed his head. "Lord, if there was any good in any of these men, we hope you'll take them up there with you and forgive them for whatever bad thoughts and actions they were guilty of." He took a deep breath, scanning the eight graves he'd dug close together, seven of the dead laid out by his own bullets. "And forgive me for having to take their lives."
He swallowed and cleared his throat, then straightened, looking across the valley, a soft breeze blowing his dark hair away from his eyes. He had dug all the rest of the afternoon after the encounter with the horse thieves, continued digging into the night. He had not slept, but sat up smoking most of the night, finished digging the graves this morning. He had buried every last man, kept their identification, carved their names on wooden crosses. That morning Lettie thought he looked achingly tired. There were new lines about his eyes, a new set to his jawline, harder, the look of a man learning to bury his emotions because that was the only way to survive. She didn't know what to say to him.
"Riders coming," he said then. "Get inside till I find out who it is. Could be some men who were supposed to meet this bunch."
Lettie prayed they would not have to go through another encounter like yesterday's. She saw only three men, one of them in buckskins, as far as she could tell from this distance. They were making their way along the muddy rut of a road that led there from Billings. At least they were coming from a different direction, so maybe it was just someo
ne from town. She hurried up the hill to the porch of the cabin and stood in the doorway, while Luke picked up his rifle, which he had left propped against a boulder. He had dug the graves in a spot that would always be relatively dry, even in spring, and well away from the rushing water supply of the creek on the other side of the house.
It took several minutes for the riders to come within calling distance. As soon as they did, one of them whistled, the one in buckskins. He was the biggest of the three, and when he called out, Lettie and Luke both realized it was Will Doolan, not just by his burly size, but because of the wolf-like dog that ran beside his horse. "Helloooo, Luke Fontaine!" he hollered.
Luke raised his arm with the rifle in it. Lettie came back outside as the three men came closer. She did not recognize the other two, but she welcomed Will with a smile, wishing with all her heart that Henny were with him. Oh, how wonderful it was to see friendly faces, and how sad that the first human life they had seen after their long winter alone had to be vicious outlaws.
Will laughed. "By God, it's good to see you, Luke, you and the missus both. We was worried about how you'd make it through the winter." He rode closer and dismounted, shaking Luke's hand, his smile quickly fading at the gaunt, haunted look on Luke's face. It was then he noticed the graves. "Jesus, boy, what happened here?"
Luke removed his hat and wiped at his forehead and damp hair. "You were right. Horse thieves came here to hole up, decided they'd kill me and have a good time with my wife. I set them straight."
The other two men dismounted, and all three stared at the graves for a moment. "By God, I guess you did," Will finally spoke up. He looked over at Lettie. "You and the boy okay?" His eyes dropped to her abdomen. "You're carryin!"
Lettie blushed at the remark. "I'm all right."
"She shot one of them herself," Luke put in. "Didn't kill him. I finished them all off."
Will stood back and looked him over. "Must have been quite a shoot-out. You didn't take any bullets?"
Luke shook his head and put his hat back on, while the other two men stared at him as though he were something to be idolized. "I gave them ten seconds to leave. They didn't believe me. I knew my only hope was the element of surprise, so I pulled the trigger before they had a chance to think twice about it, got three right off, four more after they came up behind the first ones. One of them wanted to light out and was shot by his own man... called him a coward and shot him in the head." Luke shook his head. "I'll give you more details later. Right now it's hard to talk about it."
"Well, I expect so." Will sighed deeply, a look of true concern on his face. He turned to the other two men. "Luke, this here is Perry Ward and Jim Calahan. I've known Perry for quite a few years. He's on his way to Oregon from down by Sheridan. Figures to find out about the rumor that there's lots of cattle to be had cheap out there. I thought you might be interested in him findin' out what you can get a good herd for."
Luke nodded. "I'd like that just fine." He shook hands with Ward, a tall, gangly man with dark hair and eyes. Although he was clean-shaven, he had an unkempt look about him. His pants and jacket hung loosely, and his wide-brimmed leather hat looked as though it had had a lot of use. His smile was friendly, but his teeth terribly crooked. "You got family back in Sheridan?" Luke asked.
"Oh, no. Never been married." The man actually looked embarrassed at the remark, and he seemed very shy of women, reddened when he nodded quickly to Lettie in greeting, then looked away immediately. "I guarantee you, Mr. Fontaine, that I do know cattle," the man drawled, apparently anxious to change the subject. "Worked on cattle ranches in Texas for years, mostly with longhorns, of course. I hear there's a little bit different stock in Oregon. I'm lookin' to buy for several other ranchers—get a commission, if that's okay with you. I'll get you the lowest price possible, then you pay the cost of hirin' men to get them back here, plus ten cents a head extra to me for doin' all the footwork. 'Course, all I can do this year is see what kind of deal I can come up with, then let you know next spring and go back to get the beef."
"Sounds fine to me. I'll be too busy here this summer building a cabin and barn and fencing, getting in more wood for next winter and all. Takes a lot of time and work to get a place into shape, and I won't have my wife and a new baby living in that drafty shack next winter."
Ward looked past Luke at the valley beyond. "You picked a good spot, Mr. Fontaine. You can fatten beef up real good here, and I agree with what you told Will about how there's gonna' be an even bigger demand for beef soon as the war is over, especially once they complete the transcontinental railroad."
"I think so," Luke answered. He put out his hand to the other man, who shook it vigorously.
"I'm Jim Calahan," the young man spoke up. His eyes had not stopped shining with awe since he heard Luke had faced eight outlaws and survived the encounter. He removed his hat before nodding to Lettie. "Ma'am."
"Hello, Mr. Calahan," Lettie answered. He was a pleasant-looking man, with sandy hair and brown eyes. He only came to Luke's shoulder in height, but he was well built and looked clean.
"Will brought me out here because he thought you might need an extra hand," he was saying to Luke. "Both my folks died down in Colorado, and I came up here lookin' for gold, but didn't have any luck. I just kind of wandered into Billings last fall lookin' for work, been livin' with Will here most of the winter."
Will laughed. "Henny says we've got to quit takin' in strays." He put a hand on young Jim's shoulder. "He's proved to be a good kid, Luke, hard working, willin' to do his share. For room and board, he'd be a big help to you. He needs the work."
Luke studied the young man. "As long as I can trust him. I need somebody who can keep a watch over Lettie and the stock when I have to be gone."
Jim glanced at the eight graves. "I don't think I'd care to cross you, Mr. Fontaine," he answered with a nervous smile.
Lettie caught the slight bitterness to Luke's smile. "Well, I don't want to get a reputation for killing a man for no reason." He held Jim's eyes with warning in his own. "Just don't give me reason." He grinned then, and Jim smiled in return. The two men shook hands again.
"Put on the coffee, honey," Luke said to Lettie. "You've finally got the company you've been longing for all winter."
"I'll bring Henny out sometime soon," Will promised.
"Oh, I'd like that so much," Lettie told him fervently. She felt uplifted by the unexpected visit. Will couldn't have chosen a better time to come. Luke needed the conversation and support more than ever right now. She headed inside to get more coffee going.
Luke turned and pointed to the valley, where a herd of roughly fifty horses grazed aimlessly. "What am I supposed to do about them?" he asked.
Will pushed his hat back a little and studied them. "Keep them."
"What? They're stolen!"
Will shook his head. "How in hell do you plan to find their owners? Some of them horses probably came from as far away as Utah, Colorado, maybe even Texas and New Mexico. Maybe this is God's way of helpin' you get started, Luke. Take advantage of it. You'll never find the owners now. Rebrand them and keep them. Hell, there's just as much a market for good horses as anything right now. I'll find you help in herdin' them down to a buyer in Wyoming. Don't feel guilty about it." He glanced at the graves. "You earned them horses fair and square. Now you've got a good start, good horses, help in buildin' your cabin, a man to buy cattle for you." He nodded toward the graves. "You survived your first Montana winter, and your first encounter with outlaws. You're gonna do okay."
Luke looked out at the herd. He hadn't even taken time to inspect the animals, but he figured if the outlaws were good at what they did, they probably stole only the best. Will was right. How was he supposed to find the owners of all those horses? It would be impossible. The best he could do was not sell any of them for at least a year, leave word at Billings that he had stolen horses on his land. If no one showed up with proof to claim any of them, they belonged to Luke Fontaine.
; That meant they should be branded. All winter he had given thought to naming the ranch. He'd certainly had plenty of time to think about it, and he had come up with the Double L. It had to be something that represented Lettie, too, for all she'd put up with coming here with him. Both their names started with L—Luke and Lettie—the Double L. He liked the sound of it, and now he had reason to name the ranch and use a brand. He hadn't told Lettie yet about the decision, but he was sure she would like the name.
First thing tomorrow he would carve a sign to hang at the east entrance to his ranch, where Will and the others had ridden in today. Later on he'd have a more professional sign done, but for now, when people came this way from town, they would know they were on Fontaine land, although he had not yet set his exact boundaries or finished up the legal end of it. Whether it was all in writing or not, he'd already fought and bled for this land. Lettie had suffered, too. It was theirs by right, just as those horses were.
As soon as possible he would find a blacksmith to design a branding iron showing two L's, the permanent brand for the Double L. That brand would go on all livestock belonging to Luke Fontaine, and on saddles, signs, almost everything he possessed. Any man who tried to take any of it away from him or hurt his family would end up beside the eight outlaws he had buried this morning!
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.
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