The conductor put Pearl's and Miss Brown's luggage on board, and Miss Brown stood aside while Pearl went through a round of hugs from her siblings and niece and nephew, as well as from Elsie and Mae. Then came Lettie and Luke. Lettie clung to Pearl, unable to keep from crying; and when the girl turned to Luke, silent tears showed in his eyes as he held his youngest daughter for a very long time. The fifteen minutes before departure seemed to fly, and suddenly the conductor was announcing that it was time for all passengers to board the train.
But it's too soon! Lettie thought. She gave Pearl another hug, as did Luke, and then they clung to each other while Pearl climbed into a passenger car with Yolanda Brown. The engineer pulled a cord and let off one long whistle, followed by two short blasts, and steam billowed out of the side of the engine. Pearl hung out a window, waving, crying, but also smiling with excitement. "I'll make you proud of me!" she promised.
Yes, Lettie thought, perhaps she will. For some reason little Paul flashed into her mind. Was he here with them? He would be thirteen years old if he were still alive.
Too much too fast. The town was alive with the excitement of politics, but at this moment it didn't matter. Pearl was leaving them, going to a strange, big city. Maybe she would make her mark there. Maybe she would forget about her mother and father and the Double L.
"I love you, Mother!" she shouted. "I love you, Father!" The train started moving, and Lettie watched that beautiful face and kept her eyes on that bright red hair until she could see them no more. She felt Luke's strong arm around her then. He leaned down from behind and kissed her tearstained cheek. "We'll find a way to go and see her," he promised.
For the moment, for the two of them, there was no one else around. The noise of the crowd disappeared, and it was as though they were standing there alone. "Oh, Luke, it hurts so much."
"There could be worse reasons for having to say goodbye."
She knew he was thinking about Paul. Suddenly a reporter for the Billings Gazette was barging in to ask Luke about Pearl. Katie put her arms around her mother, while Tyler stood beside his father helping answer questions. Lettie turned around and wept on Katie's shoulder.
"You did the right thing, Mama. It's what Pearl has always wanted."
Lettie nodded, taking a handkerchief from her handbag and wiping at her nose and eyes. "Oh, I must look terrible, and I have to stand with Luke today during his speeches."
"You look beautiful, Mama. You always do. And you'd better hurry. That crowd is taking Pa away."
Lettie turned to see Luke laughing with local businessmen, still answering questions from the newspaper reporter. He was taking to politics more naturally than she had thought he would, and she smiled through tears, realizing that he was a man highly respected and well liked. Luke Fontaine was Montana.
Lettie studied the newspaper article dated October 8, 1883, anger boiling in her soul at the words. "What do we know about Luke Fontaine's background?" it read.
The man has never made mention of where he is from, who his father is. Not only are his origins a mystery, but his choices since settling in Montana must also be examined. Should we bring a man into the territorial legislature who was once a vigilante? Has anyone asked Luke Fontaine how many men he has killed, what he thinks of true law and order? Does he believe in a system of justice, or is he too quick to throw a rope over a tree? He professes to be a family man, yet his adopted son chose to live among the Sioux rather than with his father. Does the man rule like a vigilante at home? Or could this mean something else? Perhaps Luke Fontaine has a soft spot for the Indians because his son lives among them. With someone like Fontaine in our legislature, will Montana end up granting favors to the very Indians who have caused our citizens so much heartache over the years? Is Luke Fontaine really fit to help run our now-civilized territory, a representative we can be proud of? Is this a man we truly want people in Washington to look at as an example of Montana's best? Luke Fontaine knows ranching, but that is all he knows. He is not qualified, either in knowledge of government, in background, education, or in honorable personality, to represent our great territory, or to lead us to statehood. His wife, on the other hand, is the picture of poise, elegance, intelligence and refinement. How sad that it is not Mrs. Fontaine who is running for office, but a woman's place is at home... and so is Luke Fontaine's.
She laid the paper down, still finding it difficult reading, even though she had been over the article a hundred times in the last three days. She was surprised at Luke's self-control in answering every charge. People here in Helena had been good to him, but since the article they had been cooler. Luke had attended several public meetings, and was doing a superb job of showing his worth, his love for Montana, explaining how he would fight for protection of both farmers and ranchers in the areas of price setting and bank loans. He had remained calm on the outside, proving to the public that he could stand up against such slander, coming back at them with clear answers. But she knew that he had been deeply hurt, and she knew who had done the hurting. No names had been mentioned, but she had no doubt that Nial Bentley was behind most of the ugly words. Perhaps he had not directly written the article, but he had dropped enough of the wrong information to other opponents to fuel the fire.
She turned from the desk in their hotel room and watched out the window for a few quiet moments, studying the activity below. Luke was at a breakfast meeting this morning, speaking with Helena's most prominent businessmen, many of them much wealthier than they, their fortunes made on gold and silver. The article had put Luke on the defensive, had forced him to have to answer personal questions rather than being able to focus on what he wanted to do for Montana. She felt a deep anger, not just at Nial, but at herself for ever trusting and befriending the man. How many newspapers besides this one in Helena had run that garbage? Another newspaper in town had been very supportive. For that much she was grateful, but she felt the article denigrating Luke's qualifications and reputation needed to be answered.
She turned from the window and took out pen and paper and began writing. Luke would be gone most of the morning. She would be meeting all the wives tonight at a ball one of the businessmen was to hold in his home for Luke and for the two candidates from the Helena area. It was going to be rather awkward mingling with the competition, after the awful article, but Lettie welcomed the chance to show what she and Luke were made of. She wasn't sure what part of the territory Nial had gone to for his own campaign, but she suspected it was a good thing he would not be at the ball tonight, or Luke just might show some of that old, rough side of himself. There was a rage behind those blue eyes, and it was against Nial Bentley.
She began writing, determined to set the record straight.
In response to the slanderous allegations against one of Montana's finest citizens, I feel, as that man's wife, that the truth should be told. Luke Fontaine does have a business background, being the son of a wealthy St. Louis merchant; however, rather than live in luxury in St. Louis, he chose to set out on his own, to settle in a then-dangerous land to build his dream. Like a true Montana pioneer, Luke cut his own way by the sweat of his brow and the strength of his hands, fought Indians and outlaws and the wild land.
Yes, Luke was a vigilante, but necessarily so. We must remember that Montana has not long been civilized, and parts of it still are not. Where there is no organized law, a man must do what is necessary to protect his own. No man enjoys the task of taking the law into his own hands, but there are times when there is no other choice, and Luke Fontaine never brought harm to an innocent man. Those he has brought to justice were murderers, rapists, and thieves. His family has personally suffered dearly because of Luke's fight against such undesirables.
My firstborn child, adopted by my husband, was stolen away by Indians soon after we settled in this land. Luke searched for the boy for months, but to no avail, finally being led to believe he was dead. Years later Luke and I learned our Nathan was still alive but living among the Sioux. We all know of man
y instances wherein a white child captured by Indians chooses to stay among them when he or she is found years later. That is the choice our Nathan made, but he is still our son, and the agony we have suffered from his loss has only been worsened by the cruel charge that it was something Luke did that made Nathan stay with the Sioux. This is entirely false, and if Nathan should ever choose to come home, he would always be welcome; but the fact that our son still lives with the Sioux does not mean that Luke would grant the Indians favors over and above what is good for Montana and its citizens. Montana would always come first.
Yes, Luke does certainly understand ranching and ranchers' needs, as he is one of the most successful cattle ranchers in Montana. However, he also understands the needs of other businessmen. Through early troubles with farmers, he has come to understand their particular problems. Luke also understands business needs, as he owns copper mines, a hotel, a grain supply, and other interests. Montana can thank men like Luke for saving our territory from the ugly range wars that have plagued Colorado and Wyoming. Luke Fontaine was the first cattleman to prove to the rest of the country that sheep and cattle can graze together without a problem, the first to allow sheep to range on his own land. Does this sound like a man who does not want peace? A man who does not know how to be fair? A man who would not be capable of making wise decisions for Montana?
My husband built what he has through courage and determination and from almost nothing. He did not come here from a foreign land to spend old money handed down to him through family. He loves this land; he risked his life and the safety of his family to settle here, and he built what he has by the sweat of his brow and not by hiring everything done for him while he sat and watched, as one of the other candidates, whom I will not name, has done. We have buried children and friends, have stood up against outlaws and prairie fires. We have paid our dues, and we stayed. We stayed because we love this land, and we would not let it defeat us.
As to the last charge that it is I who should be running for office, but a woman's place is in the home, I will say first that I could never begin to fill Luke Fontaine's shoes regarding his knowledge of the needs of this territory. Secondly, although I am female, as an original pioneer of Montana, and like many other women of Montana must feel, our place is not always at home. Our place is in the churches, the schools, and in activities that bring refinement and culture to Montana. Montana women are proud and independent, and my husband would be first to support the rights of women to have a say in decisions about our great territory. My place is not only at home, but at my husband's side, and to help him however I can in bringing Montana into the United States. It is men like Luke Fontaine who have brought us this far, and who will bring continued progress to our territory. Just as it took brave and rugged men to pioneer this land, so will it take the same kind of men to defend our honor and our particular needs when Montana becomes a state. Mrs. Luke (Eletta) Fontaine
She reread the letter, folded it and put it in her handbag. She checked herself in the mirror. She had chosen to wear a deep brown velvet dress. She pulled on a matching velvet cape and tied it at the neck, then placed a white velvet hat on her auburn hair and pinned it at an elegant slant. She chose to wear white gloves. She would show this town and everyone else just how elegant and refined she really could be; and they would have to wonder, if Luke was the unrefined tyrant the article had made him out to be, why someone like herself would still be with him. She would do her share in this campaign by simply being on Luke Fontaine's arm, the happy, loving wife, and she thought how pleasant it would be to have Nial Bentley in front of her right now and to put a derringer to his chest and pull the trigger.
She picked up her handbag and went out. She would take her letter to a printer's office and have it typeset, then have enough copies run off to send to every damn newspaper in Montana and beyond!
Luke untied his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt, at the same time watching Lettie brush her hair. It was still thick and lustrous, showing only a little gray. "We sure have seen a lot of Montana, haven't we?" he asked, removing his shirt and going to look out the hotel window. "Bozeman, Butte, Anaconda, Helena, now Great Falls." He watched a light snow fall onto the street below, just enough to dampen the already muddy street. "Is there any land prettier, Lettie?"
She smiled. "I really don't know. Montana is about all I've ever known. I hardly remember our trip up here through Wyoming, it's been so many years ago, and I never did get to go to Denver."
He turned away from the window, studying her lovingly. "That's my fault. I'm sorry, Lettie. There must have been times when you felt buried alive up here. We can still travel to other places, you know, even Europe if you want, or other places out here. We have the money—"
She faced him, putting down her brush. "I wasn't complaining, Luke. I was just stating a fact." She rose and walked closer, tracing her fingers through the dark hair on his still-solid chest. "There is no place I want to go but home, Luke, to the Double L. And I know it's the same for you. I don't need to travel all over the country or across the ocean to be happy. You know that."
He put his hands to her face. "I know there isn't a man alive who could have a better wife, or a more beautiful one." She smiled, and Luke noticed new lines about her eyes, but he saw beyond them, to the eighteen-year-old girl he had married and brought to this wild land. "Thank you, Lettie, for the letter."
She rubbed her hands over his arms, up to his shoulders. "I was afraid you might be angry about it, but it was something I had to do. I couldn't let those lies go unanswered." She arched her eyebrows teasingly. "Of course, I did leave out the fact that this poised, elegant, refined, and intelligent wife of yours has done her share of shooting at outlaws, even killed one. I guess I should have mentioned that."
He broke into a handsome grin. "Maybe you should have." He moved his hands into her hair and down her back, pressing her close. "You're a good woman, Lettie. I've gotten a lot of good response since that letter."
"Well, we'll know in two days how much good it did.
Then all this will be over. However it turns out, we can get back to a halfway normal life again, back to the Double L and the children." She kissed his chest. "That's where we both belong."
"I can be home wherever I am, as long as I've got you right here close to me." He leaned down and kissed her hair, and she turned her face up to him, meeting his mouth hungrily. With so much traveling and often staying as guests in strangers' homes, they had not had the chance over the past several weeks to make love often. Now the campaigning was over. All that was left was to wait for the results. Tomorrow they would leave for Helena, and thanks to the wonders of Western Union, they would know by the time they reached there how the day's voting had turned out.
Lettie reached up around Luke's neck. "Do you think it's true about that contraption called a telephone they're starting to use back East? That people could talk to each other directly over several miles?"
"I'll believe it when I see one of the things for myself."
"Wouldn't that be a wonderful thing to have between Katie and us?"
He grinned. "I doubt that will happen in our lifetime, Lettie, especially way out here."
"Well, once you're a Montana legislator, I think you should look into it. You have to keep us modern now, you know."
He began pulling up her gown. "I'll worry about that tomorrow."
"I thought you were saying a few minutes ago how tired you are," she reminded him.
He lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He realized that she wore nothing under her gown. "Some things help me go to sleep," he answered, carrying her to the bed. "Besides, you knew I'd see if you had any drawers on under this gown, you wench." He laid her back on the bed, pushing her gown up past her breasts. She raised her arms over her head and he pulled the gown off.
"Luke, I haven't finished brushing my—" His kiss cut off her words, and his fingers caressed her. She closed her eyes and drew in her breath when he move
d a finger inside of her, teasing, toying, circling that magic place that he knew so well how to arouse. His tongue searched deep, then left her mouth, moved over the curve of her neck, savored a taut nipple, trailed over her belly and licked at the little valleys between her belly and her thighs, all the while toying with secret places until she shivered with a deep climax that made her draw up her knees. He pressed against her, kissing her deeply, and she reached down to unbutton his pants. "Why do I find you even more attractive as a politician?"
He moved away for a moment to get off the rest of his clothes. "I'm not a politician yet."
She sat up and kissed at his chest, arms, and back. "No one who meets you would vote against you. You are Montana, Luke."
He turned to move on top of her. "There are plenty of people out there who have never met me."
"They'll see your handsome picture."
"Looks don't mean a man has what it takes to run a territory, or a state. If I win, it will be because of your letter."
"I wrote that to satisfy my own anger. You could have won without it."
"Lettie, I haven't won yet."
She traced her fingers through his chest hair, over his nipples. "You will. Either way, you won my vote twenty years ago, Luke Fontaine. You just make sure you stay away from the women who will come around flirting and offering themselves to you when you're traveling alone."
Wildest Dreams Page 47
