Henry chuckled. "Sounds like a typical young man. You shouldn't turn your back on what's rightfully yours, though, Luke. There will come a time when you'll wish you had that inheritance. I'd think it could be a big help to you if you're going to be building something for yourself in Montana. Me, I wish I had had something to fall back on when we lost everything back in Ireland. Of course, that was before Lettie was born. We've been in this country a long time now. Trouble is, disaster came to greet us again."
Luke watched smoke curl up from the end of his cigar. "Your daughter said something about a raid earlier today. I gather you are victims of the border wars. Lettie said her husband was killed in a raid." He noticed the man exchange a warning look with his daughter.
Lettie suddenly put down her dishcloth. She came over to pick up little Nathan. "It's time for bed, son." She glanced at Luke. "Thank you again for what you did today. If there is anything you need, please don't hesitate to tell us."
Luke looked her over, wishing she wasn't so damn pretty. He regretted barking at her earlier that day about not watching her son properly. It had to be difficult raising a son with no father. He warned himself not to care about her. Where he was headed was no place for a woman and a child.
"Fact is," he answered, "the wagon master has already asked me to do some of the hunting for the others, seeing as how I don't have anyone to look after. Maybe when I'm doing that your brother can take care of my mules. I'll see that the family gets some extra meat for it."
"Well, we'd sure appreciate it!" Henry told him.
"Yes. Thank you."
Luke nodded to Lettie, and for a moment their gaze lingered before she turned and quickly left. She climbed into the family's lead wagon. Luke looked after her, wondering about the change he had sensed as soon as he had mentioned the raid.
"We'll be glad to look after your mules when necessary," Henry told him then, interrupting his thoughts. "We'll have to tie them to one of the wagons, seeing as how me and James and my wife have our hands full with our own oxen." The man sighed. "I hate putting my family to this hard life, but it's only until we get where we're going. I gave them a damn good life in Missouri. I've become a wealthy man, Mr. Fontaine. Up in St. Joseph we had a fine big home and farm, as well as a couple of businesses in town. We even owned slaves, and I gave them all their freedom before we left. I figured the time is going to come when they'll all be free anyway. Be that as it may, I made a good life for my family back there, and I don't ever intend for any of them to suffer the way Katie and I suffered back in Ireland. I could see that was beginning to happen again, only for different reasons, so we left."
"I'm sorry about Lettie's husband. Did you lose everything?"
Henry stared at the fire thoughtfully. "They burned us out. That was all before Lettie even had her baby. We stuck it out because she was carrying. We tried to make it work for a couple more years. Finally, after a few more raids we decided to leave. I've got enough money to set us up good wherever we go."
Luke nodded. "That's good." So, Lettie's husband was killed before she even had the child. That meant he'd been dead for a good two and a half years. It also meant she must have been about fifteen when she married, practically a child. It seemed odd that the MacBrides had married off a daughter that young.
"Tell me something, Luke," Henry asked. "How old are you? Twenty-six, maybe?"
"Twenty-eight. Why?"
Henry studied him, then shrugged. "Just wondering how a big, strong young man like yourself managed to stay out of the war."
Luke braced himself. This might be the end of his short friendship with Henry MacBride and family. He rested his elbows on his knees. "I didn't," he answered. "That's why I was hurting pretty bad earlier when that horse kicked me. He got me on my right calf. I was shot and wounded in that same spot. I'd been in the war for about a year when it happened—almost lost the lower part of my leg. After that I got discharged and gladly left. There isn't anything uglier than what's going on in the South right now. Take your border raids and multiply that several hundred times, and you've got an idea what the war is like. It's bloody and senseless, and I have no desire to get involved in it again. I only joined up the first time to get away from my father. I had a lot of things to think about, wasn't sure what to do with my life."
Henry puffed on the cigar. "What side did you fight on?"
Luke gazed intently into the man's eyes for a moment. "Union," he answered. He waited for Henry MacBride to send him packing. MacBride obviously hated the Kansas jay-hawkers who had raided his farm and killed his son-in-law. He had even owned slaves. Surely he was proslavery and pro-South. It was well known that Irish immigrants had settled throughout the South.
Henry held his eyes. "You ever do any raiding on innocent people?"
"No, sir. I was in the regular army. The only people I raised a weapon against were Confederate soldiers in full battle."
Henry nodded. "Nothing wrong with that. I know it's an ugly war, and everybody has an opinion of who's right and who's wrong. It's when citizens appoint themselves as the law and decide to fight the battle their own way that it's wrong." He looked over at Sadie, who was singing as she scrubbed some pans. "I was good to my slaves, but I didn't really feel slavery was quite right. I felt better about all of it after I gave them their freedom. Sadie chose to stay with us. She's been with the family so long she'd be heartbroken if I made her go... and homeless. I pay her now." He looked Luke over. "Out here there is no room for feelings about the war, Luke. Out here we're all the same, and we all need each other. I don't hold it against you that you were a Union man. You're not wearing a uniform now. You're just someone who saved my grandson's life today, and I thank you for that. You're welcome to come back and join our campfire whenever you feel like it."
"Thank you," Luke answered. He rose. "I expect I'd better turn in. Tomorrow is going to be another long day."
"That it is, boy, that it is." Henry reached out and shook his hand. "We're glad to share our campfire with you any time."
Luke glanced at the wagon where Lettie had so quickly disappeared, wondering why such a beautiful young woman had not found another husband by now. She'd turn any man's head, and her little boy would be easy to love. He bid another good-night to Henry MacBride and left. Whatever Lettie's situation was, it wasn't his affair. His only concern was to get himself to Montana.
Inside her wagon, Lettie lay beside her son, stroking his white-blond hair, part of her longing to be a natural woman, another part of her terrified at the thought. Why had meeting Luke Fontaine stirred these surprising desires in her? It was foolish, wrong; more than that, it was hopeless. She studied Nathan by the light of a lantern that hung nearby, kept lit so the boy wouldn't be afraid of the dark. His big brown eyes blinked open, and he smiled softly at her before his eyelids fluttered closed again.
Lettie supposed she should have thanked Luke Fontaine again, but decided it was best not to encourage any man. It saved a lot of hurt later on. Weariness from the long, hard day finally overtook her, and her own eyes drifted closed. But as it so often did, the horror flashed into her mind... the raider's leering face... his white-blond hair... and the ugly eagerness in his brown eyes. She started awake, looked down at Nathan to make sure she had not disturbed him.
She gently pulled away from him, knowing that the only way to clear her head was to stand up for % few minutes. When she moved to the back of the wagon she saw her sister Louise climbing into the second wagon which she shared with her mother. Her father and brother slept in the third wagon. She wondered how Luke would sleep tonight. On the cold, hard ground, no doubt. Did he have a tent or anything for shelter?
After a time she lay back down. There was another twenty miles to cover tomorrow, most of it on foot. She would be carrying Nathan part of the way, trading the boy off with her brother and father. She closed her eyes again, this time turning her thoughts to Luke, how he had rescued Nathan, the way he had looked... how he had watched her tonight.
CHAPTER 2
Luke was glad to be hunting for the wagon train. It gave him plenty of the kind of experience he would need to settle in uncivilized country. He was getting used to being in the saddle most of the day, becoming adept at stalking his prey, getting a good feel for the new repeating rifle he had purchased back in St. Louis. He suspected that where he was going, a man had better be able to hit his target, or expect to die of starvation, or worse.
Thunder rumbled somewhere in the west as he sat on a rise watching the wagon train in the distance. All morning it had been miserably hot, but now a cool breeze met his face, carrying with it the scent of rain. He headed his horse away from the wooded ravine where he had shot a deer, the animal now tied over his horse's rump, along with three rabbits. It was easy to spot the MacBride wagons among the others because of the post showing the red flag. In the seven weeks they had been on the trail, he had eaten with Lettie and her family often, brought them meat, played with Nathan. He was sure he'd seen romantic interest in the way Lettie Dougan looked at him but she had not done or said a thing to betray that interest. Was it because they would soon go their separate ways? Or was she still mourning her husband, after two and a half years?
He halted his horse, took a thin cigar from his shirt pocket. And how did he feel about Lettie? At first he had not even considered the possibility of taking a woman and child to Montana. But in just another week or so they would reach the point where the North and South Platte branched off in different directions. He would continue on with the wagon train into Wyoming, then go north into Montana from there. Lettie and her family would head south into Colorado. He could hardly stand the thought of leaving Let-tie MacBride Dougan behind. He was even becoming attached to Nathan. Sometimes when he wasn't hunting, he had kept the boy with him on his horse to relieve Lettie and the others from having to carry him. They did not want the child inside a wagon, for he was too active, and they were afraid he might fall out.
Nathan was easy to love. The hell of it was... so was the boy's mother. Yes, he loved her. And he thought maybe she loved him too. But lately she had been more distant; she seemed angry about something. And she'd started refusing to let Nathan ride with him.
He lit the cigar, urged his horse, a strong, roan-colored gelding, forward at a gentle walk. "What should we do, Red?" he addressed the horse, patting its neck. The animal shuddered and tossed its head. "I don't know either, boy, but I think it's time Mrs. Lettie Dougan and I had a good talk, whether she wants to or not."
He wondered just how bad the Indian situation was up in Montana. He'd been warned that was where the Sioux and Northern Cheyenne, the last of the truly rebellious natives, roamed. Most others were on reservations now, although there was still trouble with the Southern Cheyenne. Even here, some Indians still roamed free, but so far the only ones they had seen were the few who hung around the forts and towns along the trail, begging for handouts. He couldn't help feeling a little sorry for them, imagining how proud they must have been at one time, what fierce warriors they had been, riding free in this big country. But things had a way of changing. It had been like that since the beginning of time, and there was no stopping it.
At least now he understood them a little better. One of the scouts for the wagon train was a Pawnee Indian who spoke English. He'd had nothing good to say about the Cheyenne, but then the two tribes had always been enemies, according to Hank Preston, the wagon master. Still, Luke had asked a lot of questions and learned a lot from Standing Bull about how Indians think, how they fight, how to dicker with them. The Pawnee was even teaching him a little of the Sioux and Cheyenne tongue, and the most common form of communicating with any Indian—a universal sign language. He could only hope that what Indians he might come across in Montana would be willing to talk instead of wanting his scalp.
Other whites had settled in Montana and were surviving. He could do it, too. He wasn't going to let Indians or the tales he'd heard of Montana's harsh winters stop him. And once he'd built the empire he dreamed of, maybe he would invite his father and brother for a little visit and let them see what he'd done all on his own, without Fontaine money.
"Big sky country," that's what Preston called Montana. Before resorting to leading wagon trains west, he had been a rugged scout who had lived out west most of his life, had taught Luke a lot about what to expect out here. As far as Luke was concerned, everything west of the Missouri River was big sky country. He'd never seen such wide-open land. Out here a man felt free; he could dream. He could be anything he wanted to be, and nobody gave a damn about his past.
A loud clap of thunder interrupted his thoughts, and he rode closer to the wagons, noticed they were passing several graves. Apparently this was an area where emigrants from other wagon trains had died. Some of the graves looked old, and it was obvious that in time they would be completely lost to the wind and the sand. This trail had been heavily traveled for a good fifteen years now, and everyone had read plenty of stories about the disasters others had encountered along the way. So far they had all been lucky, except for young David Nolan, who had died from a rattlesnake bite two days ago. As Luke got closer, he could hear the man's young widow, Hester, still weeping bitterly inside her wagon, which someone else had agreed to drive for her.
Even without many disasters, the trip was hard and sometimes miserable. They had encountered cold rains, mud, mosquitoes, and unbearable heat. Two weeks ago nearly everyone had come down with something that brought on a rash of vomiting, but luckily it had not been fatal. By now, many of them were irritable—women angry with their spouses for bringing them out here, some begging to go back. Through it all, Lettie did not complain. She and her family had apparently left a relatively comfortable life back in St. Joseph, but they were not soft and whining. They had the stubborn strength of the Irish. Henry MacBride had suffered famine and hardship back in Ireland so this was nothing new to him. His children seemed to have inherited his stamina. Lettie was strong, quiet, brave, uncomplaining... just the kind of woman he would need where he was going. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn't want to go to Montana alone after all. If he was going to build something of his own there, he needed a woman to share it with, children to inherit his land. Who better than someone young and strong like Lettie, and beautiful to boot?
Yes, by God, he was going to talk to Henry about asking for Lettie's hand in marriage. The man probably wouldn't want his daughter to leave the family and go to a place like Montana, but then it was really up to Lettie in the end. He'd do this the proper way and approach her father first. He stuck the cigar in his mouth and rode a little faster, relieved to have made the decision.
Dark clouds were moving in fast now from the west, and lightning was shattering the sky, followed by more cracking thunder. Luke noticed Hank Preston riding frantically up and down along the line of wagons.
"Get to the ravine up ahead!" he was shouting. "Hurry it up! Get yourselves to the lowest place possible! Could be a twister coming!"
The wind suddenly picked up to almost violent proportions, and it was icy cold, almost a shock compared to the oppressive heat they had felt all morning. Huge drops of rain mixed with hail began pelting Luke as he kicked Red into a fast run then, heading for the MacBride wagons.
The ground quickly turned white from hail. Luke barely had time to tie Red to the back of one of the MacBride wagons and grab his slicker before the hail became even larger. He grabbed Nathan from Lettie's arms, then pushed her under the wagon, which her brother had managed to get to the ravine. It was really more just a slight dip in the earth, but Preston had insisted they would be better protected there. Luke handed Nathan to his mother, then helped MacBride and his wife get the other two wagons to the low spot, praying none of the animals would go out of control because of the storm, dragging wagons with them, maybe hurting someone or wrecking a wagon.
The hailstones hurt as they pummeled him. Luke and the others scrambled under their wagons then, and women's screams we
re drowned out by the deafening wind, thunder, and torrential rain that was now mixed with the hail. Luke moved to lie over Lettie and Nathan, spreading his slicker over them. "Keep your heads under my body," he shouted. "If that wind blows the wagon apart, pieces of wood and iron will go flying everywhere!"
A few people did not make it to the low spot, but there was no time now to worry about that. Luke remained huddled over Lettie and the child, and it was impossible to know what was happening to the others. For the next several minutes there was nothing to do but lie there and wait for the worst of the storm to pass. Little Nathan turned on his back and looked up at Luke, showing not a bit of fear from the terrible thunder and roar of the wind. Lettie remained on her stomach, keeping an arm around the boy. She grabbed him a little closer when they heard a crashing sound. The rain came down so hard that the little gully in which they lay began to fill quickly with water and turn into a stream.
"I've heard how raging creeks can appear in minutes out here after a hard rain," Luke shouted to Lettie. "Be ready to climb out of here if we have to!"
The little trickle began turning into a bigger stream, until Lettie was forced to turn on her back to keep her face out of the water. She met Luke's eyes. Such a beautiful blue. She saw the love there, felt the trust. Did he feel the same about her as she did for him? She knew it would be better if he didn't. She would only have to turn him away. It was the only right thing to do, wasn't it? So why did she feel so safe here, with his strong shoulders hovering over her? Why wasn't she afraid? Why did she desire this man, when she had no right to desire any man?
She had tried so hard not to want Luke, not to care about him. She had even quit letting him take Nathan. It wasn't good for the boy to grow so fond of a man who would soon be leaving them.
Bittner, Rosanne Page 2
