Bittner, Rosanne (27 page)

The man seemed gracious and well-mannered, and he dressed immaculately, a wondrous sight in Montana. "Thank you, Mr. Bentley."

"We might as well all introduce ourselves," Will said then. "Most of us know each other, but this is the Englishman's first cattlemen's meeting, and I see a couple of other new faces. I'm Will Doolan—own a small ranch east of Billings—been good friends with Luke and Lettie Fontaine ever since they first settled here. I expect me and my wife Henny have been here longer than just about anybody, but we ain't had near the bad luck the Fontaines had when they first arrived. Ol' Luke, he shot down seven outlaws who tried to run him off his place the first spring after he got here. Mrs. Fontaine here, she shot one of them herself, but it was Luke who finished him off."

Lettie reddened slightly at the man's contribution of family history. She would rather not have brought up so many details, but with every word she could see the men's respect and acceptance growing.

He went on to relate how they had lost Nathan. "If I told you everything else they've been through to hang on to the Double L, we'd be here all day. I will add that the day Luke was shot down by the buffalo hunters, Mrs. Fontaine here had to walk almost five miles to get help, most of it in the dark. She—"

"Will, please." Lettie shook her head, her embarrassment growing deeper.

Will grinned. "All I'm sayin' is, you men should accept Mrs. Fontaine as a temporary member with no objections, at least till Luke's better and he can come himself. She came here out of love and respect for her husband, even though she's still healin' from a couple of badly bruised ribs herself."

"No objection on my part," the Englishman spoke up, looking at her with such admiration that Lettie felt downright uncomfortable.

"We agree Luke Fontaine's wife has every right to be here," another added.

One by one each man introduced himself, not just for Lettie, but for each other. "James Woodward. Got a ranch northwest of here. Wife's name is Ellen. We've got four kids, three girls and a boy. My brand is
JW."

"Calvin Briggs. My place is northwest of the Double L. Wife's name is Leeanna. We've got one boy, eight years old. My brand is just the letter
B."

"Nial Bentley," the Englishman repeated. "I am a widower, come to your beautiful country for an adventure and to make investments for my family. My brand is crossed swords, my family's crest." He gave everyone a gracious smile, and Lettie could tell that some of the men were ready to laugh. "I have a suggestion for all of you regarding the best beef cattle in the world," Bentley added. The remark wiped the smiles off the others' faces and brought a curiosity to their eyes. "But please, finish the introductions first," Bentley added.

The next man straightened, nervously fingering his soiled hat. "Carl Rose. My place is south of Billings. It's not as big as what I hear the Double L is, but I don't think anybody here has that much land, except maybe the Englishman." They all laughed lightly. "Anybody sees a stray steer with a rose on his rump, he's mine."

They all laughed again before Will spoke up. "You already know who I am. I ain't never picked a brand for my beef, but now that we're formin' this group and figurin' on registerin' our stock, I reckon' I'll have to be thinkin' about that." He looked past Lettie at the next man.

"Joseph Parker," the man spoke up. "Everybody calls me Park. My place is to the southeast. My wife died last year in childbirth, so I ain't got a family. My brand is
JP."

"Henry Kline. North of Billings," the last man spoke up. "Wife's Lucy. We've got two grown sons who was both killed in the war. We came out here to forget, if that's possible, me and my wife Lucy. My ranch is called the Lazy K, and my brand is a
K
restin' on its back." Kline was older than the rest of them, a big, heavy man, with a full, graying beard that came nearly to his belly.

Lettie spoke up. "I'm sorry about your sons, Mr. Kline. And about your wife's death, Mr. Parker. I'm sure everyone here has suffered losses of one kind or another. Friendship and support of one another is so important."

Kline and Parker thanked her for her concern.

"Well, let's get started," James Woodward said. "We'll pick a president, see if anyone knows of other ranchers who aren't here but should be. We have a lot of things to discuss, how we'll go about registering our brands, what to do about rustlers. And, of course, Mr. Bentley apparently has something to tell us about beef, although I can't imagine what an Englishman would know about such things. As far as I'm concerned, Montana already grows the best and hardiest beef in this country."

They all laughed and nodded. "Before long we'll be outselling Texas, and we've got the Union Pacific to ship it without having to herd our cattle so far like the Texans have to do," Carl Rose spoke up.

"Won't be long before the Northern Pacific starts building into Montana, I hear," Will said.

Lettie watched all of them, a variety of sizes and ages, some cleaner and better dressed than others, all rugged men willing to sit down and try to organize themselves and ultimately organize Montana. She was glad to be a part of the meeting, wished Luke could be here. If anyone should be president, it should be Luke, as far as she was concerned. After all, this organization had been his idea to start with. They were starting small, but as more men came into Montana to settle, the Cattlemen's Association was bound to grow in size and importance. She reached into her handbag and took out some paper she had brought with her, and a pen, setting a bottle of ink on the floor beside her. She did not want to forget anything important and had promised Luke she would take notes.

"I've got something here that's got to be discussed right off," Briggs said. "It's something that's going to cause a lot of trouble between ranchers and farmers if its use isn't stopped." The man held up a piece of wire. "It's barbed, and believe me, it can maim and kill. Some damn squatters north of my place put this stuff up to keep my cattle out of their cornfields, and several of my beef got tore up by it, and so did one of my men when he rode his horse right into it before he even saw it was there." The man passed the wire around. "I hear more and more farmers are startin' to use this stuff to keep cattle and other animals out of their fields. I say we all agree that wherever we find this stuff, we cut it down."

Lettie took the wire when Joseph Parker passed it on to her. She gasped when she accidentally poked her finger with one of the barbs.

"Are you all right, Mrs. Fontaine?" the Englishman spoke up.

Lettie stared at the hideous wire. "Yes." She rubbed at her finger, which had already begun to bleed. "I just need a handkerchief or something."

Almost instantly several men offered her their hankies. She took one from Parker and held it against her finger, passing the wire to Will. "Luke would be totally against this," she told the rest of them.

"As far as I'm concerned, the stuff ought to be outlawed," Carl Rose grumbled.

"Wherever we find it, it gets cut down," Henry Kline suggested. "If some farmer wants to make trouble over it, let him deal with all of us."

Everyone nodded in agreement, and Lettie watched the wire as it was passed around, thinking something like that could cause a good deal of trouble. She would take that piece of wire home and show it to Luke. She had never even considered that farmers would put up something so dangerous, not just to domestic animals, but wild ones, too.

There was more discussion over the wire, after which talk turned to writing a letter to the Northern Pacific, requesting the route chosen by the railroad pass near Billings, an advantage to Montana ranchers who now had to herd their cattle south to Cheyenne, Wyoming. Cattle drives were expensive and dangerous, and there were always losses to Indians, wild animals, and the elements, as well as weight loss in the cattle. The fact that Billings had a sheriff now, Bill Tracy, was also discussed; but it was determined that the man could do little more than keep order in town. Any law outside of Billings would still be set and enforced by the ranchers.

"I hear there's a big-time mine owner from Denver here wantin' to talk to some of us about lookin' for minerals on our land," Will said. "His name's Jeremy Shane—stayin' at the new boardinghouse the widow Anderson opened up. He was fixin' to visit some of us. I told him about this meetin', told him it was closed to outsiders, but I said I'd go get him if any of you wants to talk to him."

"There's no gold this far east," Parker stated.

"Well, there's other minerals besides gold that can be worth somethin'," Will replied.

"I don't want any business with miners coming in and tearing up my land," Carl Rose objected.

Most of them grumbled, but Lettie thought it a wonderful idea. She made a note of it. She would go and see this Mr. Shane. She had been after Luke for years to consider options that would keep them afloat in case of a bad year. Finding valuable minerals on their property could be the answer.

"I have wired a buyer from Omaha," Nial Bentley spoke up. "He will come to Billings next spring. His name is Bradley Mills, works for Patterson's Meat Supply, one of the biggest butcher markets in the country. I checked on all these things before coming here to invest in land and cattle. I believe we should allow him into the meeting. We might all be able to contract with him for our beef. That way we have a definite buyer for years ahead instead of wondering from one year to the next. I have already had dealings with Mills for the cattle on another ranch I own in Wisconsin. He's an honest man."

Lettie kept writing. Yes. A solid contract would certainly make Luke rest easier. Shelby Preston's promise to buy cattle was only word of mouth. He could always change his mind and tell Luke he didn't want all twenty-five hundred head next summer after Luke had taken the time and spent the money to herd them to Cheyenne.

She made a note that Nial Bentley also owned a ranch in Wisconsin. Apparently the Englishman knew more about cattle and running a ranch than any of them had thought at first.

"With all her note taking, perhaps Mrs. Fontaine can write up a summary for us of everything we discuss here today," Bentley added.

Lettie glanced his way and saw him smiling at her. She was flattered that the man seemed to be quite attracted to her, but it also upset her. No man should look at a married woman the way Nial Bentley was looking at her. She turned her gaze to the others. "I'd be glad to, if that is what everyone wants."

Briggs nodded. "We'd appreciate it, Mrs. Fontaine. Next meeting, you can read back your notes. In the meantime, I want everybody to bring a piece of rawhide to the next meeting with your brand burned into it. We're corresponding with a printer from Cheyenne, trying to talk him into coming to Billings and opening a newspaper here. With his equipment, he could print up some registration sheets, showing everybody's brand. By this time next year I'd like to be organized enough that we have files on all these things, records of what we discuss. Cattlemen are getting organized in other territories and states. We want to keep up. We could eventually have a lot of power in setting laws for our benefit when we become a state ourselves someday."

"Well, I vote we don't go electin' no president until Luke can start comin' to the meetin's," Will said. "He's the biggest landowner around here and should have the most say anyway."

They all took a round of votes and agreed to wait for Luke.

"I appreciate that," Lettie told them. "Luke will, too." She looked at Nial Bentley then. "Now, I would like to hear what Mr. Bentley has to say about a new kind of cattle."

"Ain't no fancy new breed gonna survive Montana winters," Will claimed.

"These will," Bentley answered. "And if you sell your beef by the pound, they'll make you a fortune."

"I say we take a little break first and stretch our legs a bit, go outside and have a smoke so it doesn't bother Mrs. Fontaine," Carl Rose suggested. "Twenty minutes. That's enough time to walk across the street to the Lonesome Tree Saloon and have a swallow of whiskey."

They all readily agreed to the suggestion, up and out of their chairs in the next breath and heading out the door. Will went with them, and Lettie leaned down to put a cork in her ink bottle. When she straightened, she realized that Nial Bentley had stayed behind. "Aren't you anxious to puff on a cigar and gulp some whiskey like the rest of them?" she asked with a hint of sarcasm.

"Oh, I like my tobacco and good whiskey as well as any man," he answered. He got up and walked closer. "I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to tell you I think you're one of the most beautiful women I have ever met, Mrs. Fontaine, and surprisingly refined and gracious for these parts. I didn't know such a woman existed out here."

Lettie looked up at him, not sure how to take the remark. "Mr. Bentley, I appreciate the compliment, but I would also appreciate it if you would stop looking at me the way you have been all through this meeting. It is annoying and embarrassing. I am, after all, a married woman, and you are a widower. I will remind you that most of these men are good friends of Luke's. I don't care to have them wondering at the way you look at me. Being the only woman here is difficult enough. I hate to appear rude, but from now on, please keep your compliments and your stares to yourself."

The man bowed, grinning. "My humblest apologies. I didn't mean anything disrespectful, I assure you. It is just refreshing to find someone like you out here. I do hope your husband appreciates what he has."

Lettie drew in her breath in irritation. "Luke Fontaine is a good man, and one, I daresay, you would not want to tangle with. And whether or not he appreciates his wife is really none of your business, is it, Mr. Bentley?"

The man reddened a little. "No. It really isn't. Please forgive me, Mrs. Fontaine. I hope I haven't offended you to the point that I would not be welcome if I should come visiting the Double L. I would like to meet your husband, and I would like to tell him in person about the new breed of cattle I intend to bring to Montana. I truly do believe he will be interested."