Bittner, Rosanne (37 page)

Ever since Paul's death nine months earlier, the barrier that had already formed between them had grown even higher and wider. Things got worse when they got the news about the slaughter of George Custer and more than two hundred of the Seventh Cavalry at the Little Big Horn. They couldn't help wondering if Nathan had been a part of the awful massacre, if he was even still alive. The Sioux were being hunted relentlessly now by the army. Life must be hell for them, and many Sioux had fled to Canada.

Luke couldn't face his guilt, and the only way to avoid it was to stay away. He used roundup and branding time as an excuse, then the summer's cattle drive. Now this, a tour of his own land and surrounding government land he considered his own, routing out nesters, sheep herders, searching for rustlers. He wasn't sure how he would get through the winter. He hoped it would not be a bad one, so that he could make it into town to the saloons and play cards and drink away his loneliness and sorrow. The trouble was, he still loved and needed Lettie. She was the only woman he wanted, but neglected needs made him wonder how much longer he could go on without a woman.

In the distance Betty Walker continued screaming her curses. He wondered just when it had all changed for him, when he had gotten so cold and hard. It wasn't just Paul's death, or even when Nathan ran off. It had begun long before that, slowly building in his soul. It had begun the day his father kicked him out, had festered even more when Nathan was first taken and he had been unable to get the boy back. Those two things had given him the determination to prove he could make it in life, and do it here in Montana. Nothing was going to stop him, and nothing had. He remembered Lettie asking him once never to let himself become like Tex was, ruthless and cold-blooded, but that was exactly how he felt. This was much easier than loving, much easier than caring.

He rode to a hill overlooking the pitiful homestead and watched his men finish trampling the crops. Tex rode up beside him, taking off his hat and raising it while he let out a war whoop. "That ought to convince them to move on," he told Luke with a grin. "Them Walkers ain't nothin' but trouble."

Luke nodded, taking one of his favorite thin cigars from a shirt pocket and lighting it. "The big problem is going to be those Mormons who are bringing in sheep. Hank Kline up at the Lazy K says he's had a hell of a time with them." He puffed on the cigar a moment. "The Cattlemen's Association has made the unanimous decision that each rancher can get rid of them any way they choose." He looked over at Tex. "If we have to kill all the sheep, that's what we'll do. We're heading on northwest, Tex. Runner said that's where he spotted some of them. I'll give them an ultimatum, a few days to get the hell out of Montana. If they don't go, the buzzards are going to have themselves a feast on lambchops."

Tex grinned even more. "I'm with you, boss."

Luke turned to watch his men set fire to a small shed below. A little boy came running out of the sod house to cling to his mother's skirts... a boy about Paul's age. Paul. His precious little Paul who had his father's dark hair and his mother's pretty green eyes. Little Paul, bright, lively, always running and laughing... now lying under the ground, forever silent. The thought of it still made him so sick inside he wanted to vomit. Sometimes he thought his heart would literally burst from the ache of it. He couldn't face his son's death. He could hardly bear seeing that little grave behind the house. Somehow, someone had to pay for letting Paul die. He couldn't vent his wrath on God himself, so he would vent it on these people who dared to try to destroy what he had built. The ranch was all he had left.

Tex rode back down the hill to gather the men. He wondered at the change in Luke Fontaine. Everybody knew that since Nathan had run back to the Indians, there had been a strain on the Fontaine marriage. Things had gotten worse since their littlest boy died. Luke probably had the prettiest wife in all of Montana, but the man looked for all kinds of ways to stay away from home. It was too bad. He could remember when Luke and Lettie were about the happiest couple he'd ever come across. He'd never been in love like that, never had kids; and now that he saw what loving and losing a son could do to a man... and a woman... he didn't want any. Caring that much was not for him. Some of the men said Lettie Fontaine had lost her mind with grief, and for some reason, she blamed her husband for the boy's death. That was too bad. Luke was a good man. The things he was doing now were simply not the kind of things the Luke he had always known would do, but then frustration over the love of a woman, combined with the kind of grief everyone knew he was suffering, could change a man; and Luke Fontaine had definitely changed.

Lettie walked into the parlor, surprised at the visit from someone she thought she'd never see again. "Nial!" Much as she had resented the man for being so forward the first time she had known him, it was good to have company. For months she had not had the desire to go into town and attend the women's gatherings, had not had the desire to do anything but stay home and visit Paul's grave almost daily. Women friends had stopped coming out, and she knew it was because they didn't know how to comfort her; and they probably knew her marriage had been crumbling ever since Paul's death. They didn't know what to say to her anymore. Poor Henny had had a stroke and couldn't get out. She should go see her again. It had been months. But she just couldn't seem to leave home. Nothing seemed to matter anymore except the house and the children she had left to her.

Nial smiled, removing his hat. "How good to see you again, Lettie. My God, it's been four years since I left for England."

"No one was sure if you would ever come back. What has happened? What brought you back to Montana?"

You did, my beautiful Lettie,
he wanted to answer. She had not changed, except that she was too thin. He could see the sorrow in her eyes. Why wasn't Luke here, instead of carousing in town? "Well, you know how I always felt about this land. It's too beautiful for a man to stay away from forever. And the man who was managing the ranch for my father quit to buy a ranch of his own in Colorado. I was getting bored in England, so I decided to come back and take over Essex Manor again. After all, the cattle industry is booming now, better than ever!" He reached out and took hold of her hand, squeezing it in an effort to show how glad he was to see her again, but he longed to take her into his arms. He had thought that four years away would change these feelings, but the moment he set eyes on her again...

"Sit down, Nial!" Lettie pulled her hand away and offered him a love seat. "Would you like some tea? I'll go have Mae make some for us."

"I would enjoy that." He shivered. "The March winds are mean this year."

Pain moved into Lettie's eyes. "The wind is always mean out here." She left the room for a moment, then returned to sit down beside him. "A lot has happened since you left, Nial." Her smile faded.

Nial frowned, turning to set his top hat on another chair. "So I have heard. First your missing son was found, then ran off again. And then..." He took her hand again. "I heard about your little Paul, Lettie. I came here to express my sympathy, to you
and
to Luke. Alas, I am told it is difficult to catch your husband at home. Perhaps I'll see him at the next cattlemen's meeting in Billings. I understand he has been spending a lot of time in town this winter."

He could see the pain in her eyes. He hated to see her suffer, but if her son's death could open the door to getting her away from Luke, he would take advantage of the situation. A woman in grief was easier to manipulate, wasn't she? The news of Paul Fontaine's death over a year ago had reached him all the way in England, by letter from the manager of Essex Manor. A child's death could either bring the parents closer together, or tear them apart. Apparently, in this case, it had separated Luke and Lettie—perhaps enough that he could at last find a way to have this woman for himself. The right words, giving her the comfort her husband was apparently failing to give her, could pull her right into his waiting arms, and that hope was really what had brought him back to Montana. He let go of her hand, not wanting to seem too forward right away.

"Yes, he has," Lettie answered, looking at her lap. "Paul died over a year ago, and it hasn't been the same between us." She sighed deeply. "I think Luke blames himself because we live so far from town. The doctor couldn't get here in time. There had been a terrible blizzard, and..." She rose. "It's a long story. Luke has a lot of ghosts that haunt him. He thinks I blame him, too. I want to tell him that I don't, but he's turned so cold and silent, I can't find the right words; and I don't think he'd believe me anyway, because at first I
did
blame him. Now he's like a crazy man, burning out nesters, chasing out the sheep ranchers." She blinked back tears and turned to face him, her face crimson from spilling her feelings. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what made me say all of that."

Nial smiled gently. "You just needed someone to say it to, that's all. I don't mind, Lettie; but it should be Luke you talk to, not me. He's probably in town right now spilling his own emotions into a glass of beer, or perhaps crying them out on the shoulder of Annie Gates or one of the other—" He hesitated when he saw the devastation in her eyes. Yes, he had hit the right nerve! It was only a rumor that Luke Fontaine had been sleeping with the town's prettiest and highest-paid whore when he was in Billings, but it was enough to suggest to Lettie that her husband had not only abandoned her emotionally, but was probably cheating on her besides.

"Annie Gates?" she asked.

Mae brought in a tray of tea, and neither of them spoke for a moment. Lettie came over to sit back down, but Nial noticed her hand shake as she poured his tea.

"I'm sorry I let that slip, Lettie. It's entirely none of my business, and it might not even be true. I didn't come here for any of this. I only meant to express my sympathy and let you know that I am back." He touched her arm. "If I can be of any help, in any way, please let me know." He turned to squeeze lemon into his tea while Lettie poured her own cup and added sugar to it. He had to force himself not to smile, for he had apparently shaken her to the bones with his remark about Annie Gates.

"Yes, I'll do that," she answered. She sipped some of her tea and closed her eyes for a moment, as though to compose herself. "How did you know so much about what's been happening here?" she asked.

"My ranch manager kept me updated. I suppose you fear your son, Nathan, might have had a part in the Custer massacre?"

She sighed deeply. "I can only hope he didn't, and that he's all right. He could be in Canada now, for all we know. Or he... could be dead." She took another deep breath, needing to change the subject. "How was England, Nial?" Was that true concern she saw in his eyes? It felt good to know someone cared. "I don't suppose you found yourself a wife?"

"No wife," he answered. "Oh, I did my share of courting, but none of them had the stamina it would take to come out here and live in such desolation, away from London's paved streets and lovely theaters. There aren't many women like you, Lettie, with strength and courage. I'm just sorry for what you have gone through since I was here last."

Lettie saw the admiration and sorrow in his eyes, and she realized the man's feelings for her had not changed. She turned to pour a little more tea. "Well, maybe you'll find a wife right here in Billings," she said, hoping he would take the hint that he should look elsewhere. Strangely, his attention did not annoy her this time. It only confused her. So many things confused her since Paul had died and Nathan disappeared again. She felt removed from herself, as though she were watching life from outside of her body.

"Chloris Greene has never married. She seemed to be quite taken with you. Have you seen her since returning?"

"No. I may pay her a visit, but she's so young."

"Not anymore. She must be at least twenty by now. Maybe she has been waiting for you to come back."

He smiled. "You flatter me."
I wish you had been waiting for me, Lettie.

"How do you like our new home?" Lettie asked then, turning and looking around the parlor.

Nial wondered if she had read his thoughts and was trying to change the subject.

"We finished it after you left. It's no stone mansion," she continued, "but it's big and airy and has plenty of rooms. Luke insisted I design it however I wanted."

"It's absolutely lovely, elegant," he answered.
Just like you, Lettie.
"I saw Pearl for just a moment before you came in. She is such a beautiful child! How old is she now?"

Lettie set her cup on the coffee table. "She'll be ten this year. My children are all growing up much too fast!"

Nial laughed. "Pearl told me she is doing very well with the piano. I don't suppose you could get her to play for me?"

Lettie smiled. She loved talking about the children. Those she still had were her whole world now. "She loves showing off. I'm sure she'd be very happy to play for you.

And before you leave Robbie will probably want to show you Punkin's new puppies. Punkin is the daughter of our big yellow mutt, Pancake. Robbie prides himself in taking care of all the dogs and cats. He dreams about being a doctor one day, but not for animals. He wants to doctor people." Her smile faded. "I'm afraid the poor child was deeply affected by his little brother's death. He was right there at Paul's side when it happened."
It should have been me. I should have been holding him. If only I could have him back for that one last moment, just long enough to tell him again that I love him.

"And what about Katie and Ty? What are they up to?"

Lettie rose. "Ty spends almost every day practicing roping. He is going to go with Luke this year on the spring roundup and branding. He's so excited about it he hardly eats. He's becoming a handsome young man. He looks more like fifteen than twelve."
Tall and handsome, like his father. Luke! Please don't sleep with that whore! Please be patient with me.
"Katie is the little homemaker, always helping Mae in the kitchen." She walked out into the wide hallway and called upstairs to Pearl. "Come and play the piano for Mr. Bentley," she told the girl.