Bittner, Rosanne Read online

  It was obvious Luke Fontaine was already deeply entrenched in the new land and new way of life. There was no going back now. The reality of that fact hit Lettie harder every day. She thought about St. Joseph, about her family, the friends left behind, the companionship of her mother and sister. That was all gone now. Her only friend since arriving here was a hardened, pipe-smoking woman who lived too far away to visit very often. Luke would have to be not only a provider, protector, and lover, he would also have to be her friend. There was no one else. Sometimes she felt so close to him, yet she realized they still hardly knew each other at all, in spite of their intimacy. "I love you, Luke."

  He kissed her ear. "And I love you," he whispered.

  Outside the wolves began their nightly calling, and Bear raised his head, whining softly, his tail wagging. Lettie watched his eyes, a bright orange in the glow of the firelight, and it seemed the wildness she saw there could also be found in Luke, a yearning to be master of their territory, to answer to no one. There had been a look in his eyes the morning he'd found Red missing. Already he was thinking of the little cabin and the surrounding valley and foothills as "his land." With no law out there, a man had to do his own defending and set his own rules, and that frightened her, but she was not going to let him know. Nor was she going to tell him yet that she suspected she was already pregnant.

  "Don't let the land change you," she said softly.

  She got no reply. His deep, steady breathing told her he was asleep.

  CHAPTER 6

  Lettie took the iron from where it sat heating on the stove and began pressing a dress as best she could, using the table to iron on. Clothes hung all around her, pinned to ropes Luke had fastened from one wall to another, as there was no other way to hang a wash in the dead of winter. Even in the best of weather, washday was difficult enough. Now it was even harder, carrying in bucket after bucket of snow to melt on top of the stove in order to have enough water to wash with, trying to find enough room in the little cabin to hang everything, helping Luke carry the washtub outside to dump it when she was through.

  Having to make her way amid long johns and drawers, pants and shirts that seemed to fill the tiny cabin and hang nearly to the floor because of the low ceiling only added to Lettie's feelings of being trapped. She ironed almost frantically, wondering how much longer it would be before she lost her sanity entirely. Winter had come hard and fast, and for four months now, to her recollection, it had snowed every single day. Most of those days the wind blew in howling wails that made her want to plug her ears. She longed for total quiet, ached for warm sunshine and green grass. She wanted to be able to go outside without dressing like an Eskimo, to run through flowers.

  Luke was gone most of every day, kept busy just shoveling snow in order to keep the wood supply and the animals from being buried. Now there was a tunnel going from the front of the cabin to the shed where the four mules and two horses were kept, as well as a pen for chickens so that they could have fresh eggs, although in such weather the hens did not do much laying. Another tunnel led from the cabin to the outhouse. Luke had made several more trips into Billings before the snows closed up the road completely, bringing back feed for the animals, something else he had to keep digging at constantly so it wouldn't become totally buried. The problem was, he had no building in which to store the bales of hay and alfalfa and bags of grain, and the feed attracted other animals. Deer and elk managed to dig through the snow and have their share, and Luke feared he would run out of feed before spring melt allowed the animals to graze. Some nights he was up for hours, sitting out in the bitter cold guarding the feed. The only advantage to the problem was that they had plenty of fresh meat for themselves. At least Luke had not had to go out hunting for game. Animals after an easy meal made that job easy for him.

  She folded the shirt she had been ironing and laid it aside. She glanced at the mantle clock her mother had given her, which sat on a shelf against the wall. Two a.m. She and Luke should both be asleep, but the wicked winter weather had totally upset their normal schedule. Lettie could not sleep because of the constant wind and the feeling of being buried alive. Sometimes she feared that if she went to sleep, perhaps she would never wake up again. She and Luke and Nathan would lie in this frozen wasteland, their bones found years later. If she stayed awake, she wouldn't die; she wouldn't be lost forever to civilization. Were there really other people out there somewhere? Were there really cities? Theaters? Railroads? Churches? Schools? Were her parents and family happily settled in Denver now, near supply stores and doctors, banks and eateries?

  She set the iron back on the stove, checked on Nathan, who slept soundly on his bed. The boy didn't seem at all distressed by being buried up here. Thank God he was a good boy. He took pleasure in the simplest things, like a tin cup and some little stones. He thrilled in going out with Luke into the winter wonderland just outside the door. He had no problem with cabin fever. Will and Henny had warned them about that before they parted, told them they'd have to guard against the loneliness that would hit them before winter was over.

  She walked to the front door, leaned against it. It wasn't just the loneliness that made her want to scream, this aching need to have a nice visit with another woman, to go to town and see other people; what troubled her the most was this constant fear that something would happen to Luke, or that there would be an avalanche and they would all be buried alive, that they would all either freeze or starve to death before the snow ever melted enough for them to get back to town and restock their supplies. She reminded herself there was plenty of meat, but as the snow continued to fall and the loneliness and isolation set in even deeper, no supply of food seemed to be enough. If Luke were to get hurt... or die... she wasn't even sure how to get back to town, and here she was four months pregnant.

  She looked down and touched her belly, which was just beginning to swell. What if the baby came early? Even if it didn't, there was no doctor in Billings, and they were so far from town and from Will and Henny. Who would help her? What if Luke was off hunting when the baby came?

  She listened at the door, worried about Luke. He had gone out two hours ago with his rifle, determined to lie in wait for the cougar that had returned a few nights ago to raid the chickens and cause havoc among the other animals. Every night since then Luke had watched for the cat's return, and every time he went out, Lettie lived in terror. Maybe he would miss, be attacked himself.

  There was no use looking out the one and only window. Wood was stacked against it. She thought how hard Luke had worked cutting and storing that wood, from dawn to dark for weeks. Now it was piled on the little front porch and far beyond. The tar paper and stacked hay bales around the cabin helped protect it against the fierce winds, but the snow had fallen so deep that it came nearly to the rooftop, creating a natural insulation that worked much better than the hay.

  There was nothing to hear, nothing but the constant moaning wind and the swishing sound of new snow drifting and whispering against the door. She turned away, ducked through and around the maze of clothes, took down another shirt to iron. She had just folded it when she heard the distant screech of the cougar. A chill moved through her, and she set the iron back on the stove and hurried to the door. There it was—another shrieking growl, then a gunshot. A second gunshot!

  "Luke!" she whispered. She grabbed a cloak from a hook near the door and ran out, putting it on as she ran through the tunnel-like pathway toward the shed. "Luke!" This time she screamed his name. God, it felt good to scream. Yes, that was what she needed to do. Over and over she shouted his name, needing to hear her voice above the wind, needing to hear it just to know she was still alive and not lost to the rest of the world. It was dark. So dark! Where was he! Did the cougar have its fangs buried in her husband's throat? She put her hands against the wall of snow, feeling her way toward the little shelter Luke had built for the chickens.

  Someone grabbed her then, and she gasped.

  "Lettie, what the hell are yo
u doing out here screaming like that?"

  She collapsed against him, clinging to his fur jacket. How could she make him understand? Oh, how she loved him, was grateful that he loved Nathan and her. She wanted so to be a good wife, not to be a burden. How could she tell him of her terror? How could she tell him that even though she loved him so, she felt she'd go insane if she couldn't talk to other human beings soon. How could she complain to him of this feeling of being buried alive, that it seemed summer would never come again, that she was deathly afraid of giving birth up here alone? She felt selfish and ungrateful, and yet it all flooded over her to the point where she could not control it.

  "I thought you were dead! What would I do, Luke, if something happened to you? Nathan and I would die out here! I can't stand it, Luke. I can't stand any more snow, any more wind. I feel as though I'm going crazy! I want to go to town. I want to see other people! I want to feel the sun and smell flowers. And I miss my family so much!"

  She broke into bitter sobbing, hating herself for what she was saying, yet unable to stop the words from coming. She waited for his own tirade, realizing he had to be having much the same feelings, with the added burden of knowing their survival depended a great deal on him, that they were buried alone here because of his decision to come to Montana.

  To her surprise he picked her up in his arms and began carrying her to the house. "The cougar's dead," he said matter-of-factly. It seemed a strange statement in the middle of her fit of crying. "We both need to sleep. Will told me lack of sleep can affect the mind." He carried her inside the cabin, laid her on their makeshift bed.

  "The ironing—" she started to protest.

  "To hell with it. Lord knows you've got all day tomorrow to do it. Who cares, anyway, if our clothes are a little wrinkled? There's nobody to see but Nathan and the animals. You stay right there."

  Lettie took a handkerchief from the pocket of her skirt, sat up to wipe at her tears and unlace her boots. For more warmth, they had removed the blanket they had originally hung to close off the corner where they slept, and she watched Luke stoke up the fire. He had rigged a snow shelter on the porch where milk, eggs and meat could be kept cool but packed in enough snow that they would not freeze. He went out and brought in a covered bucket of milk, taking a ladle and dipping some into a tin cup. He set the cup on the stove and carried the milk back outside. When he returned, Lettie realized how tired he looked. He was also limping. She knew the cold weather made his injured leg ache, and she loved him for his silent, uncomplaining suffering, feeling guilty for her own whining.

  "I'll warm this milk, and I want you to drink it," he told her. "It will help relax you. You're carrying. You've got to get more rest." He took off his jacket and walked over to hang it near the door. "Left my rifle out in the shed. I guess it'll be okay till morning. We sure don't have to worry about Indians or outlaws in this weather. Even the deer and elk have stopped coming around. They can't get through the snow."

  It seemed to Lettie that he was just trying to make conversation to hear his own voice, and it struck her that he'd probably had visitations of insanity just the same as she.

  "I'm sorry, Luke, for throwing such a fit."

  For the first time since he'd brought her inside, he met her gaze. "It won't be like this next winter. You'll be in a nice cabin like Will and Henny have. You'll have that new baby to take care of, your own bedroom, some furniture. I'll get you a real cookstove. Will told me sometimes a salesman comes through Billings with books. We'll buy up the whole lot if we have to, so we'll have things to read come winter. We'll build our cabin farther down toward the valley where I'll build corrals for all the horses and cattle I'll be collecting. They might be able to find some of that good grass through the snow, and we won't go through so much extra feed. Eventually we'll have a big barn, hire some help. Hired help means company in winter. It won't always be like this, Let-tie," he repeated.

  She closed her eyes and looked at her lap. "I know. I guess..." She shook her head. "If only the wind would stop."

  Luke brought her the cup of milk, holding a hot pad under it. "Here. Hold it with the pad. Drink it all."

  Lettie took it gratefully, swallowing some of the warm milk.

  "You're okay, aren't you?" he asked. "I mean, the baby and all?"

  "I'm fine." She met his eyes and saw a fear there she had not read before.

  "Don't think I don't worry about you, Lettie. I promise that when it comes close to time to deliver, I'll get you some help, and I won't do anything that takes me far from home. You won't be alone."

  He stood up and removed his boots, walked over to bolt the door, then leaned down to kiss Nathan's cheek. "Must be nice to be a little kid and not worry about anything," he told her as he shoved aside shirts and underwear to get back to her.

  Lettie finished the milk and set the cup aside. "Sometimes he's like a little ray of sunshine," she answered. She moved under the covers, too tired even to bother removing her clothes and put on a nightgown. Because there was no one to see her, she'd gotten in the habit of leaving off uncomfortable, stiff corsets and wore only a soft camisole and one petticoat under her dress, so she was perfectly comfortable going to bed this way. Luke removed his gun belt and pants, but left on his wool shirt. He got into bed beside her, pulled several blankets over them.

  "At least we don't have to worry about whether or not we'll have eggs tomorrow," he told her. "I don't even know how big the cat was. I saw its eyes coming at me and I shot." He pulled her into his arms. "Don't think I don't get scared, too, Lettie... and lonely." He rubbed a big hand over her stomach. "Any feeling of life yet?"

  Lettie put her own hand over his. "Quite a bit of movement the last few days."

  He held his hand there a moment, felt the flutter of life. He smiled. "Come spring, you'll see all kinds of new life, Lettie, green grass, wildflowers." He kissed her eyes. "Not long after that we'll have our first baby, yours and mine together."

  She met his eyes in the soft light of the lamp they always kept burning in case Nathan woke up in the night. "Nathan won't like having to share you."

  Luke grinned, and she realized she had not seen him smile in a long time. "He'll know he's loved."

  And you need to know you're loved, don't you, Luke? "I really am sorry, Luke. You brought me here because you thought I was strong and brave and—"

  "You are. Hell, a person has to let go of their feelings once in a while or lose their mind altogether. If you need to rant and rail at me, go ahead. It won't change anything, except to make you feel better. With all the snow out there, I couldn't take you out of here if I wanted to."

  Lettie smiled, then began to laugh, realizing how right he was. "My mother told me once that sometimes it's better to laugh about things than cry about them. Maybe she was right."

  Luke kissed her softly. "Maybe she was. I know I sure like the sound of it better."

  He kept rubbing at her belly, and she saw the sudden want in his eyes. They had been so busy fighting the snow and wild animals and keeping warm that it had been days... no, weeks... since they had made love. She'd hardly realized it until this moment. "Luke," she whispered, touching his lips. "I need you."

  He moved a hand to touch her breast, soft beneath her dress and camisole. "I've been afraid maybe I'd hurt the baby."

  "I don't think you can hurt anything, not this early. Is that part of the reason you've worked so hard and kept yourself so busy?"

  "Partly. Besides, I've seen you getting more and more lonely and depressed—figured it was all my fault and that you blamed me for it. I didn't think you'd want anything to do with me that way."

  "Oh, Luke, that isn't true. All this time I've needed you more than ever, needed the closeness we shared when we first got here. I felt you pulling away, and it just made me even more lonely." She touched his hair. "Luke, we've got to tell each other how we're feeling, always. Here we've been needing each other so, and we've been pulling apart for all the wrong reasons. We should never let tha
t happen, Luke. We're all we've got, just you and me and Nathan. We can't keep things inside and then blame the other for how we feel."

  He sighed deeply, taking hold of her wrist and kissing the back of her hand. "I'm not used to letting loose of my feelings. After my father told me he didn't consider me his real son, I learned to shut off my feelings. It made everything easier, pretending nothing bothered me, ignoring the hurt."

  "I don't want it to be that way between us."

  Luke studied her green eyes, met her full lips. She responded almost desperately, and he knew that she needed to be touched, to feel alive, just as he did. Somehow it helped them shut out the howling wind and swirling snow and all the dangers that lurked just outside the door. He groaned when Lettie ran her hands over his chest, down to the hard bulge under his long johns. She massaged it gently, and he moved on top of her, straddling her as she sat up then to help him get her dress and camisole off. A little draft near the bed made her shiver, and her nipples hardened into ripe cherries. He leaned down and took one into his mouth.

  It had been so long! Lettie gloried in the touch, grasped his hair and offered herself with the zest of a harlot. Tonight it seemed so necessary. She felt hungry for him. He pushed her back into the feather mattress, then grasped her drawers and pulled them off so that all she still wore were her knee-high hose. He pulled some blankets over them, and she spread her legs to let him settle between them as he came closer then to meet her mouth again in a deep, suggestive kiss. In the next moment he was inside of her, sliding himself over that secret place that made her forget all hardship, all loneliness, all danger. Now there was only the magic, this big, handsome man who was her husband invading her privacy in a most exciting, enjoyable way, warming her blood with a special kind of fire that made her arch against him, wanting more, more. Minutes later she felt the wonderful, gripping climax that made her gasp his name and work to pull him in as deeply as she could. He raised up to his knees, grasping her bottom and burying himself in rhythmic thrusts that reminded her why she had come to Montana... to be with this man who loved and needed her so, who loved Nathan like his own, who had a dream that must be her dream, too. He had turned this act she once thought ugly into something beautiful.