around the handle of a big tin coffeepot. She carried the pot over to the table.
"Well, it's up to Luke," Lettie answered. "And please call me Lettie. My real name is Eletta, but Lettie is easier."
Henrietta smiled. "Well, most call me Henny, same reason. You can do the same." She poured coffee into two cups. "You do drink coffee, don't you? Would you rather have tea?"
"Coffee is fine."
Nathan let out a little scream, then a giggle, shoving his stuffed horse into his mother's lap as he ran past her, chasing a cat. Henrietta laughed. "That's Patch. The dog outside is called Bear. With no children, I have to have my pets for company, or go mad. Be glad you have your son, Lettie, and that you'll probably have more. That's good. Out here a woman needs children to keep her occupied and give her someone to talk to."
Before Lettie could reply, both men came inside, their big frames seeming to fill the room. Just then Nathan caught Patch's tail and the cat let out a screech. Frightened, Nathan ran to Luke, who picked him up with a laugh.
"You'd better stay away from that cat," he told the boy.
"Bad kee-kee." Nathan pouted.
"Well, it's also bad to chase the poor kitty all over the room, young man," Luke scolded gently. He patted Nathan's bottom before setting him down again so he could remove his own coat. Nathan went to his mother, climbing onto her lap and hugging his stuffed horse close.
"Looks like Indians already paid Luke here a visit," Will told his wife, pulling out a chair. "Have a seat, Luke. You two will stay for supper and spend the night here—no arguments."
Luke looked at Lettie questioningly. She shrugged. "Henny already insisted. It's up to you."
"If you're going to stay in town, you might as well stay here," Will's wife put in, repeating what she had just told Lettie. "We won't take no for an answer, and it might be a long time before your poor wife gets to visit again. You never know when a snowstorm will hit and keep you buried for months."
Luke grinned. "All right. If you insist."
"What's this about Indians?" Henny asked Will.
"Luke got his horse stole the first night he settled in."
"My only horse," Luke added. "I came to Billings to see about getting a couple more. I need a horse when I go out hunting. Someone in town told me I could buy horses from Will."
"That you can," Henrietta answered. "We're in the horse trading business. Will is also a blacksmith, a scout, a gunsmith, and a farmer. You name it, Will can do it."
They all chuckled, but Lettie had not missed the worry in Henrietta's eyes when she'd asked about Indians. "Well, I hope it wasn't ol' Half Nose that visited you. He's a mean one," Henny said then, her smile fading.
"It could have been him," Will spoke up. "It would be just like him to steal one horse like that, just to tease you— let you know he's around but choosin' his own time to give you trouble. It's likely that whoever it was, they've headed south now to their winter camping grounds. You won't have any more trouble till spring." He frowned, leaning closer to Luke and resting his elbows on the table. "You start gathering many horses and cattle, you'd better get some help out there—hire you a couple of men to help watch over things. It's not safe you being out there alone with a wife and kid come spring. There's outlaws to worry about, too."
Luke nodded. "I'll keep that in mind. I've gotten pretty damn good with my guns, if I must say so myself, and I'm teaching Lettie to shoot."
"Just the same, you get some help. I might mosey over that way myself come spring, see if there's anything I can do. You're determined to stay put then, are you?"
Luke glanced at Lettie. God, how he loved her, but even that love could not keep him from doing what he knew he had to do to realize his dream. He knew deep in his gut that someday this was all going to pay off big. He looked back at Will. "I am. I've already given David Taylor a general description of what I'm claiming. In the spring, once all the snow is gone and I don't have to be so concerned about getting in meat and wood, I'll ride the perimeter, stake my boundaries, write down a better description