and paint up her face, if you know what I mean. That's about the only kind of woman you ever saw around here before Lettie came. Now more families have come in. Lettie is thinking of forming a women's circle, some way we can all meet together at certain times."
"Except in winter," Lettie reminded her. "Most winters there are a couple of months when we can't get into town at all."
"Yes, I've read about that in your letters," Katie said, her gaze still on the children. "You have a handsome family, Lettie. Of course, with a father like Luke and a mother like you, how could you have anything but bright, handsome children?"
Lettie smiled. "Luke is such a good father, Mama. He's so proud of them. He wanted a big family. I'm glad I have as many children as I do, but I would have dearly loved two or three more." Her smile faded. She and her mother looked at each other, both of them remembering another child.
Katie grasped her daughter's hands. "You never hear anything?"
"No. Luke believes Nathan is dead, but I just can't get over the feeling he's alive, Mama." She turned to look out over the valley and to the mountains beyond. "He's out there somewhere. I just know it. He'd be eleven years old now. There isn't a day goes by that I don't think about him, pray for him. Time is supposed to heal all wounds, but this one will never heal."
Katie led her away from the others so that they could talk alone. "Is everything all right with Luke now, Lettie?"
Lettie's eyes misted. She nodded toward the playing, jabbering children. "See for yourself. A woman doesn't have that many babies without everything being all right with her husband."
Katie smiled softly, thinking how pretty her daughter still was, even with her hair piled into a plain roll on top of her head. She wore a light green calico dress. "You hinted in your letters that first year after Nathan was taken away that things were pretty strained. After that you didn't say much about it any more."
Lettie breathed deeply to keep from breaking down. The pain of losing Nathan suddenly seemed as keen as it had just after it happened. "Things were strained for a long time, not because I blamed Luke for any of it, but because he blamed himself. He has never quite stopped suffering over it, Mama. He works so hard building this ranch, building our wealth so he can give me all the things he thinks I should have, building me a big house, giving me a life better than anything I had before. I know he thinks it can make up a little bit for losing Nathan, but nothing can take away the pain."
"Of course it can't. It's too bad Luke blames himself as he does. He's a good man, Lettie. I remember that about him. He loved you so much."
Lettie nodded. "I've never doubted that love. If anything, it's even stronger. For months after Nathan was taken, Luke didn't even sleep with me. He thought I wouldn't want him in my bed, and both of us were hurting so much on the inside that we had no desire for..." She blushed. "Things finally got better." She laughed nervously. "As you can see." She closed her eyes and took another deep breath. "Things are good now. We've both resigned ourselves to the fact that we'll probably never know what really happened to Nathan. We pray for him, pray that if he's dead, he didn't suffer; and if he's alive, God is watching over him, and that he's happy. We thank God we have each other and that we've been blessed with five more healthy children."
She waved her arm. "Look out there, Mama. As far as you can see, that's what Luke owns. I'm not sure about the legalities of all of it. Luke has learned that out here men set their own laws, their own boundaries. That's just the way it is. He needs the land, so he's laid claim to it, thousands of acres and thousands of head of cattle, most of the herd built up from cattle he brought here from Oregon. Every summer he drives cattle down to Cheyenne to be loaded onto the Union Pacific and shipped back East, mostly to slaughterhouses in Omaha and Chicago. He gets top dollar because his cattle are fattened up on some of the best grass in this country, right