Wildest Dreams - By Rosanne Bittner Page 0,111

hand along the rich mahogany stair rail, stopping at a wide landing to rearrange a few knicknacks in a corner cupboard before descending the carpeted stairs to the lower level. The stairs ended at the back of the grand front entry hall, its walls, ceiling, and arched entry into the rest of the house made entirely of the same rich mahogany that graced the rest of the house, the woodwork beautifully detailed along the edges with a scroll design. She made her way down a hallway then, past the library and a drawing room, through the large dining room and into the kitchen, where beside her old coal-burning cookstove sat a newer stove heated with kerosene. Above a working island in the center of the kitchen hung several copper cooking pots and pans, made especially for Luke by Shane Copper Mills in Denver with copper taken from the Double L.

She had been right to suggest to Luke that they allow Jeremy Shane to send his geologists to the Double L. There had indeed been a valuable mineral on their land, copper, not as rich as gold, but certainly rich enough to continue a very comfortable life in case some disaster should wipe out their beef market. For now, beef remained their primary source of income, a new army contract bringing them seven dollars a head this summer, another contract with Patterson's Meat Supply in Omaha ensuring that they would take any excess beef the army couldn't use, at the same price.

She reached the kitchen, where Katie and Pearl were helping Mae knead bread dough. The girls were giggling at the feel of the dough between their fingers and occasionally flicking flour into each other's faces. Five-year-old Paul sat on the floor playing with wooden blocks.

"Where is Robbie?" Lettie asked the girls.

"He's in the garden shed out back, sitting with Pancake," Katie answered. "Ever since Pancake got bit by that rattler, the dog just lays there. Pa says he'll live, but you know how Robbie hates to see anything hurting. He still thinks Pancake will die if he doesn't stay right by him and talk to him."

Lettie sighed, feeling sorry for Robbie. Big, old, yellow Pancake was his favorite of all the dogs. Robbie would not go near horses ever since being kicked by one when he was little, but he loved dogs. He had a penchant for nursing things, from birds with broken wings to his own brothers and sisters whenever they took sick. Now it was Pancake who needed his tender, loving care. He was such a good boy. She wished Luke would be a little more patient with him. Luke expected the boy to be just like Ty, eager to learn about the ranch and learn to ride. It had upset Luke that Robbie would no longer come out to watch the branding. He had cried every time he watched, and this year he had refused to go out at all. It was a source of great frustration to Luke.

"Mommy, read to me," Paul asked, abandoning his blocks and reaching up for her. She picked him up, knowing that of all the children she had spoiled little Paul the most. After all, he was the baby of the family, her last "little one." She didn't want him to be five already. Somehow she had thought perhaps he would always stay a baby. She still ached to give birth again, but that would never be. She gave Paul a hug. There was so much about his personality that reminded her of the way Nathan was when he was small, full of energy and mischief, yet often wanting to be coddled.

She stood there torn between obliging Paul's request to read to him, and going out to the shed to poor, sad Robbie. "Let's go see how Pancake is doing first," she told Paul. She carried him out to the back porch, smiling when she heard Mae chiding Pearl for poking her finger into the rising bread dough.

Lettie walked down a path lined with roses just beginning to show some buds. Soon they would bloom in a splendor of red, white, and yellow. They led to a lovely flower garden of which she was very proud. Green grass, bright flowers, all things she thought she'd never have during that first awful winter spent here. She wished her mother could see all of this, but Katie MacBride had died only one year after her visit. Lettie still had not quite gotten over