Wildest Dreams - By Rosanne Bittner Page 0,45

roughly fifty horses grazed aimlessly. "What am I supposed to do about them?" he asked.

Will pushed his hat back a little and studied them. "Keep them."

"What? They're stolen!"

Will shook his head. "How in hell do you plan to find their owners? Some of them horses probably came from as far away as Utah, Colorado, maybe even Texas and New Mexico. Maybe this is God's way of helpin' you get started, Luke. Take advantage of it. You'll never find the owners now. Rebrand them and keep them. Hell, there's just as much a market for good horses as anything right now. I'll find you help in herdin' them down to a buyer in Wyoming. Don't feel guilty about it." He glanced at the graves. "You earned them horses fair and square. Now you've got a good start, good horses, help in buildin' your cabin, a man to buy cattle for you." He nodded toward the graves. "You survived your first Montana winter, and your first encounter with outlaws. You're gonna do okay."

Luke looked out at the herd. He hadn't even taken time to inspect the animals, but he figured if the outlaws were good at what they did, they probably stole only the best. Will was right. How was he supposed to find the owners of all those horses? It would be impossible. The best he could do was not sell any of them for at least a year, leave word at Billings that he had stolen horses on his land. If no one showed up with proof to claim any of them, they belonged to Luke Fontaine.

That meant they should be branded. All winter he had given thought to naming the ranch. He'd certainly had plenty of time to think about it, and he had come up with the Double L. It had to be something that represented Lettie, too, for all she'd put up with coming here with him. Both their names started with L—Luke and Lettie—the Double L. He liked the sound of it, and now he had reason to name the ranch and use a brand. He hadn't told Lettie yet about the decision, but he was sure she would like the name.

First thing tomorrow he would carve a sign to hang at the east entrance to his ranch, where Will and the others had ridden in today. Later on he'd have a more professional sign done, but for now, when people came this way from town, they would know they were on Fontaine land, although he had not yet set his exact boundaries or finished up the legal end of it. Whether it was all in writing or not, he'd already fought and bled for this land. Lettie had suffered, too. It was theirs by right, just as those horses were.

As soon as possible he would find a blacksmith to design a branding iron showing two L's, the permanent brand for the Double L. That brand would go on all livestock belonging to Luke Fontaine, and on saddles, signs, almost everything he possessed. Any man who tried to take any of it away from him or hurt his family would end up beside the eight outlaws he had buried this morning!

CHAPTER 8

Lettie breathed deeply, trying to relax before another labor pain bore down to grip at her insides. She fought against memories of Nathan's birth. She'd been so afraid, so ignorant of conception and birth, let alone the horror of how he had come to be. She reminded herself that this was Luke's baby, conceived out of love. She wished her mother could be here, but there was only Henny, who had never even had a child of her own, and an old Crow Indian woman Henny had brought with her when Will brought them both out three days ago to stay till the baby came.

Henny had assured her that the Crow woman had overseen many births in her years on earth, had borne six children of her own. Her name was Willow, and her son and grandson were scouts for the army. They lived with a tribe of peaceful Crow Indians just south of the little settlement of Billings, one of the few groups of Indians who seldom caused trouble for the whites.

"Where is Luke? I want Luke," Lettie groaned, as the old Indian woman massaged her temples and softly chanted something in the Crow tongue.

"This is not the place for a man," Henny assured her.

"Luke is right outside the house with Nathan, waiting to