Wildest Dreams - By Rosanne Bittner Page 0,48

God only knew how many men had lost their lives or suffered horrible wounds by now. "Well, I'll be one happy man when they get more soldiers out here. They can build a fort right on my own land if they want to."

Will chuckled. "And how much land is that now, Luke?"

Luke glanced at the house when he heard another scream, this one more of a shuddering groan. He ran a hand through his hair nervously, called to Nathan not to go too far, looked out at the herd of horses grazing below, horses that now bore the Double L brand. "Right now about six hundred acres," he answered, "some under my name, some under yours, Jim's, even some under Lettie's maiden name. That's just a start. I'll own thousands of acres before I'm through."

Secretly he wondered if his father would be impressed. He had written the man a letter, telling him about his first year in Montana, his new wife, how beautiful and educated she was; his experience with the outlaws, how much land he already owned. He was not sure himself why he had bothered writing the man he hated so much. He supposed it was because deep inside he still loved him and would always think of him as his father... more than that, he hoped his absence had by some miracle made his father miss him, that his accomplishments here in Montana would impress the man and make him regret sending him away.

He scowled at his own thoughts. He had already proven his worth to Jacques Fontaine back in St. Louis, but that had not been enough. It was foolish to think the man would ever have an ounce of feelings for him, but he would continue sending the letters, just to show him he could make it on his own. Jacques wanted him to fail. That would never happen, and he would damn well make sure the man knew it!

"Ol' David Taylor likes to look good back in Washington," Will was saying. "Doesn't mind a few extra bucks either. You'll get your land, all you want, with no argument from him."

Luke shook off thoughts of his father. "I'd better sell some of those horses by next summer, or I won't have any money left to bribe Taylor with." He stuck the cigar in his mouth and talked with it resting between his teeth. "Anything he can't deed to me, I intend to take anyway. By next summer I'm going to start putting up a log fence, Will, however many miles long it will have to be to let outlaws, Indians, and other settlers know what belongs to Luke Fontaine. Anybody that wants to argue about it can answer to me."

Will faced him. "Like the outlaws buried out there by the old shack?"

Luke took the cigar from his mouth. "Maybe."

Will saw the pain in his eyes. "I know that took you some time to get over. Maybe you're not over it yet. But it was a necessary thing, Luke. Just make sure that if it happens again, it's always a necessary thing. You go ahead and claim what you want, because by God you deserve to. What the hell? Anybody that comes up here and puts up with the hardships and dangers has a right to call whatever part of this land he wants his own. Just be fair in your judgments, Luke." He walked a little closer. "And don't let the thing you told me about you and your pa turn you into somethin' you're not. I know how important it is for you to succeed here. Just don't lose sight of what's really important in life." It was then they heard the cry of a baby. Will grinned. "Like that new little life in there." He winked and grasped Luke's hand. "Congratulations, Papa."

Luke threw down his cigar and just stared at the house for a minute. Then he hurried up onto the wide front porch he'd added onto the house. He'd built it picturing Lettie sitting and rocking her baby with a view of the valley below.

Henny met him at the door, smiling. "You have a daughter, Luke."

"How's Lettie?"

"She's fine. You can go inside. Willow is bathing the baby. You can only stay a minute. We've got to work on getting the afterbirth."

Luke saw the tears in the woman's eyes, realized how hard this must be on her. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Thanks, Henny."

In the bedroom Lettie lay looking pale, her