Bittner, Rosanne (11 page)

"I'm sorry, Luke, for throwing such a fit."

For the first time since he'd brought her inside, he met her gaze. "It won't be like this next winter. You'll be in a nice cabin like Will and Henny have. You'll have that new baby to take care of, your own bedroom, some furniture. I'll get you a real cookstove. Will told me sometimes a salesman comes through Billings with books. We'll buy up the whole lot if we have to, so we'll have things to read come winter. We'll build our cabin farther down toward the valley where I'll build corrals for all the horses and cattle I'll be collecting. They might be able to find some of that good grass through the snow, and we won't go through so much extra feed. Eventually we'll have a big barn, hire some help. Hired help means company in winter. It won't always be like this, Let-tie," he repeated.

She closed her eyes and looked at her lap. "I know. I guess..." She shook her head. "If only the wind would stop."

Luke brought her the cup of milk, holding a hot pad under it. "Here. Hold it with the pad. Drink it all."

Lettie took it gratefully, swallowing some of the warm milk.

"You're okay, aren't you?" he asked. "I mean, the baby and all?"

"I'm fine." She met his eyes and saw a fear there she had not read before.

"Don't think I don't worry about you, Lettie. I promise that when it comes close to time to deliver, I'll get you some help, and I won't do anything that takes me far from home. You won't be alone."

He stood up and removed his boots, walked over to bolt the door, then leaned down to kiss Nathan's cheek. "Must be nice to be a little kid and not worry about anything," he told her as he shoved aside shirts and underwear to get back to her.

Lettie finished the milk and set the cup aside. "Sometimes he's like a little ray of sunshine," she answered. She moved under the covers, too tired even to bother removing her clothes and put on a nightgown. Because there was no one to see her, she'd gotten in the habit of leaving off uncomfortable, stiff corsets and wore only a soft camisole and one petticoat under her dress, so she was perfectly comfortable going to bed this way. Luke removed his gun belt and pants, but left on his wool shirt. He got into bed beside her, pulled several blankets over them.

"At least we don't have to worry about whether or not we'll have eggs tomorrow," he told her. "I don't even know how big the cat was. I saw its eyes coming at me and I shot." He pulled her into his arms. "Don't think I don't get scared, too, Lettie... and lonely." He rubbed a big hand over her stomach. "Any feeling of life yet?"

Lettie put her own hand over his. "Quite a bit of movement the last few days."

He held his hand there a moment, felt the flutter of life. He smiled. "Come spring, you'll see all kinds of new life, Lettie, green grass, wildflowers." He kissed her eyes. "Not long after that we'll have our first baby, yours and mine together."

She met his eyes in the soft light of the lamp they always kept burning in case Nathan woke up in the night. "Nathan won't like having to share you."

Luke grinned, and she realized she had not seen him smile in a long time. "He'll know he's loved."

And you need to know you're loved, don't you, Luke?
"I really am sorry, Luke. You brought me here because you thought I was strong and brave and—"

"You are. Hell, a person has to let go of their feelings once in a while or lose their mind altogether. If you need to rant and rail at me, go ahead. It won't change anything, except to make you feel better. With all the snow out there, I couldn't take you out of here if I
wanted
to."

Lettie smiled, then began to laugh, realizing how right he was. "My mother told me once that sometimes it's better to laugh about things than cry about them. Maybe she was right."

Luke kissed her softly. "Maybe she was. I know I sure like the sound of it better."

He kept rubbing at her belly, and she saw the sudden want in his eyes. They had been so busy fighting the snow and wild animals and keeping warm that it had been days... no, weeks... since they had made love. She'd hardly realized it until this moment. "Luke," she whispered, touching his lips. "I need you."

He moved a hand to touch her breast, soft beneath her dress and camisole. "I've been afraid maybe I'd hurt the baby."

"I don't think you can hurt anything, not this early. Is that part of the reason you've worked so hard and kept yourself so busy?"

"Partly. Besides, I've seen you getting more and more lonely and depressed—figured it was all my fault and that you blamed me for it. I didn't think you'd want anything to do with me that way."

"Oh, Luke, that isn't true. All this time I've needed you more than ever, needed the closeness we shared when we first got here. I felt you pulling away, and it just made me even more lonely." She touched his hair. "Luke, we've got to tell each other how we're feeling, always. Here we've been needing each other so, and we've been pulling apart for all the wrong reasons. We should never let that happen, Luke. We're all we've got, just you and me and Nathan. We can't keep things inside and then blame the other for how we feel."

He sighed deeply, taking hold of her wrist and kissing the back of her hand. "I'm not used to letting loose of my feelings. After my father told me he didn't consider me his real son, I learned to shut off my feelings. It made everything easier, pretending nothing bothered me, ignoring the hurt."

"I don't want it to be that way between us."

Luke studied her green eyes, met her full lips. She responded almost desperately, and he knew that she needed to be touched, to feel alive, just as he did. Somehow it helped them shut out the howling wind and swirling snow and all the dangers that lurked
just
outside the door. He groaned when Lettie ran her hands over his chest, down to the hard bulge under his long johns. She massaged it gently, and he moved on top of her, straddling her as she sat up then to help him get her dress and camisole off. A little draft near the bed made her shiver, and her nipples hardened into ripe cherries. He leaned down and took one into his mouth.

It had been so long! Lettie gloried in the touch, grasped his hair and offered herself with the zest of a harlot. Tonight it seemed so necessary. She felt hungry for him. He pushed her back into the feather mattress, then grasped her drawers and pulled them off so that all she still wore were her knee-high hose. He pulled some blankets over them, and she spread her legs to let him settle between them as he came closer then to meet her mouth again in a deep, suggestive kiss. In the next moment he was inside of her, sliding himself over that secret place that made her forget all hardship, all loneliness, all danger. Now there was only the magic, this big, handsome man who was her husband invading her privacy in a most exciting, enjoyable way, warming her blood with a special kind of fire that made her arch against him, wanting more, more. Minutes later she felt the wonderful, gripping climax that made her gasp his name and work to pull him in as deeply as she could. He raised up to his knees, grasping her bottom and burying himself in rhythmic thrusts that reminded her why she had come to Montana... to be with this man who loved and needed her so, who loved Nathan like his own, who had a dream that must be her dream, too. He had turned this act she once thought ugly into something beautiful.

His life spilled into her, and he breathed deeply for a few minutes before buttoning his long johns and relaxing beside her. He pulled the blankets over them again. "Let's not get up just yet." He groaned, kissing her neck. "I just want to hold you, Lettie. I want to stay just like this."

Lettie nestled into his shoulder, the sweet comfort of his strong arms bringing on a much-needed sleep. When she awoke, she was surprised to realize that Luke was gone from the bed. When she sat up she saw that Nathan, too, was gone. A pot of fresh coffee sat simmering on the stove, and although she couldn't see the light of day because of the barrier of wood and snow in front of the cabin's only window, she realized it must be morning.

She quickly rose and washed, surprised that she had slept through Luke's activity. She felt wonderful, relaxed, more at ease than she had in weeks. It was amazing what one night of spilling one's feelings and making love could do for a person. She combed her hair and twisted it into a bun, put on a clean dress. Today, finishing the ironing didn't seem like such a terrible chore. She took down most of the clothes. It occurred to her that something was different, but she couldn't figure out just what it was.

The door opened then, and Luke came inside carrying Nathan, who clung to his horse. "Well, Mommy is finally awake!" Luke exclaimed. He set Nathan down and the boy ran to her. Lettie picked him up and gave him a hug and a kiss.

"Mommy, shine!" he told her, pointing toward the door.

Lettie frowned. "Shine?"

"Come on outside. Nathan and I have something to show you," Luke answered.

"Don't you two want breakfast?"

"It will only take a few minutes." Luke threw her heavy shawl to her and took Nathan back into his own arms.

When Lettie had put on the shawl, she followed them both outside. She realized when they got into the tunnel of snow that above it was a clear, blue sky. "Sunshine!" she exclaimed.

"That's what Nathan was trying to tell you," Luke answered. He climbed up a stairway of snow that he had dug from the tunnel so that a person could stand on top of it. He plunked Nathan on top, and the boy fell giggling into the snow. Luke took Lettie's hand and helped her up.

Lettie smiled in startled pleasure, realizing they were standing as high as the roof of the cabin. Glorious sunshine lit up the land for miles around, snow-capped mountains, sprinkled with the deep green of pine trees. Everything sparkled, and there was actually some warmth to the sunshine. "Oh, Luke, isn't it beautiful!"

"You see all that?" He waved his arm. "It's all going to be ours, Lettie. Someday I'll own this land for as far as you can see, and right down there in the valley is where our home will be, a big house, two, maybe three stories, lots of rooms for all the kids, lots of land for all the cattle. You've got to admit it's damn pretty."

"Oh, Luke." She turned in all directions. "Why didn't we think of climbing up here to see everything before? We've stayed buried in the cabin, making our way through tunnels like moles, when we could have been climbing up top and enjoying this wonderful freedom."

"This is the first nice day we've had since the snows started coming. And we've been so busy—" He put his arms around her from behind. "There's something else different. Do you realize what it is?"

She shook her head, puzzled, remembering that she had sensed something different as soon as she awakened.

"Listen, Lettie. Just listen."

She stood still, listening for a sound, then realized there
was
no sound. The air was utterly still, so quiet it almost hurt her ears. "No wind!" she said softly. "There's no wind!" She walked through soft snow that glittered like a fairyland, her feet sinking in some places, so that finally she just sat down in the snow and listened... to nothing... a glorious, wonderful quiet that brought tears to her eyes.

She looked back at Luke, her rock. He had remained calm through her fit of nerves last night, when he could have shouted right back at her. "Thank you, Luke." She threw her head back and breathed deeply. "For bringing me out here."

"Spring is just around the corner, Lettie."

She nodded. "Yes, it surely is."

CHAPTER 7

Lettie took another blanket from the clothesline Luke had strung up for her outside. Spring had come just as suddenly as winter had, rapidly melting the snow through the month of April, at least in these lower elevations and in the valley even farther below, which at the moment was so full of water that part of it had turned into a small lake. Not too far from the cabin water rushed down from a mountain above, fresh, cold water. One simply needed to walk to the rocks where the waterfall was and hold the bucket under it. Luke was afraid the plentiful water would disappear or at least dwindle to a trickle in summer, but for now it was a godsend. All winter they had gotten their water by melting snow, or by bashing through the ice of a distant stream, a stream which now was more like a river.

It seemed Luke had spent most of his time through the winter hauling water and doing other chores to feed and protect the animals, as well as for his own family. Now the animals could be turned loose to graze, and they could drink all the water they wanted out of the stream. She could do her wash outside and hang her clothes in the fresh air; and they had stored more water in barrels left behind by whoever had lived here before them.

She had ached for the warm sunshine, and now it was here.

They had also been hit with two fierce and frightening thunderstorms. If their little shanty had been built a few yards to the left, it would have been completely washed away by the now-torrential creek; a few yards to the right, and it would have been enveloped and destroyed in an avalanche that had come roaring down from the mountains above only three weeks ago. The snow it had carried was mostly melted now, but from what they could tell when they inspected it, the swath of snow that had come down with it was several hundred feet wide. God had surely been with them, saving them from both flooding and from being buried alive.

She felt the life kicking inside of her. Six months pregnant, she was still not terribly big, but big enough for her condition to be obvious. It embarrassed her for Luke to see her naked, but he insisted she was more beautiful than ever because it was his baby she carried, another son for Luke Fontaine, or so they both hoped. Her condition had not interrupted their lovemaking, and when she thought about how gentle the man she had married could be, she loved him all the more. That love only increased when she remembered Luke's promise that no matter how many children they had, Nathan would be loved just as much, treated the same as the others. Luke was a good father to him, a devoted husband; and he was slaving away to keep every promise he had made to her.