Bittner, Rosanne (41 page)

Lettie wanted to hate her, scream at her; but she knew the woman was right. "I don't intend to. I just... I wanted to know if the rumors were true. Thank you for being honest with me and for... for apparently caring. I didn't think—"

"That I had any feelings?" She laughed lightly. "Honey, when you're raised like I was, by a step-father who beats you and starts coming to your bed when you're only eight, you learn how to shut off your feelings. But they're still there when necessary."

Lettie shivered at the realization of what had led the young woman to such a hideous life. Surely she felt unloved, dirty, unworthy of a decent life. "Annie, it's never too late for anyone, you know. If you wanted to get out of here, do something else with your life, you still could."

The woman waved her off. "You wouldn't understand."

Lettie thought about her own rape, how she had felt about herself afterward... until Luke came along. "Maybe I understand better than you know."

Annie frowned in confusion, and Lettie realized Luke had probably never told her about her own rape. He knew she never wanted anyone else to know. Even in his hour of deepest need and outpouring of heart to someone else, he had not said anything about his wife's rape, the illegitimacy of her first child. "Annie, I mean it. If you show you are trying to change your life, you can have friends besides men like Ben Pritchert, who you know doesn't give a damn about you; friends besides men who only want to use you;
better
friends than the other prostitutes that you know. Those women only like you because you're just like them."

For a brief moment Lettie could see that the words had cut deep. Annie looked almost as if she were going to start crying, but then she forced another laugh and tossed her head.

"Don't preach to me. There's been enough preaching here and I've done it. Don't ask me why. I've surprised even myself. Just take my advice, Mrs. Fontaine, and straighten things out with your husband. And stay away from that damned Englishman. He can't hold a candle to Luke Fontaine, in spite of all his money and his title."

Lettie's eyebrows arched in surprise. "What have you heard about me and Nial Bentley?"

Annie yelled out for more whiskey, then turned back to Lettie. "Nothing bad about you, honey. Everybody in this town respects you, knows you've been a woman in deep mourning over the loss of two children. It's Bentley everybody talks about, how he's just trying to take advantage of the situation, using your emotions to win you over. It's obvious the man was infatuated with you the first time he came around a few years ago."

The door opened again, and Ben handed Annie a whole bottle and another shot glass, then left again. Annie poured herself another shot and drank it down. "Nial is a smooth, clever man, Lettie. He's visited me a few times. You're a lucky woman. The two richest men in the territory are in love with you, but only one of them fathered your children and would die for you without question. Only one of them has guts, and only one of them got his wealth by getting his hands dirty and building it on his own. It wasn't handed to him. He had a woman to help him, a woman with as much guts as he has. They belong together. You don't match up with somebody like Nial. You belong with a man like Luke, helping to civilize this territory and make it grow. My kind—" She shrugged. "We'll move on to places where there isn't so much law yet, if there are any places like that left."

Lettie was dumbfounded at the entire conversation. She had expected a cat fight, shouting, eye scratching. "You're an unusual woman, Annie."

Annie laughed loudly. "I've never had it put that way before."

Lettie remained sober. "I mean it. And I meant what I said about getting out of this. I would openly call you my friend."

Annie's laugh faded to a soft chuckle. "You just go on and take care of your own life. I'll take care of mine."

Lettie turned to the door, then hesitated. "Please don't tell Luke I was ever here."

"Of course not. Something tells me I won't see much of him from here on anyway."

Lettie met her eyes once more. "I hope not." She swallowed back an urge to cry. "Thank you, Annie."

As Lettie left, Annie watched after her, tears slipping out of her eyes. "Any time," she muttered. She poured herself another drink.

Luke and the vigilantes with him numbered seventeen men all together. They made their way quietly below the rim of red rock that was the last barrier to the rustlers they knew were on the other side, grazing stolen horses and cattle along Pine Creek. Runner had stealthily sneaked close to their camp last night. The sly Indian was the only one of them who could get that close without being noticed or heard in the still night air. He had verified their suspicions. It was the Walkers, and he had recognized Luke's own brand on one of the stolen horses. They had talked about hitting another ranch before heading for Canada, and Zack Walker would pick up his son Johnny's wife on the way. Where she was living was unknown, but that didn't matter to the vigilantes. There was no doubt the men they had caught up with were the rustlers they had been after for months, the men who had murdered Matt Duncan and raped his wife. Runner reported there were at least ten outlaws that he could see in camp, but there could be more.

Luke suggested they split up, half the men riding in from one end of the canyon, the others cutting off the outlaws' flight from the other. It was just barely dawn, and thin clouds filtered the rising sun's light into shades of purple and peach. Runner had gone back on foot to find a place to hide, ready to cut loose the rustlers' remuda of riding horses as soon as he heard Luke and the other men coming in for them.

Luke petted his horse's nose to soothe the animal and keep it quiet, and no one spoke. They stayed to soft ground as much as possible and led their mounts rather than riding them, hoping to keep the rustlers from hearing the sound of squeaking saddles. The attack had to be a surprise, or they would fail.

Luke pulled out a pocket watch, checking the time. Six a.m. He knew it would take the other men another twenty minutes to get around their side of the rock formation, and he put up his hand for everyone to stop, as they were nearly in position to attack. He pulled his Colt revolver from its holster and checked to be sure every chamber was loaded, then put it back and mounted his horse, a buckskin gelding that was his favorite. The animal was fast, and quick to obey. He pulled his Lightning repeating rifle from its boot and rested it across his knees, waiting.

The dead quiet was almost deafening, the only sound the squeak of leather and an occasional cough. While he waited, Luke took time to think, all the things he could and should say to Lettie parading through his mind. Should he be angry with her for letting Nial Bentley come visiting while he was gone? No. Nial was the one who should receive the brunt of his anger. The man had been warned once. Their next encounter would involve more than a warning. The thought of some man thinking he could move in on Luke Fontaine's wife... the bastard! Then again, what would Lettie think of his turning to Annie Gates? Did she know? Maybe she didn't even care. Maybe she and Nial had... No. Lettie wouldn't do that, even if she knew about him and Annie.

"Luke, you with us?"

Luke turned to look back at Will.

"Get your thoughts on matters at hand," Will told him quietly. "It's time we rode in."

Luke nodded, raising his rifle as a signal. He kept the rifle in hand and kicked his horse's flanks, breaking the animal into a gallop and heading around the south end of the canyon wall. From there on the ride had to be hard and fast. They could not attack by riding down from above, or the rustlers would have the chance to flee the canyon with their pursuers behind them. Attacking from both ends of the canyon was the only way. A climb out would be very difficult if the outlaws wanted to escape that way, but there was always that possibility, at least for a few of them. Reaching them as quickly as they could, guns ready, was the only answer.

Dust and gravel flew as Luke and Will and the others charged forward, some of them splashing through the shallow creek. Horses and cattle began to stir restlessly, and some of the men shot off their guns to scatter the herds and confuse the rustlers. As they got closer, Luke could see men running everywhere, some heading for where they probably thought their remuda waited. They would find nothing there, if Runner had done his job. He heard the whir of a bullet, felt the rushing sound near his ear, and he knew the rustlers were shooting at them now. "Take cover!" he shouted, pulling his own horse to a sliding halt and dismounting to take a position behind a large boulder. He pulled the horse around with him, and Will joined him.

Luke positioned his rifle, took aim, and fired. One of the men screamed and went down. He shot at others who were running in every direction, trying to get to their horses. Bullets spit back at them, pinging at the rock, biting off bits of the boulder. A piece of the rock shattered against Luke's face, cutting into it in several places. Instantly he squeezed his eyes shut and turned away for a moment. He put a hand to his face and saw considerable blood on his palm. "Damn!" he swore. "Watch yourself, Will."

He got no answer but there was no time to turn to see how his friend was doing. He could see the rest of the vigilantes riding in now from the other end of the canyon. He heard the rustlers screaming obscenities over being trapped. A second man went down from Luke's own gun. A third. He saw four others down from bullets from other guns. One of the outlaws was writhing in pain. Two men were trying to sneak up the canyon wall, and Luke took careful aim with his rifle and fired. One of them cried out and tumbled back down the hill, his body bouncing against boulders. The second man made it to the top and disappeared over the edge.

The remaining rustlers threw down their guns and put their hands in the air, and the vigilantes who had ridden in from the north end of the canyon surrounded them. "We got them, Will!" Luke grinned, wiping more blood from his face as he turned to share the moment, only to see Will lying flat on his back, a bloody hole in his face. "Will!"

Luke bent down to feel for a pulse. Will's eyes were still open, and horror moved through Luke at the realization that his good friend was dead. He thought for a moment that his heart would stop beating, and a painful lump formed in his throat. "Will!" He groaned. Tears formed in his eyes, and he gently reached over and closed Will's eyelids. He leaned across the man to pick up his hat and he placed it over Will's face. Anger and grief filled him in overwhelming proportions, and he stood up. "Is everybody all right?" he shouted.

"All okay, Luke," Tex shouted in reply. "We've got three of them over here. I think just one got away!" He let out a war whoop. "All the rustlers, and we got our horses and cattle back to boot!"

Luke looked back down at Will. What would he have done in those early years without this man? He would never find a more faithful friend again. This man was one of Montana's original settlers. And Henny—she had suffered the worst loneliness, for not only were there no neighbors in the beginning, but she never even was able to have children. She'd be so alone now, half crippled, so sick. How in hell could he go home and tell her Will was dead? The man was her whole world. "Bastards!" He sobbed.

He quickly wiped at tears, smearing them with the blood that continued to stream down his face from the superficial wounds. He turned then and stormed toward the others. "Will's dead!" he shouted. "The sons of bitches killed him!"

Tex reached out and grasped his arm. "Your face, boss. It's covered with blood."

"I'm all right. Just got hit with pieces of rock." He wiped at it again with his shirtsleeve, walking up closer to glare at the rustlers, whose faces showed their terror. Two were young, perhaps in their twenties. The third man was older and bearded. "The best man who ever set foot in Montana is
dead!"
he growled at them. "So is another good man. Matt Duncan! His wife raped! Those cattle and horses out there carry all our brands. We don't need any more reason than that to hang the lot of you!"

A fourth survivor lay groaning on the ground. Tex turned around and shot him in the head without hesitation.

The older of the three captives gasped, looked around at the vigilantes. "Look, I... I don't know anything about killin' a man or rapin' his wife," he told them, shaking. "I just met up with the Walkers here a few days ago."

Luke looked them over carefully, his steely blue eyes resting on the younger boys. "Walkers! By God, you
are
the sneaking thieves I chased off my land over a year ago! Zack Walker's boys! We heard you were behind this, but I thought you were smart enough to stay the hell out of Montana! How in hell did you end up with a whole gang of rustlers!"

"To show rich bastards like you, Luke Fontaine, that you can't have it all," Johnny Walker answered with a sneer.

"Johnny, shut up!" the other warned. "Don't rile him more."

Luke shoved his rifle barrel against Johnny's throat. The young man smelled as though he hadn't bathed in months. His dull blond hair was pasted to his head from too much oil and dirt, and his thin face was set off with narrow dark eyes that reminded Luke of a small animal rather than a human. As far as Luke was concerned, he
was
an animal. "My best friend is dead," he told Johnny through clenched teeth. His jaw flexed in his rage. "I'd rather lose my entire herd than lose Will Doolan's companionship!" He looked at the other brother, who he remembered was called Jeeter. "I'm already as riled as I've ever been in my life!" he growled. He stepped back and looked over at the older man. "Who are you?"

The man blinked and swallowed, visibly shaking. "B-Baker. Clyde Baker. It's like I said. I... I just joined up with this bunch. I don't know nothin' about killin' no Matt Duncan, and... and I never fired a gun just now. I ain't even wearin' one."

Tex spoke up. "You had a hand in stealin' horses and cattle. Out here, that's enough to hang a man."

The others joined in agreement. "I vote for hanging, too," Calvin Briggs put in. "We've got the right. All the cattlemen agreed on it, and Sheriff Tracy doesn't have any say out here."