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"How's the baby?" Ty asked Alice, kissing her cheek.

"He's fine. He's taking a nap right now." She touched his face. "Oh, Ty, we were so worried."

He sighed deeply. "The losses are going to be staggering," he told her, his voice strained. "For everybody. Some ranchers will never survive this."

They all walked into the parlor, and Luke poured himself a shot of whiskey, then handed the bottle out to Ty and Nathan. He downed the shot and walked to the fireplace to take a cigar from a silver box on the mantle and light it. "Brad lost a lot of sheep, but he'll be okay," he told the women. "He and Katie and the kids are all doing fine. It's the cattlemen who will fare the worst, especially the bigger ones like myself. We're going to have to call a meeting soon to decide how to survive our losses."

He sat down in a leather chair and rested his elbows on his knees, holding the cigar in one hand. All waited quietly for him to continue. "All of you should know I'm going to have to pare down the size of the Double L," he finally said after much thought. "We've gotten so big that it's impossible even to know how many cattle we have anymore. You get a winter like this, and you can't get them all in close enough, can't afford to buy enough feed for them all, even when you own a wholesale house as we do. Even
with
enough feed, with snow such as we had this year, it's impossible to get the feed to all the cattle.

"I once thought that bigger was better," he continued, "but not any more. If we tighten our belts, we'll be all right financially, thanks to the mines and our other investments, but we have a lot of cattle to replace. Most of the other ranchers won't hold up as well as we will. The only benefit from all of this is that the price of beef will probably go up because of a short supply. It just makes me sick to see so many good head of cattle suffer and die like that. I'll never let that happen again."

Lettie put a hand to her throat. "Luke, I hate to pile on the bad news, but there was an article in the newspaper saying Nial Bentley's wife had died over the winter."

He puffed quietly on the cigar. "I already knew it. When we were out inspecting the damage we ran into one of his men. As far as cattle, Bentley's losses were worse than ours. They say he's in a pretty bad fix. I guess his stock is actually owned by one of his father's companies in England, and Bentley didn't keep the best records. He might be in a lot of trouble financially. I'm sorry for him, in spite of how I've always felt about the man. I'm sorry for all of them. Even with our other investments we'll have to do some juggling of the books to stay on our feet the next couple of years, and we're in a lot better situation than the ones who rely entirely on their cattle for their income. One thing I'm going to try to do if I become governor is to see if the federal government can somehow subsidize men like Nial, and Joe Parker, Carl Rose, Cal Briggs—men who came out here the way I did and worked themselves to the bone to build what they have, only to lose it all in one wicked winter. It isn't right." He shook his head, his eyes tearing. "It just isn't right."

"What do we do now?" Alice asked. She sat next to Tyler, holding his hand.

Luke sighed deeply. "We go out and take a second count so we can keep our books as accurate as possible. We take some of our strongest horses and rig up some kind of drag we can use to scoop up dead carcasses into piles that we can burn or bury. It's going to be a hell of a project any way you look at it, but we can't just let the carcasses all lie out there and rot. They're already beginning to smell to high heaven, and they'll attract all kinds of varmints and diseases that will just
affect
the cattle that survived. It will probably take a couple of months' work and there are no extra men to help. Every rancher is going to need every hand he's got." He looked at Lettie again. "This one is going to go down in the history books."

"The papers say even the East Coast was hit," she told him. "Practically the whole nation was shut down for a month or two." Their eyes held, both of them thinking about all they had been through over the years, striving to build the ranch, only to come to the point where they had to give up some of it. They had never thought they would see the day. "There are still plenty of people who want to come out here and farm, Luke. We can sell some of the land to them."

"Farmers?" He smiled sadly. "Sheepherders, Indians, farmers. Things sure do change, don't they?"

She thought about their love. "Some things never change. We'll be all right, Luke. And we still have so much to be thankful for. This summer Pearl and Lawrence will be out with the granddaughter we've never seen; and next summer Robbie will be home. One of the doctors in Billings will be our own son, and by then you might be governor of the new state of Montana. Without men like you, Montana wouldn't be where it is
today.
Nothing has ever defeated us, and we won't let this defeat us, either."

Someone rode up outside then, and Mae answered a knock at the door. "Is Luke Fontaine at home?" came a male voice. "I'm from Essex Manor. I'm to find Luke and give this to him, wherever he is. I'm to wait for an answer."

"Please wait inside," Mae answered. "I'll take this to Luke." Mae came into the parlor then with an envelope. "This is for you, Luke. The man who brought it says it's from Essex Manor. You're supposed to give him an answer before he leaves."

Luke took the envelope, glancing at Lettie. He opened and read it aloud. "'Luke, must see you. Bring Lettie, too. I know you are busy, but please come as soon as possible. Nial.'" Luke frowned. "I wonder what this is about." He read the letter again silently.

"We had better go and find out," Lettie told him gently. "At the least, we should visit him anyway, just to express our condolences over the loss of his wife."

Luke sighed, looking at Mae. "Tell Nial's man we'll be there tomorrow. I might as well go see what he wants before I get involved with cleaning up the cattle."

Mae nodded and left, and Luke met Lettie's gaze again. What could Nial Bentley possibly want now?

CHAPTER 38

Luke and Lettie entered the cool and quiet stone mansion of Essex Manor, led into a library by a butler. They had not seen Nial in years. He had socialized very little since his brief run for the territorial legislature. The butler showed them where to sit, on a velvet setee near a huge mahogany desk. "May I take your wraps?" the man asked.

Luke handed the man a leather coat lined with wolf's fur. Lettie removed her heavy velvet cape and hood and handed them and her muff to the butler. "Thank you," she said.

"It is a long ride here from the Double L," the man told them. "Perhaps you would like some coffee? Some other drink?

"I would like hot tea," Lettie told him.

"I'll take coffee," Luke said. "And I wouldn't mind one shot of good bourbon. There's still quite a chill in the spring air."

"Yes, sir." The old butler, who himself had an English accent, bowed slightly. "They say with all the snow this past winter, the ground will take longer to thaw, and all the moisture in the ground adds to the chill."

Luke nodded, and the old man left. Luke looked around the grand room, its walls lined with hundreds of books, many of them looking very old.

Lettie quietly watched him. She knew he felt uncomfortable and irritated at having been summoned by Nial.

"This had better be worth my losing time," he grumbled.

"Luke, it must be important or—"

Just then Nial came into the library, dressed in his usual dapper manner, but his face looking haggard and much older than his age. At fifty-three, Lettie thought, Luke looked younger than Nial, who greeted both of them somberly, shaking Luke's hand, his eyes moving over Lettie in the same familiar, loving way he always had of looking at her.

She was still as beautiful as ever, Nial thought. She wore a burgundy taffeta and velvet dress, and her auburn hair was swept up in a pile of fancy curls. Little diamond earrings dangled from her earlobes. He thought how out of place she had always seemed out there, such elegance in such a wild land. Luke was his usual rugged self, wearing denim pants and a simple red flannel shirt. "Thank you for coming, Luke," he said, moving to sit behind his desk. "l know this is a bad time for all ranchers. You must really have your hands full."

"I have plenty of help. Ty and Nathan can pretty well manage things on their own."

Nial leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. "Yes. I have always thought you the luckiest man in the world, with all those children. How many grandchildren are there now? Seven? Eight?"

"Nine," Lettie answered proudly.

Nial smiled. "I have always thought you a most remarkable woman, Lettie." He leaned back in his chair. "But then that is no news to either one of you."

"We're sorry about the loss of your wife, Nial," Luke put in, reminding the man he should be thinking of poor Chloris, not Lettie.

Nial did not miss the hint. "I loved her, Luke. I didn't marry Chloris just for children, although I am disappointed that we never could have any. Life takes strange twists, doesn't it? Some men are meant to have everything, some never quite realize their dreams."

Lettie could already feel the tension growing. "Nial, is anything the matter?"

The butler came in with a tray before Nial could answer. He set it on Nial's desk and poured a cup of hot tea for Lettie, setting a pitcher of cream and a bowl of sugar on a table in front of her. He poured a shot of bourbon for Luke. "I'll take some of that myself, Henry," Nial told the man.

"Yes, sir." The old man handed each man a shot glass, then poured Luke a cup of coffee and left. Nial rose, holding up his shot glass.

"To Lettie, and the Double L, and to Montana," he said.

Luke frowned in curiosity. Why a toast to Lettie? He stood up and held out his glass. He drank down the bourbon and sat down again. "What's this all about, Nial?"

Nial smiled bitterly. "It's about a man who has swallowed his pride and has come begging, I'm afraid. It's about a man who knows he can never have what he wants, so he's giving up. It's about poor bookkeeping, and one man giving in to the better man. You are the better man, Luke. You always have been. I just never wanted to have to admit it." He reached out and opened a crystal container on his desk. "Would you like a smoke?" He glanced at Lettie. "Do you mind?"

She watched him curiously. "No."

Luke picked up his coffee cup. "I don't care for one right now," he told Nial.

Nial took out a thin cigar and lit it, puffing on it for a moment. "I'm going back to England, for good," he told them. "But I don't care to go back in disgrace. That is why I asked you to come here."

Luke scowled. "What do I have to do with you going back to England?"

Nial twirled the cigar in his fingers. "I want you to buy Essex Manor, Luke, for seventy thousand dollars, house, land, cattle, all of it."

"Seventy thousand! It's worth a lot more than that."

"It is. And I have to tell you I would not see one dime of the seventy thousand. It would all go to the company in England that owns the cattle. If I don't come up with that much, they will brand me as a thief and maybe even throw me in prison." His eyes saddened. "I want to go home, but I don't intend to spend the rest of my days incarcerated."

Luke frowned. "Why would they send you to prison?"

Nial puffed on the cigar again and watched the smoke curl up toward the high ceiling. "Let me explain it through a little arithmetic. Over the last five years I bought and/or bred ninety thousand head of cattle. Of those ninety thousand, I sold fifty thousand, which means I should have a net of forty thousand head, or thereabouts. However, my books show that I sold only thirty thousand. At seven dollars a head, I pocketed a tidy hundred and forty thousand dollars for the twenty thousand head not shown in the books. Are you beginning to understand where this is leading?"

Luke was astounded at what the man was admitting. Not only was he a potential wife-stealer and all-round bastard, but he was a crook to boot. "I understand that you bilked your cattle company out of a hundred and forty thousand dollars," he answered.

Lettie felt sick inside at realizing the kind of man Nial truly was.

"Exactly," he admitted. "It's a poor excuse, but I did it to keep Chloris satisfied. She was quite a demanding young lady. We toured Europe and she had very expensive taste in clothes. After the fires in '81 I suffered monetary losses like everyone else. I had to find a way to make up for them and keep Chloris happy. She had lost the only baby she ever carried and was quite depressed. I am afraid I gave her the impression I was swimming in money, but in reality, the family money ran out quite some time ago. Oh, we'll all live comfortably enough on what is left, but the point is that I want to go home and live in peace, and with honor. I don't want to disgrace the Bentley name."

"And how do I fit into this little scheme of yours?" Luke asked.

Nial leaned forward. "As I said, you get all my land, my home, the other buildings, all my equipment and whatever cattle and horses survived the winter—all for far less than they are really worth. I own the land and buildings outright, Luke. The company that backs the ranch owns only the cattle. It was my job to manage the ranch in a profit-making manner. When an actual count is taken by the company's accountant, they will discover I have, or had, if you count the dead beef,
twenty
thousand fewer than the books say. I want to say that I sold them to you for half price because of the terrible winter and heavy losses. In essense, you will be buying this entire ranch for the seventy thousand dollars, but they won't know that. I will get nothing out of the deal, except that I will have the money to hand over to them and will keep my reputation. I have a free and clear deed to the property. I'll sign it over to you as soon as I get the money. What do you say?"

Luke glanced at Lettie, dumbfounded. She moved her own gaze to Nial and said, "I don't want this house, Nial. I much prefer the home we live in now. It isn't as big or ostentatious, but it's home."

BOOK: Bittner, Rosanne
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