Wildest Dreams - By Rosanne Bittner Page 0,2

thank you for saving Nathan by joining our campfire tonight for supper. This first day's journey is bound to be difficult. The least we can do is save you the trouble of having to fix your own supper tonight. That is our lead wagon over there," she said, pointing to a wagon with the pole sticking up above it with the red cloth tied to it. "We marked it that way so that if Nathan runs off, he could spot our lead wagon easily and find us again. Actually, we have three wagons. My father is both a farmer and a merchant. He is taking a load of supplies along to start his own store when we reach Denver."

"Denver? You aren't going all the way to California?"

"No. We and some of the others will stay with the train to the fork of the North and South Platte rivers. Then we'll follow the South Platte to Denver. Father feels there is a great deal of potential there for a businessman, much more than in California and Oregon, which are already so heavily settled."

"Could be," Luke answered. "And how does your husband feel?"

He noticed the woman's face redden as though for a moment she felt some kind of shame.

"Nathan's father is dead," she answered. "Killed in a border raid."

Luke watched her eyes, and what he saw there was not the look of a grieving widow. Something was amiss. "I'm sorry," he told her.

"Yes, well, that's part of the reason we're starting someplace new," she told him. "Father's store was burned, as was our home and farm. We're from up in the St. Joseph area."

Nathan reached out for his mother, and Luke handed him over. "I'm from St. Louis, headed for Montana," he told her.

"Montana! Oh, isn't it terribly wild and lawless there?"

Luke grinned. "A good place for a man to make his claim and set his own rules."

"Yes, I suppose." In spite of her initial irritation with the man for telling her how to handle her own son, Lettie could not help noticing how handsome he was. Never have I seen such beautiful blue eyes on a man before, she thought. Immediately she felt the crimson coming to her cheeks, along with another burst of shame. What right did she have to be attracted to any man, and what man would want her, if he knew the truth about her? "I had better get back to our wagons. My parents are in town getting more supplies, and my brother and sister are off wandering. When everyone is back I will explain what you did, and I know they will insist on cooking you a decent supper tonight. Please say you will come."

To be able to look at you again? Luke thought. "I'll be glad to join you."

"Good. Look for us when we make camp tonight, then, Mr. Fontaine."

Luke nodded, then reached out and gave little Nathan's chubby hand a squeeze. "See you tonight, then."

He turned and walked back to his mules, and Lettie noticed he limped badly. She thought again how handsome he was, but such thoughts only brought an ache to her heart, for in her situation, it was useless to allow special feelings for any man. There simply could never be another man in her life. She did not want one, and no decent man would ever want her.

She turned away. As she headed back to her own camp she kissed Nathan's cheek. Some people thought she should hate her son, but he was an innocent child, a child she had grown to love far more than she had thought possible in the beginning. No child should be blamed for a horror over which he had no control, a horror caused by a bloody, useless war. Nathan was never going to know the truth about his father, and leaving Missouri was the only way to make sure of it.

"Fontaine. What kind of a name is that? French?"

Luke lit the thin cigar Henry MacBride had given him. Both men sat near the campfire, and all around them other campfires were lit and families settled in for supper and sleep. Lettie and her mother, Katie, and her fourteen-year-old sister, Louise, cleaned up dishes, pots, and pans. It was obvious to Luke that the family had money because of their dress and mannerism, and they had a Negro woman along with them to help with the work. She was a very large woman, her hair almost completely gray. She seemed to get along