Fires of Paradise (42 page)

Like the clouds, his thoughts drifted to the future. Only Lucy would have the bravado to have a huge wedding after the scandal. She wanted an extravaganza, and now he had decided she deserved it. He could wait—as long as they were never apart again.

They hadn't discussed it, but he wanted children, lots of them, soon. First, though, he wanted to take Lucy to Bakersfield to visit his parents, Jack and Candice Savage—he wanted to show her off. His homecoming was long overdue, and the thought of it warmed him immensely. They would go before June, of course.

And just as it was time to go home, it was time to shed the alias he had acquired so many years ago. It was time to bury Shoz Cooper and truly leave the past behind. He was Shoz Savage, Shozkay Savage if his full name be known, the son of Jack and Candice, two people he respected and loved more than anyone, other than Lucy. He would be married in the name he had been born with, and from this day forward, he would be Shoz Savage and only Shoz Savage.

He grinned in the blackness around him. For the first time in too many years to count, he felt free. Happy and free.

One of the yearlings screamed in fright. At that precise moment, Shoz sniffed the acrid odor in the air. His heart clenched, he turned. Shocked, he stared up the hill at the big white ranch house. The ground floor was red and ablaze.

Shoz ran.

Chapter 50

Lucy had fallen asleep on the sofa in the library. After her grandmother left her to retire, she found she was too keyed up with excitement over the wedding to even consider going upstairs to sleep. She indulged in a brandy. Soon her emotions settled, and she realized she was exhausted and drained. It was as much emotional as physical, not just from the wedding plans but from finally finding Shoz and achieving her greatest dreams. Lucy fell into a heavy, deep slumber.

She thought she heard her grandmother calling her, but she was so tired, she did not want to wake up. When she finally did, terribly groggily, she thought it was a dream. Yet it had been so real, and Miranda's voice had been so full of fear.

She smelled the smoke.

And a blazing light at the window made her turn her head.

Lucy gasped when she saw the huge old oak tree outside the French doors ablaze—the flames licking at the windows. In the next instant she saw fire creeping merrily along the floor where it joined with the wall under the doors.

Panting and beginning to choke on the smoke that was filling the library, Lucy turned, her spine pressed into the sofa. She gasped at the sight that now greeted her—half of the far wall was aflame—and with it, the massive mahogany doors, cutting off her means of escape.

Lucy screamed.

Cries of "Fire! Fire!" split the air as hands from the bunkhouses realized that the ranch house was on fire. Pumping his legs, Shoz ran harder than he'd ever run before, up the hill, fighting its slope, while the flames licked at the porch and the sides of the house, creeping up the walls, dancing higher and higher. He had almost reached the porch when Derek came crashing out the front door, the old man carrying Roberto through the flaming porch and hurling them forward and onto the damp grass. The boy was wrapped in a blanket, and miraculously, Derek's pajamas were only singed.

Shoz reached them. He grabbed his son. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, Papa." Roberto was wide-eyed. "Where's Miranda?" Derek shouted, levering himself to his feet.

"I don't know."

"I sent her to get Lucy—they should have been out before me!"

Shoz grabbed the old man to prevent him from launching himself mindlessly back into what was fast becoming an inferno. It was then that Miranda came running from the house, her white robe trailing red flames.

Derek dove on top of her, using his body to smother the flames. Shoz saw flames kindling on his pants leg, and he whipped off his heavy jacket to beat them out. Moments later the couple lay unhurt, panting and coughing in the grass. Shoz hauled Derek off his wife, grabbing her. "Where's Lucy? Where's Lucy?"

"I don't know! She's not in her room—I thought she was with you!"

Shoz grabbed his jacket and flung it over his head and pounded up the steps and into the flames.

"The library!" Miranda screamed after him. "I left her in the library!"

Fire licked his boots, his feet and legs became hot. He ran through the crackling flames and into the foyer. Fire licked the walls and danced along the lowest steps of the stairs. Shoz felt his knee burning and beat out a flame with his bare palms.

Screaming her name, he ran down the hall.

Fire raced behind him, straining at his heels.

"Lucy!" He watched the hall wall begin to glow, turning from white to living red. He reached the library door in time to see it erupt into flames. He heard her scream.

Without pausing, he hurled himself into the door and went crashing into the room.

He broke through the doors and burst through the flames so quickly, he was only singed. The curtains were ablaze, leaping gold and red in the windows, and the rugs were just igniting. Flames raced along the baseboards of the wall and began to claw their way up them. Smoke hung heavy in the room. Lucy stood in the middle of the room, with nowhere to go. She saw him and catapulted into his arms.

A quick glance outside told him there was no escape through a window or the French doors. Protecting her with his body and his jacket, he ran hard through the doorway. Flames singed his knees and buttocks.

As he ran down the hall, his toes seemed to be burning. He seemed to be trodding on fire. He swung Lucy into his arms. He had never run faster; flames reached out from the walls for the denim of his thighs. And then they were in the foyer and he rushed out the burning front doorway and across the burning porch.

He wasn't aware of falling. But he was on the ground with Lucy when they doused him with water, again and again. For just a moment he lay gasping, the relief of the water quickly gone, his knees and thighs and toes and a spot on his cheek burning. Lucy. He levered himself up and clutched her face.

"Lucy!"

She coughed. She coughed and wretched and clung to him, and Shoz went limp beside her.

Derek was squatting next to them while dozens of men were fighting the blaze with hoses and by hand with buckets of water. "You okay?" Derek asked anxiously. "Shoz, Lucy, you okay?"

Shoz stared at Lucy as she gulped air. "Yes," she said hoarsely, coughing again. "Shoz?"

"I'm here." He flopped onto his back, groping for her hand. She clung, but so did he.

Shoz didn't protest as the old man's hands probed him for injuries. "You're one lucky man," Derek said. "Your boots are burned—and your socks—and I guess your toes will have a few blisters. An ember got your cheek, and there are a few burns on your knees. You're okay."

"Grandma?" Lucy asked, sitting up groggily.

"She's fine. She took Roberto down to the mess house."

Shoz sat up, too. The three of them were faced with the house. It was an inferno—there would be no saving it. Flames engulfed it, blazed into the heavens. He looked at Derek and saw the old man staring, his face taut with controlled emotion, his face ghostly white. Lucy took his hand, sharing one look with Shoz. "Oh, Grandpa."

He didn't say anything. He couldn't speak.

Shoz watched the house burning and thought about how this one strong man had brought his young wife here in 1840 and built this house and everything around it with his own two hands, with his own sweat and blood and tears. He had braved and fought this land to provide a legacy for his wife and children. In doing so, he had more than conquered what he'd set out to tame; he had created an empire and a dynasty. Vast respect filled Shoz, and with it, a terrible sadness.

By daybreak the fire finally died. Only piles of charred timbers and the blackened stone fireplaces and chimneys remained. No one had slept through the long night; now everyone was dispersing to begin the day's chores. Lucy stood with Shoz, his arm around her waist, staring at the burned wreck of the house.

"Do you really think it started in the kitchen?" Lucy asked.

"It sure looks that way." One of the maids had sobbingly admitted to having a boyfriend visiting her while she had been cleaning up, the last one to leave—and he had been smoking. "It wouldn't take much for the house to catch, not after that dry summer."

"Grandpa and Grandma are taking this terribly."

"They're both strong. They have each other. They have the ranch, Paradise. They'll make it."

"Grandpa looked so old last night," Lucy said brokenly. A few hours ago he had been pale and gaunt, looking every one of his eighty years, looking tired and defeated. Miranda had actually been walking stooped. "And Grandma, when she finally started crying ..."

"We'll stay and give them our support until they've re-covered from the shock."

"Thank you," Lucy said, kissing him.

They found her grandparents walking around the ruins, hand in hand. Lucy and Shoz approached hesitantly, but were determined to help them through the crisis. "I think we all deserve Cook's flapjacks this morning." Lucy attempted to be cheerful.

Derek turned. "Not a goddamn thing to save except the fireplaces." It was announced matter-of-factly, causing

Shoz and Lucy to exchange startled glances.

"I think we should have brick fireplaces," Miranda said firmly.

"All right." Derek turned to them. "We're going to rebuild immediately."

Lucy exchanged a delighted glance with Shoz. "Rebuild!"

Derek looked at her. "Why so surprised? I've got a ranch to run. Can't do it from the hotel in town." "I.. ." Lucy grinned at Shoz.

"Before we rebuild so immediately, I want to hire an architect," Miranda stated.

"An architect!" Derek groaned. "What do you have in mind, woman?"

"Well, at my age, I'm entitled to a little luxury."

"We had luxury."

"I want a marble bathroom and a swimming pool."

"I can agree to that."

"And stone floors this time."

"All right. You got an architect in mind?"

"I've heard there's a top man in Austin." Miranda smiled at Derek, who grinned back.

Shoz looked at Lucy and saw the plea in her eyes. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. "We want to stay here and help you rebuild."

"Can you handle a hammer?"

"Yes, sir."

"You're on. Right after breakfast, get a crew up here to start hauling the debris out. Lucy, you can take your grandmother to Austin to hire that architect. But don't come back without any plans!"

Lucy took her grandmother's hand. "We can go to Austin first thing tomorrow."

"What's wrong with today?" Miranda asked.

Lucy looked at Shoz with a bubble of laughter. He was smiling, too.

"If we're having a June wedding, we'd better start right now!" Derek pointed out.

Lucy took Shoz's hand. "I think I'll be gone for a few days, darling."

"That's all right," he chuckled. "I'm going to be too tired from all this work we've got to do to be a very attentive fiance."

"Maybe we should make a real spacious guest wing," Derek said thoughtfully, staring at Lucy and Shoz. "With a nursery—or two."

"Or a guest villa!" Miranda cried excitedly. "We could clear the woodland out back—the views would be charming!"

As her grandparents continued to make new plans, with growing excitement, Lucy took Shoz's hand and led him away. "You don't mind staying and helping them rebuild?"

A breeze lifted a tendril of her hair and pushed it into her eyes. Shoz moved it away. "I want to stay and help them, Lucy. Besides, they'll be pressed for time, because of our June wedding."

She melted against him. "Do you really mind?"

"Waiting until June? No. Not when it makes you so happy."

She touched his face, careful not to touch the gauze covering the burn on one cheekbone. "You make me happy, Shoz. If we married tomorrow, I'd be just as happy."

"You mean we can change the date?"

She heard the teasing note and laughed while his arms went around her. His mouth tenderly brushed her nose. "From tragedy to triumph," he murmured. "We're not the only happy ones."

Lucy followed his regard and watched her grandparents; Derek was pointing, Miranda was nodding enthusiastically.

"Look at them," he said softly. "Married over fifty years, partners over fifty years, lovers for more than half a century. A few hours ago they were shocked, almost defeated. Now they're fighting back—together—and enjoying every moment of the new challenge."

She leaned back to look up at his handsome face, marveling anew at his sensitivity—and at how lucky she was.

"One day," he said huskily, his gray eyes fierce with emotion, "we will be like that."

Tears burned Lucy's eyes, momentarily blurring her vision. "Did I tell you today how much I love you?"

He stiffened. "No. Lucy ..." He stroked the high bones of her face. "You could have died today. God! But you know, you do know .. ."

"You risked your life for me," Lucy replied gravely. "When you're ready to say the words, I'll listen, but I don't need them, Shoz. I do know."

He cupped her elbows, pulling her against him. "I'm ready to say those damn words," he whispered. "I love you, Lucy."

She smiled and, just a little, she cried.

EPILOGUE

Paradise, Texas

June 1899

Lucy Bragg and Shoz Savage were married on June the tenth, eighteen hundred and ninety-nine. The ceremony took place out-of-doors on the hill by an old white swing. The bride, although it was her second marriage, wore white: a couture Worth gown from Paris, scandalously straight, with an endless tulle train that made her appear to be walking in clouds. During the ceremony, she wept. The groom, in a dashing black tuxedo, was tense, solemn, and nervous. During the vows, the groom lifted the bride's veil to wipe away her tears with his handkerchief. After the ceremony, many guests commented on how touching it had been.

Over a thousand guests attended. The entire family, of course: the Braggs of New York, the d'Archands of San Francisco, Lord and Lady Shelton of Dragmore, and all their children and grandchildren. The bride's father, the millionaire-industrialist Rathe Bragg, gave away the bride with a wide smile. Although it was not quite traditional, after the ceremony he made the first toast, almost directly to the groom, an apology for past doubts and a welcome to the family. The groom blushed and the bride wept again.

The groom's seven-year-old son, Roberto, had acted as his best man during the ceremony, trying to be somber but unable to repress his terrific excitement. The bride's mother, one of the well-known leaders of the Progressive Reform movement, Grace Bragg, was her daughter's matron of honor. She also made an untraditional toast during the reception, referring to her new son-in-law as a real hero. Later, she spent most of the evening on the dance floor in uninhibited and uncharacteristic abandon.

The groom's parents were just as pleased and just as emotional. His father, the California rancher Jack Savage, could not stop smiling; neither could his wife, Candice.

The three Savage brothers attended with their wives, and so did the groom's sister, Christina, now the Princess Zem-stov, with her husband, the Prince of Lubrovic.

There were many illustrious guests, including Senator Claxton, although his wife was mysteriously absent, President McKinley and his wife, and the now famous ex-Rough Rider, Theodore Roosevelt. Dancing began almost immediately after the ceremony, outdoors on a wood-planked floor covered with sawdust to the tune of a rowdy Spanish band. It continued until the wee hours of the morning, when the last of the guests finally departed to their lodgings.

The wedding was written up in all of the nations's leading journals despite efforts to keep it out of print. They called it the Wedding of the Century.

The bride, it was said, was a leading Society heiress who had been kidnapped by the groom just a few years ago. The groom, it was said, was a lawyer who had been erroneously imprisoned for a theft he did not commit. He had abducted the bride in a jailbreak, fleeing with his captive into the heart of Mexico. There they had fallen in love, only to be wrenched apart when her father tracked them down.

The scandal had ruined her, while he had mysteriously disappeared. It was hinted that more than just an abduction had occurred; some said they had even been married and divorced secretly at the time. And then just when she was about to marry the diplomat Leon Claxton, she, too, dis-appeared.

To this day, there is a legend that holds that she followed him to Cuba, where he was a great rebel leader called El Americano by friend and foe alike, and together they lived and loved and fought for Cuba Libre until it came to pass.

It was a story America immediately loved. It was the Love Story of the Century. The Triumph of True Love. No one was unaffected by it, and many wept over it. They became America's Darlings.

This, then, was their story, but here the story does not end. For the day following the glorious celebration, the family patriarch, Derek Bragg, gave the bride and groom his wedding present, the DM and his majority shares of Bragg Enterprises. The groom was speechless, the bride was not.

And so the Saga continues.