He gladly obliged.
Santana never knew she could be stirred to near-painful ecstasy by being touched the way Will had touched her. He made her feel wild and wanton, bold and beautiful. He made her want to open herself to him, to envelop his hard shaft deep inside of her and make sure he never wanted to do this with any other woman. To her utter delight, it did not hurt as fiercely as it had the night before. This time a milder pain was mixed with a new feeling, a strange hunger to be filled by him, to feel him rubbing inside of her, to please him by meeting his rhythmic movements with her own arching motions, so that she could take every inch of him inside herself.
What a wondrous thing this lovemaking was! But she knew it was only this wonderful when it was with a man she loved and respected. If this were Hugo…No! She could not even bear to think of it! She focused on Will’s face, on the pleasure she saw there. He closed his eyes then, groaning her name as he thrust hard. She felt his life spilling into her, and she knew that it was true that this act of love became more and more pleasurable after the initial pain was gone.
“Please do not stop,” she whispered. “It feels so good this time.”
He kissed her hair. “Just give me a minute.”
They lay still, and within minutes Santana could feel him growing hard inside of her again. He raised up to his knees and looked down at her naked body, rubbing her slender thighs. Grasping her bottom, he brought her up to him and thrust himself hard and deep, glorying in the way she offered herself to him so boldly, her eyes closed in rapture as she held onto his forearms.
Again he released himself, and this time he felt almost weak from the sheer ecstasy of his first morning with his new wife. He kissed her gently, then rolled onto his back. “We should clean up and dress and go eat some breakfast. Some of your guests are leaving today. We should be there to thank them and tell them good-bye.”
“I agree.” Santana rolled up onto one elbow and looked down at him, her hair brushing across his chest. “But we will come back here afterward, no?”
Will grinned. “We will come back here, yes.” He reached up and grasped some of her hair, fingering it. “In my whole life I have never awakened feeling this happy.”
She smiled. “Nor have I. We truly belong to each other now…forever.”
“We truly do. Right now I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get enough of you.”
“Nor I you.”
He sat up and kissed her. The kiss deepened, and it was understood that they must make love again before rising. It was too warm and sweet and wonderful, wrapped together in the satin sheets. He rolled her onto her back, and this time there was no foreplay. She opened to him, and he buried himself inside her yet again. Will had never known the pleasure of taking a virgin, and he wondered how he was ever going to make himself go back to work, for it would mean leaving her for several days at a time. If he didn’t need the mills to make his fortune and to give her all she deserved, he would give up his dream and spend the rest of his life right there in her bed.
He smothered her with kisses, moving in quick, pounding rhythm so that she cried out his name over and over in her own glorious fulfillment. Again she brought the life forth from him, and he wondered if he had already made her pregnant.
“This time we really do have to wash and dress,” he said, rolling away from her.
“I agree.”
They looked at each other and laughed, then Will rose and prepared the water. They quickly washed and put on clean clothes. Before they left the room, Santana glanced at the bed, noticing blood and remnants of lovemaking on the satin sheets. She blushed. “Oh, Will!”
He just grinned. “It happens.” He tossed the quilt over the end of the bed, then pulled off the sheets and rolled them into a ball. “Delores will think nothing of it. I will tell her to please come over and change the bedding. Don’t worry about it.” He dropped the sheets in a corner and drew her close. “Are you all right?”
She slid her arms around his waist. “I have never been happier.”
“You have a special glow today. You’re going to be teased, you know.”
“I know. I do not mind. I am proud to be the wife of William Glenn Lassater.”
“And I am proud to be your husband.”
He kept an arm around her as he led her outside and to the main house. A few people had gathered around a table of fresh breakfast food, and the air was full of the smell of frying sausages and fresh coffee. As predicted, they were greeted with hugs and jokes about how they were feeling. “So, you stop making love just long enough to eat, huh?” Hernando said, winking. He and Teresa and the children were sitting at a table, eating.
“I’ll eat fast,” Will joked.
Several people laughed, and Will put a few sausages on a plate. Almost instinctively, he looked toward the steep hills to the north, where, several miles distant, his mills were located. His smile faded as he thought he saw smoke in the vicinity of his logging camp. “Jesus,” he muttered. He squinted, looking harder, praying.
Santana saw his expression and she turned to look. “Fire!” she cried.
A forest fire was something everyone in California dreaded, and it was quite windy that day. Even worse, the wind was coming in from the west, which would mean that if there was a fire up in the hills, it would be pushed deeper and deeper into the forest. It could burn for days and take millions of acres with it, including both of Will’s mills.
Will threw down his plate. “Get my horse!” he shouted.
“Will, it’s too dangerous!” Santana shouted, grabbing his arm.
“That could be my mill burning! Noel’s home is up there! All those men!” He charged past her toward the stables, as word of the fire swept through the crowd. A few other men who lived east of where they saw the smoke also began looking for their horses, some hitching buggies. There was a general commotion as women herded their children together, and men shouted orders. Dominic had just come out of the house, and he made the sign of the cross when he saw the smoke.
At the stables Santana begged Will not to get too close to the fires. By then Noel and Derek had joined him. Santana knew about California forest fires, knew that often people were killed, thinking they could outrun the conflagration, but Will would not listen. He quickly saddled his horse and mounted up.
“Take me with you!” she begged.
“I can’t. I may be too busy to keep track of you. You stay here with your father. And keep Noel’s wife company. She’ll be worried too. Thank God they hadn’t already gone back.”
“Will!” She grasped his leg, tears in her eyes. “I love you! I will pray it is not the mill. Please be careful, Will. Do not try to fight it. You cannot stop these fires! I do not want to lose my husband after only one day!”
Her tears tore at Will’s heart. What a hell of a way to start a marriage. He’d had plans of doing nothing that day but lying in bed with his new wife. “I’ll be back. It will be all right.” He reached down and touched her hair, then rode off, followed by Noel and Derek and a few more men from the mill who had still been at the ranch celebrating the wedding.
“Will,” Santana whispered, choking back tears. “Please, sweet Mary, Mother of God, protect him.”
Thirteen
Will, Noel, and the others rode through the night, but once they reached the deeper forest, it was impossible to see any fire farther ahead because of the density of the trees. In spite of undergrowth and the dangers of running into branches and trees, they made their way through the night, mostly walking the horses. Will felt crazy with the need to reach the mill, but with stopping to rest the horses, it would still be more than a full day’s ride, even if they rode at a breakneck pace and didn’t stop to sleep.
By late afternoon the next day they reached the house Will was building for himself and Santana. His heart sank when he saw it was burned to the ground, only the stucco walls still standing. He had deliberately cut a clearing around the house to help save it in case of a forest fire, an
d he frowned at the realization that only the house was burned, not the trees around it. A deep, ugly suspicion began to form.
“The rest of you men ride on,” he ordered. “There’s still fire farther up near the mill. They’ll need your help. Noel and I will catch up.”
The men obeyed. “We’ll do all we can, Will,” Derek told him before riding off with the others.
Will dismounted. He walked around the burned ruins of his home before looking at Noel, who was still on his horse. “Something’s not right about this,” he said. “No forest fire jumps this far. I don’t see a burned tree anywhere near.”
Noel looked around. “Real suspicious, all right.”
Will closed his eyes, feeling sick. “I can’t look at this right now. Not after spending my first night with my new wife, promising her I’d bring her here soon. Let’s go see what’s happened at the mill.”
He mounted up again and urged his horse forward, the smell of smoke and burned wood strong in his nostrils. Still, he saw no fire in the immediate area. He stopped for a moment, watching the sway of the tops of the trees.
“The wind has changed. Maybe that’s a blessing.”
“Going back to the west, out to sea,” Noel said.
They rode on, men and horses weary from their long, hard ride. They had pushed the horses nearly to their limit, and Will felt bad about it, for he rode one of Dominic’s finest Palominos. It was nearly another day’s ride to the mill, and Will wondered how it was that none of the forest between there and his new home was burned. They rode into the night, catching up with the other men, who had stopped to rest. By early afternoon the next day they finally reached the clearing that led to the mill. To Will’s relief, he saw no damage to the immediate area, but a wide strip of trees to the west of the mill were burned black, their branches sticking out like skeletons of the woods. A few men were still running about with buckets, dousing buildings, all of them black from smoke and looking weary.
“Boss!” one of them shouted. Will spotted one of his buckers, Shelby Seward, a middle-aged man with big shoulders and a huge belly. He had a thick beard that revealed almost nothing of his face but his nose and eyes. “We got lucky. She swept right up from the coast, almost reached the pond and the mill, and then, like a miracle, the wind changed, just like God bent right down and blew it the other way! Saved the cuttin’ site and the roughin’ mill. It turned late yesterday. We wondered if you could see the smoke from the Alcala ranch.”
Will rubbed wearily at his eyes. “I saw it.”
“What about my place?” Noel asked anxiously. His house was situated between the roughing mill there in the hills and the finishing mill on the coast.
Shelby frowned and shook his head. “I’m afraid your house is gone, Mr. Gray.”
“Damn!” Will swore. “I’m sorry, Noel. I’ll see that new accommodations are built right away, and I’ll pay you extra for new clothing and furniture. Thank God your family was down at the ranch.” He turned to Shelby. “Where did the fire start? There haven’t been any storms, and all of you men know better than to be careless with your smokes.”
Noel dismounted. “This whole thing stinks of arson, Will, and we both know who might have done it. You think about it. I’m going to head down to the finishing mill to check the damage, check my house.”
He turned and walked away, and Will also dismounted. He asked one of the other men to take care of the horses, brush them down and water them. He turned to Shelby. “What do you think, Shelby? Was it set?”
Shelby fingered his beard. “Well, sir, it looks real suspicious. Started at the finishin’ mill. ’Course you know how fast a fire moves through somethin’ like that, all that wood dust and wood chips and such. The wind was just right. If it was set, whoever did it must have figured the wind would carry the flames right up the mountain to this mill and then the logging site. If it had, we would have lost all our buildings, the homes of the men who have families, all the valuable trees in this area, everything. It was pretty well planned, I’d say, except whoever did it didn’t plan on the wind suddenly shiftin’ like that.”
Will put his hands on his hips, looking around. “Be honest with me, Shelby. Is there somebody among these men who has a grudge against me for something? Maybe thinks he’s not being paid enough? Maybe somebody I fired?”
“I don’t know of any of the men havin’ any beef against you, sir. Far as them you fired, I’ve never seen any of them come back around here. ’Course anybody can sneak in of a night, I suppose. Whoever it was probably came up from along the shore durin’ the night, set the fire in early morning. It had to be somebody who knew we were shut down and there wouldn’t be a lot of men around.”
Will looked toward the burned trees that led for three miles down to the shore. “Whoever it was snuck farther in and burned the home I was building for my wife.”
“I’m sorry, sir. We didn’t even know about that.”
Will’s jaw flexed in anger. “That only proves to me that it was deliberate, aimed directly at me. I have a damn good suspicion who was behind it.” His hands clenched into fists, and he began to pace. “Hugo Bolivar. I should have killed him when I had the chance!”
“He’s the man you fought with in order to marry Senorita Lopez, ain’t he?”
Will threw his head back and breathed deeply. “The same. He wouldn’t come here and do it himself, but there are plenty of men who would take the kind of money he can pay them to do it.”
“I’m real sorry, Mr. Lassater. I know this’ll set you back.”
Will turned away. “Is the finishing mill completely destroyed?”
“I ain’t been down there. I was too busy up here tryin’ to keep buildings watered down until the wind changed. Them that came up from down there say it’s gone. The building itself can be rebuilt in no time, and we can rebuild the flumes, but how long do you figure it will take to get new equipment?”
Will stooped down and picked up a piece of wood. “I’m not sure. I wrote my brother months ago to buy more of everything I need and ship it to me. My plan was to start up a second mill site. Now I’ll just have to use some of it to rebuild the finishing mill. I’ll go to San Francisco and talk to the man I contracted with to store my equipment. I’ll have to warn him to take extra precautions. If Bolivar did this, he might try to burn down the man’s warehouse once he knows my equipment is there. I just hope it arrives soon so I can get fully back into business.”
He turned to look at Shelby. “Whoever did this figured this mill would burn, too, but by the grace of God it didn’t, and I’m still in business! We’ll do what we can right here, do some finishing work. It won’t be easy, but it’ll be enough to keep things going, and we can stockpile our shingle bolts. Some of the lumber can be cut by handsaw. I’ll pay men extra to do it.”
Shelby nodded. “They’ll do it, Mr. Lassater. We’ll all help keep you on your feet. Them that’s been workin’ on your new house, they can clean up there and start rebuildin’.”
“No. I picked a place that’s too remote. Santana will be there alone a lot. I wanted her closer, but after this…She’s got to be closer to the family’s main house where ranch hands can keep an eye on things. She won’t like being so far away, but it’s safer.” With a violent motion Will flung the piece of wood he’d picked up. It landed far away in the pond. “That son of a bitch is going to pay for this! I’ve got to do something to let him know he’d better not ever try something like this again.” He looked at Shelby. “I think I’ll pay Don Bolivar a little visit when I go back to San Francisco to talk to my buyers.”
From the look of fiery anger in his bloodshot eyes, Shelby was glad he was not the one Will Lassater was angry with. “You watch yourself, Mr. Lassater. That Bolivar, I’ve heard of him, mighty rich and powerful. You don’t even know for sure he did this.”
Will put his hands on his hips, pacing again, feeling the strong urge to hit someone. “If it weren’t for the fact that my house was burned, I wouldn’t be s
o sure myself. But that was a deliberate slap in the face. That house is something Santana and I would have shared together.” He walked closer to Shelby. “I’m not afraid of Hugo Bolivar. I never have been and never will be. He’s going to find out his little plan didn’t work, because God is on my side, and I’ve still got my mill and my main camp. When I’m through with him, he’s the one who will be shaking in his shiny black boots. You can bet on it!”
Shelby swallowed. “Yes, sir, I reckon maybe I can.”
Will sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Get me a fresh horse, will you? I’m going to gather the men and have a talk, explain the situation. Noel can stay here and get things running again. Apparently we’re going to have to post some guards at night.” He rubbed at his tired eyes. “I’m going back to my wife. I don’t relish telling her about our new home being burned.”
“It’s a real shame, Mr. Lassater, but at least you weren’t all moved in. You didn’t lose furniture and personals, or your lives.”
Will’s nostrils were beginning to burn from the strong smell of smoke and charred wood. “I guess I should be glad for that much.” How he wished Hugo Bolivar were standing in front of him that minute. He’d wrap his hands around the man’s skinny throat and squeeze until Hugo’s dark, evil eyes bulged right out of his head! The worst part of this would be telling Santana, especially when he had to tell her she would have to live so far from the mill. He didn’t relish only seeing her every six or seven days, but that was the way it would have to be, at least for a while.
He left Shelby to walk around the pond and several hundred yards farther on, to where the fire had turned back on itself. God was surely with him, for it was a miracle that the wind had changed. He looked up at the charred trees, and a hawk flew overhead. Suddenly he remembered the box full of ashes that his mother had given him. He still had it, kept it sitting in a windowsill in his cabin. He realized he had never shown it to Santana or told her of its origin. There were a lot of things she still didn’t know about him. They were lovers, friends, husband and wife, yet in some ways still strangers. But one thing he knew for certain. Santana had the strength to help him through this.
The Forever Tree Page 17