Wildstar

by Nicole Jordan

  She spent the next five desperate hours corralling chil­dren and wetting down blankets and doctoring burns, but mostly she prayed. Her prayers went unanswered. The flames blazed higher as the mountain winds swept through the valley, fanning the fires and negating the most deter­mined efforts of Silver Plume's residents and even the well-trained volunteer firemen of Georgetown's fire de­partment. Building alter building along Main Street went up in a whoosh of sparks. Burke's Diamond Dust Hotel and Saloon, which lay directly in the path of the flames, were two of the first to go.

  Jess felt a pang of regret for all the beautiful furnishings that were incinerated, but as Riley had said, belongings could be replaced; people couldn't. Her real fear was for Flo and Clem and her boarders and the hundreds of other friends she had known all her life.

  For the most part, though, the townspeople managed to flee to safety. Jess saw hundreds of dazed victims of the fire trudge past her, lugging valuables. Others packed the crowded thoroughfare, merely staring in shock as the Plume burned down around them. Once she spied Clem fighting the fire, his shouted curses reaching her even over the crackling roar of the flames. And just past midnight, Flo joined her. Calm and motherly, Flo provided Jess the inspiration to keep on and even managed to dredge a strangled laugh from her in the midst of the hell­ish nightmare.

  A knot of women and children had gathered at the little

  Catholic church to pray, but Flo scolded them into action, pointing to the church.

  "Those walls may be made of stone, but that roof is pure tinder. And the Good Lord sure as shootin' would rather you get up off your knees and get to work at a time like this!"

  As a group, the women began carrying water to throw on the church roof. Trouble was, the cisterns in back of the adjacent buildings held too little water to make any differ­ence in a blaze like this. They gave it their best effort, though, Jess included. Too afraid to be tired, too tired to be afraid, she kept swinging buckets. Her throat and nos­trils ached from the stinging smoke, while her palms blis­tered from the leather handles.

  And all the while the dreaded flames kept crawling closer, engulfing everything in their path, driving the fire­fighters back.

  Finally the heat and smoke became too intense to bear. The lines of men fell back, sweeping the women behind them.

  Incredibly, though, just as the fire began licking at the stone wall of the little church, the wind miraculously shifted. Jess and everyone else held their breaths as the greedy flames curled back on themselves. Minute after minute they watched, but the devastation seemed to have faltered. The firefighters continued the battle with bucket and hoses, and actually appeared to be winning.

  It was nearly dawn by the time they could declare vic­tory, though—if such destruction could be called victory. Three blocks of the town had been razed, and most of the business district lay in smoldering ruins. All the saloons, dance halls, hotels, stores, shops, and offices—everything that had been the lifeblood of Silver Plume was gone.

  A few lanterns appeared then to illuminate the terrible scene. Groups of weary, soot-covered men searched in the smoking debris for burning coals, extinguishing any re­maining flames. The women made coffee and passed out mugs with forced smiles. Some of the townspeople simply sank to their knees where they stood, their stricken, de­feated expressions showing more clearly than words what wreckage the fire had made of their lives.

  Jess felt immeasurably lucky and somewhat guilty. Their house and boardinghouse had been spared, but many had lost their livelihood and hundreds of miners and their families were now homeless.

  And at least one person had died. At dawn, the charred remains of a body was found among the ashes of the building that had been Patrick Barrett's saloon.

  "Poor bastard," Jess heard somebody say. "Patty was too young to die . . . if that's him."

  Jess shivered in the cold dawn air. Reminded forcefully of how fragile life was in this rugged country, she wor­riedly searched the crowds for Devlin and Riley. She found her father resting on the boardwalk with Clem, while Flo hovered over them. Both men were exhausted but unhurt, but there was no sign of Devlin.

  Two minutes later, though, she spied his tall form mov­ing through the throng. Picking up her now-ruined skirts, Jess ran to meet him, and with a glad cry flung her arms around his neck.

  "Devlin—Garrett . . . I was so worried about you. . . ." Her breathless comment was muffled against his throat.

  "I'm all right, angel," he said huskily. "What about you?" He held her away tenderly, searching her face, emo­tion bright and intense in his smoky eyes.

  "I'm fine." Jess regarded Devlin anxiously in return. In the chill gray light of dawn, his face was lined with fa­tigue and grime, but he had never looked more handsome to her, never had been more beloved.

  His thoughts must have been running along the same track, for he smiled tiredly, a slow, seductive curving of lips that made her heart race. "I remember being inter­rupted last night," he murmured before bending his head, covering her mouth urgently with his.

  He kissed her long and hard, in plain sight of half the occupants of Silver Plume. It was a strangely poignant kiss—fervent triumph mingled with intense relief, a cele­bration of life and victory, of a hard-fought battle won. And delivered with enough passion to warm her all over, despite the frosty morning air. Jess's limbs were weak, her heart pounding, by the time Devlin finally allowed her up for air. And then he stole her breath away again with his murmured admission.

  "I love you, you stubborn hellcat, but if you don't stop kissing me like that, I'll make you a fallen woman right here on the street."

  "Would you say that again? Just so I'm sure I heard right?"

  "I'll make you a fallen woman right here—"

  "No, not that part! The part about you loving me."

  "I love you, angel." He reached up and brushed her cheek with the back of his knuckles. "More than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone."

  Jess's eyes absurdly filled with tears. "Are you sure, Garrett? You could have any woman you wanted. In fact, you've probably had any woman you wanted—"

  "There've been others in my past, Jessica, I won't deny it. But you'll be the only one in my future."

  She felt like crying, she was so happy—in spite of the devastation around her. "You aren't going to kiss that . . . Lena anymore?"

  "I don't have any plans to, certainly. But if I should, you're going to listen to my side of the story before you jump to any conclusions, right?"

  "Yes."

  Devlin's arm tightened about her waist. "Actually, you had no reason to be jealous of Lena, especially not that day. She was congratulating me on my upcoming marriage when you saw us. I was on my way to propose to you."

  Jess stared. "You really were going to propose to me?"

  "I had the ring in my pocket."

  "Oh, Garrett . . . I'm sorry."

  "You should be."

  He started to kiss her again, but just before their lips met, he saw a scowling Riley beckoning at them from across the way.

  Draping a protective arm around her shoulders, Devlin led a dazed Jess through the crowd to her father's side. Riley gave them both a weary, stern-eyed glance, then held a finger to his lips and gestured toward a knot of men sev­eral yards away.

  Jess had difficulty dragging her thoughts away from the passionate kiss Devlin had given her in order to focus on what was happening.

  A group had gathered around Ashton Burke and ap­peared to be listening intently. How Burke managed to look so elegant and wealthy with his formal attire covered with soot, his face blackened, his tawny gold hair thor­oughly disheveled, and one burned hand wrapped in a makeshift bandage, she would never know.

  "Buildings can be rebuilt," he was saying emphatic-cally in his upperclass British accent.

  "With what?" someone muttered. "We ain't got your kind of money. We ain't got nothin' left."

  The dismay and defeat on the weary faces of the mer­chants and ho
useholders had turned to hostility. Jess un­derstood their anger. The fire had leveled nearly half the town and most of east Main Street had been destroyed, and yet Burke was acting as if the devastation was merely a minor setback.

  "I intend to make a donation to start rebuilding the town. A hundred thousand dollars for our city council-men to do with as they see fit."

  A murmur of shock rippled through the crowd at Burke's announcement. Jess most of all could hardly be­lieve her ears. Was this Ashton Burke making such a gen­erous offer? The greedy, money-hungry, manipul-ative silver baron who had made Riley's life hell for the past twenty-odd years?

  Just then Burke turned and searched the faces of the crowd. When he caught Jessica's astonished gaze, his blue eyes softened. The quizzical smile he gave her held uncer­tainty, almost as if he were seeking her approval.

  "Because of this town, I have achieved great prosperity over the years," he said directly to Jessica. "I believe it is time I gave something back."

  Jess felt the warm moisture of tears blur her vision as she smiled at the man who was her blood father. She could not have asked for any more positive proof that he was trying to change his ways for her sake. Ashton Burke val­ued wealth above all else. Moreover, he'd probably sus­tained greater losses from the fire than any other single individual. To donate such a huge sum to the less fortunate spoke volumes about his transformation.

  He was still the consummate businessman, though.

  "And I issue a challenge to the consolidated mine own­ers in the district to match my offer." Burke added in a loud voice.

  "I'll match it," Devlin said at once, which made Jess tighten her arm about his waist in gratitude.

  She wasn't surprised by such generosity from Devlin, but it frankly astounded her to hear at least three more voices in the crowd volunteering to match Burke's hundred-thousand-dollar offer. And she suspected that more would follow suit once a fund was actually started.

  "Good," Devlin murmured in her ear. "There's no need for the town to be too grateful to Burke."

  Jess gave him an amused nod, and then became dis­tracted by the arousing way Devlin was nibbling on her earlobe. When she caught sight of the scowl on Riley's face, however, she drew back sedately, willing her heart to settle down.

  Burke was speaking to the crowd again. "We shall start over. The council can float a bond issue to finance a wa­terworks and better fire protection. And instead of wood, we should build with brick. If we begin immediately, we can have a good start before winter sets in."

  "That's all well and good," a miner said grimly, "but where are we gonna live till then? Where are our kids and wives gonna sleep? How are they gonna eat?"

  Clem piped up in answer. "If it's all right with Jessie, Homer, your Mollie and kids can have my room at the boardinghouse. It won't hurt me none to camp out in a tent like in the olden days. It ain't winter by a long chalk."

  "Of course it's all right with me." Jess agreed. "And if all my other boarders would be as generous as Clem, we'd have room for fifteen or so families. We could also' take two or three more at our home, if they don't mind a little crowding."

  That was the signal for everyone to start talking at once, with those more fortunate townspeople volunteering to put up the homeless in their houses. Tired but satisfied, Jess leaned her head against Devlin's shoulder, reveling in his warmth.

  His hand came up tenderly to brush a wisp of honey-blond hair back from her cheek. "I'm jealous, angel," he murmured. "You've arranged accommodations for every­one else in town, but you didn't once think about me."

  Jess gave him a puzzled look. "You already have a place to stay in Georgetown in a hotel, don't you?"

  "Not one that's adequate for my needs."

  "What do you mean?"

  His slow grin was positively wicked. "I suggest you give up your bed here and sleep with me in Georgetown. My room at the Hotel de Paris is large enough for the both of us. And it would be the charitable thing to do—provide more space for the needy families of Silver Plume."

  A throat being cleared beside them made Jess start guilt­ily. She looked up to find Riley pinning Devlin with an in­tense stare.

  "No daughter of mine," her father said; emphatically, hands on hips, "is going to any hotel with a man who isn't her husband."

  Jess turned a delicate shade of pink. "Riley, he was only teasing."

  "No, I wasn't." Devlin bent and pressed a kiss at her temple, staying there long enough to whisper in her ear, "If you think I'm sleeping alone after the month of celi­bacy you've put me through, hellcat, you'd better think again."

  Clem shuffled up just then. "You two finally gonna get hitched?"

  Jessica's embarrassed color wouldn't recede. "I . . . don't know. Garrett hasn't asked me to marry him."

  Devlin's mouth curved in a wry grin. "I think perhaps I'd better. Riley looks like he might fetch his shotgun any minute."

  "Always knew you were a smart man, son," Riley ob­served pleasantly, crossing his arms over his chest and looking prepared to wait all day if need be.

  "Would it be too much to ask for you to accord us a moment of privacy?"

  "There he goes again," Clem muttered, "talking fancy."

  Flo, with a disgusted look, grabbed the ornery mule skinner by his grizzled beard. "Come on, you old coot. Don't you know when you aren't wanted?" Ignoring Clem's yelp of pain, she hustled the two older men a short distance away, leaving Devlin and Jess alone in the crowd.

  Not wasting any time, he turned Jess to face him, lock­ing his arms loosely about her waist and gazing down at her with a laughing gleam in his gray eyes. "Miss Jess, sweetheart, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife before your father takes it into his head to deprive me of some vital part of my anatomy?"

  Unable to make light of so serious a subject, though, Jess searched his face anxiously. "Are you sure, Garrett? Marriage is what you really want?"

  The amusement in his eyes softened, while the tender look he gave her went a long way toward chasing away Jessica's doubt. "That's what I really want," he said hus­kily. "I want you for my wife, Jess. I want to have chil­dren with you and build a life together. I want to fall asleep with you in my bed and wake up with you in my arms. Starting today."

  "Today?" she echoed, startled.

  "Today, this very morning. I'm not going to risk another misunderstanding before I have my ring on your finger."

  "But . . . there's just been a fire—"

  "We ought to be able to arrange a ceremony, even with all this chaos."

  "But . . . so soon? People will talk if we get married in such a rush."

  "Let them talk. Besides, I don't consider it a rash. It's been a whole damn month of torture for me. And the fire will actually give us a good excuse for a hasty wedding. All those homeless families need a place to stay." Still she hesitated.

  "Do you really see any reason to put if off?" Devlin de­manded, his tone only half teasing.

  Jess looked down at her ruined gown, which twelve hours ago had been beautiful. The emerald silk and deli­cate lace were stained by soot and water, and reeked with the stench of smoke. "You want to get married with me looking like this?"

  "I want to marry you any way I can get you," he as­sured her. "Do you really care what gown you're wear­ing?"

  Lifting her gaze to his, she gave him a smile as brilliant as the sun that was just rising over the mountains. "I don't care."

  "Good." His voice dropped to a seductive whisper. "Be­cause I can think of at least one very pressing reason to hasten the wedding." He drew her closer, making Jess in­timately aware of the painful state of arousal he was en­during. A blush flooded her cheeks for the third time that morning, and only deepened when Devlin added huskily, "No more kisses for you, angel, until we're alone. We oughtn't scandalize these good people any more than we already have."

  Reluctantly dragging her yearning gaze away from Dev­lin's beautiful mouth, Jess looked around her to find doz­ens of people watching th
em with varying stages of curiosity, shock, and good-natured amusement.

  Devlin chuckled when her blush deepened. "We have only one thing left to settle," he added. "What kind of house do you want?"

  "What?" Jess asked, still a bit dazed.

  "You told me it would be nice to have a fine house in Georgetown, so I'm building you one. I couldn't start con­struction without your approval, though. I've had several different architectural plans drawn up, but if you don't like any of those, you can choose something else. All the de­signs have three bathrooms and a boiler to provide hot running water."

  "Three bathrooms—" Jess stared at him. "You were mighty certain of me if you were going off building me a house, weren't you?"

  Devlin grinned his sexy grin. "I was certain of me, sweetheart, not you. I'm good at winning, remember? I wasn't going to chase after you, but I sure as hell didn't intend to let you get away, either. I figured you'd come around sooner or later. At least I hoped to God you would."

  When Jess shook her head, he planted a teasing kiss on her nose. "You don't even know when you're licked, an­gel."

  "But three bathrooms? I don't know if I want that fine a house." She remembered Burke's opulent drawing room and library. "Burke's kind of place would be too fine for me."

  "Nothing would be too fine for you, but if you don't care for it. you don't have to have it. I'll build you a log cabin, if you like."

  She gave him a tremulous smile. "It doesn't matter about the house. I just want you."

  "I know. That's why I love you." He reached up and tucked an errant tendril behind her ear. "I used to think that all women were mercenary, that wealth and position were all that mattered to them. But you proved otherwise. I'd love you for that if for no other reason. Now. come. We have a wedding to arrange."

  Determinedly Devlin released Jess and took her hand, leading her over to where her father waited with Clem and Flo.

  "We're gonna get hitched," he announced, mimicking Clem's Western drawl. "This morning, if you can find us a Justice of the Peace."