Champagne Romance (Romance Novel)

  The first residence of this small unique California town was the Chumash Indians in the 1500’s. They lived up and down the sleepy shore from Malibu to San Luis Obispo in their dome-shaped grass huts. These Indians were fabulous craftsmen famous for the canoes they made using shells and flints. They were fishermen as well. They liked to traveled as far as Santa Catalina to trade with the Indians on the island for steatite, a form of soapstone, which they made bowls lined with the colorful shell of the abalone. They were considered one of the most advanced of the California Indians.

  The modern town of Malibu is quite quaint with only approximately thirteen thousand residences that reside there year around on very rich real estate. It sets on the Pacific Coast Highway that winds through hilly terrain and gives a constant view of the Pacific Ocean with its lumbering tides and sandy beaches. The twenty-three miles of rugged coastline, deep canyons, green mountains, and quiet coves made it perfect place for Slater’s ranch that had been tucked away in the quiet mountains for a couple of centuries.

  The ranch was originally the property of a powerful Spanish Don. It was built in the early 1800’s about 200 years ago. Battles were fought and won as they finally forced the Chumash Indians off their land and claimed it as their own. It was a spectacular one and half-story-high home of mortar with a slate tile roof. The walls were a foot thick that gave protection from the elements and Indians. It was naturally cool in the summer and warm in the winter. It was built in a square around an elaborate ebony polished marble fountain surround by native lavender Jacaranda flowering trees and lush tropical landscaping. The fountain was originally the water well that provided the hacienda with cool water for the original household. It meant that with enough supplies, the occupants could hold up inside the hacienda indefinitely. The inside walls of every room were glass and overlooked the beautiful flowering garden. But, the outside walls had high walls and windows that only had slits that were used for rifle slots when it was needed to protect the small fort and also provided ventilation for cool ocean breezes. Large stone fireplaces adorned most of the twelve rooms and took the chill from the purple mountains in the winter that looked down upon the quiet ranch from a short distance away.

  Slater’s spectacular spread included over two hundred acres of prime seaside land, a winding trout creek with native trees and mountains nearby with deep canyons. Yucca plants covered the lumpy terrain. Along the rugged and rocky ocean beach were remote damp caves that often were the home for stolen riches of pirates and smugglers as history likes to portray. It was a beautiful and serene estate. It was also one of the most valuable pieces of real estate property in the United States.

  The inside room of the ranch had long since been modernized, but the charm of the eighteenth century was preserved and remained the stately structure of the original ranch house. Pinewood graced the walls, banisters, and ceiling giving it a mountain lodge feel. It was sturdy and held together with pegs instead of nails.

  The floor of the hacienda was the Mexican tile similar to what is used today. A rustic Ralph Lauren look with woven Navajo rugs graced the shiny floors and Pendleton blankets covered chairs, ottomans, and pillows.

  Two large couches that were covered in brown and white cowhide faced each other in front of a sixteen point elk head that hung above the native stone fireplace. Black pottery from Santa Clara held fresh colorful wild flowers on the pine and glass coffee table between them. Authentic Hopi coiled Indian pottery accented mantels and shelves. Many of their designs were of fine and diverse pottery that depicted the heritage and traditions of their own particular tribe. Original art of Georgia O’Keefe, RC Gorman, and Caroline Gregg also lined the walls and halls of this grand old ranch making it rich in American Indian culture. A chandelier made of deer antlers mixed-in with handmade silver and a touch of turquoise hung from the high ceiling entrée way in the hall. A handmade silver saddle was on a stand in the corner. An original rifle with fancy silver tooling on the shoulder butt was in a glass case above an armoire filled with expensive museum quality pottery. Subtle modern lighting was strategically placed to show off each exquisite artwork of our American Indians and give tribute to their artistic talent. It was expensive casual decorating that complimented this ancient ranch and suited the master of the house.

  It was late when Slater climbed into his king-sized handmade natural pine bed. It had simple lines with some carving on the headboard and bedposts. A wool Pendleton blanket in brown, red, and dark turquoise Indian design covered the bed with large pillows in turquoise and brown striped woven wool. An original massive antique pine dresser faced the bed. A large pine antique mirror hung over it. An armoire stood at an angle in the corner.

  As Slater slid between the soft cotton sheets, he was soon lulled asleep by the serenading coyotes hiding in the surrounding canyons. Their tune was the same tune that they had sung to other Dons for over 200 hundred years as they howled the inhabitants into a deep slumber on this particular ranch. As deep darkness descended, the wild critters took cover for the night and birds found their perch on nearby trees while night creatures began to stir. The only one that seemed effected and restless by the enveloping sounds was Caesar. His ears twitched with the call of the wild from his undomesticated ancestors as they beckoned for him to join them in the serene and mystic hills.

  Cattle were raised on Slater’s ranch. They were taken care of by the foreman, Jacob, who lived in a small house near the old main hacienda. He was an old and trusted friend of Mexican descent. Slater had met him many years ago when he was fifteen and worked a cattle ranch with him near San Diego. He was his mentor and sometimes advisor when he was very young. His wife, Juanita, had been a mother hen to him when he needed it most. They made his young adult years a little more tolerable. They were Slater’s family and he would do anything for them.

  Jacob was given over one hundred head of Angus cattle by Slater to raise and earn a living. For that job, he was to keep an eye on the main hacienda, keep Slater’s freezer stocked with steak, and provide his wife as a cook and housekeeper whenever Slater was at the ranch. It made Jacob proud to be the owner and foreman of this small dynasty of cattle that he could call his own. It was a comfortable, but simple life. It was an arrangement that suited all concerned. The only problem Jacob faced was the occasional cougar that wondered down from the hills looking for cattle, upon which to prey for their evening meal. Tracking them and eliminating them was an easy task for an old hunter like Jacob. It wasn’t long before they became a rug in front of his fireplace.

  CHAPTER 24

  Swan awoke to a cool ocean breeze blowing in from the balcony doors. She could almost taste the salty sea air. Seagulls squawked in the distance as they skimmed over the water looking for fish. Roller blades could be heard nearby as young yuppies rolled out their daily routine of exercise. They were all reassuring and familiar sounds that surrounded her. She lay there for a while listening and hoping that this would be the day that she would see them with her very own turquoise eyes, but it was not to be. She choked back the nausea as she lay still waiting for her stomach to settle. Reaching for a saltine, she munched on the cracker that she kept on the nearby table beside her bed. So far, she had had an easy pregnancy. If she would continue to work with her personal trainer and walk daily, she would probably have a normal easy delivery. She was young and healthy, which would certainly tip the scales in her favor.

  Swan was now four months pregnant and after some adjustment, she was excited about becoming a mother. Today, she could feel the slight tickle like butterfly wings in her tummy that signified life. Running her hand over her little mound, she smiled. She would have a baby boy in early fall. She could not help , but wonder if he would look like his father or her own neither of which she had ever seen. It didn’t matter. She would love him fiercely and he would be her very own.

  If Swan had known how to contact Ace, she would have done so. The privacy act kept most people from invading the files of Americans and so it left her at a dead e
nd; especially, when she did not even have his real name. It seemed to be an impossible dream. Perhaps, someday fate would intervene and he would be part of her life and their son. She knew that she was dreaming fairytales, but it assisted her in getting through the day. It helped that she could very distinctly remember his gentle touch as he orchestrated their lovemaking and how he was inclined to take charge until they both were glowing in happiness.

  Swan suspected that Ace always was in control of his own life making it twist and turn to his satisfaction. She could picture him putting square pegs in a round hole and succeeding. Perhaps, it is just as well that he didn’t know about their love child. But, she would like to imagine him flashing those deep dimples and enthusiastically greeting the prospect of fatherhood, but in reality, he probably would not be a happy camper. After all, what did she know about him, but very little? He was outdoorsy with skills that probably came from working on his ranch that was located somewhere far from Los Angeles. She had to remember that she and her son would never be a part of the world that he had created for himself. She really could not predict ever seeing him again and she knew she wouldn’t be able to recognize him if she did. The only thing that she had figured out was a little about Slater’s physical build. She knew he was taller than she. As they had lain together stretched out from head to toe, he had put his chin on top of her head and still his feet had dangled below hers. He was physically fit. His six-pack tummy was as solid and bumpy as cobblestone. His arms were strong and muscular. Let’s face it, he was really, really buff. He was confidant and a “take charge” sexy guy. It was obvious that he had determination, toughness, and a fierceness for survival. Yet, he could be tender and soothing. His voice was deep and gentle. He had saved her life and given her life. For that, she would be eternally grateful.

  CHAPTER 25

  Slater walked down to his Malibu barn enjoying the early morning sunrise against the violet mountains and colorful dessert flowers. The original hacienda barn had burned to the ground over a hundred years ago. It was just as well as it would have been too antiquated to be of any use to a modern rancher.

  The smell of fresh hay greeted Slater’s nose as he pulled the sliding doors back from the frame letting in the morning sunlight. Bales of hay were stacked in the corner close to the stalls. He could hear the stirring of pony hoofs as they reacted in anticipation of a breakfast of hay and oats. The five stalls were for Slater’s small herd of working ponies when they weren’t out roaming Yucca Point. Occasionally, the barn stalls were also used for birthing animals that were sick or injured. Slater had participated in his share of both tasks when it was necessary. Today, they were full to keep the horses safe from another possible cat on the prowl.

  A cowpoke room with a double bed upon which Juanita kept fresh cotton sheets and a wool blanket was at the front of the barn. Connected to the bedroom was a large granite shower with a Mexican tile floor. The bedroom had shiny pine floors and a shelf of paperback books above the window on the west. A large floor to ceiling window on the south let in the sunshine and the ocean breeze. It was practical and simple. It was only used when needed for a cowhand that was looking for a place to stay during the branding season.

  Slater headed for the tack room. He grabbed a nearby saddle, blanket, and bridle that hung on the wall with lots of other ranching gear. It wasn’t a fancy room, but it contained the necessity of ranching, which included a glass medical cabinet that contained any equipment or medicine that might possibly be used in daily life or in an emergency for human and animal.

  Slater walked over to the stall of his fast and sturdy pinto. She was chosen for her intelligence and endurance. The ancestors of this little pinto had been introduced to new America around 1519 by the Spanish. The Native Americans stole and bred them as they were highly prized for their hardiness, color, and astuteness. Slater liked them for the same reasons.

  Slater threw the old saddle blanket over the pinto mare’s back. He then pulled and tugged the saddle strap until he was satisfied with the degree of tightness. Sticking his cell phone in his back pocket, his titanium Mark XIX magnum in the other, and a high-powered rifle in the holder next to the saddle horn, he mounted Origami. The different puzzle shapes on her horsehide seemed to make this an appropriate name for his little pinto.

  Slater was looking forward to an exhilarating run on the beach with this stout little mare and so was Origami. Caesar sat nearby and whined his impatience. The palomino in the next stall whinnied his disappointment at not being the chosen one, but soon settled down after Slater gave him a handful of oats.

  As Slater mounted Origami, she began pulling at the reins and dancing. “Easy, girl,” he gently whispered. “We’ll soon be riding the wind.”

  Taking Origami out the door of the barn, Slater mounted her. Carefully, guiding her through the yucca plants and over the bumpy terrain of native grass and cactus flowers, he headed for the flat plain of the beach. True to his word, Origami and Slater were soon riding as one through the ocean mist as they pounded the sand at a full gallop with Caesar racing along beside them. It was a fast and hard ride for both man and beast. At times, it was difficult to tell the difference.

  Finally, the exercise for man and beast was exhausted and it was time to get down to business. Something had been killing Jacob’s cattle. Slater was out to find the culprit and put a stop to it. After the steady ride that seemed to satisfy his little pinto, he began wondering in and out among the hills with Caesar following and chasing nearby rabbits.

  It was nearly two hours before Slater picked up a trail of footprints. It was a cat all right--a big one! He felt a little off center as though things didn’t seem to add up, but the evidence was right there in front of him. Mountain lions were elusive creatures and this one was no exception. He followed the trail for another hour and then the morning mist turned to heavy fog quite suddenly. Unable to continue, Slater turned the pinto around and began to retrace his tracks back home.

  Origami had been extra nervous all morning. That was to be expected the minute she got a cat whiff, but as they started back down the trail she was beginning to be exceptional difficult to handle. He let up on the reins a little, looked around and listened. Out of the blind fog, a roaring cat appeared. Fortunately, Origami spooked to the right quickly enough to evade a capture, but not far enough to escape a swipe from extended lethal claws. All Slater saw was a blur of golden fur. Then, it disappeared like a ghost and just as quickly dissolved into the thick cloudy cover. Slater drew his rifle and fired, but the fog was too dense to get a clear target before it was gone. This was not an ordinary mountain lion. It was rare that they were confident and cunning enough to become the hunter rather than the hunted as most wild creatures were instinctively afraid of man.

  Slater jumped off a trembling Origami and tried to calm her down. She had a big gash in her hindquarters. Blood was running down her wobbly leg. It didn’t appear to have gone deep enough to have injured any muscle. The trauma, however, was making her extremely difficult. They needed to get out of there before the cat circled around and attacked again. Fresh blood just might be all the encouragement it needed. With much coaxing, Origami finally obeyed his soothing command. She remained steady as Slater remounted her and returned home, which was just over the next hill.

  After attending to the traumatized Origami’s superficial wound and giving her a good rubdown, Slater secured the barn door. He then went inside, poured himself a cup of coffee, and waited for the fog to clear.

  By noon, Slater was on his palomino and retracing the cat trail before it went cold. The palomino was a little jumpy, but soon relaxed with a little bit of encouragement from Slater. This time he brought his binoculars. He climbed a rocky hill and inched out on a ledge with his Apache crawl of his ancestors. From his vantage point on the high edge of the rocky shelf, he could see for great distances. He lay there for about an hour before he was rewarded with some movement at the east end of the pasture.

  The cat was movi
ng in a low slow stalk, while he focused on an unassuming doe grazing in an open meadow. He had probably been laying low in the grass for some time--waiting and watching. Because of his golden color, he blended into his surroundings. Slater watched in stunned fascination as the king of the jungle, an AFRICAN male lion attacked and killed his prey. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing! There was no doubt that this was a full-blooded adult male lion with a large fluffy mane circling his head. Slater followed his every movement as his lethal teeth showed their fierceness and tore apart the prey that he held with his deadly claws.

  Slater realized that he must be watching Frazer who according to an old news headline had escaped from the San Diego zoo some months earlier. He had managed to avoid capture probably because the hunters had assumed he had gone south to the warm climate of Mexico instead of north to Malibu. He might even have disappeared into the hills of Las Vegas before heading back to the coastline.

  Slater pulled out his cell and contacted the appropriate authorities. He watched Frazer while he was absorbed in his feeding frenzy. He was fascinated with the King of the Jungle that seemed to be in his element. Frazier would probably remain where he was until he was well satisfied with his comfort food. That would give the county animal control enough time to get a tranquilizing gun and hightail it to Frazier’s dinner table. A couple of hours later, he was captured, ending his happy sabbatical. He was lifted by helicopter back to his fenced-in domain in San Diego and a pride of females that seemed excited to see him.

  CHAPTER 26

  Swan was getting close to delivery time. In fact, she was about a week late according to the doctor. She had just returned to her condo from a walk on the beach. It had felt good to feel the warm sand between her toes and listen to the sounds of children playing in the surf. It made everything seem normal. She smiled when she felt Quinn kick and move his elbow across her tummy. She was just getting into the refrigerator for a glass of orange juice when her water broke followed by a sharp cramp. As it is with most pregnancies, it was at a totally unexpected moment. Carefully, tiptoeing around the slippery liquid, she called for Maria.