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the near future. Tea is about to be served. Freshen up quickly, dear, and come down. You are the best birthday present imaginable for your father; he is like a child waiting to see you.”
    “Are Julian and Tia home yet?”
    “Julian has been working in St. Augustine, you know. He should arrive by nightfall, and he is stopping by Tia’s academy to bring her home as well. Hurry, dear.”
    “Indeed, I will.”
    He kissed her on the forehead. “I shall be down directly, Mother.”
    He hurried through the breezeway and up the stairway to the second floor of Cimarron, down the long hallway, and to his room. He meant to hurry, as he had promised, but every time he came here and looked out on the vista that was his home, he had to pause.
    He loved Cimarron. Deeply.
    As the oldest male offspring of Tara and Jarrett McKenzie, he was heir to Cimarron. He had always known it, and always taken the responsibility gravely. He wasn’t sure if his love for the house and grounds had been taught to him, or if he and his siblings hadn’t just been born lucky. His younger brother, Julian, quite naturally loved his home. But to Julian, the pursuit of medicine was everything, and so he had become a doctor. Ian’s baby sister, Tia, felt an equally warm pride in Cimarron, but Tia loved the world at large. Like their mother, she was intrigued by people and politics, and she was continuallyrestless and anxious to travel. It had been quite difficult for his parents to persuade her that she must remain in Madame de la Verre’s Finishing School for Young Ladies long enough to emerge with at least the facade of a proper education.
    Cimarron…
    The house was grace itself. His father and uncle had designed and built it when this area inland on the river from Tampa had been nothing more than wilderness.
    His room was exceptionally large, as was the entire house, which seemed a waste now that he made use of it so infrequently. His bed was a large four-poster, made of oak carved in England: a masculine creation with lion-carved feet and winged griffins upon the headboard. It sat against the far wall, facing the hearth on the inner wall. Upholstered chairs were angled before the hearth, and a massive oak two-way desk sat center in the room, with chairs on either side. A wardrobe and dresser filled the north wall, while the south was taken by his washstand and a second wardrobe with a full-length mirror. The colors were dark with the richness of the woods. The Oriental carpet that lay beneath the bed was in brilliant blues and crimsons, and the sash curtains a rich blue tapestry as well
    The second-floor windows were actually French doors that led out to a balcony. Ian stepped out and gripped the balcony railing. From there, he looked out over the slope of the land, to the river to the north; and to the stream that branched from it, habited by manatees and river otters, and some of the most glorious birds ever to touch down upon earth. He turned slightly, looking to the deep pine forests to the south that surrounded the little pockets of white civilization which had now sprouted here. At the far end of one of the forest trails was a copse, and within that copse, a freshwater pool created from springs beneath the ground. On the lawn, the grass, even in winter, was an emerald green. The river flowed a deep, dark aqua, the pines rose with majestic beauty toward a powder blue sky.
    Ian watched a small eagle soar across the sky. A feeling of peace settled over him, only to be disturbed by a growing unease within him. He loved this place, this life. And he felt as if he were somehow tied to a boulderrolling pell-mell, out of control, that would crash into the very foundation of the house, and cause it to fall.
    He gave himself a shake. Saner heads would prevail, his mother had said. But already, among so many of the well-educated and well-read men in the army, talk had grown very serious. It was quite odd, of course—if it did come to war, often the men who