A Texan in Her Bed. Sara Orwig

get going,” Wyatt said, taking her arm and boarding the plane. The moment he touched her, the casual contact electrified him. Her perfume deepened his awareness of her at his side. He motioned to a seat and as she sat near a window and buckled herself in, he sat facing her.

      She looked out the window and the plane began to taxi away from the hangar. When they were airborne and headed southeast, she turned to Wyatt.

      “So tell me the history of the Lavita Wrenville house.”

      “In the early days Verity was a hub for cattle ranchers. The Wrenville family was successful and built their big home. Lavita’s father still had eastern interests and was partners with his brother in a large bank in Boston. At one time, according to legend or family history, the Wrenvilles were enormously wealthy—in a time and place where there were an unusually high number of wealthy families.”

      “The Milans and the Calhouns included, right?”

      “Yes. According to local history, the Milans made a fortune with cattle and ranching. I guess that’s where I get my love of ranching. So did the Calhouns. From the earliest days, I think the Calhouns and Milans clashed over land, cattle, water, running the town, all sorts of reasons, including the women they loved, so the feud started.”

      “I think I’m getting the short version of Milan and Wrenville history.”

      “You’re getting the only version I have,” he remarked.

      “Sorry, I interrupted you. Go ahead.”

      “As local history goes, the Wrenvilles gradually amassed more money than anyone else in town. Hubert Wrenville had cattle, land, the big bank, the feed store, the biggest saloon.”

      “Was this Lavita’s father?”

      “Yes. Finally, there was only Lavita Wrenville who lived alone in the house. She was an eccentric old maid who did not want anyone to inherit or buy the house. Lavita deeded the property, house, stable, outbuildings and all personal property in those buildings to Verity with the stipulation that the property is not to be sold or changed until next year. At that time the Wrenville property and everything on it will revert totally to Verity to do with as it pleases. I imagine the town will sell the property if they can. That’s what is in Lavita’s official will and she was the last surviving Wrenville.”

      “Ah, I see. So what about information regarding the murders or a fortune she amassed and hid somewhere in the house?”

      “I think that’s just rumors, legend, wishful thinking of people way back and handed down through generations. There’s nothing in the will about either one.”

      “Interesting,” she said. “Maybe I’ll do a show on Lavita Wrenville and the unsolved killings and then come back next year.”

      “You might consider just coming then. I don’t think you’ll find much of interest now. I’ve just told you everything about it. I don’t think there’s a fortune or a letter that revealed what happened.”

      “Suppose I search and find a fortune and a letter revealing what happened the night of the murders?”

      “You wouldn’t be the first to search. But there’s nothing in her will about a fortune or a letter. That’s legend.”

      “You really don’t want me here, do you?” she asked, smiling slightly.

      He leaned close, looking into her big green eyes that widened. “Oh, yes, I want you here. I have plans for tonight. From the moment I walked into my office and saw you, I’ve wanted you here,” he said in a husky tone that was barely above a whisper.

      She leaned in a fraction, so close they were almost touching, and he fought the urge to close the distance and kiss her. “Then we should have an interesting evening because I’ve been looking forward to tonight since we parted this afternoon,” she whispered. Her words were slow, sultry, increasing the sexual tension between them. As they gazed at each other, again he was hot, tied in knots with desire, yet at the same time aware of the clash of wills between them.

      She smiled and sat back. “This should be an interesting evening.”

      “I’ll admit, you’re not like other women I’ve known.”

      “That’s a relief,” she said and he gave her a faint smile.

      “Tell me about the murders. All I know is that Lavita’s father, a Milan and a Calhoun all were shot to death.”

      Wyatt settled back, inhaled deeply and tried to get his wits about him. “All I’ve ever heard is that Lavita had two men in love with her—unfortunately, a Milan and a Calhoun. The feud had been in existence through at least two generations by then, so it was going strong and the two men did not speak to each other. The night of the shootings, they both called on her at the same time and neither would leave. She was upset. The men were angry and according to the old story, they were going to fight and pistols were drawn. Her father heard the argument, appeared and mixed in the struggle. Terrified what would happen, Lavita ran to get their stable keeper. As she rushed back to the house, shots were fired. According to the story, all three men were armed and had fired at each other, killing each other.”

      “So far, that’s what I’ve been told.”

      “Some stories say that, on her deathbed, Lavita admitted that one of the men was still alive and conscious when she returned to the house and told Lavita what happened before he died. At the time of the murders, she had stated they were all dead by the time she got back.”

      “Couldn’t the stable keeper verify her story?”

      Wyatt smiled. “Remember, this was the late 1800s and the story has been passed down by word of mouth since. According to the story, the stable keeper went to get his pistol and was far enough behind Lavita that all three men were dead when he arrived at the scene. The three men died that night, presumably shortly after the shooting. And Lavita never revealed anyone talked to her until she was on her deathbed. Until then, she claimed she didn’t know what had happened after she ran out of the house to get help.”

      “If that’s the true story about what happened, it makes one wonder what she was told and why she hid it from the world. Nowadays, withholding information would put her behind bars.”

      “Early-day justice may have been dispensed differently and hers was an influential family. If the legend is true, she may not have wanted the true story to come out because of the feud. The Calhouns and the Milans had a history of getting revenge.”

      “This story holds possibilities for an interesting chapter in my next book.”

      Wyatt wanted to groan. He had hoped to discourage her with the story, which he found vague and probably hearsay. “It all comes down to trying to find an old letter Lavita wrote that reveals the truth about that night.”

      Destiny shifted in her seat, drawing his attention to her dress. The unique design left one shoulder bare. The other shoulder was covered by a short sleeve that had four buttons running down a center seam in the sleeve, so if unbuttoned, the front half of her dress would no longer be attached to the back half above the waist. The thought consumed him, distracting him from his story. He had to figuratively shake himself to get back on track.

      “The letter has been rumored to be in the house,” he continued. “I’ve never heard a version that included the grounds as a possibility,” he added.

      “Think there will be a bidding war on the property?”

      “I don’t. You never know what might appeal to a developer, but that property is in the industrial part of Verity, small as that is. In my view, it’s far out for a likely shopping area. The town grew in all other directions. The house overlooks the cemetery on one side. The river runs behind it. Nearby is the airport and to the front is the highway. Not the greatest location. No one wanted the house and it was left to crumble.” He sat back and crossed his leg over the other at the knee.

      “Now that you know about it—and there is little