The Texan's Forbidden Fiancée

“No, I’m not scared of you. What about football practice?”

“I’ll tell Coach I’ve got an appointment in Lubbock. Maybe I will have one if you’ll say yes.”

She still remembered the thrill over the prospect of going with him. For one moment she thought of all the warnings to stay away from the Calhouns and never trust one. As she looked into his dark brown eyes fringed with thick black lashes, she took a deep breath.

“I’ll meet you,” she said and from that encounter on, she thought he was the most exciting boy she had ever met. They worked out an arrangement with their two best friends. Her parents thought she was dating Steve Reynolds, someone they had no objection to. Jake’s parents thought he was dating Marilee Wilson. He would pick up Marilee, and Steve would pick her up. Then they’d meet and trade places. She would spend the evening with Jake while Marilee and Steve did the same. At the end of the evening, they would meet, trade places and go home.

Their secret dates ended when her brother Tony saw her in Lubbock with Jake. She still recalled how horrified she had been when they fought, leaving Tony with a bloody nose and Jake with a black eye and a bruised cheek. The fight that followed at home with her brother had not been physical, but just as painful, as they didn’t speak to each other for weeks. Tony informed the other brothers. Each brother had reacted in a way typical of his personality—Wyatt talked to her seriously in his quiet manner, warning her never to trust a Calhoun because she would get hurt. In hindsight, she should have listened. Nick laid out a grim scenario that she had dismissed as his gloomy dislike of the Calhouns.

She’d disregarded her brothers’ warnings. The year she’d dated Jake had been the best one of her life. The man could dance, and they’d had such fun. And he could kiss. With Jake, she had made love for the first time.

While they dated Jake made plans to attend Mississippi State after high school graduation. She could not stop recalling the day they planned to elope. She had dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, the same as every other Saturday in her life, but she’d already had a bag packed. It held a knee-length white silk dress, veil and matching pumps, and a lace nightgown that she could recall with total clarity. Later, after her family had gone, she had deliberately taken them to the patio and burned them in a metal wastebasket, standing by with a hose in case the fire got out of hand. She could still recall standing there and crying. Jake had just disappeared out of her life without a word to her. The next morning she had driven to Rocky Creek, stepped out of the car and thrown her one-carat engagement ring into the creek. She never saw Jake Calhoun again.

Shaking off the painful memories of the past, Madison tried to focus on the chore for the day—the latest painting that she had been commissioned to do for a Dallas oil magnate’s office. But she couldn’t stop thinking of Jake.

Work on the painting went slowly that week, and she found her thoughts constantly looking ahead to Sunday and their dinner date. Curiosity about why he wanted to talk to her nagged at her. He had to have a good reason. She knew it wasn’t a ploy to get with her. And she most definitely didn’t want to get with him.

A little before seven on Sunday night she waited in the library of the ranch, which gave a view of the drive to the front. She wore a dark blue dress with a deep V neckline. The dress was straight, clinging to her figure, the narrow skirt ending above her knees. With her hair pinned up on her head, she hoped to look remote, cool, self-possessed. She was still amazed she was going to dinner with Jake. And then she watched him step out of the limo and head for the house. At the sight of Jake, her heartbeat pounded.

She was going out with him again.

Two

The sun was on the horizon when Jake stood at her front door and listened to chimes. He had rarely set foot on this ranch because they would not run the risk when they had been dating in high school. Even when her parents were away, her siblings were around, or the ranch hands, who would have reported back to her dad.

He and Madison had had secret meetings occasionally on the boundaries of their ranches, but those were rare.

He looked at the house as if seeing it for the first time. The Milan family home was different from most ranch homes in the area. The stately Georgian with white Corinthian columns looked like it belonged in the Deep South. Two giant oaks framed the house but outside the fenced, watered yard were smaller, less majestic mesquite trees and cacti. The fine home stood on a working ranch that had prize-winning cattle and probably lucrative oil and gas reserves in the ground.

He stepped up to the door and took a deep breath. An evening with Madison. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening. He still expected her to try to back out, but he knew once they were on their way, she would be committed. Frowning, he pushed the doorbell and listened to the chimes. Had she backed out, standing him up now in a tiny effort to retaliate for their wedding years ago?

Their wedding. The familiar, burning anger started in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t want to think about that time in his life or recall anything connected with that day. Keep this business tonight, he told himself. Present his case, feed the lady and whisk her back home. He suspected he was going to have to use his best powers of persuasion, but he had an ace in the hole that he hoped would capture her interest and make her agree to his plan. A twinge of guilt rocked him for the secret only he, his parents and his brothers knew. Clamping his jaw closed, he shifted his weight as he reached again for the bell. The door swung open and his breath left him.

Looking sophisticated and breathtakingly beautiful, the woman he faced was stunning. Momentarily, another twinge of guilt stabbed him, but he shoved it aside. Recalling dealing with Pete Milan, the ever-smoldering anger threatened to make him lose his relaxed demeanor. With an effort Jake pushed aside any thoughts about her dad.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you,” she replied quietly, but she didn’t look happy about his compliment.

“Shall we go?” he asked.

“This better be good.”

“I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t have to,” he said softly as she turned away to pick up a jacket. She scowled at him, so he knew she’d heard him. She punched in an alarm code and stepped outside, closing and locking the door behind her.

The driver stepped out of the black limo to hold the door for her. She climbed into the seat and watched as Jake sat beside her with space between them. He caught another drift of her perfume. It was not a scent he recognized, but it was enticing, filled with the smell of flowers and spice, and a hint of something more.

Jake had been amazed at how much he had thought about Madison all week. He had the detective’s information about her, but it had meant little until he was in her presence. He flicked a quick glance over her. She still had the best-looking legs of any woman he knew.

“So where do we get the plane?” she asked as the limo drove away from her house.

“At the Verity airport,” he said.

“Your plane or a charter?”

“It’s my private jet. We keep company jets in Dallas,” he answered as he shifted so he could face her. Her green eyes were on him, steady, veiled, hiding what she felt, but he could imagine her thoughts were as turbulent as his. “Your art career is going well, I’ve heard.”

“I’ve been happy with it.”

“I’m sure you have since that’s what you always really wanted,” he said, failing to keep a bitter note out of his voice. “I wouldn’t think you’d bury yourself out here on the ranch if you have a gallery in Dallas and one in Santa Fe.” He kept up conversation but all he wanted to do was look at her. Her green eyes had always captivated him, but now he noticed so much more—her flawless skin, her full lips that he wanted to kiss. He almost groaned as he made an effort to look away. “I’m surprised you like it out here.”

“I grew up here. I’m used to it,” she remarked, giving him a glance. She seemed more poised, controlled than she had before. “This way I can live in more than one place. I come out here to paint so I won’t be disturbed. In town there is something constantly going on or people dropping by. Mom and Dad gave the ranch to me three years ago. My brothers have their own places. I’m here in the fall until Christmas and I come back in May. The rest of the time I’m in New Mexico or sometimes in a condo in Dallas. Where are you most of the time—here on the ranch?”

“No. I’d prefer the ranch, but I’m based in Dallas, where the home office for the energy company is. I’m seldom here because of taking care of business. By the time I’m forty, I hope to retire and be a full-time rancher because that’s what I love.”

She nodded and became silent, looking out the limo windows. The airport was on the east side of Verity and they drove through the wide main street that had once been a dusty cattle trail before the town sprang up. They left the shops and stores, passing the oldest homes in the town, two blocks of wooden Victorian-style homes, some single story, some two or three stories tall, still occupied and taken care of with flowers and the oldest trees in Verity in the yards. Then they reached a tall Victorian house in a block by itself, the last before leaving Verity. She looked at the familiar sight, a wooden three-story surrounded by a three-foot wrought-iron fence and a front gate hanging on one hinge. Windows had been broken out. Weeds and high grass filled the yard, while the two tall oaks by the house were overgrown with vines. Without thinking she glanced at Jake.

“There’s the Wrenville house. Remember when you and Wyatt and two other football players went out at night to search through the house?” Madison asked.

“Like everyone else, we didn’t find anything and got chased out by the sheriff. I don’t think anyone today has much interest in the place.”

“You and I have ancestors that were killed there—both in love with Lavita Wrenville according to the legend. Her father drew his weapon and all three men were shot and killed, but it was never clear who shot the other,” she said. “Before she died, Lavita said that one of them lived long enough to tell her who shot who. According to legend, she wrote it down and hid it before she died. I wonder if we’ll find anything when 2015 occurs.”

“Your brother will know before anyone else. By 2015, there may not be many who care. According to the legend, the city can do what it wants with the house and property in 2015. I heard that’s why your brother is sheriff. So many people wanted him to run because he’s so honest and everyone trusts Wyatt. He’ll be sheriff when they can finally tear down the house and look for the letter,” Jake stated.

“I think the reason they wanted an honest man is more because of the part of the legend that says Lavita died a very wealthy woman and her money is hidden somewhere in the house,” Madison remarked. “If Wyatt finds anything, he’ll turn it over to the city and make public which man shot the others.

“I’d like to hear what happened. Did the Milan shoot the other two? Did the Calhoun? Or did her father shoot both of the men who wanted to marry his daughter?” she said.

“Or,” Jake said, “they all could have fired their weapons at the same time and then fired again. It never was made public how many times each man was shot.”

“I’m surprised the townspeople didn’t insist,” Madison said.

“The Milans and the Calhouns were even more influential and powerful in those days than now,” Jake said. “If they didn’t want the killings made public, they wouldn’t have been. And Lavita could have been the one who kept it all secret. We’ll know someday. Twenty-fifteen approaches.”

She shivered. “I don’t know why you and Wyatt decided you wanted to search for an old letter about killings in another century or even for a mythical fortune.”

“We were kids,” he said. He smiled. “Your brother doesn’t scare easily. We were just curious and we both wanted new, fancy cars.”

She became silent again, not mentioning that she had been scared for both Jake and Wyatt that night. Looking at the house now, she wouldn’t want to hunt for an old letter or even a fortune in there.

“Jake, we’ll have a quick flight to Dallas. Why not talk about what you want on the plane? There’s no possible interruption there.”

“That sounds agreeable. The weather’s good and it should be a smooth flight.” The sun had reached the horizon when the plane lifted off the runway, but once they were airborne and headed east there was more light as they chased the sinking sun.

“Might as well enjoy happy hour while we fly. What would you like to drink? We stock a full bar.”

“Any chance of conjuring up a raspberry tea?” she asked.