Page 77 of The Texas Sterling Collection
“Sam? Wyl Sterling here.”
“Hey, Wyl. What’s up?”
“Mitzi came to the ranch. She claims the divorce settlement is questionable, and she owns the ranch.” I took a deep breath to stem my anger.
“Walt’s divorce documents are unquestionable, Wyl. Mitzi has nothing to challenge. What is she trying to pull?”
I rubbed my forehead and let out a breath. “She claimed Walt hid assets. I trust Walt. He would never do anything deceitful, but she sounded so convinced.”
“Relax, Wyl,” Sam said. “The settlement papers included all of Walt’s assets. We ensured he didn’t leave anything out for this reason.”
“I figured as much, Sam.” I paced as I talked. “I mentioned your name so her lawyer can contact you. And I told her not to come back to the ranch.” I scratched my scalp. “After you talk to him, call and tell us where we stand. I will fight this thing. Mitzi is history. She can claim none of the Sterling assets.” I shook a fist to expend my anger.
“Wyl, Mitzi has no case,” Sam said. “I bet she retained a big-city lawyer who figures he can force a settlement. Don’t worry. The ranch is yours.”
I took a deep, cleansing breath. Sam is well worth his retainer. “Sorry for the outburst. Mitzi attended the funeral and expressed her fake condolences. I hoped we would never cross paths again.”
“Wyl, she’s always been after Sterling money. She made an unsuccessful attempt to contest the divorce even after her indiscretion surfaced. It sounds like she’s still at it.”
“Walt never told me that. Thanks for calming me down, Sam. And, since Walt is gone, I need to adjust my estate plan.” I eyed the love of my life, sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar, looking innocent and supportive.
“As I recall, you left your half of the ranch to Walt,” Sam said. “Stop by the office in the next couple of weeks, and we’ll make the changes you want.”
“Thanks. I’ll give you a call.” I hung up the phone and turned to Rod. “I think we will be okay, babe. Sam says Mitzi doesn’t have a case.”
“I hope he’s right.” Rod dished up breakfast.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
WYL
We enjoyed our usual early morning coffee and chat before class on Monday morning. It's weird because we talk at home before we drive to campus in our individual vehicles. But tradition is tradition.
“Are you sure you want me living on the ranch?” Rod wiggled his index finger back and forth between us. “Can you stand being around me all the time?”
I rolled my eyes. “We’re already together all the time, babe. And yes, I want you here, what with Christmas coming up.” My cheeks ached from the smile.
Rod grinned. “Good. Can you stick around after your last class? We’ll stop by my house after work and pack a few things. I need my stuff since we’re making the ranch my home.”
Happiness welled up inside me. “You bet I’ll hang around.” I have something more permanent in mind than merely moving a few things, but this isn't the right time or place to bring it up. I needed a more intimate setting.
The rest of the day flew by. After class, I studied in the lobby until Rod strolled out, ready to go. He took two weeks off to take care of me while I struggled through Walt’s death, so things stacked up. When the campus bell tower struck four, he closed his office. “You ready?”
“I’m ready.”
* * *
I visited the Bonner house only once, and then only saw the foyer and living room. The actual house impressed me. Rod said his great-grandfather, Cornelius Bonner, built the house in the late 1800s. Now registered as a state historic home, a Texas Historic plaque adorned a short pole near the street.
Rod showed me through the house. Lots of wood built-ins. Hardwood floors. A two-landing staircase led to the upstairs. Four bedrooms. A powder room downstairs under the stairway and a full bath upstairs. He said it included a full basement, but we didn’t go down.
After the tour, I gazed at a collection of photos on one wall in the foyer. One showed the house during construction. Although now surrounded by many homes, several from the same general period, the house was isolated when it was built. Several other photos included individuals in the house's history.
Rod pointed to the two that appeared to be the oldest. “These are my great-grandparents, Cornelius and Hattie Bonner. He is the one who built this home in 1865. They had four children: Felix, Helen, Margaret, and Winston." He pointed to the next framed photo. "These are my grandparents, Winston and Dorothy Bonner. He inherited this house and lived in it until he died in 1958. My grandmother, always heavy, died in the early 1940s. After she gave birth to my dad, she could no longer have children. When Grandpa Winston died, Dad inherited this house." He pointed to the next photo. "My dad and mom. They died a couple of years ago.”
“Why aren’t you up on this wall of history?” I asked.
Rod shrugged. I grew up in this house, and when I moved back to Blackfield, I chose to live here instead of buying my own home. My sister Jean doesn’t want the place. At some point, I’ll need to decide what to do with it. “
