“I’ll recite the first stanza, if you’d like.”
‘He nodded.
“‘Tell him I love him yet, as in that joyous time. Tell him I ne’er forget; though memory now be crime. Tell him when fades the light upon the earth and sea, I dream of him by night, he must not dream of me.’” A moment passed. She sipped from her glass.
Deeply moved, he just sat there. There was no mistaking that song meant a great deal to her, and at this moment he sensed her heart suffered from some kind of loss. He wanted to lighten the mood, do something, but he didn’t know what. “Mine is ‘The Flag of Texas,’ by Anthony F. Winnemore, about the battle of the Alamo—I won’t be reciting it, though.” He chuckled. “Have you always lived in St. Louis?”
“Yes, in the house I showed you.”
“And your father?”
Her eyes darted away for a moment, and he was reminded of when Dexter was guilty of some infraction.
“I never knew my father. And it brings me anxiety to speak of him. I don’t know what he did for a living or even if he’s still alive.” Her voice faded to a hushed stillness. “How about you, Ernie—,er, Chance?” she quickly corrected. Her cheeks blossomed to a dark shade of pink.
Hurt, Chance sat straighter, wiped his mouth with his napkin.
“I’m sorry!” she offered quickly. “That just slipped out. Ernie is a friend back home.”
Of course she had a beau back home. How couldn’t she with her fathomless sapphire eyes, graceful swan neck draped in jewels, and a dimple sweeter than cherry pie in spring. Right now, with his insecurities running amok, he wished she were on the plainer side, someone who wouldn’t turn heads. Someone who’d be satisfied living out in the sticks, going weeks without seeing a neighbor, a woman who would stay around for life.
He waved a hand. “Perfectly all right. Please, go on.”
“Before I was born, my mother was a teacher at a woman’s university in St. Louis. She was kind, intelligent, loving. She passed on eight years ago. I miss her every single day.”
Now they really were getting somewhere. Chance broke off a piece of bread and put it on Evie’s plate. She smiled her thanks. “Your turn,” she said.
“I was born and raised in Amarillo. My pa was a rancher too. We had a decent spread three day’s ride west of town. I guess it was a bit lonely.” Ma just couldn’t take that solitary life.
“Do you have brothers and sisters?” she asked, taking a small sip from her champagne glass.
“One of each. An older brother and a younger sister. My sister died when she was three, and my brother rode out when he was fifteen. We never saw him again.”
Evie’s eyes went wide. “Why?”
“Don’t know. I was just a kid. My pa never said.”
“Chance, I’m sorry.”
He waved off her concern. That was long ago, the hurts all but healed over. He did wonder about Nate, what happened to him, if he was still alive. He’d be thirty now. No way of finding someone when they don’t want to be found.
Lenore was back. After inquiring, she picked up Chance’s empty plate and Evie’s half-eaten meal, then hurried off and returned with coffee cups. The Klinkners, now finished, got up and started in their direction. They stopped in front of their table.
“You’re new in town, aren’t you, young lady?” Mrs. Klinkner smiled at Evie. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you around before. How I wish our son Hayden would find a nice girl like you.”
Hayden Klinkner! One person Chance could live without. The two butted heads every time Chance went to the lumber mill for wood.
“Chance, you simply must bring Miss Davenport out for tea soon,” Mrs. Klinkner said. “I’d love to hear about St. Louis and all the new fashion and eateries.”
Not in this life, he thought. Hayden had a wild streak in him. A few years ago, there’d been rumor about him and a young wife over in Pine Grove. Seems she up and left one day, not telling anyone where she’d gone. He’d not dangle Evie in front of his nose like a piece of honey-covered chocolate.
“We live at the end of Creek Street across from the lumber mill. If Chance doesn’t have time to bring you, you stop by yourself.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Where do you live? In town? The homes on Lark’s Foot Street?”
Evie looked to him in question.
“She’ll be living with me. We’re getting married.”
Both the old folks’ eyes went wide. “Married? When?”
He glanced at Evie to judge her reaction. This couple had helped him right into an uncomfortable topic he’d been wanting to broach. “Tomorrow?”
Evie’s eyes widened.
If the town’s not too remote for your liking, or I’m not too coarse for your genteel upbringing. “The circuit preacher will be coming in early. If it’s still agreeable with you, Evie, I’d like to get that small detail taken care of.” If she wanted to back out, this was her chance. “Now that you’ve seen Y Knot, and know how rough around the edges it is, and now that you’ve met me too, do you still want to go through with it? Ranching is a hard life.”
Mrs. Klinkner sighed, her eyes dancing. “How lovely! A mail-order bride?”
Evie nodded, an impish smile reappearing for the first since he’d left her to bathe. “I am. Chance and I just met today.”
“Evie?” She still had not answered his question.
“Yes, Chance. That’s agreeable with me. Nothing could change my mind.”
Norman’s eyes widened. “Now, that’s romantic. Come on, dear. We’ve used up too much of these almost newlyweds’ time already. And after that hearty dinner I can feel my eyes drooping. I’m about asleep already and I still have that long stairway to climb.”
“You’re not sleepy yet, are you? It’s our anniversary.”
“Maybe not,” he responded. “But I may be soon.”
They said their good-byes after Ina Klinkner made Evie promise to stop by someday soon.
“Did you mean it, Evie?” Chance asked. “Saying that tomorrow is agreeable with you?”
“I told you I’d marry you in my letter. Did you think I’d change my mind?”
“Guess I thought you being a city girl, maybe you would.”
“Do you want me to?”
There it was again. Wariness. Like a skittish colt. “No, ’course not.”
The smile that bloomed on her face was as welcome as a summer shower. “The little I’ve seen of Y Knot suits me just fine. Although, my experience has only been with the inside of my hotel room and now this dining room.”
He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “We’ll fix that tomorrow. Just as soon as we go to the church and say our vows. Afterward, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. We’ll explore the town store by store, how’s that?”
“I’d like that just fine. And then go out to the ranch?”
He swallowed. He needed a few more days and a whole lot of nails before it would be ready to show. “Er, we’ll see. But I also want you to know, I remember the stipulation from the bridal agency. About waiting a month. I’ll honor that, Evie. You have nothing to worry from me.”
She glanced away, and Chance figured she must be embarrassed.
Lenore was back with two bowls of bread pudding. “Your dessert.”
Evie looked to him. “I’m much too excited to eat another bite.”
“Me either.” He couldn’t believe his good fortune. She’d be the most beautiful bride the church in Y Knot had ever seen.
Lenore shook her head, then sighed. “Well, I never.”
Chapter Nine
EVIE STEPPED out into the cool morning air with a firm hold on Chance’s arm. A few people were out, going about their business. She snuck a glance at Chance, nerves pinging her insides. Am I doing the right thing? What will he say when he finds out I stretched the truth?
Well, there was no help for it now. After a leisurely morning spent in her room, enjoying a breakfast of tea and toast, they were finally headed for
the church. She’d soon be Mrs. Chance Holcomb. The memory of Chance’s face when she opened the door, wearing her blue velvet dress, which fit her figure perfectly, coaxed a smile and a happy giggle that chased away her fears. She was glad now that she’d worked her corset ties as far as they would go. She fingered the dainty white hanky with the blue trim she’d folded and pushed up inside her sleeve, taking strength from it and Trudy.
“Something funny?” he asked, his quizzical expression punctuated with a smile.
“Just excited, I guess.”
He patted her hand and looked down into her upturned face. “Good. Me, too. Just as soon as we’re finished at the church, I’ll show you the whole town. If you see anything special, I’ll buy it for you.”
“Thank you, Chance. I’m glad you brought that up. I need six bolts of fabric for some new clothes, a set of dishes to serve six, and a new silver-plated mirror and brush.”
He stopped in his tracks.
She laughed again. “I’m just teasing you! I’ve brought with me all that I need.”
He chuckled. “Well, you got me.”
His deep voice, laced with happiness, was all she needed to confirm she was doing the right thing. As they walked several men rode by, their horses’ hooves kicking up dust. A woman with a small child in tow glanced at her from across the street.
“This is the mercantile,” Chance said as they passed a large general store. Huge plate glass windows on both sides of the Dutch door displayed all sorts of interesting things. Lichtenstein’s Provisions, painted directly onto the glass, took up much of the room on both large panes.
“It looks like a nice selection.”
Chance nodded. “It is.” He mumbled something that sounded like, Except for nails. “If Mr. Lichtenstein doesn’t have what you need, he’ll do his best to find it and order it for you.” When she looked at him for verification, he smiled and said, “I’ll introduce you later today.”
An assortment of warm woolen scarves on the wall caught her attention, sparking an idea. “When’s your birthday, Chance?”
When he didn’t answer right away, she tapped him gently on his shoulder until he slowed and glanced into her eyes.
“Chance?”
A splash of color marked his cheeks. “Well, if you must know, it’s in three weeks. The twenty-seventh.”
Bouncing up and down on the tips of her toes, she couldn’t contain her excitement.
“Yours?” he asked, smiling.
“October seventeenth. I’ll be twenty-three.” Mrs. Seymour had always had a festive dinner for any of the brides-to-be when it was their birthday. Evie would do the same for Chance, in their new home. All she needed to do was learn how to cook something good, like a rump roast with all the fixings or an Italian meatball and spaghetti dish. The aromas that filled the house whenever Dona had sautéed up the tomatoes and beef made her mouth water. Chance would think her a queen if she could do something like that. And, of course, a chocolate layer cake.
Her heart sank. Whom was she trying to fool? She’d never be able to accomplish all that in three short weeks. Chance would be so disappointed when he discovered her ineptness in the kitchen. Her smile wobbled, but she pushed the corners up. This was her wedding day. She wouldn’t let anything spoil it.
“Come on. We don’t want to be late,” Chance said, coaxing her forward.
They passed an empty building with a broken window out front, then started up an incline toward a small blue building constructed of milled boards. That must be the church. The structure was set back from the road. A good-sized open field extended out behind and several trees shaded it from both sides. It had a small porch at the top of a handful of steps, with lots of hitching rails and water troughs to go around.
“Preacher’s waiting.” Chance’s nod indicated a one-stall barn with a horse looking out. The empty buggy sat next to the fence. He looked down at her. “You getting tired? Your face is all flushed.”
Tired? If he only knew. “Chance, you certainly don’t know me very well, but then how could you?” She laughed softly. “Thank you for your concern. I can work all—” She stopped and quickly cleared her throat. “What I mean is I’m not a china doll to fuss over.”
His expression said he didn’t believe that for a moment. “Fine, then. This is your last opportunity, Evie. That’s the preacher’s horse and the preacher knows we’re coming. I can tell you what a Montana winter is like, but until you’ve lived through one, nothing I say will prepare you for what’s to come. It is tough, cold, and lonely. Once the snow hits, we’ll be stuck out at the ranch for days, or even months.”
Chance’s brows arched over his eyes so earnestly, she was tempted to smooth away the worry wrinkle with her finger. She stopped and placed her hands on her hips. “Chance, you’ve tried to talk me out of our wedding now several times. I’m beginning to think you have cold feet, and just don’t want to say so. Perhaps it’s you who needs to take a minute or two and make sure this is what you truly want.”
The door to the chapel opened and a middle-aged man waved. He was medium in height and had thick brown hair. “Was wondering if you’d changed your mind, Chance. You’re late.”
Chance looked like the boy with his hand in the cookie jar. They started forward. “See what I mean,” she whispered. “Others are noticing it too.” She couldn’t stop another round of happy laughter.
“You hush.” He nudged her, and a flutter skittered up her spine.
On the church steps, Chance made the introductions. Reverend Kyle Crittlestick was a friendly, well-spoken man, and Evie liked him immediately. He and Chance talked on, catching up with Y Knot’s latest news, while she quietly looked around. There were eight rows of pews and a roughly constructed podium in the front. Not much else inside besides a good-sized white cross and a wooden box that said For the Poor. Simple and sweet.
“I thought you knew, Chance,” Preacher Crittlestick said. “You need a couple of witnesses, excluding me.”
Chance turned and looked at her, dismay on his face. “Evie, I’m sorry. We need two people to stand up for us as witnesses.”
Oh, no! She didn’t want to wait. She struggled to draw a breath in her tight corset. What if he found out the truth? Or, maybe he had, and that was why he’d been giving her so many chances to back out. She didn’t deserve such happiness, marrying a man as good as Chance. With her background and given the way she’d left poor Mrs. Seymour without a good-bye, she didn’t merit him. But darned if she didn’t want to marry him this moment.
She’d been dreaming about kissing Chance since reading his letters, and again when he’d circled her waist and helped her down from the stage. Visions of him filled her head, and thoughts of what lying in his arms would be like heated her skin. She’d tossed and turned until the early hours, imagining all sorts of exciting things. “Is there anyone in town you know, that wouldn’t mind coming over for a minute?”
The preacher’s brows lifted. “Not a bad idea if you don’t want to wait ’til I’m back in three weeks, or whenever Sheriff Crawford returns.”
***
Fluffy clouds dotted the sky as the midmorning sun winked through. The rays warmed Chance’s back as he walked briskly down the sloping road, leaving Evie and the reverend behind. Who could he find? He hadn’t seen any of his friends in town this morning. He should have sent notice to the McCutcheons. Problem was, he hadn’t been sure she was going to say yes. The Klinkners might still be in their room, but he hardly wanted to disturb them, being on their anniversary getaway and all. He chuckled. A getaway without leaving town.
He stopped on the corner, thinking. There were people he recognized everywhere, but no one he wanted to stand up for him and Evie. Jack Jones, Brandon’s deputy, rode up to the sheriff’s office and dismounted, but he liked Jones about as much as he liked warm eggplant on a cold day. Today was special. At that moment, Fancy Aubrey opened her second-story window at the Hitching Post Saloon and looked out. When she saw him her face bright
ened, and she waved. Nope. He wasn’t going there. He smiled politely and nodded.
He took a few steps into the street and looked all the way down the block and across Half Hitch Street, at the livery. He liked June a lot. They’d been friends for as long as he’d been in town, but what would Evie think if he showed up with another woman on his arm?
“Out of the way, cowpoke! Or I’ll run you down!”
He turned just in time to see Lucky wave, then wrangle the oversized buckboard he was driving to the side of the road. Francis sat beside the McCutcheons’ bunkhouse cook.
“Didn’t ya get the message from Luke?” Lucky grumbled loudly. “I told him ta tell ya ta get your backside out ta the ranch. Ain’t seen as much as a hair on your head for a heck of a long time.”
Blessed relief flooded him, and he couldn’t stop a smile. There sat the answer to his prayer. “Lucky, you old goat, good to see you. Francis, you too.”
Lucky jabbed Francis in the rib with a bony elbow. “Look out, kid, looks like he’s up to no good. I’ve seen that gleam in his eyes before. Maybe that fancy mail-order bride up and left him already.” Lucky glanced around, his eyes as sharp as a hawk’s. “Where is she, anyway? Was hoping I’d get ta meet her.”
Chance walked over and plunked his boot on a wheel spoke and tipped up his hat. “Just waiting on you, Lucky. Says she won’t marry me until she meets the famous Lucky Langer from the Heart of the Mountains.”
Lucky’s mouth fell open. “What’s this gibberish?”
“It’s true. She’s waiting on me as we speak, up at the church. Reverend Crittlestick is there, too. We need two witnesses and I’m hoping you and Francis will stand up for me and Evie right now.”
Francis gaped. “Right this second? We need to get supplies at Lichtenstein’s.”
“Won’t take but a minute.” Chance stepped on the sideboard and grasped the back of the wagon seat. “My bride’s a-waitin’! Turn this rig around.”
***
Evie dared a look at the middle-aged man who followed Chance and Francis into the church, a distinct limp slowing his step. The cowboy held his hat in his hands and perspiration shined his forehead like a ripe apple. She remembered the boy from yesterday at the stage. Tall and lanky, he did everything but look in her direction.
Mail-Order Brides of the West: Evie (McCutcheon) Page 6
